Obediently the men scattered, glad to be away from the priest's wrath. Blackthorne was still bewildered, half wondering if his head was tricking him. Then, in the melee, Pesaro's hatred burst. He aimed. Dell'Aqua saw the covert movement and leaped forward to protect Blackthorne with his own bulk. Pesaro pulled the trigger but at that moment arrows impaled him, the pistol fired harmlessly, and he collapsed screaming.
Blackthorne spun around and saw six Kiyama archers, fresh arrows already in their bows. Standing near them was Michael. The officer spoke harshly. Pesaro gave a last shriek, his limbs contorted, and he died.
Michael trembled as he broke the silence. "The officer says, so sorry, but he was afraid for the Father-Visitor's life." Michael was begging God to forgive him for giving the signal to fire. But Pesaro had been warned, he reasoned. And it is my duty to see the Father-Visitor's orders are obeyed, that his life is protected, that assassins are stamped out and no one excommunicated.
Dell'Aqua was on his knees beside the corpse of Pesaro. He made the sign of the cross and said the sacred words. The Portuguese around him were watching the samurai, craving the order to kill the murderers. The rest of Kiyama's men were hastening from the Mission gate where they had remained, and a number of Grays were streaming back from the galley area to investigate. Through his almost blinding rage Ferriera knew he could not afford a fight here and now. "Everyone back aboard! Bring Pesaro's body!" Sullenly the shore party began to obey.
Blackthorne lowered his sword but did not sheathe it. He waited stupefied, expecting a trick, expecting to be captured and dragged aboard.
On the quarterdeck Rodrigues said quietly, "Stand by to repel boarders, but carefully, by God!" Instantly men slipped to action stations. "Cover the Captain-General! Prepare the longboat . . . ."
Dell'Aqua got up and turned on Ferriera, who stood arrogantly at the companionway, prepared to defend his ship. "You're responsible for that man's death!" the Father-Visitor hissed. "Your fanatic, vengeful lust and unho-"
"Before you say something publicly you may regret, Eminence, you'd better think carefully," Ferriera interrupted. "I bowed to your order even though I knew, before God, you were making a terrible mistake. You heard me order my men back! Pesaro disobeyed you, not me, and the truth is you're responsible if anyone is. You prevented him and us from doing our duty. That Ingeles is the enemy! It was a military decision, by God! I'll inform Lisbon." His eyes checked the battle readiness of his ship and the approaching samurai.
Rodrigues had moved to the main deck gangway. "Captain-General, I can't get out to sea with this wind and this tide."
"Get a longboat ready to haul us out if need be."
"It's being done."
Ferriera shouted at the seamen carrying Pesaro, telling them to hurry. Quickly all were back aboard. The cannon were manned, though discreetly, and everyone had two muskets nearby. Left and right, samurai were massing on the wharf but they made no overt move to interfere.
Still on the dock Ferriera said peremptorily to Michael, "Tell them all to disperse! There's no trouble here - nothing for them to do. There was a mistake, a bad one, but they were right to shoot the bosun. Tell them to disperse." He hated to say it and wanted to kill them all but he could almost smell the peril on the wharf and he had no option now but to retreat.
Michael did as he was ordered. The officers did not move.
"You'd better go on, Eminence," Ferriera said bitterly. "But this is not the last of it - you'll regret saving him!"
Dell'Aqua too felt the explosiveness surrounding them. But it did not touch him. He made the sign of the cross and said a small benediction, then he turned away. "Come along, Pilot."
"Why are you letting me go?" Blackthorne asked, the pain in his head agonizing, still not daring to believe it.
"Come along, Pilot!"
"But why are you letting me go? I don't understand."
"Nor do I," Ferriera said. "I'd like to know the real reason too, Eminence. Isn't he still a threat to us and the Church?"
Dell'Aqua stared at him. "Yes," he wanted to say, to wipe the arrogance off the popinjay's face in front of him. "But the bigger threat is the immediate war and how to buy time for you and fifty years of Black Ships, and whom to choose: Toranaga or Ishido. You understand nothing of our problems, Ferriera, or the stakes involved, or the delicacy of our position here or the dangers."
"Please Lord Kiyama, reconsider. I suggest you should choose Lord Toranaga," he had told the daimyo yesterday, through Michael as interpreter, not trusting his own Japanese, which was only fair.
