Shogun - Clavell James. Страница 286

"How feel, Anjin-san?" the doctor said with his toothy smile, the voice still faint. "Sleep long time."

Blackthorne lifted himself on an elbow and gazed sleepily at the sun's shadows. Must be almost five of the clock in the afternoon now, he thought. I've slept better than six hours. "Sleep all day, neh?"

The doctor smiled. "All yesterday and night and most of today. Understand?"

"Understand. Yes." Blackthorne lay back, a sheen of sweat on his skin. Good, he thought. The best thing I could have done, no wonder I feel better.

His bed of soft quilts was screened now on three sides with exquisite movable partitions, their panel paintings landscapes and seascapes, and inlaid with ivory. Sunlight came through windows opposite and flies swarmed, the room vast and pleasant and quiet. Outside were castle sounds, now mixed with horses trotting past, bridles jingling, their hoofs unshod. The slight breeze bore the aroma of smoke. Don't know if I'd want to be burned, he thought. But wait a minute, isn't that better than being put in a box and buried and then the worms . . . . Stop it, he ordered himself, feeling himself drifting into a downward spiral. There's nothing to worry about, karma is karma and when you're dead, you're dead, and you never know anything then - and anything's better than drowning, water filling you, your body becoming foul and blotted, the crabs . . . . Stop it!

"Drink, please." The doctor gave him more of the foul brew. He gagged but kept it down.

"Cha, please." The woman servant poured it for him and he thanked her. She was a moon-faced woman of middle age, slits for eyes and a fixed empty smile. After three cups his mouth was bearable.

"Please, Anjin-san, how ears?"

"Same. Still distance . . . distance, understand? Very distance."

"Understand. Eat, Anjin-san?"

A small tray was set with rice and soup and charcoaled fish. His stomach was queasy but he remembered that he had hardly eaten for two days so he sat up and forced himself to take some rice and he drank the fish soup. This settled his stomach so he ate more and finished it all, using the chopsticks now as extensions of his fingers, without conscious effort. "Thank you. Hungry."

"Yes," the doctor said. He put a linen bag of herbs on the low table beside the bed. "Make cha with this, Anjin-san. Once every day until all gone. Understand?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"It has been an honor to serve you." The old man motioned to the servant, who took away the empty tray, and after another bow followed her and left by the same inner door. Now Blackthorne was alone. He lay back on the futons feeling much better.

"I was just hungry," he said aloud. He was wearing only a loincloth. His formal clothes were in a careless pile where he had left them and this surprised him, though a clean Brown kimono was beside his swords. He let himself drift, then suddenly he felt an alien presence. Uneasily he sat up and glanced around. Then he got onto his knees and looked over the screens, and before he knew it, he was standing, his head splitting from the sudden panicked movement as he saw the tonsured Japanese Jesuit staring at him, kneeling motionlessly beside the main doorway, a crucifix and rosary in his hand.

"Who are you?" he asked through his pain.

"I'm Brother Michael, senhor." The coal-dark eyes never wavered. Blackthorne moved from the screens and stood over his swords. "What d'you want with me?"

"I was sent to ask how you are," Michael said quietly in clear though accented Portuguese.

"By whom?"

"By the Lord Kiyama."

Suddenly Blackthorne realized they were totally alone. "Where are my guards?"

"You don't have any, senhor."

"Of course I've guards! I've twenty Grays. Where are my Grays?"

"There were none here when I arrived, senhor. So sorry. You were still sleeping then." Michael motioned gravely outside the door. "Perhaps you should ask those samurai."

Blackthorne picked up his sword. "Please get away from the door."

"I'm not armed, Anjin-san."

"Even so, don't come near me. Priests make me nervous."

Obediently Michael got to his feet and moved away with the same unnerving calm. Outside two Grays lolled against the balustrade of the landing.

"Afternoon," Blackthorne said politely, not recognizing either of them.

Neither bowed. "Afternoon, Anjin-san," one replied.

"Please, where my other guards?"

"All guards taken away Hour of the Hare, this morning. Understand Hour of Hare? We're not your guards, Anjin-san. This is our ordinary post. " Blackthorne felt the cold sweat trickling down his back. "Guards taken away - who order?"

Both samurai laughed. The tall one said, "Here, inside the donjon, Anjin-san, only the Lord General gives orders - or the Lady Ochiba. How do you feel now?"

"Better, thank you."

The taller samurai called out down the hall. In a few moments an officer came out of a room with four samurai. He was young and taut. When he saw Blackthorne his eyes lit up. "Ah, Anjin-san. How do you feel?"

"Better, thank you. Please excuse me, but where my guards?"

"I am ordered to tell you, when you wake up, that you're to go back to your ship. Here's your pass." The captain took the paper from his sleeve and gave it to him and pointed contemptuously at Michael. "This fellow's to be your guide."

Blackthorne tried to get his head working, his brain screeching danger. "Yes. Thank you. But first, please must see Lord Ishido. Very important."

"So sorry. Your orders are to go back to the ship as soon as you wake up. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Please excuse me, but very important I see Lord Ishido. Please tell your captain. Now. Must see Lord Ishido before leave. Very important, so sorry."

The samurai scratched at the pockmarks on his chin. "I will ask. Please dress." He strode off importantly to Blackthorne's relief. The four samurai remained. Blackthorne went back and dressed quickly. They watched him. The priest waited in the corridor.

Be patient, he told himself. Don't think and don't worry. It's a mistake. Nothing's changed. You've still the power you always had.

He put both swords in his sash and drank the rest of the cha. Then he saw the pass. The paper was stamped and covered with characters. There's no mistake about that, he thought, the fresh kimono already sticking to him.

"Hey, Anjin-san," one of the samurai said, "hear you kill five ninja. Very, very good, neh?"

"So sorry, two only. Perhaps three." Blackthorne twisted his head from side to side to ease the ache and dizziness. .

"I heard there were fifty-seven ninja dead - one hundred and sixteen Browns. Is that right?"

"I don't know. So sorry."

The captain came back into the room. "Your orders are to go to your ship, Anjin-san. This priest is your guide."

"Yes. Thank you. But first, so sorry, must see Lady Ochiba. Very, very important. Please ask your-" The captain spun on Michael and spoke gutturally and very fast. "Neh?" Michael bowed, unperturbed, and turned to Blackthorne. "So sorry, senhor. He says his superior is asking his superior, but meanwhile you are to leave at once and follow me - to the galley."

"Ima!" the captain added for emphasis.

Blackthorne knew he was a dead man. He heard himself say, "Thank you, Captain. Where my guards, please?"

"You haven't any guards."

"Please send my ship. Please fetch my own vassals from-"

"Order go ship now! Understand, neh?" The words were impolite and very final. "Go ship!" the captain added with a crooked smile, waiting for Blackthorne to bow first.

Blackthorne noticed this and it all became a nightmare, everything slowed and fogged, and he desperately wanted to empty himself and wipe the sweat off his face and bow, but he was sure that the captain would hardly bow back, perhaps not even politely and never as an equal, so he would be shamed before all of them. It was clear that he had been betrayed and sold out to the Christian enemy, that Kiyama and Ishido and the priests were part of the betrayal, and for whatever reason, whatever the price, there was nothing now that he could do except wipe off the sweat and bow and leave and they would be waiting for him.