Kiku glanced back at the house momentarily, and shivered. "Is she always like that?"
"Tonight she was polite, compared to some times. If it wasn't for Omi and my son I swear I'd shake her dust off my feet, shave my head, and become a nun. But I have Omi and my son and that makes up for everything. I only thank all kami for that. Fortunately Mistress-san prefers Yedo and can't stay away from there for very long." Midori smiled sadly. "You train yourself not to listen, you know how it is." She sighed, so beautiful in the moonlight. "But that's unimportant. Tell me what's happened since I left."
This was why Kiku had come to the house so urgently, for obviously neither the mother nor the wife would wish Omi's sleep disturbed. She came to tell the lovely Lady Midori everything, so she could help to guard Kasigi Omi as she herself would try to guard him. She told her all that she knew except what had happened in the room with Yabu. She added the rumors she had heard and the stories the other girls had passed on to her or invented. And everything that Omi had told her-his hopes and fears and plans-everything about him, except what had happened in the room tonight. She knew that this was not important to his wife.
"I'm afraid, Kiku-san, afraid for my husband."
"Everything he advised was wise, Lady. I think everything he did was correct. Lord Yabu doesn't reward anyone lightly and three thousand koku is a worthy increase."
"But the ship's Lord Toranaga's now, and all that money."
"Yes, but for Yabu-sama to offer the ship as a gift was an idea of genius. Omi-san gave the idea to Yabu-surely this itself is payment enough, neh? Omi-san must be recognized as a preeminent vassal." Kiku twisted the truth just a trifle, knowing that Omi was in great danger, and all his house. What is to be will be, she reminded herself. But it does no harm to ease the brow of a nice woman.
"Yes, I can see that," Midori said. Let it be the truth, she prayed. Please let it be the truth. She embraced the girl, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you. You're so kind, Kiku-san, so kind." She was seventeen.
CHAPTER 8
"What do you think, Ingeles?"
"I think there'll be a storm."
"When?"
"Before sunset."
It was near noon and they were standing on the quarterdeck of the galley under a gray overcast. This was the second day out to sea.
"If this was your ship, what would you do?"
"How far is it to our landfall?" Blackthorne asked.
"After sunset."
"How far to the nearest land?"
"Four or five hours, Ingeles. But to run for cover will cost us half a day and I can't afford that. What would you do?"
Blackthorne thought a moment. During the first night the galley had sped southward down the east coast of the Izu peninsula, helped by the large sail on the midships mast. When they had come abreast of the southmost cape, Cape Ito, Rodrigues had set the course West South West and had left the safety of the coast for the open sea, heading for a landfall at Cape Shinto two hundred miles away.
"Normally in one of these galleys we'd hug the coast-for safety," Rodrigues had said, "but that'd take too much time and time is important. Toranaga asked me to pilot Toady to Anjiro and back. Quickly. There's a bonus for me if we're very quick. One of their pilots'd be just as good on a short haul like this, but the poor son of a whored be frightened to death carrying so important a daimyo as Toady, particularly out of sight of land. They're not oceaners, Japmen. Great pirates and fighters and coastal sailors. But the deep frightens them. The old Taikō even made a law that the few ocean ships Japmen possess were always to have Portuguese pilots aboard. It's still the law of their land today."
"Why did he do that?"
Rodrigues shrugged. "Perhaps someone suggested it to him."
"Who?"
"Your stolen rutter, Ingeles, the Portuguese one. Whose was it?"
"I don't know. There was no name on it, no signature."
"Where'd you get it?"
"From the chief merchant of the Dutch East India Company."
"Where'd he get it from?"
Blackthorne shrugged.
Rodrigues' laugh had no humor in it. "Well, I never expected you to tell me-but whoever stole it and sold it, I hope he burns in hellfire forever!"
"You're employed by this Toranaga, Rodrigues?"
"No. I was just visiting Osaka, my Captain and I. This was just a favor to Toranaga. My Captain volunteered me. I'm pilot of the-" Rodrigues had stopped. "I keep forgetting you're the enemy, Ingeles."
" Portugal and England have been allies for centuries."
"But we're not now. Go below, Ingeles. You're tired and so am I and tired men make mistakes. Come on deck when you're rested."
So Blackthorne had gone below to the pilot's cabin and had lain on the bunk. Rodrigues' rutter of the voyage was on the sea desk which was pinned to the bulkhead like the pilot's chair on the quarterdeck. The book was leather-covered and used but Blackthorne did not open it.
"Why leave it there?" he had asked previously.
"If I didn't, you'd search for it. But you won't touch it there-or even look at it-uninvited. You're a pilot-not a pig-bellied whoring thieving merchant or soldier."
"I'll read it. You would."
"Not uninvited, Ingeles. No pilot'd do that. Even I wouldn't!"
Blackthorne had watched the book for a moment and then he closed his eyes. He slept deeply, all of that day and part of the night. It was just before dawn when he awoke as always. It took time to adjust to the untoward motion of the galley and the throb of the drum that kept the oars moving as one. He lay comfortably on his back in the dark, his arms under his head. He thought about his own ship and put away his worry of what would happen when they reached shore and Osaka. One thing at a time. Think about Felicity and Tudor and home. No, not now. Think that if other Portuguese are like Rodrigues, you've a good chance now. You'll get a ship home. Pilots are not enemies and the pox on other things! But you can't say that, lad. You're English, the hated heretic and anti-Christ. Catholics own this world. They owned it. Now we and the Dutch're going to smash them.
What nonsense it all is! Catholic and Protestant and Calvinist and Lutherist and every other shitist. You should have been born Catholic. It was only fate that took your father to Holland where he met a woman, Anneke van Droste, who became his wife and he saw Spanish Catholics and Spanish priests and the Inquisition for the first time. I'm glad he had his eyes opened, Blackthorne thought. I'm glad mine are open.
Then he had gone on deck. Rodrigues was in his chair, his eyes red-rimmed with sleeplessness, two Japanese sailors on the helm as before.
"Can I take this watch for you?"
"How do you feel, Ingeles?"
"Rested. Can I take the watch for you?" Blackthorne saw Rodrigues measuring him. "I'll wake you if the wind changes-anything."
"Thank you, Ingeles. Yes, I'll sleep a little. Maintain this course. At the turn, go four degrees more westerly and at the next, six more westerly. You'll have to point the new course on the compass for the helmsman. Wakarimasu ka?"
"Hai!" Blackthorne laughed. "Four points westerly it is. Go below, Pilot, your bunk's comfortable."
But Vasco Rodrigues did not go below. He merely pulled his sea cloak closer and settled deeper into the seachair. Just before the turn of the hourglass he awoke momentarily and checked the course change without moving and immediately went back to sleep again. Once when the wind veered he awoke and then, when he had seen there was no danger, again he slept.
Hiro-matsu and Yabu came on deck during the morning. Blackthorne noticed their surprise that he was conning the ship and Rodrigues sleeping. They did not talk to him, but returned to their conversation and, later, they went below again.