Shōgun

He gave it to him. Rodrigues studied it, fingering the unbroken seals, then seemed to change his mind and put the package on the rough blanket under which he lay, leaning his head back again. “Ah, Ingeles, life is so strange.”

“Why?”

“If I live, it is because of God’s grace, helped by a heretic and a Japman. Send the sod-eater below so I can thank him, eh?”

“Now?”

“Later.”

“All right.”

“This fleet of yours, the one you claim’s attacking Manila, the one you told the Father about—what’s the truth, Ingeles?”

“A fleet of our warships’ll wreck your Empire in Asia, won’t it?”

“Is there a fleet?”

“Of course.”

“How many ships were in your fleet?”

“Five. The rest are out to sea, a week or so. I came ahead to probe Japan and got caught in the storm.”

“More lies, Ingeles. But I don’t mind—I’ve told my captors as many. There are no more ships or fleets.”

“Wait and see.”

“I will.” Rodrigues drank heavily.

Blackthorne stretched and went to the porthole, wanting to stop this conversation, and looked out at the shore and the city. “I thought London was the biggest city on earth, but compared to Osaka it’s a small town.”

“They’ve dozens of cities like this one,” Rodrigues said, also glad to stop the cat-and-mouse game that would never bear fruit without the rack. “Miyako, the capital, or Kyoto as it’s sometimes called, is the biggest city in the Empire, more than twice the size of Osaka, so they say. Next comes Yedo, Toranaga’s capital. I’ve never been there, nor any priest or Portuguese—Toranaga keeps his capital locked away—a forbidden city. Still,” Rodrigues added, lying back in his bunk and closing his eyes, his face stretched with pain, “still, that’s no different to everywhere. All Japan’s officially forbidden to us, except the ports of Nagasaki and Hirado. Our priests rightly don’t pay much attention to the orders and go where they please. But we seamen can’t or traders, unless it’s on a special pass from the Regents, or a great daimyo, like Toranaga. Any daimyo can seize one of our ships—like Toranaga’s got yours—outside of Nagasaki or Hirado. That’s their law.”

“Do you want to rest now?”

“No, Ingeles. Talking’s better. Talking helps to take the pain away. Madonna, my head hurts! I can’t think clearly. Let’s talk until you go ashore. Come back and see me—there’s lots I want to ask you. Give me some more grog. Thank you, thank you, Ingeles.”

“Why’re you forbidden to go where you please?”

“What? Oh, here in Japan? It was the Taikō—he started all the trouble. Ever since we first came here in 1542 to begin God’s work and to bring them civilization, we and our priests could move freely, but when the Taikō got all power he started the prohibitions. Many believe . . . could you shift my leg, take the blanket off my foot, it’s burning . . . yes—oh, Madonna, be careful—there, thank you, Ingeles. Yes, where was I? Oh yes . . . many believe the Taikō was Satan’s penis. Ten years ago he issued edicts against the Holy Fathers, Ingeles, and all who wanted to spread the word of God. And he banished everyone, except traders, ten, twelve-odd years ago. It was before I came to these waters—I’ve been here seven years, off and on. The Holy Fathers say it was because of the heathen priests—the Buddhists—the stinking, jealous idol worshipers, these heathens, they turned the Taikō against our Holy Fathers, filled him with lies, when they’d almost converted him. Yes, the Great Murderer himself almost had his soul saved. But he missed his chance for salvation. Yes. Anyway, he ordered all of our priests to leave Japan. . . . Did I tell you this was ten-odd years ago?”

Blackthorne nodded, glad to let him ramble and glad to listen, desperate to learn.

“The Taikō had all the Fathers collected at Nagasaki, ready to ship them out to Macao with written orders never to return on pain of death. Then, as suddenly, he left them all alone and did no more. I told you Japmen are upside-downers. Yes, he left them alone and soon it was as before, except that most of the Fathers stayed in Kyushu where we’re welcome. Did I tell you Japan’s made up of three big islands, Kyushu, Shikoku, and Honshu? And thousands of little ones. There’s another island far to the north—some say it’s the mainland—called Hokkaido, but only hairy natives live there.

“Japan’s an upside-down world, Ingeles. Father Alvito told me it became again as though nothing had ever happened. The Taikō was as friendly as before, though he never converted. He hardly shut down a church and only banished two or three of the Christian daimyos—but that was just to get their lands—and never enforced his Expulsion Edicts. Then, three years ago, he went mad again and martyred twenty-six Fathers. He crucified them at Nagasaki. For no reason. He was a maniac, Ingeles. But after murdering the twenty-six he did nothing more. He died soon after. It was the Hand of God, Ingeles. The curse of God was on him and is on his seed. I’m sure of it.”

“Do you have many converts here?”