Shōgun

“It’s true. When did we last meet? Two—three years ago? You haven’t changed a hair’s breadth in twenty years. It must be almost twenty years since we first met. Do you remember? It was at a feast Lord Goroda gave. You were fourteen, just married and rare.”

“And frightened.”

“No, not you. Not frightened.”

“It was sixteen years ago, Kiritsubo-san, not twenty. Yes, I remember it very well.” Too well, she thought, heartsick. That was the day my brother whispered that he believed our revered father was going to be revenged on his liege Lord, the Dictator Goroda, that he was going to assassinate him. His liege Lord!

Oh, yes, Kiri-san, I remember that day and that year and that hour. It was the beginning of all the horror. I’ve never admitted to anyone that I knew what was going to happen before it happened. I never warned my husband, or Hiro-matsu, his father—both faithful vassals of the Dictator—that treachery was planned by one of his greatest generals. Worse, I never warned Goroda my liege Lord. So I failed in my duty to my liege Lord, to my husband, to his family, which because of my marriage is my only family. Oh, Madonna, forgive me my sin, help me to cleanse myself. I kept silent to protect my beloved father, who desecrated the honor of a thousand years. O my God, O Lord Jesus of Nazareth, save this sinner from eternal damnation. . . .

“It was sixteen years ago,” Mariko said serenely.

“I was carrying Lord Toranaga’s child that year,” Kiri said, and she thought, if Lord Goroda had not been foully betrayed and murdered by your father, my Lord Toranaga would never have had to fight the battle of Nagakudé, I would never have caught a chill there and my child would never have miscarried. Perhaps, she told herself. And perhaps not. It was just karma, my karma, whatever happened, neh? “Ah, Mariko-san,” she said, no malice in her, “that’s so long ago, it almost seems like another lifetime. But you’re ageless. Why can’t I have your figure and beautiful hair, and walk so daintily?” Kiri laughed. “The answer’s simple: Because I eat too much!”

“What does it matter? You bask in Lord Toranaga’s favor, neh? So you’re fulfilled. You’re wise and warm and whole and happy in yourself.”

“I’d rather be thin and still able to eat and be in favor,” Kiri said. “But you? You’re not happy in yourself?”

“I’m only an instrument for my Lord Buntaro to play upon. If the Lord, my husband, is happy, then of course I’m happy. His pleasure’s my pleasure. It’s the same with you,” Mariko said.

“Yes. But not the same.” Kiri moved her fan, the golden silk catching the afternoon sun. I’m so glad I’m not you, Mariko, with all your beauty and brilliance and courage and learning. No! I couldn’t bear being married to that hateful, ugly, arrogant, violent man for a day, let alone seventeen years. He’s so opposite to his father, Lord Hiro-matsu. Now, there’s a wonderful man. But Buntaro? How do fathers have such terrible sons? I wish I had a son, oh, how I wish! But you, Mariko, how have you borne such ill treatment all these years? How have you endured your tragedies? It seems impossible that there’s no shadow of them on your face or in your soul. “You’re an amazing woman, Toda Buntaro Mariko-san.”

“Thank you, Kiritsubo Toshiko-san. Oh Kiri-san, it’s so good to see you.”

“And you. How is your son?”

“Beautiful—beautiful—beautiful. Saruji’s fifteen now, can you imagine it? Tall and strong and just like his father, and Lord Hiro-matsu has given Saruji his own fief and he’s—did you know that he’s going to be married?”

“No, to whom?”

“She’s a granddaughter of Lord Kiyama’s. Lord Toranaga’s arranged it so well. A very fine match for our family. I only wish the girl herself was—was more attentive to my son, more worthy. Do you know she . . .” Mariko laughed, a little shyly. “There, I sound like every mother-in-law that’s ever been. But I think you’d agree, she isn’t really trained yet.”

“You’ll have time to do that.”

“Oh, I hope so. Yes. I’m lucky I don’t have a mother-in-law. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’d enchant her and train her as you train all your household, neh?”

“Eeeee, I wish that was also true.” Mariko’s hands were motionless in her lap. She watched a dragonfly settle, then dart away. “My husband ordered me here. Lord Toranaga wishes to see me?”

“Yes. He wants you to interpret for him.”

Mariko was startled. “With whom?”

“The new barbarian.”

“Oh! But what about Father Tsukku-san? Is he sick?”

“No.” Kiri played with her fan. “I suppose it’s left to us to wonder why Lord Toranaga wants you here and not the priest, as in the first interview. Why is it, Mariko-san, that we have to guard all the monies, pay all the bills, train all the servants, buy all the food and household goods—even most times the clothes of our Lords—but they don’t really tell us anything, do they?”

“Perhaps that’s what our intuition’s for.”