"By the Lord Jesus, I think you're wrong, Pilot," Vinck said. His toothless grin was wide and obscene. "If you can put up with the swill they call food, it's the best place I've been. Ever. I've had two women in three days and they're like rabbits. They'll do anything if you show'em how."

"That's right. But you can't do nothing without meat or brandy. Nor for long. I'm tired out, and I could only do it once," Maetsukker said, his narrow face twitching. "The yellow bastards won't understand that we need meat and beer and bread. And brandy or wine."

"That's the worst! Lord Jesus, my kingdom for some grog!" Baccus van Nekk was filled with gloom. He walked over and stood close to Blackthorne and peered up at him. He was very nearsighted and had lost his last pair of spectacles in the storm. But even with them he would always stand as close as possible. He was chief merchant, treasurer, and representative of the Dutch East India Company that had put up the money for the voyage. "We're ashore and safe and I haven't had a drink yet. Not a beautiful drop! Terrible. Did you get any, Pilot?"

"No." Blackthorne disliked having anyone near him, but Baccus was a friend and almost blind so he did not move away. "Just hot water with herbs in it."

"They simply won't understand grog. Nothing to drink but hot water and herbs-the good Lord help us! Suppose there's no liquor in the whole country!" His eyebrows soared. "Do me a huge favor, Pilot. Ask for some liquor, will you?"

Blackthorne had found the house that they had been assigned on the eastern edge of the village. The samurai guard had let him pass, but his men had confirmed that they themselves could not go out of the garden gate. The house was many-roomed like his, but bigger and staffed with many servants of various ages, both men and women.

There were eleven of his men alive. The dead had been taken away by the Japanese. Lavish portions of fresh vegetables had begun to banish the scurvy and all but two of the men were healing rapidly. These two had blood in their bowels and their insides were fluxed. Vinck had bled them but this had not helped. By nightfall he expected them to die. The Captain-General was in another room, still very sick.

Sonk, the cook, a stocky little man, was saying with a laugh, "It's good here, like Johann says, Pilot, excepting the food and no grog. And it's all right with the natives so long as you don't wear your shoes in the house. It sends the little yellow bastards mad if you don't take off your shoes."

"Listen," Blackstone said. "There's a priest here. A Jesuit."

"Christ Jesus!" All banter left them as he told them about the priest and about the beheading.

"Why'd he chop the man's head off, Pilot?"

"I don't know."

"We better get back aboard. If Papists catch us ashore . . . ' There was great fear in the room now. Salamon, the mute, watched Blackthorne. His mouth worked, a bubble of phlegm appearing at the corners.

"No, Salamon, there's no mistake," Blackthorne said kindly, answering the silent question. "He said he was Jesuit."

"Christ, Jesuit or Dominican or what-the-hell-ever makes no muckeating difference," Vinck said. "We'd better get back aboard. Pilot, you ask that samurai, eh?"

"We're in God's hands," Jan Roper said. He was one of the merchant adventurers, a narrow-eyed young man with a high forehead and thin nose. "He will protect us from the Satan worshipers."

Vinck looked back at Blackthorne. "What about Portuguese, Pilot? Did you see any around?"

"No. There were no signs of them in the village."

"They'll swarm here soon as they know about us." Maetsukker said it for all of them and the boy Croocq let out a moan.

"Yes, and if there's one priest, there's got to be others." Ginsel licked dry lips. "And then their God-cursed conquistadores are never far away."

"That's right," Vinck added uneasily. "They're like lice."

"Christ Jesus! Papists!" someone muttered. "And conquistadores!"

"But we're in the Japans, Pilot?" van Nekk asked. "He told you that?"

"Yes. Why?"

Van Nelck moved closer and dropped his voice. "If priests are here, and some of the natives are Catholic, perhaps the other part's trueabout the riches, the gold and silver and precious stones." A hush fell on them. "Did you see any, Pilot? Any gold? Any gems on the natives, or gold?"

"No. None." Blackthome thought a moment. "I don't remember seeing any. No necklaces or beads or bracelets. Listen, there's something else to tell you. I went aboard Erasmus but she's sealed up." He related what had happened and their anxiety increased.

"Jesus, if we can't go back aboard and there are priests ashore and Papists.... We've got to get away from here." Maetsukker's voice began to tremble. "Pilot, what are we going to do? They'll burn us! Conquistadores - those bastards'll shove their swords . . ."

"We're in God's hands," Jan Roper called out confidently. "He will protect us from the anti-Christ. That's His promise. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Blackthome said, "The way the samurai Omi-san snarled at the priest - I'm sure he hated him. That's good, eh? What I'd like to know is why the priest wasn't wearing their usual robes. Why the orange one? I've never seen that before. " "Yes, that's curious," van Nekk said.

Blackthome looked up at him. "Maybe their hold here isn't strong. That could help us greatly. " "What should we do, Pilot?" Ginsel asked.

"Be patient and wait till their chief, this daimyo, comes. He'll let us go. Why shouldn't he? We've done them no harm. We've goods to trade. We're not pirates, we've nothing to fear."

"Very true, and don't forget the Pilot said the savages aren't all Papists," van Nekk said, more to encourage himself than the others. "Yes. It's good the samurai hated the priest. And it's only the samurai who are armed. That's not so bad, eh? Just watch out for the samurai and get our weapons back - that's the idea. We'll be aboard before you know it."

"What happens if this daimyo's Papist?" Jan Roper asked.

No one answered him. Then Ginsel said, "Pilot, the man with the sword? He cut the other wog into pieces, after chopping his head off?"

"Yes."

"Christ! They're barbarians! Lunatics!" Ginsel was tall, a goodlooking youth with short arms and very bowed legs. The scurvy had taken all his teeth. "After he chopped his head off, the others just walked away? Without saying anything?"

"Yes. " "Christ Jesus, an unarmed man, murdered, just like that? Why'd he do it? Why'd he kill him?"

"I don't know, Ginsel. But you've never seen such speed. One moment the sword was sheathed, the next the man's head was rolling."

"God protect us!"

"Dear Lord Jesus," van Nekk murmured. "If we can't get back to the ship.... God damn that storm, I feel so helpless without my spectacles!"

"How many samurai were aboard, Pilot?" Ginsel asked.

"Twenty-two were on deck. But there were more ashore."

"The wrath of God will be upon the heathen and on sinners and they'll burn in hell for all eternity."

"I'd like to be sure of that, Jan Roper," Blackthorne said, an edge to his voice, as he felt the fear of God's vengeance sweep through the room. He was very tired and wanted to sleep.

"You can be sure, Pilot, oh yes, I am. I pray that your eyes are opened to God's truth. That you come to realize we're here only because of you - what's left of us."

"What?" Blackthorne said dangerously.

"Why did you really persuade the Captain-General to try for the Japans? It wasn't in our orders. We were to pillage the New World, to carry the war into the enemy's belly, then go home."

"There were Spanish ships south and north of us and nowhere else to run. Has your memory gone along with your wits? We had to sail west - it was our only chance."

"I never saw enemy ships, Pilot. None of us did."