Shogun

Blackthorne's spirit had been revived, his curiosity agog with what the priest had said. What guns? What gold? What trade? What Black Ship? A million? What invasion? What Christian kings?
Aren't you cheating the poor sick man? he asked himself. He thinks you're friend, not enemy.
I haven't lied to him.
But haven't you implied you're friend?
I answered him directly.
But you volunteered nothing?
No.
Is that fair?
That's the first rule of survival in enemy waters: volunteer nothing.
The monk's tantrum grew apace. The nearby Japanese shifted uneasily. One of them got up and shook the priest gently and spoke to him. Father Domingo gradually came out of his fit, his eyes cleared. He looked at Blackthorne with recognition, replied to the Japanese, and calmed the rest.
"So sorry, senor," he said breathlessly. "They - they thought I was angry against - against the senor. God forgive my foolish rage! It was just-que va, Jesuits come from hell, along with heretics and heathens. I can tell you much about them." The monk wiped the spittle off his chin and tried to calm himself. He pressed his chest to ease the pain there. "The senor was saying? Thy ship, it was cast ashore?"
"Yes. In a way. We came aground," Blackthorne replied. He eased his legs carefully. The men who were watching and listening gave him more room. One got up and motioned him to stretch out. "Thanks," he said at once. "Oh, how do you say 'thank you,' Father?"
"'Domo.' Sometimes you say 'arigato.' A woman has to be very polite, senor. She says 'arigato goziemashita.' " "Thank you. What's his name?" Blackthorne indicated the man who had got up.
"That's Gonzalez."
"But what's his Japanese name?"
"Ah yes! He's Akabo. But that just means 'porter,' senor. They don't have names. Only samurai have names."
"What?"
"Only samurai have names, first names and surnames. It's their law, senor. Everyone else has to make do with what they are - porter, fisherman, cook, executioner, farmer, and so on. Sons and daughters are mostly just First Daughter, Second Daughter, First Son, and so on. Sometimes they'd call a man 'fisherman who lives near the elm tree' or 'fisherman with bad eyes.' " The monk shrugged and stifled a yawn. "Ordinary Japanese aren't allowed names. Whores give themselves names like Carp or Moon or Petal or Eel or Star. It's strange, senor, but it's their law. We give them Christian names, real names, when we baptize them, bringing them salvation and the word of God..." His words trailed off and he slept.
"Domo, Akabo-san," Blackthorne said to the porter.
The man smiled shyly and bowed and sucked in his breath.
Later the monk awakened and said a brief prayer and scratched. "Only yesterday, the senor said? He came here only yesterday? What occurred with the senor?"
"When we landed there was a Jesuit there," Blackthorne said. "But you, Father. You were saying they accused you? What happened to you and your ship?"
"Our ship? Did the senor ask about our ship? Was the senor coming from Manila like us? Or - oh, how foolish of me! I remember now, the senor was outward bound from home and never in Asia before. By the Blessed Body of Christ, it's so good to talk to a civilized man again, in my blessed mother's tongue! Que va, it's been so long. My head aches, aches, senor. Our ship? We were going home at long last. Home from Manila to Acapulco, in the land of Cortes, in Mexico, thence overland to Vera Cruz. And thence another ship and across the Atlantic, and at long, long last, to home. My village is outside Madrid, senor, in the mountains. It is called Santa Veronica. Forty years I've been away, senor. In the New World, in Mexico and in the Philippines. Always with our glorious conquistadores, may the Virgin watch over them! I was in Luzon when we destroyed the heathen native king, Lumalon, and conquered Luzon, and so brought the word of God to the Philippines. Many of our Japan converts fought with us even then, senor. Such fighters! That was in 1575. Mother Church is well planted there, my son, and never a filthy Jesuit or Portuguese to be seen. I came to the Japans for almost two years, then had to leave for Manila again when the Jesuits betrayed us."
The monk stopped and closed his eyes, drifting off. Later he came back again, and, as old people will sometimes do, he continued as though he had never slept. "My ship was the great galleon San Felipe. We carried a cargo of spices, gold and silver, and specie to the value of a million and a half silver pesos. One of the great storms took us and cast us onto the shores of Shikoku. Our ship broke her back on the sand bar - on the third day - by that time we had landed our bullion and most of our cargo. Then word came that everything was confiscated, confiscated by the Taiko himself, that we were pirates and..." He stopped at the sudden silence.
The iron door of the cell cage had swung open.
Guards began to call names from the list. Bulldog, the man who had befriended Blackthorne, was one of those called. He walked out and did not look back. One of the men in the circle also was chosen. Akabo. Akabo knelt to the monk, who blessed him and made the sign of the cross over him and quickly gave him the Last Sacrament. The man kissed the cross and walked away.
The door closed again.
"They're going to execute him?" Blackthorne asked.
"Yes, his Calvary is outside the door. May the Holy Madonna take his soul swiftly and give him his everlasting reward."
"What did that man do?"
"He broke the law - their law, senor. The Japanese are a simple people. And very severe. They truly have only one punishment - death. By the cross, by strangulation, or by decapitation. For the crime of arson, it is death by burning. They have almost no other punishment - banishment sometimes, cutting the hair from women sometimes. But" - the old man sighed - "but most always it is death."
"You forgot imprisonment."
The monk's nails picked absently at the scabs on his arm. "It's not one of their punishments, my son. To them, prison is just a temporary place to keep the man until they decide his sentence. Only the guilty come here. For just a little while."
"That's nonsense. What about you? You've been here a year, almost two years."
"One day they will come for me, like all the others. This is but a resting place between the hell of earth and the glory of Everlasting Life. "
"I don't believe you."
"Have no fear, my son. It is the will of God. I am here and can hear the senor's confession and give him absolution and make him perfect-the glory of Everlasting Life is barely a hundred steps and moments away from that door. Would the senor like me to hear his confession now?"
"No - no, thank you. Not now." Blackthorne looked at the iron door. "Has anyone ever tried to break out of here?"
"Why should they do that? There is nowhere to run - nowhere to hide. The authorities are very strict. Anyone helping an escaped convict or even a man who commits a crime - " He pointed vaguely at the door of the hut. "Gonzalez - Akabo the man who has - has left us. He's a kaga-man. He told me-"
"What's a kaga-man?"
"Oh, those are the porters, senor, the men that carry the palanquins, or the smaller two-man kaga that's like a hammock swung on a pole. He told us his partner stole a silken scarf from a customer, poor fellow, and because he himself did not report the theft, his life is forfeit also. The senor may believe me, to try to escape or even to help someone to escape, the man would lose his life and all his family. They are very severe, senor."
"So everyone goes to execution like sheep then?"
"There is no other choice. It is the will of God."
Don't get angry, or panic, Blackthorne warned himself. Be patient. You can think of a way. Not everything the priest says is true. He's deranged. Who wouldn't be after so much time?