“Yes. One of our most important converts, the Lady Maria, was killed in the melee.”
“Ah yes, I got reports too. ‘Kill him, Yoshinaka,’ the Lady Maria said, and started the bloodbath. I heard she even tried to kill a few herself, before she committed suicide.”
Dell’Aqua flushed. “You don’t understand anything about the Japanese after all this time, and you even speak a little of their language.”
“I understand heresy, stupidity, killing, and political interference, and I speak the pagan tongue very well. I understand a lot about these heathens.”
“But not about manners.”
“The Word of God requires none. It is the Word. Oh, yes. I also understand about adultery. What do you think of adultery—and harlots, Eminence?”
The door opened. Soldi offered dell’Aqua the Pope’s letter, then left them.
The Father-Visitor gave the paper to the monk, savoring his victory. “This is from His Holiness. It arrived yesterday by special messenger from Macao.”
The monk took the Papal Order and read it. This commanded, with the formal agreement of the King of Spain, that all priests of all religious orders were in future to travel to Japan only via Lisbon, Goa, and Macao, that all were forbidden on pain of immediate excommunication to go from Manila direct to Japan, and that lastly, all priests, other than Jesuits, were to leave Japan at once for Manila whence they could, if their superiors wished, return to Japan, but only via Lisbon, Goa, and Macao.
Friar Perez scrutinized the seal and the signature and the date, reread the Order carefully, then laughed derisively and shoved the letter on the desk. “I don’t believe it!”
“That’s an Order from His Holiness the—”
“It’s another heresy against the Brethren of God, against us, or any mendicants who carry the Word to the heathen. With this device we’re forbidden Japan forever, because the Portuguese, abetted by certain people, will prevaricate forever and never grant us passage or visas. If this is genuine it only proves what we’ve been saying for years: Jesuits can subvert even the Vicar of Christ in Rome!”
Dell’Aqua held on to his temper. “You’re ordered to leave. Or you will be excommunicated.”
“Jesuit threats are meaningless, Eminence. You don’t speak with the Tongue of God, you never have, you never will. You’re not soldiers of Christ. You serve a Pope, Eminence, a man. You’re politicians, men of the earth, men of the fleshpots with your pagan silks and lands and power and riches and influence. The Lord Jesus Christ came to earth in the guise of a simple man who scratched and went barefoot and stank. I will never leave—nor will my Brothers!”
Dell’Aqua had never been so angry in his life. “You-will-leave-Japan!”
“Before God, I won’t! But this is the last time I’ll come here. If you want me in future, come to our Holy Mission, come and minister to the poor and the sick and the unwanted, like Christ did. Wash their feet like Christ did, and save your own soul before it’s too late.”
“You are commanded on pain of excommunication to leave Japan at once.”
“Come now, Eminence, I’m not excommunicated and never will be. Of course I accept the document, unless it’s out of date. This is dated September 16, 1598, almost two years ago. It must be checked, it’s far too important to accept at once—and that will take four years at least.”
“Of course it’s not out of date!”
“You’re wrong. As God is my judge, I believe it is. In a few weeks, at the most a few months, we’ll have an Archbishop of Japan at long last. A Spanish Bishop! The letters I have from Manila report the Royal Warrant’s expected by every mail.”
“Impossible! This is Portuguese territory and our province!”
“It was Portuguese. It was Jesuit. But that’s all changed now. With the help of our Brothers and Divine Guidance, the King of Spain has overthrown your General in Rome.”
“That’s nonsense. Lies and rumors. On your immortal soul, obey the commands of the Vicar of Christ.”
“I will. I will write to him today, I promise you. Meanwhile, expect a Spanish Bishop, a Spanish Viceroy, and a new Captain of the Black Ship—also a Spaniard! That’s also to be part of the Royal Warrant. We have friends in high places too and, at long last, they have vanquished the Jesuits, once and for all! Go with God, Eminence.” Friar Perez got up, opened the door, and went away.
In the outer office Soldi watched him leave, then hastily came back into the room. Frightened by dell’Aqua’s color, he hurried to the decanter and poured some brandy. “Eminence?”
Dell’Aqua shook his head and continued to stare sightlessly into the distance. For the past year there had been disquieting news from their delegates to the Court of Philip of Spain at Madrid about the growing influence of the enemies of the Society.
“It’s not true, Eminence. Spaniards can’t come here. It can’t be true.”
“It can be true, easily. Too easily.” Dell’Aqua touched the Papal Order. “This Pope may be dead, our General dead . . . even the King of Spain. Meanwhile . . .” He got to his feet and stood at his full height. “Meanwhile we’ll prepare for the worst and pray for help and do the best we can. Send Brother Michael to fetch Kiyama here at once.”
“Yes, Eminence. But Kiyama’s never been here before. Surely it’s unlikely he would come now?”
“Tell Michael to use any words necessary, but he’s to bring Kiyama here before sunset. Next, send the war news to Martin at once, to be passed to Toranaga at once. You write the details but I want to send a private cipher with it. Next, send someone to fetch Ferriera here.”
“Yes, Eminence. But about Kiyama, surely Michael won’t be able—”
“Tell Michael to order him here, in God’s name if necessary! We’re Soldiers of Christ, we’re going to war—to God’s war! Hurry up!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
“Anjin-san?”
Blackthorne heard his name in his dream. It came from very far away, echoing forever. “Hai?” he answered.
Then he heard the name repeated and a hand touched him, his eyes opened and focused in the half-light of dawn, his consciousness flooded back and he sat upright. The doctor was again kneeling beside his bed. Kiritsubo and the Lady Ochiba stood nearby, staring down at him. Grays were all around the large room. Oil lanterns flickered warmly.
The doctor spoke to him again. The ringing was still in his ears and the voice faint, but there was no mistake now. He could hear once more. Involuntarily his hands went to his ears and he pressed them to clear them. At once pain exploded in his head and set off sparks and colored lights and a violent throbbing.
“Sorry,” he muttered, waiting for the agony to lessen, willing it to lessen. “Sorry, ears hurt, neh? But I hear now—understand, Doctor-san? Hear now—little. Sorry, what say?” He watched the man’s lips to help himself hear.
“The Lady Ochiba and Kiritsubo-sama want to know how you are.”
“Ah!” Blackthorne looked at them. Now he noticed that they were formally dressed. Kiritsubo wore all white, except for a green head scarf. Ochiba’s kimono was dark green, without pattern or adornment, her long shawl white gossamer. “Better, thank you,” he said, his soul disquieted by the white. “Yes, better.” Then he saw the quality of the light outside and realized that it was near dawn and not twilight. “Doctor-san, please I sleep a day and night?”
“Yes, Anjin-san. A day and a night. Lie back, please.” The doctor took Blackthorne’s wrist with his long fingers and pressed them against the pulse, listening with his fingertips to the nine pulses, three on the surface, three in the middle, and three deep down, as Chinese medicine taught from time immemorial.