Mariko was startled. "With whom?"
"The new barbarian."
"Oh! But what about Father Tsukku-san? Is he sick?"
"No. " Kiri played with her fan. "I suppose it's left to us to wonder why - Lord Toranaga wants you here and not the priest, as in the first interview. Why is it, Mariko-san, that we have to guard all the monies, pay all the bills, train all the servants, buy all the food and household goods - even most times the clothes of our Lords - but they don't really tell us anything, do they?"
"Perhaps that's what our intuition's for."
"Probably." Kiri's gaze was level and friendly. "But I'd imagine that this would all be a very private matter. So you would swear by your Christian God not to divulge anything about this meeting. To anyone."
The day seemed to lose its warmth.
"Of course," Mariko said uneasily. She understood very clearly that Kiri meant she was to say nothing to her husband or to his father or to her confessor. As her husband had ordered her here, obviously at Lord Toranaga's request, her duty to her liege Lord Toranaga overcame her duty to her husband, so she could withhold information freely from him. But to her confessor? Could she say nothing to him? And why was she the interpreter and not Father Tsukku-san? She knew that once more, against her will, she was involved in the kind of political intrigue that had bedeviled her life, and wished again that her family was not ancient and Fujimoto, that she had never been born with the gift of tongues that had allowed her to learn the almost incomprehensible Portuguese and Latin languages, and that she had never been born at all. But then, she thought, I would never have seen my son, nor learned about the Christ Child or His Truth, or about the Life Everlasting.
It is your karma, Mariko, she told herself sadly, just karma. "Very well, Kiri-san." Then she added with foreboding, "I swear by the Lord my God, that I will not divulge anything said here today, or at any time I am interpreting for my liege Lord."
"I would also imagine that you might have to exclude part of your own feelings to translate exactly what is said. This new barbarian is strange and says peculiar things. I'm sure my Lord picked you above all possibilities for special reasons."
"I am Lord Toranaga's to do with as he wishes. He need never have any fear for my loyalty."
"That was never in question, Lady. I meant no harm."
A spring rain came and speckled the petals and the mosses and the leaves, and disappeared leaving ever more beauty in its wake.
"I would ask a favor, Mariko-san. Would you please put your crucifix under your kimono?"
Mariko's fingers darted for it defensively. "Why? Lord Toranaga has never objected to my conversion, nor has Lord Hiro-matsu, the head of my clan! My husband has - my husband allows me to keep it and wear it."
"Yes. But crucifixes send this barbarian mad and my Lord Toranaga doesn't want him mad, he wants him soothed."
Blackthorne had never seen anyone so petite. "Konnichi wa," he said. "Konnichi, Toranaga-sama. " He bowed as a courtier, nodded to the boy who knelt, wide-eyed, beside Toranaga, and to the fat woman who was behind him. They were all on the veranda that encircled the small hut. The hut contained a single small room with rustic screens and hewn beams and thatched roof, and a kitchen area behind. It was set on pilings of wood and raised a foot or so above a carpet of pure white sand. This was a ceremonial Tea House for the cha-no-yu ceremony and built at vast expense with rare materials for that purpose alone, though sometimes, because these houses were isolated, in glades, they were used for trysts and private conversations.
Blackthorne gathered his kimono around him and sat on the cushion that had been placed on the sand below and in front of them. "Gomen nasai, Toranaga-sama, nihon go ga hanase-masen. Tsuyaku go imasu ka?" "I am your interpreter, senhor," Mariko said at once, in almost flawless Portuguese. "But you speak Japanese?"
"No, senhorita, just a few words or phrases," Blackthorne replied, taken aback. He had been expecting Father Alvito to be the interpreter, and Toranaga to be accompanied by samurai and perhaps the daimyo Yabu. But no samurai were near, though many ringed the garden.
"My Lord Toranaga asks where - First, perhaps I should ask if you prefer to speak Latin?"
"Whichever you wish, senhorita." Like any educated man, Blackthorne could read, write, and speak Latin, because Latin was the only language of learning throughout the civilized world.
Who is this woman? Where did she learn such perfect Portuguese? And Latin? Where else but from the Jesuits, he thought. In one of their schools. Oh, they're so clever! The first thing they do is build a school.