"This is unwarranted interference in Japanese affairs and outside your jurisdiction. And, too, the barbarian must die."
Dell'Aqua had used all his diplomatic skill but Kiyama had been adamant and had refused to commit himself or change his position. Then, this morning, when he had gone to Kiyama to tell him that, through God's will, the Ingeles was neutralized, there had been a glimmer of hope.
"I've considered what you said," Kiyama had told him. "I will not ally myself with Toranaga. Between now and the battle I will watch both contenders very carefully. At the correct time I will choose. And now I consent to let the barbarian go . . . not because of what you've told me but because of the Lady Mariko, to honor her . . . and because the Anjin-san is samurai . . ."
Ferriera was still staring back at him. "Isn't the Ingeles still a threat?"
"Have a safe journey, Captain-General, and Godspeed. Pilot, I'm taking you to your galley . . . . Are you all right?"
"It's . . . my head it's . . . I think the explosion . . . . You're really letting me go? Why?"
"Because the Lady Maria, the Lady Mariko, asked us to protect you." Dell'Aqua started off again.
"But that's no reason! You wouldn't do that just because she asked you."
"I agree," Ferriera said. Then he called out, "Eminence, why not tell him the whole truth?"
Dell'Aqua did not stop. Blackthorne began to follow but he did not turn his back to the ship, still expecting treachery. "Doesn't make sense. You know I'm going to destroy you. I'll take your Black Ship."
Ferriera laughed scornfully. "With what, Ingeles? You have no ship!"
"What do you mean?"
"You have no ship. She's dead. If she wasn't, I'd never let you go, whatever his Eminence threatened."
"It's not true . . ."
Through the fog in his head Blackthorne heard Ferriera say it again and laugh louder, and add something about an accident and the Hand of God and your ship's burned to her spine, so you'll never harm my ship now, though you're still heretic and enemy, and still a threat to the Faith. Then he saw Rodrigues clearly, pity on his face, and the lips spelled out, Yes, it's true, Ingeles.
"It's not true, can't be true."
Then the Inquisitor priest was saying from a million leagues away, "I received a message this morning from Father Alvito. It seems an earthquake caused a tidal wave, the wave . . ."
But Blackthorne was not listening. His mind was crying out, Your ship's dead, you've let her down, your ship's dead, you've no ship no ship no ship . . . .
"It's not true! You're lying, my ship's in a safe harbor and guarded by four thousand men. She's safe!"
Someone said, "But not from God," and then the Inquisitor was talking again, "The tidal wave heeled your ship. They say that oil lamps on deck were upset and the fire spread. Your ship's gutted . . . . "
"Lies! What about the deck watch? There's always a deck watch! It's impossible," he shouted, but he knew that somehow the price for his life had been his ship.
"You're beached, Ingeles," Ferriera was goading him. "You're marooned. You're here forever, you'll never get passage on one of our ships. You're beached forever . . . ."
It went on and on and he was drowning. Then his eyes cleared. He heard the cry of the gulls and smelled the stink of the shore and saw Ferriera, he saw his enemy and knew it was all a lie to drive him mad. He knew it absolutely and that the priests were part of the plot. "God take you to hell!" he shouted and rushed at Ferriera, his sword raised high. But only in his dream was it a rush. Hands caught him easily and took his swords away and set him walking between two Grays, through all the others, until he was at the companionway of the galley and they gave him back his swords and let him go.
It was difficult for him to see or to hear, his brain hardly working now in the pain, but he was certain it was all a trick to drive him mad and that it would succeed if he did not make a great effort. Help me, he prayed, someone help me, then Yabu was beside him and Vinck and his vassals and he could not distinguish the languages. They guided him aboard, Kid there somewhere and Sazuko, a child crying in a maid's arms, the remnants of the Browns' garrison crowding the deck, rowers and seamen.
Smell of sweat, fear sweat. Yabu was talking at him. And Vinck. It took a long time to concentrate. "Pilot, why in Christ's name did they let you go?"
"I . . . they . . ." He could not say the words.
Then somehow he found himself on the quarterdeck and Yabu was ordering the Captain-san to put to sea before Ishido changed his mind about letting them all leave, and before the Grays on the dock changed their minds about permitting the galley to go, telling the captain full speed for Nagasaki . . . Kiri saying, so sorry, Yabu-sama, please first Yedo, we must go to Yedo. . .