Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [560]
Blackthorne picked up a stone and sent it whistling out to sea. “Let’s walk along the beach for a while.”
“Certainly, Anjin-san.” Michael went down the sand. Blackthorne walked in the shallows, enjoying the cool of the sea, the soughing of the slight surf.
“It’s a fine time of the day, neh?”
“Ah, Anjin-san,” Michael said with sudden, open friendliness, “there are many times, Madonna forgive me, I wish I wasn’t a priest but just the son of my father, and this is one of them.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to spirit you away, you and your strange ship at Yokohama, to Hizen, to our great harbor of Sasebo. Then I would ask you to barter with me—I’d ask you to show me and our sea captains the ways of your ship and your ways of the sea. In return I’d offer you the best teachers in the realm, teachers of bushido, cha-no-yu, hara-gei, ki, zazen meditation, flower arranging, and all the special unique knowledges that we possess.”
“I’d like that. Why don’t we do it now?”
“It’s not possible today. But you already know so much and in such a short time, neh? Mariko-sama was a great teacher. You are a worthy samurai. And you have a quality that’s rare here: unpredictability. The Taikō had it, Toranaga-sama has it too. You see, usually we’re a very predictable people.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then predict a way I can escape the trap I’m in.”
“So sorry, there isn’t one, Anjin-san,” Michael said.
“I don’t believe that. How did you know my ship is at Yokohama?”
“That’s common knowledge.”
“Is it?”
“Almost everything about you—and your defense of Lord Toranaga, and the Lady Maria, Lady Toda—is well known. And honored.”
“I don’t believe that either.” Blackthorne picked up another flat stone and sent it skimming over the waves. They went on, Blackthorne humming a sea shanty, liking Michael very much. Soon their way was blocked by a breakwater. They skirted it and came up onto the road once more. The Jesuit warehouse and Mission were tall and brooding now under the reddening sky. He saw the orange-robed Lay Brothers guarding the arched stone gateway and sensed their hostility. But it did not touch him. His head began to ache again.
As he had expected, Michael headed for the Mission gates. He readied himself, resolved that they would have to beat him into unconsciousness before he went inside and they forced him to give up his weapons.
“You’re just guiding me to my galley, eh?”
“Yes, Anjin-san.” To his astonishment Michael motioned him to stop outside the gateway. “Nothing’s changed. I was told to inform the Father-Visitor as we passed. So sorry, but you’ll have to wait a moment.”
Thrown off guard, Blackthorne watched him enter the gates alone. He had expected that the Mission was to be the end of his journey. First an Inquisition and trial, with torture, then handed over to the Captain-General. He looked at the lorcha a hundred paces away. Ferriera and Rodrigues were on the poop and armed seamen crowded the main deck. Past the ship, the wharf road curled slightly and he could just see his galley. Men were watching from the gunwales and he thought he recognized Yabu and Vinck among them but could not be sure. There seemed to be a few women aboard also but who they were he did not know. Surrounding the galley were Grays. Many Grays.
His eyes returned to Ferriera and Rodrigues. Both were heavily armed. So were the seamen. Gun crews lounged near the two small shore-side cannon, but in reality they were manning them. He recognized the great bulk of Pesaro, the bosun, moving down the companionway with a group of men. His eyes followed them, then his blood chilled. A tall stake was driven into the packed earth on the farside wharf. Wood was piled around the base.
“Ah, Captain-Pilot, how are you?”
Dell’Aqua was coming through the gates, dwarfing Michael beside him. Today the Father-Visitor was wearing a Jesuit robe, his great height and luxuriant gray-white beard giving