Shogun - Clavell James (бесплатные полные книги .TXT) 📗
The headman and elders fell over themselves in their haste to bow before him, welcoming him in the most extravagant way. Toranaga told them bluntly that the bill they would present to his quartermaster when he left would of course be fair and reasonable. "Neh?"
"Hai," they chorused humbly, blessing the gods for their unexpected good fortune and the fat pickings that this visit would inevitably bring them. With many more bows and compliments, saying how proud and honored they were to be allowed to serve the greatest daimyo in the Empire, the sprightly old headman ushered him into the inn.
Toranaga inspected it completely through coveys of bowing, smiling maids of all ages, the pick of the village. There were ten rooms around a nondescript garden with a small cha house in the center, kitchens in the back, and to the west, nestling the rocks, a large bath house fed from the living springs. The whole inn was neatly fenced - a covered walk led to the bath - and it was easy to defend.
"I don't need the whole inn, Buntaro-san," he said, standing again on the veranda. "Three rooms will be sufficient - one for myself, one for the Anjin-san, and one for the women. You take a fourth. There's no need to pay for the rest."
"My quartermaster tells me he made a very good arrangement for the whole inn, Sire, day by day, better than half price, and it's still out of season. I approved the cost because of your security."
"Very well," Toranaga agreed reluctantly. "But I want to see the bill before we leave. There's no need to waste money. You'd better fill the rooms with guards, four to a room."
"Yes, Sire." Buntaro had already decided to do that. He watched Toranaga stride off with two personal guards, surrounded by four of the prettiest maids, to go to his room in the east wing. Dully, he was wondering, what women? What women needed the room? Fujiko? Never mind, he thought tiredly, I'll know soon enough.
A maid fluttered past. She smiled brightly at him and he smiled back mechanically. She was young and pretty and soft-skinned and he had pillowed with her last night. But the joining had given him no pleasure and though she was deft and enthusiastic and well-trained, his lust soon vanished - he had never felt desire for her. Eventually, for the sake of good manners, he had pretended to reach the pinnacle, as she had pretended, and then she had left him.
Still brooding, he walked out of the courtyard to stare up at the road.
Why Osaka?
At the Hour of the Goat the sentries on the bridge stood aside. The cortege began to cross. First were heralds carrying banners bedecked with the all-powerful cipher of the Regents, then the rich palanquin, and finally more guards.
Villagers bowed. All were on their knees, secretly agog at such richness and pomp. The headman had cautiously asked if he should assemble all their people to honor the occasion. Toranaga had sent a message that those who were not working could watch, with their masters' permission. So the headman, with even more care, had selected a deputation that included mostly the old and the obedient young, just enough to make a show - though every adult would have liked to be present - but not enough to go against the great daimyo's orders. All who could were watching surreptitiously from vantage points in windows and doors.
Saigawa Zataki, Lord of Shinano, was taller than Toranaga, and younger by five years, with the same breadth of shoulders and prominent nose. But his stomach was flat, the stubble of his beard black and heavy, his eyes mere slits in his face. Though there seemed to be an uncanny resemblance between the half brothers when they were apart, now that they were together they were quite dissimilar. Zataki's kimono was rich, his armor glittering and ceremonial, his swords well used.
"Welcome, brother." Toranaga stepped off the dais and bowed. He wore the simplest of kimonos and soldier's straw sandals. And swords. "Please excuse me for receiving you so informally, but I came as quickly as I could."
"Please excuse me for disturbing you. You look well, brother. Very well." Zataki got out of the palanquin and bowed in return, beginning the interminable, meticulous formalities of the ceremonial that now ruled both of them.
"Please take this cushion, Lord Zataki."
"Please excuse me, I would be honored if you would be seated first, Lord Toranaga."
"You're so kind. But please, honor me by sitting first."
They continued playing the game that they had played so many times before, with each other and with friends and enemies, climbing the ladder of power, enjoying the rules that governed each movement and each phrase, that protected their individual honor so that neither could ever make a mistake and endanger himself or his mission.
At length they were seated opposite each other on the cushions, two sword lengths away. Buntaro was behind and to the left of Toranaga. Zataki's chief aide, an elderly gray-haired samurai, was behind and to his left. Around the dais, twenty paces away, were seated ranks of Toranaga samurai, all deliberately still costumed in the clothing they'd journeyed in, but their weapons in perfect condition. Omi was seated on the earth at the edge of the dais, Naga at the opposite side. Zataki's men were dressed formally and richly, their vast, wingshouldered overmantles belted with silver buckles. But they were equally well armed. They settled themselves, also twenty paces away.
Mariko served ceremonial cha and there was innocuous, formal conversation between the two brothers. At the correct time Mariko bowed and left, Buntaro achingly aware of her and vastly proud of her grace and beauty. And then, too soon, Zataki said brusquely, "I bring orders from the Council of Regents."
A sudden hush fell on the square. Everyone, even his own men, was aghast at Zataki's lack of manners, at the insolent way he had said "orders" and not "message," and at his failure to wait for Toranaga to ask, "How can I be of service?" as ceremonial demanded.
Naga shot a quick glance away from Zataki's sword arm to his father. He saw the flush on Toranaga's neck that was an infallible sign of impending explosion. But Toranaga's face was tranquil, and Naga was amazed as he heard the controlled reply: "So sorry, you have orders? For whom, Brother? Surely you have a message?"
Zataki ripped two small scrolls out of his sleeve. Buntaro's hand almost flashed for his waiting sword at the unexpected suddenness, for ritual called for all movements to be slow and deliberate. Toranaga had not moved.
Zataki broke the seal of the first scroll and read in a loud, chilling voice: "By order of the Council of Regents, in the name of Emperor Go-Niji, the Son of Heaven: We greet our illustrious vassal Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara and invite him to make obeisance before us in Osaka forthwith, and invite him to inform our illustrious ambassador, the Regent, Lord Saigawa Zataki, if our invitation is accepted or refused - forthwith."
He looked up and in an equally loud voice continued, "It's signed by all Regents and sealed with the Great Seal of the Realm." Haughtily he placed the scroll in front of him. Toranaga signaled to Buntaro, who went forward, bowed low to Zataki, picked up the scroll, turned to Toranaga, bowed again. Toranaga accepted the scroll, and motioned Buntaro back to his place.
Toranaga studied the scroll interminably.
"All the signatures are genuine," Zataki said. "Do you accept or refuse?"
In a subdued voice, so that only those on the dais and Omi and Naga could hear him, Toranaga said, "Why shouldn't I take your head for your foul manners?"
"Because I'm my mother's son," Zataki replied.
"That won't protect you if you continue this way."
"Then she'll die before her time."
'"What?"
"The Lady, our mother, is in Takato." Takato was the landlocked, impregnable fortress and capital city of Shinano, Zataki's province. "I regret her body will stay there forever."
