Shogun

"I never thought we'd reach land," Maetsukker said. He looked like a ferret, except he had no teeth. "Never. Least of all the Japans. Lousy stinking Papists! We'll never leave here alive! I wish we had some guns. What a rotten landfall! I didn't mean anything, Pilot," he said quickly as Blackthorne looked at him. "Just bad luck, that's all."
Later servants brought them food again. Always the same: vegetables-cooked and raw-with a little vinegar, fish soup, and the wheat or barley porridge. They all spurned the small pieces of raw fish and asked for meat and liquor. But they were not understood and then, near sunset, Blackthorne left. He had wearied of their fears and hates and obscenities. He told them that he would return after dawn.
The shops were busy on the narrow streets. He found his street and the gate of his house. The stains on the earth had been swept away and the body had vanished. It's almost as though I dreamed the whole thing, he thought. The garden gate opened before he could put a hand on it.
The old gardener, still loinclothed although there was a chill on the wind, beamed and bowed. "Konbanwa. " "Hello," Blackthorne said without thinking. He walked up the steps, stopped, remembering his boots. He took them off and went barefoot onto the veranda and into the room. He crossed it into a corridor but could not find his room.
"Onna!" he called out.
An old woman appeared. "Hai?"
"Where's Onna?"
The old woman frowned and pointed to herself. "Onna!"
"Oh, for the love of God," Blackthome said irritably. "Where's my room? Where's Onna?" He slid open another latticed door. Four Japanese were seated on the floor around a low table, eating. He recognized one of them as the gray-haired man, the village headman, who had been with the priest. They all bowed. "Oh, sorry," he said, and pulled the door to.
"Onna!" he called out.
The old woman thought a moment, then beckoned. He followed her into another corridor. She slid a door aside. He recognized his room from the crucifix. The quilts were already laid out neatly.
"Thank you," he said, relieved. "Now fetch Onna!"
The old woman padded away. He sat down, his head and body aching, and wished there was a chair, wondering where they were kept. How to get aboard? How to get some guns? There must be a way. Feet padded back and there were three women now, the old woman, a young round-faced girl, and the middle-aged lady.
The old woman pointed at the girl, who seemed a little frightened. "Onna."
"No." Blackthorne got up ill-temperedly and jerked a finger at the middle-aged woman. "This is Onna, for God's sake! Don't you know your name? Onna! I'm hungry. Could I have some food?" He rubbed his stomach parodying hunger. They looked at each other. Then the middle-aged woman shrugged, said something that made the others laugh, went over to the bed, and began to undress. The other two squatted, wide-eyed and expectant.
Blackthorne was appalled. "What are you doing?"
"Ishimasho!" she said, setting aside her wide waistband and opening her kimono. Her breasts were flat and dried up and her belly huge.
It was quite clear that she was going to get into the bed. He shook his head and told her to get dressed and took her arm and they all began chattering and gesticulating and the woman was becoming quite angry. She stepped out of her long underskirt and, naked, tried to get back into bed.
Their chattering stopped and they all bowed as the headman came quietly down the corridor. "Nanda? Nanda?" he asked.
The old woman explained what was the matter. "You want this woman?" he asked incredulously in heavily accented, barely understandable Portuguese, motioning at the naked woman.
"No. No, of course not. I just wanted Onna to get me some food." Blackthome pointed impatiently at her. "Onna!"
"Onna mean 'woman.' " The Japanese motioned at all of them. "Onna-onna-onna. You want onna?"
Blackthorne wearily shook his head. "No. No, thank you. I made a mistake. Sorry. What's her name?"
"Please?"
"What's her name?"
"Ah! Namu is Haku. Haku," he said.
"Haku?"
"Hai. Haku!"
"I'm sorry, Haku-san. Thought onna your name."
The man explained to Haku and she was not at all pleased. But he said something and they all looked at Blackthorne and tittered behind their hands and left. Haku walked off naked, her kimono over her arm, with a vast amount of dignity.
"Thank you," Blackthorne said, enraged at his own stupidity.
"This my house. My namu Mura. " "Mura-san. Mine's Blackthome."
"Please?"
"My namu. Blackthorne."
"Ah! Berr-rakk-fon." Mura tried to say it several times but could not. Eventually he gave up and continued to study the colossus in front of him. This was the first barbarian he had ever seen except for Father Sebastio, and the other priest, so many years ago. But anyway, he thought, the priests are dark-haired and dark-eyed and of normal height. But this man: tall and golden-haired and golden-bearded with blue eyes and a weird pallor to his skin where it is covered and redness where it is exposed. Astonishing! I thought all men had black hair and dark eyes. We all do. The Chinese do, and isn't China the whole world, except for the land of the southern Portugee barbarians? Astonishing! And why does Father Sebastio hate this man so much? Because he's a Satan worshiper? I wouldn't think so, because Father Sebastio could cast out the devil if he wanted. Eeee, I've never seen the good Father so angry. Never. Astonishing!
Are blue eyes and golden hair the mark of Satan?
Mura looked up at Blackthome and remembered how he had tried to question him aboard the ship and then, when this Captain had become unconscious, he had decided to bring him to his own house because he was the leader and should have special consideration. They had laid him on the quilt and undressed him, more than just a little curious.
"His Peerless Parts are certainly impressive, neh?" Mura's mother, Saiko, had said. "I wonder how large he would be when erect?"
"Large," he had answered and they had all laughed, his mother and wife and friends and servants, and the doctor.
"I expect their women must be-must be as well endowed," his wife, Niji, said.
"Nonsense, girl," said his mother. "Any number of our courtesans could happily make the necessary accommodation." She shook her head in wonder. "I've never seen anything like him in my whole life. Very odd indeed, neh?"
They had washed him and he had not come out of his coma. The doctor had thought it unwise to immerse him in a proper bath until he was awake. "Perhaps we should remember, Mura-san, we don't know how the barbarian really is," he had said with careful wisdom. "So sorry, but we might kill him by mistake. Obviously he's at the limit of his strength. We should exercise patience."
"But what about the lice in his hair?" Mura had asked.
"They will have to stay for the time being. I understand all barbarians have them. So sorry, I'd advise patience."
"Don't you think we could at least shampoo his head?" his wife had said. "We'd be very careful. I'm sure the Mistress would supervise our poor efforts. That should help the barbarian and keep our house clean."
"I agree. You can shampoo him," his mother had said with finality. "But I'd certainly like to know how large he is when erect."
Now Mura glanced down at Blackthorne involuntarily. Then he remembered what the priest had told them about these Satanists and pirates. God the Father protect us from this evil, he thought. If I'd known that he was so terrible I would never have brought him into my house. No, he told himself. You are obliged to treat him as a special guest until Omi-san says otherwise. But you were wise to send word to the priest and send word to Omi-san instantly. Very wise. You're headman, you've protected the village and you, alone, are responsible.