It was only seventy years ago that Ignatius Loyola had formed the Society of Jesus and now their schools, the finest in Christendom, were spread across the world and their influence bolstered or destroyed kings. They had the ear of the Pope. They had halted the tide of the Reformation and were now winning back huge territories for their Church.
"We will speak Portuguese then," she was saying. "My Master wishes to know where you learned your 'few words and phrases'?"
"There was a monk in the prison, senhorita, a Franciscan monk, and he taught me. Things like, 'food, friend, bath, go, come, true, false, here, there, I, you, please, thank you, want, don't want, prisoner, yes, no,' and so on. It's only a beginning, unfortunately. Would you please tell Lord Toranaga that I'm better prepared now to answer his questions, to help, and more than a little pleased to be out of prison. For which I thank him."
Blackthorne watched as she turned and spoke to Toranaga. He knew that he would have to speak simply, preferably in short sentences, and be careful because, unlike the priest who interpreted simultaneously, this woman waited till he had finished, then gave a synopsis, or a version of what was said - the usual problem of all except the finest interpreters, though even they, as with the Jesuit, allowed their own personalities to influence what was said, voluntarily or involuntarily. The bath and massage and food and two hours of sleep had im measurably refreshed him. The bath attendants, all women of girth and strength, had pummeled him and shampooed his hair, braiding it in a neat queue, and the barber had trimmed his beard. He had been given a clean loincloth and kimono and sash, and tabi and thongs for his feet. The futons on which he had slept had been so clean, like the room. It had all seemed dreamlike and, waking from dreamlessness, he had wondered momentarily which was the dream, this or the prison.
He had waited impatiently, hoping that he would be guided again to Toranaga, planning what to say and what to reveal, how to outwit Father Alvito and how to gain ascendance over him. And over Toranaga. For he knew, beyond all doubt, because of what Friar Domingo had told him about the Portuguese, and Japanese politics and trade, that he could now help Toranaga, who, in return, could easily give him the riches he desired.
And now, with no priest to fight, he felt even more confident. I need just a little luck and patience.
Toranaga was listening intently to the doll-like interpreter.
Blackthorne thought, I could pick her up with one hand and if I put both hands around her waist, my fingers would touch. How old would she be? Perfect! Married? No wedding ring. Ah, that's interesting. She's wearing no jewelry of any kind. Except the silver pins in her hair. Neither is the other woman, the fat one.
He searched his memory. The other two women in the village had worn no jewelry either, and he had not seen any on any of Mura's household. Why?
And who's the fat woman? Toranaga's wife? Or the boy's nursemaid? Would the lad be Toranaga's son? Or grandson, perhaps? Friar Domingo had said that Japanese had only one wife at one time but as many consorts - legal mistressesas they wished.
Was the interpreter Toranaga's consort?
What would it be like to have such a woman in bed? I'd be afraid of crushing her. No, she wouldn't break. There are women in England almost as small. But not like her.
The boy was small and straight and round-eyed, his full black hair tied into a short queue, his pate unshaven. His curiosity seemed enormous.
Without thinking, Blackthorne winked. The boy jumped, then laughed and interrupted Mariko and pointed and spoke out, and they listened indulgently and no one hushed him. When he had finished, Toranaga spoke briefly to Blackthorne.
"Lord Toranaga asks why did you do that, senhor?"
"Oh, just to amuse the lad. He's a child like any, and children in my country would usually laugh if you did that. My son must be about his age now. My son's seven."
"The Heir is seven," Mariko said after a pause, then translated what he had said.
"Heir? Does that mean the boy's Lord Toranaga's only son?" Blackthorne asked.
"Lord Toranaga has instructed me to say that you will please confine yourself to answering questions only, for the moment." Then she added, "I'm sure, if you are patient, Pilot-Captain B'ackthon, that you'll be given an opportunity to ask anything you wish later."
"Very well."
"As your name is very hard to say, senhor, for we do not have the sounds to pronounce it - may I, for Lord Toranaga, use your Japanese name, Anjin-san?"
"Of course." Blackthorne was going to ask hers but he remembered what she had said and reminded himself to be patient.
"Thank you. My Lord asks, do you have any other children?"
"A daughter. She was born just before I left my home in England. So she's about two now."
"You have one wife or many?"
"One. That's our custom. Like the Portuguese and Spanish. We don't have consorts - formal consorts."
"Is this your first wife, senhor?"