Shōgun

“Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?” Rako asked. What is it, Honorable Pilot? Why do you laugh? Her white teeth sparkled and her eyebrows were plucked and painted in a crescent. She wore her dark hair piled high and a pink flowered kimono with a gray-green obi.

“Because I’m happy, Rako-san. But how to tell you? How do I tell you I laughed because I’m happy and the weight’s off my head for the first time since I left home. Because my back feels marvelous—all of me feels marvelous. Because I’ve Toranaga-sama’s ear and I’ve put three fat broadsides into the God-cursed Jesuits and another six into the poxy Portuguese!” Then he jumped up, tied his kimono tight, and began dancing a careless hornpipe, singing a sea shanty to keep time.

Rako and the others were agog. The shoji had slid open instantly and now the samurai guards were equally popeyed. Blackthorne danced and sang mightily until he could contain himself no longer, then he burst out laughing and collapsed. The girls clapped and Rako tried to imitate him, failing miserably, her trailing kimono inhibiting her. The others got up and persuaded him to show them how to do it, and he tried, the three girls standing in a line watching his feet, holding up their kimonos. But they could not, and soon they were all chattering and giggling and fanning themselves.

Abruptly the guards were solemn and bowing low. Toranaga stood in the doorway flanked by Mariko and Kiri and his ever present samurai guards. The girls all knelt, put their hands flat on the floor and bowed, but the laughter did not leave their faces, nor was there any fear in them. Blackthorne bowed politely also, not as low as the women.

“Konnichi wa, Toranaga-sama,” Blackthorne said.

“Konnichi wa, Anjin-san,” Toranaga replied. Then he asked a question.

“My Master says, what were you doing, senhor?” Mariko said.

“It was just a dance, Mariko-san,” Blackthorne said, feeling foolish. “It’s called a hornpipe. It’s a sailors’ dance and we sing shanties—songs—at the same time. I was just happy—perhaps it was the saké. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb Toranaga-sama.”

She translated.

“My Master says he would like to see the dance and hear the song.”

“Now?”

“Of course now.”

At once Toranaga sat cross-legged and his small court spread themselves around the room and they looked at Blackthorne expectantly.

There, you fool, Blackthorne told himself. That’s what comes of letting your guard down. Now you’ve got to perform and you know your voice is off and your dancing clumsy.

Even so, he tied his kimono tight and launched himself with gusto, pivoting, kicking, twirling, bouncing, his voice roaring lustily.

More silence.

“My Master says that he’s never seen anything like that in his whole life.”

“Arigato gozaimashita!” Blackthorne said, sweating partially from his effort and partially from his embarrassment. Then Toranaga put his swords aside, tucked his kimono high into his belt, and stood beside him. “Lord Toranaga will dance your dance,” Mariko said.

“Eh?”

“Please teach him, he says.”

So Blackthorne began. He demonstrated the basic step, then repeated it again and again. Toranaga mastered it quickly. Blackthorne was not a little impressed with the agility of the large-bellied, amply buttocked older man.

Then Blackthorne began to sing and to dance and Toranaga joined in, tentatively at first, to the cheers of the onlookers. Then Toranaga threw off his kimono and folded his arms and began to dance with equal verve alongside Blackthorne, who threw off his kimono and sang louder and picked up the tempo, almost overcome by the grotesqueness of what they were doing, but swept along now by the humor of it. Finally Blackthorne did a sort of hop, skip, and jump and stopped. He clapped and bowed to Toranaga and they all clapped for their master, who was very happy.

Toranaga sat down in the center of the room, breathing easily. Immediately Rako sped forward to fan him and the others ran for his kimono. But Toranaga pushed his own kimono toward Blackthorne and took the simple kimono instead.

Mariko said, “My Master says that he would be pleased for you to accept this as a gift.” She added, “Here it would be considered a great honor to be given even a very old kimono by one’s liege lord.”

“Arigato gozaimashita, Toranaga-sama.” Blackthorne bowed low, then said to Mariko, “Yes, I understand the honor he does to me, Mariko-san. Please thank Lord Toranaga with the correct formal words that I unfortunately do not yet know, and tell him I will treasure it and, even more, the honor that he did me in dancing my dance with me.”

Toranaga was even more pleased.

With reverence, Kiri and the servant girls helped Blackthorne into their master’s kimono and showed Blackthorne how to tie the sash. The kimono was brown silk with the five scarlet crests, the sash white silk.