Shogun

It was like a different world beyond the garden gates, verdant and serene, the sun on the treetops, birds chattering and insects foraging, the brook falling sweetly into the lily pond. But he could not shake off his gloom.

Chimmoko stopped and pointed at the little cha-no-yu house. He went forward alone. He slipped his feet out of his thongs and walked up the three steps. He had to stoop, almost to his knees, to go through the tiny screened doorway. Then he was inside.

"Thou," she said.

"Thou," he said.

She was kneeling, facing the doorway, freshly made up, lips crimson, immaculately coiffured, wearing a fresh kimono of somber blue edged with green, with a lighter green obi and a thin green ribbon for her hair.

"Thou art beautiful."

"And thou." A tentative smile. "So sorry it was necessary for thee to watch."

"It was my duty."

"Not duty," she said. "I did not expect - or plan for - so much killing."

"Karma." Blackthorne pulled himself out of his trance and stopped talking Latin. "You've been planning all this for a long time - your suicide. Neh?"

"My life's never been my own, Anjin-san. It's always belonged to my liege Lord, and, after him, to my Master. That's our law."

"It's a bad law."

"Yes. And no." She looked up from the mats. "Are we going to quarrel about things that may not be changed?"

"No. Please excuse me."

"I love thee," she said in Latin.

"Yes. I know that now. And I love thee. But death is thy aim, Mariko-san. " "Thou art wrong, my darling. The life of my Master is my aim. And thy life. And truly, Madonna forgive me, or bless me for it, there are times when thy life is more important."

"There's no escape now. For anyone."

"Be patient. The sun has not yet set."

"I have no confidence in this sun, Mariko-san." He reached out and touched her face. "Gomen nasai."

"I promised thee tonight would be like the Inn of the Blossoms. Be patient. I know Ishido and Ochiba and the others."

"Que va on the others," he said in Portuguese, his mood changing. "You mean that you're gambling that Toranaga knows what he's doing. Neh?"

"Que va on thy ill humor," she replied gently. "This day's too short. " "Sorry - you're right again. Today's no time for ill humor." He watched her. Her face was streaked with shadow bars cast by the sun through the bamboo slats. The shadows climbed and vanished as the sun sank behind a battlement.

"What can I do to help thee?" he asked.

"Believe there is a tomorrow."

For a moment he caught a glimpse of her terror. His arms went out to her and he held her and the waiting was no longer terrible.

Footsteps approached.

"Yes, Chimmoko?"

"It's time, Mistress."

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Wait for me beside the lily pond." The footsteps went away. Mariko turned back to Blackthorne and kissed him gently.

"I love thee," she said.

"I love thee," he said.

She bowed to him and went through the doorway. He followed.

Mariko stopped by the lily pond and undid her obi and let it fall. Chimmoko helped her out of her blue kimono. Beneath it Mariko wore the most brilliant white kimono and obi Blackthorne had ever seen. It was a formal death kimono. She untied the green ribbon from her hair and cast it aside, then, completely in white, she walked on and did not look at Blackthorne.

Beyond the garden, all the Browns were drawn up in a formal threesided square around eight tatamis that had been laid out in the center of the main gateway. Yabu and Kiri and the rest of the ladies were seated in a line in the place of honor, facing south. In the avenue the Grays were also drawn up ceremoniously, and mingling with them were other samurai and samurai women. At a sign from Sumiyori everyone bowed. She bowed to them. Four samurai came forward and spread a crimson coverlet over the tatamis.

Mariko walked to Kiritsubo and greeted her and Sazuko and all the ladies. They returned her bow and spoke the most formal of greetings. Blackthorne waited at the gates. He watched her leave the ladies and go to the crimson square and kneel in the center, in front of the tiny white cushion. Her right hand brought out her stiletto dagger from her white obi and she placed it on the cushion in front of her. Chimmoko came forward and, kneeling too, offered her a small, pure white blanket and cord. Mariko arranged the skirts of her kimono perfectly, the maid helping her, then tied the blanket around her waist with the cord. Blackthorne knew this was to prevent her skirts being blooded and disarranged by her death throes.

Then, serene and prepared, Mariko looked up at the castle donjon.

Sun still illuminated the upper story, glittering off the golden tiles. Rapidly the flaming light was mounting the spire. Then it disappeared.

She looked so tiny sitting there motionless, a splash of white on the square of crimson.

Already the avenue was dark and servants were lighting flares. When they finished, they fled as quickly and as silently as they had arrived.