Free Shogun by James Clavell

irrevocably to his course of action.
    Father Sebastio knew that his training should make him impervious to the pirate’s insults and the obvious plan to discredit him in front of the
daimyo
. But, for the first time, it did not and he felt lost. When Mura’s messenger had brought news of the ship to his mission in the neighboring province, he had been rocked by the implications. It can’t be Dutch or English! he had thought. There had never been a heretic ship in the Pacific except those of the archdevil corsair Drake, and never one here in Asia. The routes were secret and guarded. At once he had prepared to leave and had sent an urgent carrier pigeon message to his superior in Osaka, wishing that he could first have consulted with him, knowing that he was young, almost untried and new to Japan, barely two years here, not yet ordained, and not competent to deal with this emergency. He had rushed to Anjiro, hoping and praying that the news was untrue. But the ship was Dutch and the pilot English, and all of his loathing for the satanic heresies of Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII, and the archfiend Elizabeth, his bastard daughter, had overwhelmed him. And still swamped his judgment.
    “Priest, translate what the pirate said,” he heard the
daimyo
say.
    O Blessed Mother of God, help me to do thy will. Help me to be strong in front of the
daimyo
and give me the gift of tongues, and let me convert him to the True Faith.
    Father Sebastio gathered his wits and began to speak more confidently.
    Blackthorne listened carefully, trying to pick out the words and meanings. The Father used “England” and “Blackthorne” and pointed at the ship, which lay nicely at anchor in the harbor.
    “How did you get here?” Father Sebastio said.
    “By Magellan’s Pass. This is the one hundred and thirty-sixth day from there. Tell the
daimyo
—”
    “You’re lying. Magellan’s Pass is secret. You came via Africa and India. You’ll have to tell the truth eventually. They use torture here.”
    “The Pass
was
secret. A Portuguese sold us a rutter. One of your own people sold you out for a little Judas gold. You’re all manure! Now all English warships—and Dutch warships—know the way through to the Pacific. There’s a fleet—twenty English ships-of-the-line, sixty-cannon warships—attacking Manila right now. Your empire’s finished.”
    “You’re lying!”
    Yes, Blackthorne thought, knowing there was no way to prove thelie except to go to Manila. “That fleet will harry your sea-lanes and stamp out your colonies. There’s another Dutch fleet due here any week now. The Spanish-Portuguese pig is back in his pigsty and your Jesuit General’s penis is in his anus—where it belongs!” He turned away and bowed low to the
daimyo
.
    “God curse you and your filthy mouth!”
    “
Ano mono wa nani o moshité oru?
” the
daimyo
snapped impatiently.
    The priest spoke more quickly, harder, and said “Magellan” and “Manila” but Blackthorne thought that the
daimyo
and his lieutenants did not seem to understand too clearly.
    Yabu was wearying of this trial. He looked out into the harbor, to the ship that had obsessed him ever since he had received Omi’s secret message, and he wondered again if it was the gift from the gods that he hoped.
    “Have you inspected the cargo yet, Omi-san?” he had asked this morning as soon as he had arrived, mud-spattered and very weary.
    “No, Lord. I thought it best to seal up the ship until you came personally, but the holds are filled with crates and bales. I hope I did it correctly. Here are all their keys. I confiscated them.”
    “Good.” Yabu had come from Yedo, Toranaga’s capital city, more than a hundred miles away, post haste, furtively and at great personal risk, and it was vital that he return as quickly. The journey had taken almost two days over foul roads and spring-filled streams, partly on horseback and partly by palanquin. “I’ll go to the ship at once.”
    “You should see