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

"Then?"

"Then we go on. What does your weather sense tell you about Mishima?"

"That it's friendly and safe," he replied. "After Mishima, what then?"

She pointed northeast, unconvinced. "Then we'll go that way. There's a pass that curls up through the mountains toward Hakone. It's the most grueling part of the whole Tokaido Road. After that the road falls away to the city of Odawara, which is much bigger than Mishima, Anjin-san. It's on the coast. From there to Yedo is only a matter of time."

"How much time?"

"Not enough."

"You're wrong, my love, so sorry," he said. "There's all the time in the world."

General Toda Hiro-matsu accepted the private dispatch that Mariko offered. He broke Toranaga's seals. The scroll told briefly what had happened at Yokose, confirmed Toranaga's decision to submit, ordered Hiro-matsu to hold the frontier and the passes to the Kwanto against any intruder until he arrived (but to expedite any messenger from Ishido or from the east) and gave instructions about the renegade Christian and about the Anjin-san. Wearily the old soldier read the message a second time. "Now tell me everything you saw at Yokose, or heard, affecting Lord Toranaga. " Mariko obeyed.

"Now tell me what you think happened."

Again she obeyed.

"What occurred at the cha-no-yu between you and my son?"

She told him everything, exactly as it happened.

"My son said our Master would lose? Before the second meeting with Lord Zataki?"

"Yes, Sire."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes, Sire."

There was a long silence in the room high up in the castle donjon that dominated the city. Hiro-matsu got to his feet and went to the arrow embrasure in the thick stone wall, his back and joints aching, his sword loose in his hands. "I don't understand."

"Sire?"

"Neither my son, nor our Master. We can smash through any armies Ishido puts into the field. And as to the decision to submit...."

She toyed with her fan, watching the evening sky, star-filled and pleasing.

Hiro-matsu studied her. "You're looking very well, Mariko-san, younger than ever. What's your secret?"

"I haven't one, Sire," she replied, her throat suddenly dry. She waited for her world to shatter but the moment passed and the old man turned his shrewd eyes back to the city below.

"Now tell me what happened since you left Osaka. Everything you saw or heard or were part of," he said.

It was far into the night by the time she had finished. She related everything clearly, except the extent of her intimacy with the Anjin-san. Even here she was careful not to hide her liking for him, her respect for his intelligence and bravery. Or Toranaga's admiration for his value.

For a while Hiro-matsu continued to wander up and down, the movement easing his pain. Everything dovetailed with Yoshinaka's report and Omi's report - and even Zataki's tirade before that daimyo had stormed off to Shinano. Now he understood many things that had been unclear and had enough information to make a calculated decision. Some of what she related disgusted him. Some made him hate his son even more; he could understand his son's motives, but that made no difference. The rest of what she said forced him to resent the barbarian and sometimes to admire him. "You saw him pull our Lord to safety?"

"Yes. Lord Toranaga would be dead now, Sire, but for him. I'm quite certain. Three times he has saved our Master: escaping from Osaka Castle, aboard the galley in Osaka harbor, and absolutely at the earthquake. I saw the swords Omi-san had dug up. They were twisted like noodle dough and just as useless."

"You think the Anjin-san really meant to commit seppuku?"

"Yes. By the Lord God of the Christians, I believe he made that commitment. Only Omi-san prevented it. And, Sire, I believe totally he's worthy to be samurai, worthy to be hatamoto."

"I didn't ask for that opinion."

"Please excuse me, Sire, truly you didn't. But that question was still in the front of your mind."

"You've become a thought reader as well as barbarian trainer?"

"Oh, no, please excuse me, Sire, of course not," she said in her nicest voice. "I merely answer the leader of my clan to the best of my very poor ability. Our Master's interests are first in my mind. Your interests are second only to his."

"Are they?"

"Please excuse me, but that shouldn't be necessary to ask. Command me, Sire. I'll do your bidding."

"Why so proud, Mariko-san?" he asked testily. "And so right? Eh?"

"Please excuse me, Sire. I was rude. I don't deserve such-"

"I know! No woman does!" Hiro-matsu laughed. "But even so, there are times when we need a woman's cold, cruel, vicious, cunning, practical wisdom. They're so much cleverer than we are, neh?"

"Oh, no, Sire," she said, wondering what was really in his mind.

"It's just as well we're alone. If that was repeated in public they'd say old Iron Fist's overripe, that it's time for him to put down his sword, shave his head, and begin to say prayers to Buddha for the souls of the men he's sent into the Void. And they'd be right."

"No, Sire. It's as the Lord, your son, said. Until our Master's fate is set, you may not retreat. Neither you, nor the Lord my husband. Nor I."

"Yes. Even so, I'd be very pleased to lay down my sword and seek the peace of Buddha for myself and those I have killed."

He stared at the night for a time, feeling his age, then looked at her. She was pleasing to see, more than any woman he had ever known.

"Sire?"

"Nothing, Mariko-san. I was remembering the first time I saw you, That was when Hiro-matsu had secretly mortgaged his soul to Goroda to obtain this slip of a girl for his own son, the same son who had slaughtered his own mother, the one woman Hiro-matsu had ever really adored. Why did I get Mariko for him? Because I wanted to spite the Taiko, who desired her also. To spite a rival, nothing more.

Was my consort truly unfaithful? the old man asked himself, reopening the perpetual sore. Oh gods, when I look you in the face I'll demand an answer to that question. I want a yes or no! I demand the truth! I think it's a lie, but Buntaro said she was alone with that man in the room, disheveled, her kimono loose, and it was months before I returned. It could be a lie, neh? Or the truth, neh? It must be the truth - surely no son would behead his own mother without being sure?

Mariko was observing the lines of Hiro-matsu's face, his skin stretched and scaled with age, and the ancient muscular strength of his arms and shoulders. What are you thinking? she wondered, liking him. Have you seen through me yet? Do you know about me and the Anjin-san now? Do you know I quiver with love for him? That when I have to choose between him and thee and Toranaga, I will choose him?

Hiro-matsu stood near the embrasure looking down at the city below, his fingers kneading the scabbard and the haft of his sword, oblivious of her. He was brooding about Toranaga and what Zataki had said a few days ago in bitter disgust, disgust that he had shared.

"Yes, of course I want to conquer the Kwanto and plant my standard on the walls of Yedo Castle now and make it my own. I never did before but now I do," Zataki had told him. "But this way? There's no honor in it! No honor for my brother or you or me! Or anyone! Except Ishido, and that peasant doesn't know any better."

"Then support Lord Toranaga! With your help Tora-"

"For what? So my brother can become Shogun and stamp out the Heir?"

"He's said a hundred times he supports the Heir. I believe he does. And we'd have a Minowara to lead us, not an upstart peasant and the hellcat Ochiba, neh? Those incompetents will have eight years of rule before Yaemon's of age if Lord Toranaga dies. Why not give Lord Toranaga the eight years - he's Minowara! He's said a thousand times he'll hand over power to Yaemon. Is your brain in your arse? Toranaga's not Yaemon's enemy or yours!"