Shogun

He had felt more composed and then, when the time had come and a messenger had brought the information that the ship was loaded, he had gone to Hiro-matsu and discovered that now he had lost even the barbarians.

He was boiling when he reached the jetty.

"Omi-san!"

"Yes, Yabu-sama?"

"Bring the barbarian leader here. I'm taking him to Osaka. As to the others, see that they're well cared for while I'm away. I want them fit, and well behaved. Use the pit if you have to."

Ever since the galley had arrived, Omi's mind had been in a turmoil and he had been filled with anxiety for Yabu's safety. "Let me come with you, Lord. Perhaps I can help."

"No, now I want you to look after the barbarians."

"Please. Perhaps in some small way I can repay your kindness to me. " "There's no need," Yabu said, more kindly than he wanted to. He remembered that he had increased Omi's salary to three thousand koku and extended his fief because of the bullion and the guns. Which now had vanished. But he had seen the concern that filled the youth and had felt an involuntary warmth. With vassals like this, I will carve an empire, he promised himself. Omi will lead one of the units when I get back my guns. "When war comes - well, I'll have a very important job for you, Omi-san. Now go and get the barbarian."

Omi took four guards with him. And Mura to interpret.

Blackthorne was dragged out of sleep. It took him a minute to clear his head. When the fog lifted Omi was staring down at him.

One of the samurai had pulled the quilt off him, another had shaken him awake, the other two carried thin, vicious-looking bamboo canes. Mura had a short coil of rope.

Mura knelt and bowed. "Konnichi wa"-Good day.

"Konnichi wa." Blackthorne pulled himself onto his knees and, though he was naked, he bowed with equal politeness.

It's only a politeness, Blackthorne told himself. It's their custom and they bow for good manners so there's no shame to it. And nakedness is ignored and is also their custom, and there's no shame to nakedness either.

"Anjin. Please to dress," Mura said.

Anjin? Ah, I remember now. The priest said they can't pronounce my name so they've given me the name "Anjin" which means "pilot" and this is not meant as an insult. And I will be called "Anjin-san" Mr. Pilot - when I merit it.

Don't look at Omi, he cautioned himself. Not yet. Don't remember the village square and Omi and Croocq and Pieterzoon. One thing at a time. That's what you're going to do. That's what you have sworn before God to do: One thing at a time. Vengeance will be mine, by the Lord God.

Blackthorne saw that his clothes had been cleaned again and he blessed whoever had done it. He had crawled out of his clothes in the bath house as though they had been plague-infested. Three times he had made them scour his back. With the roughest sponge and with pumice. But he could still feel the piss-burn.

He took his eyes off Mura and looked at Omi. He derived a twisted pleasure from the knowledge that his enemy was alive and nearby.

He bowed as he had seen equals bow and he held the bow. "Konnichi wa, Omi-san," he said. There's no shame in speaking their language, no shame in saying "good day" or in bowing first as is their custom.

Omi bowed back.

Blackthorne noted that it was not quite equal, but it was enough for the moment.

"Konnichi wa, Anjin," Omi said.

The voice was polite, but not enough.

"Anjin-san!" Blackthorne looked directly at him.

Their wills locked and Omi was called as a man is called at cards or at dice. Do you have manners?

"Konnichi wa, Anjin-san," Omi said at length, with a brief smile.

Blackthorne dressed quickly.

He wore loose trousers and a codpiece, socks and shirt and coat, his long hair tied into a neat queue and his beard trimmed with scissors the barber had loaned to him.

"Hai, Omi-san?" Blackthorne asked when he was dressed, feeling better but very guarded, wishing he had more words to use.

"Please, hand," Mura said.

Blackthorne did not understand and said so with signs. Mura held out his own hands and parodied tying them together.

"Hand, please."

"No." Blackthorne said it directly to Omi and shook his head. "That's not necessary," he said in English, "not necessary at all. I've given my word." He kept his voice gentle and reasonable, then added harshly, copying Omi, "Wakarimasu ka, Omi-san?" Do you understand?

Omi laughed. Then he said, "Hai, Anjin-san. Wakarimasu." He turned and left.

Mura and the others stared after him, astounded. Blackthorne followed Omi into the sun. His boots had been cleaned. Before he could slip them on, the maid "Onna" was there on her knees and she helped him.

"Thank you, Haku-san," he said, remembering her real name. What's the word for "thank you"? he wondered.

He walked through the gate, Omi ahead.

I'm after you, you God-cursed bas- Wait a minute! Remember what you promised yourself? And why swear at him, even to yourself? He hasn't sworn at you. Swearing's for the weak, or for fools. Isn't it?