Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [72]
“I’d be happy to. He’s a fine man. And I haven’t congratulated you yet on your new fief.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Thank you again, Omi-san.” He raised his hand in friendly salutation, motioned to his men, and led the phalanx of horsemen out of the village.
Omi went to the pit. The priest was there. Omi could see the man was angry and he hoped that he would do something overt, publicly, so he could have him thrashed.
“Priest, tell the barbarians they are to come up, one by one. Tell them Lord Yabu has said they may live again in the world of men.” Omi kept his language deliberately simple. “But the smallest breaking of a rule, and two will be put back into the pit. They are to behave and obey all orders. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
Omi made the priest repeat it to him as before. When he was sure the man had it all correctly, he made him speak it down into the pit.
The men came up, one by one. All were afraid. Some had to be helped. One man was in great pain and screamed every time someone touched his arm.
“There should be nine.”
“One is dead. His body is down there, in the pit,” the priest said.
Omi thought for a moment. “Mura, burn the corpse and keep the ashes with those of the other barbarian. Put these men in the same house as before. Give them plenty of vegetables and fish. And barley soup and fruit. Have them washed. They stink. Priest, tell them that if they behave and obey, the food will continue.”
Omi watched and listened carefully. He saw them all react gratefully and he thought with contempt, how stupid! I deprive them for only two days, then give them back a pittance and now they’ll eat dung, they really will. “Mura, make them bow properly and take them away.”
Then he turned to the priest. “Well?”
“I go now. Go my home. Leave Anjiro.”
“Better you leave and stay away forever, you and every priest like you. Perhaps the next time one of you comes into my fief it is because some of my Christian peasants or vassals are considering treason,” he said, using the veiled threat and classic ploy that anti-Christian samurai used to control the indiscriminate spread of the foreign dogma in their fiefs, for though foreign priests were protected, their Japanese converts were not.
“Christians good Japanese. Always. Only good vassals. Never had bad thoughts. No.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Don’t forget my fief stretches twenty ri in every direction. Do you understand?”
“I understand. Yes. I understand very well.”
He watched the man bow stiffly—even barbarian priests had to have manners—and walk away.
“Omi-san?” one of his samurai said. He was young and very handsome.
“Yes?”
“Please excuse me, I know you haven’t forgotten but Masijiro-san is still in the pit.” Omi went to the trapdoor and stared down at the samurai. Instantly the man was on his knees, bowing deferentially.
The two days had aged him. Omi weighed his past service and his future worth. Then he took the young samurai’s dagger from his sash and dropped it into the pit.
At the bottom of the ladder Masijiro stared at the knife in disbelief. Tears began coursing his cheeks. “I don’t deserve this honor, Omi-san,” he said abjectly.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
The young samurai beside Omi said, “May I please ask that he be allowed to commit seppuku here, on the beach?”
“He failed in the pit. He stays in the pit. Order the villagers to fill it in. Obliterate all traces of it. The barbarians have defiled it.”
Kiku laughed and shook her head. “No, Omi-san so sorry, please no more saké for me or my hair will fall down. I’ll fall down, and then where would we be?”
“I’d fall down with you and we’d pillow and be in nirvana, outside ourselves,” Omi said happily, his head swimming from the wine.
“Ah, but I’d be snoring and you can’t pillow a snoring, horrid drunken girl and get much pleasure. Certainly not, so sorry. Oh no, Omi-sama of the Huge New Fief, you deserve better than that!” She poured another thimble of the warm wine into the tiny porcelain cup and offered it with both hands, her left forefinger and thumb delicately