Shōgun

He shifted in the chair with difficulty, his face bloodless. The pain in his leg was grinding and it took much of his strength to contain it. The bones were knitting well and, Madonna be praised, the wound was clean. But the fracture was still a fracture and even the slight dip of the ship at rest was troublesome. He took a swallow of grog from the well-used seabag that hung from a peg on the binnacle.

Ferriera was watching him. “Your leg’s bad?”

“It’s all right.” The grog deadened the hurt.

“Will it be all right enough to voyage from here to Macao?”

“Yes. And to fight a sea battle all the way. And to come back in the summer, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean, Pilot.” The lips were thin again, drawn into that tight mocking smile. “I need a fit pilot.”

“I’m fit. My leg’s mending well.” Rodrigues shook off the pain. “The Ingeles won’t come aboard us willingly. I wouldn’t.”

“A hundred guineas says you’re wrong.”

“That’s more than I make in a year.”

“Payable after we reach Lisbon, from the profits from the Black Ship.”

“Done. Nothing’ll make him come aboard, not willingly. I’m a hundred guineas richer, by God!”

“Poorer! You forget the Jesuits want him here more than I do.”

“Why should they want that?”

Ferriera looked at him levelly and did not answer, wearing the same twisted smile. Then, baiting him, he said, “I’d escort Toranaga out, for possession of the heretic.”

“I’m glad I’m your comrade and necessary to you and the Black Ship,” Rodrigues said. “I wouldn’t want to be your enemy.”

“I’m glad we understand one another, Pilot. At long last.”

“I require escort out of the harbor. I need it quickly,” Toranaga told dell’Aqua through the interpreter Alvito, Mariko nearby, also listening, with Yabu. He stood on the galley’s poopdeck, dell’Aqua below on the main deck, Alvito beside him, but even so their eyes were almost level. “Or, if you wish, your warship can remove the fishing boats from out of my way.”

“Forgive me, but that would be an unwarranted hostile act that you would not—could not recommend to the frigate, Lord Toranaga,” dell’Aqua said, talking directly to him, finding Alvito’s simultaneous translation eerie, as always. “That would be impossible—an open act of war.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Please come back to the frigate. Let us ask the Captain-General. He will have a solution, now that we know what your problem is. He’s the military man, we are not.”

“Bring him here.”

“It would be quicker for you to go there, Sire. Apart, of course, from the honor you would do us.”

Toranaga knew the truth of this. Only moments before they had seen more fishing boats loaded with archers launched from the southern shore and, though they were safe at the moment, it was clear that within the hour the neck of the harbor would be choked with hostiles.

And he knew he had no choice.

“Sorry, Sire,” the Anjin-san had explained earlier, during the abortive chase, “I can’t get near the frigate. Rodrigues is too clever. I can stop him escaping if the wind holds but I can’t trap him, unless he makes a mistake. We’ll have to parley.”

“Will he make a mistake and will the wind hold?” he had asked through Mariko.

She had replied, “The Anjin-san says, a wise man never bets on the wind, unless it’s a trade wind and you’re out to sea. Here we’re in a harbor where the mountains cause the wind to eddy and flow. The pilot, Rodrigues, won’t make a mistake.”

Toranaga had watched the two pilots pit their wits against each other and he knew, beyond doubt, that both were masters. And he had come to realize also that neither he nor his lands nor the Empire would ever be safe without possessing modern barbarian ships, and through these ships, control of their own seas. The thought had shattered him.

“But how can I negotiate with them? What possible excuse could they use for such open hostility against me? Now it’s my duty to bury them for their insults to my honor.”

Then the Anjin-san had explained the ploy of false colors: how all ships used the device to get close to the enemy, or to attempt to avoid an enemy, and Toranaga had been greatly relieved that there might be an acceptable face-saving solution to that problem.

Now Alvito was saying, “I think we should go at once, Sire.”

“Very well,” Toranaga agreed. “Yabu-san, take command of the ship. Mariko-san, tell the Anjin-san he is to stay on the quarterdeck and to keep the helm, then you come with me.”

“Yes, Lord.”