Shōgun

Blackthorne shoved the sword back, not displeased. “Honor to wear Oil Seller.”

“Can you use a sword, Anjin-san?” the captain asked.

“No, Captain. Not as samurai. But I learn.”

“Ah, yes. That’s very good.”

In the forecourt two stories below, Browns were exercising, still in shadow. Blackthorne watched them. “How many samurai here, Yoshinaka-san?”

“Four hundred and three, Anjin-san, including two hundred that came with me.”

“And out there?”

“Grays?” Yoshinaka laughed. “Lots—very many.”

The Grays’ captain showed his teeth with his grin. “Almost one hundred thousand. You understand, Anjin-san, ‘one hundred thousand’?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

They all looked away as a phalanx of porters and pack horses and three palanquins rounded the far corner and approached under guard from the end of the access to this cul-de-sac. The avenue was still deeply shadowed and dark between the tall guarded walls. Flares still burned in wall sockets. Even from this distance they could see the nervousness of the porters. Grays across from them seemed more hushed and attentive, and so did the Browns on guard.

The tall gates opened to admit the party, their escorting Grays staying outside with their comrades, then closed again. The great iron bar clanged back into the large brackets that were set deep into the granite walls. No portcullis guarded this gateway.

Yoshinaka said, “Anjin-san, please excuse me. I must see all is well. All ready, neh?”

“I wait here.”

“Yes.” Yoshinaka left.

The Grays’ captain went to the parapet and watched below. Christ Jesus, Blackthorne was thinking, I hope she’s right and Toranaga’s right. Not long now, eh? He measured the sun and muttered vaguely to himself in Portuguese, “Not long to go.”

Unconsciously the captain grunted his agreement and Blackthorne realized the man understood him clearly in Portuguese, was therefore Catholic and another possible assassin. His mind rushed back to last night, and he remembered that everything he had said to Mariko had been in Latin. Was it all in Latin? Mother of God, what about her saying “. . . I can order them killed?” Was that in Latin? Does he speak Latin, too, like that other captain, the one who was killed during the first escape from Osaka?

The sun was gathering strength now and Blackthorne took his eyes off the captain of Grays. If you didn’t murder me in the night maybe you’ll never do it, he thought, putting this Catholic into a compartment.

He saw Kiri come out into the forecourt below. She was supervising maids bearing panniers and chests for the pack horses. She looked tiny, standing on the main steps where Sazuko had pretended to slip, initiating Toranaga’s escape. Just to the north was the lovely garden and tiny rustic house where he’d first seen Mariko and Yaemon, the Heir. His mind journeyed with the noon cortege out of the castle, curling through the maze, then safely out, through the woods, and down to the sea. He prayed that she would be safe and everyone safe. Once they were away, Yabu and he would leave and go to the galley and out to sea.

From here on the battlements the sea seemed so near. The sea beckoned. And the horizon.

“Konbanwa, Anjin-san.”

“Mariko-san!” She was as radiant as ever.

“Konbanwa,” he said, then in Latin, nonchalantly, “Beware of this Gray man—he understands,” continuing instantly in Portuguese to give her time to cover, “yes, I don’t understand how you can be so beautiful after so little sleep.” He took her arm and put her back to the captain, guiding her nearer the parapet. “Look, there’s Kiritsubo-san!”

“Thank you. Yes—yes, I’m . . . thank you.”

“Why don’t you wave to Kiritsubo-san?”

She did as she was asked and called out her name. Kiri saw them and waved back.

After a moment, relaxed again and in control, Mariko said, “Thank you, Anjin-san. You’re very clever and very wise.” She greeted the captain casually and wandered to a ledge and sat down, first making sure that the seat was clean. “It’s going to be a fine day, neh?”

“Yes. How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t, Anjin-san. Kiri and I chatted the last of the night away and I saw the dawn come. I love dawns. You?”

“My rest was disturbed but—”

“Oh, so sorry.”

“I’m fine now—really. You’re leaving now?”

“Yes, but I’ll be back at noon to collect Kiri-san and the Lady Sazuko.” She turned her face away from the captain and said in Latin, “Thou. Remember the Inn of the Blossoms?”

“Assuredly. How could I forget?”

“If there is a delay . . . tonight will be thus—as perfect and as peace-filled.”

“Ah, that that could be possible. But I would prefer thee safely on thy way.”

Mariko continued in Portuguese. “Now I must go, Anjin-san. You will please excuse me?”

“I’ll take you to the gate.”

“No, please. Watch me from here. You and the captain can watch from here, neh?”

“Of course,” Blackthorne said at once, understanding. “Go with God.”

“And thee.”