Shōgun

When she spoke to him again she was more grave. “Lord Toranaga says I should answer your question, Anjin-san. Yes, we’ve been invaded twice. More than three hundred years ago—it would be 1274 of your counting—the Mongols of Kublai Khan, who had just conquered China and Korea, came against us when we refused to submit to his authority. A few thousand men landed in Kyushu but our samurai managed to contain them, and after a while the enemy withdrew. But seven years later they came again. This time the invasion consisted of almost a thousand Chinese and Korean ships with two hundred thousand enemy troops—Mongols, Chinese, and Korean—mostly cavalry. In all Chinese history, this was the greatest invasion force ever assembled. We were helpless against such an overwhelming force, Anjin-san. Again they began to land at Hakata Bay in Kyushu but before they could deploy all their armies a Great Wind, a tai-fun, came out of the south and destroyed the fleet and all it contained. Those left ashore were quickly killed. It was a kamikaze, a Divine Wind, Anjin-san,” she said with complete belief, “a kamikaze sent by the gods to protect this Land of the Gods from the foreign invader. The Mongols never came back and after eighty years or so their dynasty, the Chin, was thrown out of China,” Mariko added with great satisfaction. “The gods protected us against them. The gods will always protect us against invasion. After all, this is their land, neh?”

Blackthorne thought about the huge numbers of ships and men in the invasion; it made the Spanish Armada against England seem insignificant. “We were helped by a storm too, senhora,” he said with equal seriousness. “Many believe it was also sent by God—certainly it was a miracle—and who knows, perhaps it was.” He glanced at the brazier as a coal spluttered and flames danced. Then he said, “The Mongols nearly engulfed us in Europe, too.” He told her how the hordes of Genghis Khan, Kublai Khan’s grandfather, had come almost to the gates of Vienna before his onslaught was stopped and then turned back, mountains of skulls in his wake. “People in those days believed Genghis Khan and his soldiers were sent by God to punish the world for its sins.”

“Lord Toranaga says he was just a barbarian who was immensely good at war.”

“Yes. Even so, in England we bless our luck we’re an island. We thank God for that and the Channel. And our navy. With China so close and so powerful—and with you and China at war—I’m surprised you don’t have a big navy. Aren’t you afraid of another attack?” Mariko did not answer but translated for Toranaga what had been said. When she had finished, Toranaga spoke to Yabu, who nodded and answered, equally serious. The two men conversed for a while. Mariko answered another question from Toranaga, then spoke to Blackthorne once more.

“To control your seas, Anjin-san, how many ships do you need?”

“I don’t know exactly, but now the Queen’s got perhaps a hundred and fifty ships-of-the-line. Those are ships built only for war.”

“My Master asks how many ships a year does your queen build?”

“Twenty to thirty warships, the best and fleetest in the world. But the ships are usually built by private groups of merchants and then sold to the Crown.”

“For a profit?”

Blackthorne remembered samurai opinion of profit and money. “The Queen generously gives more than the actual cost to encourage research and new styles of building. Without royal favor this would hardly be possible. For example, Erasmus, my ship, is a new class, an English design built under license in Holland.”

“Could you build such a ship here?”

“Yes. If I had carpenters, interpreters, and all the materials and time. First I’d have to build a smaller vessel. I’ve never built one entirely by myself before so I’d have to experiment. . . . Of course,” he added, attempting to contain his excitement as the idea developed, “of course, if Lord Toranaga wanted a ship, or ships, perhaps a trade could be arranged. Perhaps he could order a number of warships to be built in England. We could sail them out here for him—rigged as he’d want and armed as he’d want.”

Mariko translated. Toranaga’s interest heightened. So did Yabu’s. “He asks, can our sailors be trained to sail such ships?”

“Certainly, given time. We could arrange for the sailing masters—or one of them—to stay in your waters for a year. Then he could set up a training program for you. In a few years you’d have your own navy. A modern navy. Second to none.”

Mariko spoke for a time. Toranaga questioned her again searchingly and so did Yabu.

“Yabu-san asks, second to none?”

“Yes. Better than anything the Spaniards would have. Or the Portuguese.”

A silence gathered. Toranaga was evidently swept by the idea though he tried to hide it.

“My Master asks, are you sure this could be arranged?”

“Yes.”

“How long would it take?”