Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [574]
Ah, Mariko, he thought, what a wondrous lady you are. Yes, are, because you will certainly live forever. Are you with your Christian God in your Christian heaven? I hope not. That would be a terrible waste. I hope your spirit’s just awaiting Buddha’s forty days for rebirth somewhere here. I pray your spirit comes into my family. Please. But again as a lady—not as a man. We could not afford to have you as a man. You’re much too special to waste as a man.
He smiled. It had happened at Anjiro just as he had told Buntaro, though she had never forced him to rescind his order. “How could she force me to do anything I didn’t want?” he said to the sky. She had asked him dutifully, correctly, not to make the divorce public until after Osaka. But, he assured himself, she would certainly have committed seppuku if I’d refused her. She would have insisted, neh? Of course she would have insisted and that would have ruined everything. By agreeing in advance I merely saved her unnecessary shame and argument, and myself unnecessary trouble—and by keeping it private now, as I’m sure she would have wished it, everyone gains further. I’m glad I conceded, he thought benignly, then laughed aloud. A slight wave chopped over him and he took a mouthful of sea water and choked.
“Are you all right, Sire?” an anxious guard, swimming nearby, called out.
“Yes. Of course yes.” Toranaga retched again and spat out the phlegm, treading water, and thought, that will teach you to be smug. That’s your second mistake today. Then he saw the wreck. “Come on, I’ll race you!” he called out to his guard.
A race with Toranaga meant a race. Once one of his generals had deliberately allowed him to win, hoping to gain favor. That mistake cost the man everything.
The guard won. Toranaga congratulated him and held onto one of the ribs and waited until his breathing was normal, then he looked around, his curiosity enormous. He swam down and inspected the keel of Erasmus. When he was satisfied he went ashore and returned to the camp, refreshed and ready.
A temporary house had been set up for him in a good position under a wide thatched roof that was supported with strong bamboo posts. Shoji walls and partitions were set on a raised deck flooring of wood and tatamis. Sentries were already stationed, and rooms were also there for Kiri and Sazuko and servants and cooks, joined by a complex of simple paths, raised on temporary pilings.
He saw his child for the first time. Obviously the Lady Sazuko would never have been so impolite as to bring her son back to the plateau at once, fearing that she might intrude in important matters—as she would have done—even though he had happily given her that opportunity.
The child pleased him greatly. “He’s a fine boy,” he boasted, holding the infant with practiced assurance. “And, Sazuko, you’re younger and more attractive than ever. We must have more children at once. Motherhood suits you.”
“Oh, Sire,” she said, “I was afraid I’d never see you again, and never be able to show you your newest son. How are we going to escape the trap … Ishido’s armies….”
“Look what a fine boy he is! Next week I’ll build a shrine in his honor and endow it with …” He stopped and halved the figure he’d first thought of and then halved that again. “… with twenty koku a year.”
“Oh, Sire, how generous you are!”
Her smile was guileless. “Yes,” he said. “That’s enough for a miserable parasite priest to say a few Namu Amida Butsu, neh?”
“Oh, yes, Sire. Will the shrine be near the castle