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.”
“He didn’t have swords, so he wasn’t samurai. A Jesuit?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so—I was most careful there. Please excuse me that I didn’t see him.”
“Never mind.” Blackthorne glanced at Vinck. “Go below now, Johann. I’ll finish this watch and wake you at dawn. Thanks for waiting.”
Vinck touched his forelock and went below. The dank smell left with him. “I was getting worried about you,” Blackthorne said. “What happened?”
“Yabu-sama’s messenger was slow, Anjin-san. Here is my report: I went with Yabu-sama and waited outside the castle from noon till just after dark when—”
“What were you doing all that time? Exactly?”
“Exactly, Sire? I chose a quiet place near the marketplace in sight of First Bridge, and I put my mind into meditation—the Jesuit practice, Anjin-san, but not about God, only about you and Yabu-sama and your future, Sire.” Uraga smiled. “Many passersby put coins into my begging bowl. I let my body rest and my mind roam, though I watched the First Bridge all the time. Yabu-sama’s messenger came after dark and pretended to pray with me until we were quite alone. The messenger whispered this: ‘Yabu-sama says that he will be staying in the castle tonight and that he will return tomorrow morning. There is to be an official function in the castle tomorrow night that you will be invited to, given by General Lord Ishido. Finally, you should consider seventy.’ ” Uraga peered at him. “The samurai repeated that twice, so I presume it’s private code, Sire.”
Blackthorne nodded but did not volunteer that this was one of many prearranged signals between Yabu and himself. “Seventy” meant that he should ensure the ship was prepared for an instant retreat to sea. But with all his samurai, seamen, and rowers confined aboard, the ship was ready. And as everyone was very aware they were in enemy waters and all were greatly troubled, Blackthorne knew it would require no effort to get the ship headed out to sea.
“Go on, Uraga-san.”
“That was all except I was to tell you Toda Mariko-san arrived today.”
“Ah! Did she . . . Isn’t that a very fast time to make the land journey here from Yedo?”
“Yes, Sire. Actually, while I was waiting, I saw her company go across the bridge. It was in the afternoon, the middle of the Hour of the Goat. The horses were lathered and muddy and the bearers very tired. Yoshinaka-san led them.”
“Did any of them see you?”
“No, Sire. No, I don’t think so.”
“How many were there?”
“About two hundred samurai, with porters and baggage horses. Twice that number of Grays escorting them. One of the baggage horses had panniers of carrier pigeons.”
“Good. Next?”
“As soon as I was able, I left. There’s a noodle shop near the Mission that many merchants, rice and silk brokers, Mission people use. I—I went there and ate and listened. The Father-Visitor is again in residence here. Many more converts in Osaka area. Permission has been granted for a huge Mass in twenty days, in honor of Lords Kiyama and Onoshi.”
“Is that important?”
“Yes, and astonishing for such a service to be permitted openly. It is to celebrate the Feast of Saint Bernard. Twenty days is the day after the Obeisance Ceremony before the Exalted.”
Yabu had told Blackthorne about the Emperor through Uraga. The news had swept through the whole ship, increasing everyone’s premonition of disaster.
“What else?”
“In the marketplace many rumors. Most ill-omened. Yodoko-sama, the Taikō’s widow, is very sick. That’s bad, Anjin-san, because her counsel is always listened to and always reasonable. Some say Lord Toranaga is already near Nagoya, others say he’s not yet reached Odawara, so no one knows what to believe. All agree the harvest will be terrible this year, here in Osaka, which means the Kwanto becomes even more greatly important. Most people think civil war will begin as soon as Lord Toranaga’s dead, at which time the great daimyos will begin to fight among themselves. The price of gold is very high and interest rates up to seventy percent which—”
“That’s impossibly high, you must be mistaken.” Blackthorne got up and eased his back, then leaned wearily against the gunwale. Politely Uraga and all samurai got up too. It would have been bad manners for them to sit while their master stood.
“Please excuse me, Anjin-san,” Uraga was saying, “it’s never less than fifty percent, and usually sixty-five to seventy, even eighty. Almost twenty years ago the Father-Visitor petitioned the Holy Fa—petitioned the Pope, to allow us—to allow the Society to lend at ten percentage. He was right that his suggestion—it was approved, Anjin-san—would bring lusters to Christianity and many converts for, of course, only Christians could get loans, which were always modest. You don’t pay such highs in your country?”
“Rarely. That’s usury! You understand ‘usury’?”
“I understand the word, yes. But usury would not begin for us under one hundred percentage. I was going to tell you also now rice is very expensive and that’s a bad omen—it’s double what it was when I was here a few weeks ago. Land is cheap. Now would be a good time to buy land here. Or a house. In the tai-fun and fires perhaps ten thousand homes die, and two, three thousand people. That’s all, Anjin-san.”
“That’s very good. You’ve done very well. You’ve missed your real vocation!”
“Sire?”
“Nothing,” Blackthorne said, not yet knowing how far he could tease Uraga. “You’ve done very well.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
Blackthorne thought a moment, then asked him about the function tomorrow and Uraga advised him as best he could. Finally Uraga told him about his escape from the patrol.
“Would your hair have given you away?” Blackthorne asked.
“Oh yes. Enough for them to take me to their officer.” Uraga wiped the sweat off his forehead. “So sorry, it’s hot, neh?”
“Very,” Blackthorne agreed politely, and let his mind sift the information. He glanced seaward, unconsciously checking the sky and sea and wind. Everything was fine and orderly, the fishing boats complacently drifting with the tide, near and far, a spearman in the prow of each under a lantern stabbing down from time to time, and most always bringing up a fine bream or mullet or red snapper that curled and twisted on the spike.