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

"Yes. It would seem so. Go and rest, Mariko-chan, but eat with us tonight. Then we can talk, neh? Oh, by the way, one piece of news for you. Your famous barbarian hatamoto - bless him for saving our Master, we heard about that - he docked safely this morning, with Kasigi Yabu-san."

"Oh! I was so worried about them. They left the day before I did by sea. We were also caught in part of the tai fun, near Nagoya, but it wasn't that bad for us. I was afraid at sea ..... Oh, that's a relief."

"It wasn't too bad here except for the fires. Many thousands of homes burned but barely two thousand dead. We heard today that the main force of the storm hit Kyushu, on the east coast, and part of Shikoku. Tens of thousands died. No one yet knows the full extent of the damage."

"But the harvest?" Mariko asked quickly.

"Much of it's flattened here - fields upon fields. The farmers hope that it will recover but who knows? If there's no damage to the Kwanto during the season, their rice may have to support the whole Empire this year and next."

"It would be far better if Lord Toranaga controlled such a harvest than Ishido. Neh?"

"Yes. But, so sorry, nineteen days is not time enough to take in a harvest, with all the prayers in the world."

Mariko finished her sake. "Yes."

Kiri said, "If their ship left the day before you, you must have hurried. " "I thought it best not to dawdle, Kiri-chan. It's no pleasure for me to travel."

"And Buntaro-san? He's well?"

"Yes. He's in charge of Mishima and all the border at the moment. I saw him briefly coming here. Do you know where Kasigi Yabu-sama's staying? I have a message for him."

"In one of the guest houses. I'll find out which and send you word at once." Kiri accepted more wine. "Thank you, Mariko-chan. I heard the Anjin-san's still on the galley."

"He's a very interesting man, Kiri-san. He's become more than a little useful to our Master."

"I heard that. I want to hear everything about him and the earthquake and all your news. Oh yes, there's a formal reception tomorrow evening for Lady Ochiba's birthday, given by Lord Ishido. Of course you'll be invited. I heard that the Anjin-san's going to be invited too. The Lady Ochiba wanted to see what he looks like. You remember the Heir met him once. Wasn't that the first time you saw him too?"

"Yes. Poor man, so he's to be shown off, like a captive whale?"

"Yes." Kiri added placidly, "With all of us. We're all captives, Mariko-chan, whether we like it or not."

Uraga hurried furtively down the alley toward the shore, the night dark, the sky clear and starlit, the air pleasant. He was dressed in the flowing orange robe of a Buddhist priest, his inevitable hat, and cheap straw sandals. Behind him were warehouses and the tall, almost European bulk of the Jesuit Mission. He turned a corner and redoubled his pace. Few people were about. A company of Grays carrying flares patrolled the shore. He slowed as he passed them courteously, though with a priest's arrogance. The samurai hardly noticed him.

He went unerringly along the foreshore, past beached fishing boats, the smells of the sea and shore heavy on the slight breeze. It was low tide. Scattered over the bay and sanding shelves were night fishermen, like so many fireflies, hunting with spears under their flares. Ahead two hundred paces were the wharves and jetties, barnacle encrusted. Moored to one of them was a Jesuit lorcha, the flags of Portugal and the Company of Jesus fluttering, flares and more Grays near the gangway. He changed direction to skirt the ship, heading back into the city a few blocks, then cut down Nineteenth Street, turned into twisting alleys, and came out on to the road that followed the wharves once more.

"You! Halt!"

The order came out of the darkness. Uraga stopped in sudden panic. Grays came forward into the light and surrounded him. "Where're you going, priest?"

"To the east of the city," Uraga said haltingly, his mouth dry. "To our Nichiren shrine."

"Ah, you're Nichiren, neh?"

Another samurai said roughly, "I'm not one of those. I'm Zen Buddhist like the Lord General."

"Zen-ah yes, Zen's the best," another said. "Wish I could understand that. It's too hard for my old head."

"He's sweating a lot for a priest, isn't he? Why are you sweating?"

"You mean priests don't sweat?"

A few laughed and someone held a flare closer.

"Why should they sweat?" the rough man said. "All they do is sleep all day and pillow all night nuns, boys, dogs, themselves, anything they can get and all the time stuff themselves with food they've never labored for. Priests are parasites, like fleas."

"Eh, leave him alone, he's just-"

"Take off your hat, priest."

Uraga stiffened. "Why? And why taunt a man who serves Buddha? Buddha's doing you no-" The samurai stepped forward pugnaciously. "I said take off your hat!"

Uraga obeyed. His head was newly shaven as a priest's should be and he blessed whatever kami or spirit or gift from Buddha had prompted him to take that added precaution in case he was caught breaking curfew. All the Anjin-san's samurai had been ordered confined to the vessel by the port authorities, pending instructions from higher up. "There's no cause to have foul manners," he flared with a Jesuit's unconscious authority. "Serving Buddha's an honorable life, and becoming a priest is honorable and should be the final part of every samurai's old age. Or do you know nothing of bushido? Where are your manners?"

"What? You're samurai?"

"Of course I'm samurai. How else would I dare to talk to samurai about bad manners?" Uraga put on his hat. "It would be better for you to be patrolling than accosting and insulting innocent priests!" He walked off haughtily, his knees weak.

The samurai watched him for a time, then one spat. "Priests!"

"He was right," the senior samurai said sourly. "Where are your manners?"

"So sorry. Please excuse me."

Uraga walked along the road, very proud of himself. Nearer the galley he became wary again and waited a moment in the lee of a building. Then, gathering himself together, he walked into the flare-lit area.

"Good evening," he said politely to the Grays who lolled beside the gangplank, then added the religious blessing, "Namu Amida Butsu," In the Name of the Buddha Amida.

"Thank you. Namu Amida Butsu." The Grays let him pass without hindrance. Their orders were that the barbarian and all samurai were forbidden ashore except for Yabu and his honor guard. No one had said anything about the Buddhist priest who traveled with the ship.

Greatly tired now, Uraga came onto the main deck.

"Uraga-san," Blackthorne called out softly from the quarterdeck. "Over here."

Uraga squinted to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He saw Blackthorne and he smelt the stale, brassy body aroma and knew that the second shadow there had to be the other barbarian with the unpronounceable name who could also speak Portuguese. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be away from the barbarian odor that was part of his life. The Anjin-san was the only one he had met who did not reek, which was one reason why he could serve him.

"Ah, Anjin-san," he whispered and picked his way over to him, briefly greeting the ten guards who were scattered around the deck.

He waited at the foot of the gangway until Blackthorne motioned him up onto the quarterdeck. "It went very-" "Wait," Blackthorne cautioned him as softly and pointed. "Look ashore. Over there, near the warehouse. See him? No, north a little - there, you see him now?" A shadow moved briefly, then merged into the darkness again.

"Who was it?"

"I've been watching you ever since you came into the road. He's been dogging you. You never saw him?"

"No, Sire," Uraga replied, his foreboding returning to him. "I saw no one, felt no one."