Shōgun

“I’m sorry, but it’s not possible,” Alvito said. He had listened to the heated exchange with simmering indignation. Foul-mannered, arrogant, motherless cretin, he had thought, then immediately, oh, God, give me patience, for without this man and others like him, the Church dies here. “I’m sure within a day or two, Captain-General, everything will be sealed. A week at the most. Toranaga has very special problems at the moment. It will be all right, I’m sure.”

“I’ll wait a week. No more.” The undercurrent of menace in Ferriera’s tone was frightening. “I’d like to get my hands on that heretic. I’d rack the truth out of him. Did Toranaga say anything about the supposed fleet? An enemy fleet?”

“No.”

“I’d like to know that truth, because inbound, my ship will be wallowing like a fat pig, her holds bulging with more silks than have ever been sent at one time. We’re one of the biggest ships in the world but I’ve no escort, so if a single enemy frigate were to catch us at sea—or that Dutch whore, the Erasmus—we’d be at her mercy. She’d make me haul down the Imperial flag of Portugal with no trouble at all. The Ingeles had better not get his ship to sea, with gunners and cannon and shot aboard.”

“E vero, è solamente vero,” dell’Aqua muttered.

Ferriera finished his wine. “When’s Blackthorne being sent to Izu?”

“Toranaga didn’t say,” Alvito replied. “I got the impression it would be soon.”

“Today?”

“I don’t know. Now the Regents meet in four days. I would imagine it would be after that.”

Dell’Aqua said heavily, “Blackthorne must not be interfered with. Neither he nor Toranaga.”

Ferriera stood up. “I’ll be getting back to my ship. You’ll dine with us? Both of you? At dusk? There’s a fine capon, a joint of beef and Madeira wine, even some new bread.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.” Dell’Aqua brightened slightly. “Yes, some good food again would be wonderful. You’re very kind.”

“You’ll be informed the instant I have word from Toranaga, Captain-General,” Alvito said.

“Thank you.”

When Ferriera had gone and the Visitor was sure that he and Alvito could not be overheard, he said anxiously, “Martin, what else did Toranaga say?”

“He wants an explanation, in writing, of the gun-running incident, and the request for conquistadores.”

“Mamma mia . . .”

“Toranaga was friendly, even gentle, but—well, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“ ‘I understand, Tsukku-san, that the previous head of your order of Christians, Father da Cunha, wrote to the governors of Macao, Goa, and the Spanish Viceroy in Manila, Don Sisco y Vivera, in July of 1588 of your counting, asking for an invasion of hundreds of Spanish soldiers with guns to support some Christian daimyos in a rebellion which the chief Christian priest was trying to incite against their lawful liege lord, my late master, the Taikō. What were the names of these daimyos? Is it true that no soldiers were sent but vast numbers of guns were smuggled into Nagasaki under your Christian seal from Macao? Is it true that the Father-Giant secretly seized these guns when he returned to Japan for the second time, as Ambassador from Goa, in March or April 1590, by your counting, and secretly smuggled them out of Nagasaki on the Portuguese ship, the Santa Cruz, back to Macao?’ ” Alvito wiped the sweat off his hands.

“Did he say anything more?”

“Not of importance, Eminence. I had no chance to explain—he dismissed me at once. The dismissal was polite but it was still a dismissal.”

“Where is that cursed Englishman getting his information from?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Those dates and names. You’re not mistaken? He said them exactly like that?”

“No, Eminence. The names were written on a piece of paper. He showed it to me.”

“Blackthorne’s writing?”

“No. The names were written phonetically in Japanese, in hiragana.”

“We’ve got to find out who’s interpreting for Toranaga. He must be astonishingly good. Surely not one of ours? It can’t be Brother Manuel, can it?” he asked bitterly, using Masamanu Jiro’s baptismal name. Jiro was the son of a Christian samurai who had been educated by the Jesuits since childhood and, being intelligent and devout, had been selected to enter the seminary to be trained to be a full priest of the four vows, of which there were none from the Japanese yet. Jiro had been with the Society for twenty years, then, incredibly, he left before being ordained and he was now a violent antagonist of the Church.

“No. Manuel’s still in Kyushu, may he burn in hell forever. He’s still a violent enemy of Toranaga’s, he’d never help him. Fortunately, he was never party to any political secrets. The interpreter was the Lady Maria,” Alvito said, using Toda Mariko’s baptismal name.

“Toranaga told you that?”

“No, your Eminence. But I happen to know that she’s been visiting the castle, and she was seen with the Ingeles.”

“You’re sure?”

“Our information is completely accurate.”