Shōgun

Touchy bastards, all of you, Blackthorne said to himself. Jesus God, you’ve got to be so careful here. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and saw the immediate distress on Mariko’s face. Rako hurriedly proffered a small kerchief that they always seemed to have ready from a seemingly inexhaustible supply, tucked secretly somewhere into the back of their obis. Then he realized that he was wearing “the Master’s” kimono and that you don’t, obviously, wipe your sweaty forehead with “the Master’s” sleeve, by God, so you’ve committed another blasphemy! I’ll never learn, never—Jesus God in Heaven—never!

“Anjin-san?” Rako was offering some saké.

He thanked her and drank it down. Immediately she refilled it. He noticed a sheen of perspiration on all their foreheads.

“Gomen nasai,” he said to all of them, apologizing, and he took the cup and offered it to Mariko with good humor. “I don’t know if it’s a polite custom or not, but would you like some saké? Is that allowed? Or do I have to bang my head on the floor?”

She laughed. “Oh yes, it is quite polite and no, please don’t hurt your head. There’s no need to apologize to me, Captain. Men don’t apologize to ladies. Whatever they do is correct. At least, that is what we ladies believe.” She explained what she had said to the girls and they nodded as gravely but their eyes were dancing. “You had no way of knowing, Anjin-san,” Mariko continued, then took a tiny sip of the saké and gave him back the cup. “Thank you, but no, I won’t have any more saké, thank you. Saké goes straight to my head and to my knees. But you learn quickly—it must be very hard for you. Don’t worry, Anjin-san, Lord Toranaga told me that he found your aptitude exceptional. He would never have given you his kimono if he wasn’t most pleased.”

“Did he send for Tsukku-san?”

“Father Alvito?”

“Yes.”

“You should have asked him, Captain. He did not tell me. In that he would be quite wise, for women don’t have wisdom or knowledge in political things.”

“Ah, so desu ka? I wish all our women were equally—wise.”

Mariko fanned herself, kneeling comfortably, her legs curled under her. “Your dance was very excellent, Anjin-san. Do your ladies dance the same way?”

“No. Just the men. That was a man’s dance, a sailor’s dance.”

“Since you wish to ask me questions, may I ask you some first?”

“Certainly.”

“What is the lady, your wife, like?”

“She’s twenty-nine. Tall compared with you. By our measurements, I’m six feet two inches, she’s about five feet eight inches, you’re about five feet, so she’d be a head taller than you and equally bigger—equally proportioned. Her hair’s the color of . . .” He pointed at the unstained polished cedar beams and all their eyes went there, then came back to him again. “About that color. Fair with a touch of red. Her eyes are blue, much bluer than mine, blue-green. She wears her hair long and flowing most of the time.”

Mariko interpreted this for the others and they all sucked in their breaths, looked at the cedar beams, back to him once more, the samurai guards also listening intently. A question from Rako.

“Rako-san asks if she is the same as us in her body?”

“Yes. But her hips would be larger and more curved, her waist more pronounced and—well, generally our women are more rounded and have much heavier breasts.”

“Are all your women—and men—so much taller than us?”

“Generally yes. But some of our people are as small as you. I think your smallness delightful. Very pleasing.”

Asa asked something and all their interests quickened.

“Asa asks, in matters of the pillow, how would you compare your women with ours?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Oh, please excuse me. The pillow—in intimate matters. Pillowing’s our way of referring to the physical joining of man and woman. It’s more polite than fornication, neh?”

Blackthorne squelched his embarrassment and said, “I’ve, er, I’ve only had one, er, pillow experience here—that was, er, in the village—and I don’t remember it too clearly because, er, I was so exhausted by our voyage that I was half dreaming and half awake. But it, er, seemed to me to be very satisfactory.”

Mariko frowned. “You’ve pillowed only once since you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“You must be feeling very constricted, neh? One of these ladies would be delighted to pillow with you, Anjin-san. Or all of them, if you wish.”

“Eh?”

“Certainly. If you don’t want one of them, there’s no need to worry, they’d certainly not be offended. Just tell me the sort of lady you’d like and we’ll make all the arrangements.”

“Thank you,” Blackthorne said. “But not now.”

“Are you sure? Please excuse me, but Kiritsubo-san has given specific instructions that your health is to be protected and improved. How can you be healthy without pillowing? It’s very important for a man, neh? Oh, very yes.”

“Thank you, but I’m—perhaps later.”