Shogun - Clavell James (бесплатные полные книги .TXT) 📗

The music died. His eyes were pulled to Kiku-san. She was watching him intently, a small frown on her brow.

"Yes," he said honestly. "I know how fleeting that can be." He sipped his cha. "I will consider what you've said. Second?"

"Second." Gyoko collected her wits. "Second and last, Sire, you could put your chop on the Willow World forever. Consider some of our Ladies: Kiku-san, for instance, has studied singing and dancing and the samisen since she was six. Every waking moment she was working very hard to perfect her art. Admittedly she's rightfully become a Lady of the First Class, as her unique artistry merits. But she's still a courtesan and some clients expect to enjoy her on the pillow as well as through her art. I believe two classes of Ladies should be created. First, courtesans, as always - amusing, happy, physical. Second, a new class, perhaps gei-sha could describe them: Art Persons - persons dedicated solely to art. Gei-shas would not be expected to go to the pillow as part of their duty. They would solely be entertainers, dancers, singers, musicians - specialists - and so give themselves exclusively to this profession. Let geishas entertain the minds and spirits of men with their beauty and grace and their artistry. Let courtesans satisfy the body with beauty, grace, and equal artistry."

Again he was struck by the simplicity and the far-reaching possibilities of her idea. "How would you select a geisha?"

"By her aptitude. At puberty her owner would decide the way of her future. And the guild could approve, or reject, the apprentice, neh ?"

"It is an extraordinary idea, Gyoko-san."

The woman bowed and shivered. "Please excuse my long-windedness, Sire, but this way, when beauty fades and the body thickens, still the girl can have a rare future and a real value. She won't have to go down the road that all courtesans today must travel. I plead for the artists among them, my Kiku-san for one. I petition you to grant the favored few a future and the position they merit in the land. To learn to sing and to dance and to play requires practice and practice over the years. The pillow needs youth and there is no aphrodisiac like youth. Neh?"

"No." Toranaga watched her. "Gei-shas may not pillow?"

"That would not be part of a gei-sha's duty, whatever the money offered. Gei-shas would never be obliged to pillow, Sire. If a geisha wished to pillow with a particular man, it would be her private concern - or perhaps it should be arranged with the permission of her mistress, the price to be only as high as that man can afford. A courtesan's duty would be to pillow with artistry - gei-shas and the apprentice gei-shas would be untouchable. Please excuse me for talking so long." Gyoko bowed and Kiku bowed. The barest fraction of incense remained.

Toranaga questioned them for twice the allotted time, pleased with the opportunity to learn about their world, probing their ideas and hopes and fears. What he learned excited him. He docketed the information for future use, then he sent Kiku into the garden. "Tonight, Gyoko-san, I would like her to stay, if she would care to, until dawn - if she's free. Would you please ask her? Of course I realize that she may be tired now. After all, she's played so superbly for such a long time and I'll quite understand. But perhaps she would consider it. I'd be grateful if you would ask her."

"Of course, Sire, but I know she would be honored by your invitation. It's our duty to serve in any way we can, neh?"

"Yes. But she is, as you so rightly point out, most special. I'll quite understand if she's too tired. Please ask her in a moment." He gave Gyoko a small leather bag containing ten koban, regretting the ostentation, but knowing his position demanded it. "Perhaps this would compensate you for such an exhausting evening, and be a small token of my thanks for your ideas."

"It's our duty to serve, Sire," Gyoko said. He saw her trying to stop her fingers from counting through the soft leather, and fail. "Thank you, Sire. Please excuse me, I will ask her." Then, strangely and unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes. "Please accept the thanks of a vulgar old woman for your courtesy and for listening. It's just that for all the giving of pleasure, our only reward is a river of tears. In truth, Lord, it is difficult to explain how a woman feels . . . please excuse me . . . .

"Listen, Gyoko-san, I understand. Don't worry. I'll consider everything you've said. Oh yes, you'll both leave with me shortly after dawn. A few days in the mountains will make a pleasant change. I would imagine the contract price will be approved, neh?"

Gyoko bowed her thanks, then she brushed her tears away and said firmly, "May I therefore ask the name of the honored person for whom her contract will be bought?"

"Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara."

Now under the Yokose night, the air sweetly cool, Kiku-san's music and voice possessing their minds and hearts, Toranaga let his mind wander. He remembered the pride-filled glow that had swamped Gyoko's face and he wondered again at the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most cunning and clever people would frequently see only what they wanted to see, and would rarely look beyond the thinnest of facades. Or they would ignore reality, dismissing it as the facade. And then, when their whole world fell to pieces and they were on their knees slitting their bellies or cutting their throats, or cast out into the freezing world, they would tear their topknots or rend their clothes and bewail their karma, blaming gods or kami or luck or their lords or husbands or vassals - anything or anyone - but never themselves.

So very strange.

He looked at his guests and saw they were still watching the girl, locked in their secrets, their minds expanded by her artistry - all except the Anjin-san, who was edgy and fidgeting. Never mind, Anjin-san, Toranaga thought with amusement, it's only your lack of civilization. Yes, never mind, that will come in time, and even that doesn't matter so long as you obey. At the moment I need your touchiness and your anger and your violence.

Yes, you're all here. You Omi, and Yabu and Naga and Buntaro, and you Mariko and Kiku-san and even Gyoko, all my Izu hawks and falcons, all trained and very ready. All here except one - the Christian priest. And soon it'll be your turn, Tsukku-san. Or perhaps mine.

Father Martin Alvito of the Society of Jesus was enraged. Just when he knew he should be preparing for his meeting with Toranaga, at which he would need all his wits, he was faced with this new abomination that could not wait. "What have you got to say for yourself?" he lashed out at the cowled Japanese acolyte who knelt abjectly in front of him. The other Brothers stood around the small room in a semicircle.

"Please forgive me, Father. I have sinned," the man stammered in complete misery. "Please forgive-"

"I repeat: It is for Almighty God in His wisdom to forgive, not me. You've committed a mortal sin. You've broken your Holy Oath. Well?"

The reply was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Father." The man was thin and frail. His baptismal name was Joseph and he was thirty. His fellow acolytes, all Brothers of the Society, ranged from eighteen to forty. All were tonsured, all of noble samurai birth from provinces in Kyushu, all rigorously trained for the priesthood though none yet ordained.

"I confessed, Father," Brother Joseph said, keeping his head bowed.

"You think that's enough?" Impatiently Alvito turned away and walked to the window. The room was ordinary, the mats fair, the paper shoji screens poorly repaired. The inn was seedy and third class but the best that he could find in Yokose, the rest taken by samurai. He stared out into the night, half listening to Kiku's distant voice soaring over the noise of the river. Until the courtesan finished Alvito knew he would not be sent for by Toranaga. "Filthy whore," he said, half to himself, the wailing discordance of Japanese singing annoying him more than usual, intensifying his anger at Joseph's betrayal.