Eyes of sunlight from waves blink and blink on the papered ceiling.

'You have my very closest attention, Mr Grote.'

'Specifickly, he lied 'bout van Cleef bein' keen on the deal. Now, I'd not jeopardise our card-games by revealin' all, so to speak, but there's a method called the Art of Lips. Folks reck'n yer know a liar by his eyes but 'tain't so: 'tis lips what gives a man away. Different liars've diff'rent tellers, but for Fischer when, say, he's bluffin' at cards, he does this this -' Grote sucks in his lower lip a fraction '- and the beauty is, -' Grote sucks in his lower lip a fraction '- and the beauty is, he don't know he does it he don't know he does it. When he spoke o' van Cleef earlier, he did it: he's lyin', plain as it's writ on his face. Which it is. An' if Fischer's lyin' 'bout specificks, he's bendin' the generalities too, eh?'

A stray breeze brushes the bedraggled chandelier.

'If Chief van Cleef is not working with the English . . .'

'He's locked up in a hold: which s'plains why Fischer, an' not the Chief, comes ashore.'

Jacob looks at the Phoebus Phoebus. 'Suppose I'm the British Captain, hoping to earn the glory of capturing the only European factory in Japan . . . but the locals are known to be prickly in their dealings with foreigners . . .'

'All what's known of 'em is they 'ave no dealin's with foreigners.' no dealin's with foreigners.'

'The English Captain needs us to effect a transition, that's plain, but . . .'

'. . . but give it a year, Chief de Z.: two trading seasons in the bag . . .'

'Nice fat profits; an embassy to Edo; Union Jack fluttering on the pole . . .'

'Interpreters learnin' English: sudd'nwise your Dutch workers . . . well . . . "Hang on, these Dutch Butterboys're Prisoners of War!" Why'd they pay us a shillin' shillin' of our back-wages, eh? of our back-wages, eh? I I'd not, if I I was this Penhaligon, but was this Penhaligon, but oh oh, I'd give the Butterboys their free passage right 'nough . . .'

'The officers to a gaol in Penang, and you hands, you'd be pressed.'

' "Pressed" bein' English for "enslaved by His Majesty's Navy".'

Jacob tests each joint of the reasoning for weaknesses, but there are none. Van Cleef's lack of written orders Van Cleef's lack of written orders, Jacob understands, was his order was his order. 'Have you spoken about this matter with the other hands, Mr Grote?'

The cook bends his bald, clever head. 'All mornin' long, Chief de Z. If you you smell this same stinky rat as we do, our vote's to fold up this Anglo-Dutch Entente, eh, into pretty little squares for use as privy paper.' smell this same stinky rat as we do, our vote's to fold up this Anglo-Dutch Entente, eh, into pretty little squares for use as privy paper.'

Jacon sees two dolphins out in the bay. 'What's my my "teller" in the Art of Lips, Mr Grote?' "teller" in the Art of Lips, Mr Grote?'

'My ma'd never forgive me f'corruptin' a young gent with card-sharkery . . .'

'We could play Backgammon, during future Quiet Seasons.'

'A proper gentl'man's game is Gammon. I'll supply the dice . . .'

Tea is cool lush green in a smooth pale bowl. 'I'll never know,' says Peter Fischer, 'how you stomach that spinach-water.' He flexes and rubs his legs, stiff after twenty minutes of sitting on the floor. 'I wish these people would get around to inventing proper chairs.' Jacob has little to say to Fischer, who is here to urge the Magistrate to allow trade with the British behind a Dutch veneer. Fischer refuses to countenance any opposition from the hands and officers on Dejima, so Jacob has not yet declared it. Ouwehand gave Jacob permission to act in his name, and Marinus quoted Greek. Interpreters Yonekizu and Kobayashi are consulting one another across the anteroom in anxious mutters, conscious now that Jacob might understand. Officials and inspectors enter and leave the Hall of Sixty Mats. The place smells of beeswax, paper, sandalwood, and and, Jacob inhales, fear fear?

'Democracy,' Fischer speaks up, 'is a quaint diversion for the hands, de Zoet.'

'If you're implying,' Jacob puts down the tea-bowl, 'that I I somehow--' somehow--'

'No, no, I admire your cunning: the easiest way to control others is to give them the illusion of free-will. You shan't, of course,' Fischer tests the lining of his hat, 'upset our Yellow friends with talk of presidents, et cetera? Shiroyama shall be expecting to parley with the Deputy-Chief.'

'You have made up your mind to recommend Penhaligon's proposal?'

'One must be a scoundrel and and a fool to do otherwise. We disagree on trivial matters, de Zoet, as friends may. But you, I know, are neither scoundrel nor fool.' a fool to do otherwise. We disagree on trivial matters, de Zoet, as friends may. But you, I know, are neither scoundrel nor fool.'

'The entire matter,' equivocates Jacob, 'is in your hands, it appears.'

'Yes.' Fischer takes Jacob's compliance at face value. 'Of course.'

The two men look out over walls and roofs, down to the bay.

'When the English are here,' says Fischer, 'my influence will rise . . .'

This is counting chickens, thinks Jacob, before the eggs are even laid before the eggs are even laid.

'. . . and I will remember old friends and old enemies.'

Chamberlain Tomine passes, his eyes acknowledging Jacob.

He turns left, through a modest door decorated with a chrysanthemum.

'A face like his,' observes Fischer, 'belongs on cathedral gutters.'

A gruff official appears and talks to Kobayashi and Yonekizu.

'You can understand,' Fischer asks, 'what they are saying, de Zoet?'

The register is formal, but Jacob gathers that the Magistrate is unwell. Deputy Fischer is to consult with his highest advisers in the Hall of Sixty Mats. Moments later, Interpreter Kobayashi confirms the message. Fischer pronounces, 'This is acceptable,' and tells Jacob, 'Oriental satraps are figureheads with no idea of political realities. It is better to speak directly with the marionette masters.'

The gruff official adds that, owing to the confusion created by the British warship, one Dutch voice is deemed to be better than two: the head clerk may wait in a quieter area of the Magistracy.

Fischer is doubly pleased. 'A logical measure. Head Clerk de Zoet,' he claps the Dutchman's shoulder, 'may drink spinach-water to his heart's content.'

XXXVI.

The Room of the Last Chrysanthemum at the Magistracy

Hour of the Ox on the Third Day of the Ninth Month 'Good afternoon, Magistrate.' De Zoet kneels, bows and with a nod acknowledges Interpreter Iwase, Chamberlain Tomine and the two scribes in the corner.

'Good afternoon, Acting-Chief,' replies the Magistrate. 'Iwase shall join us.'

'I will need his talents. Your injury is better, Iwase-san?'

'It was a crack, not a fracture.' Iwase pats his torso. 'Thank you.'

De Zoet notices the Go Go table, where the game with Enomoto waits. table, where the game with Enomoto waits.

The Magistrate asks the Dutchman, 'Is this game known in Holland?'

'No. Interpreter Ogawa taught me the -' he consults with Iwase '- the "rudiments" during my first weeks on Dejima. We intended to continue playing after the trading season . . . but unfortunate events occurred . . .'

Doves trill, a peaceful sound on this frightened afternoon.

A gardener rakes the white stones by the bronze pond.

'It is irregular,' Shiroyama turns to business, 'to hold Council in this room, but when every adviser, sage and geomancer in Nagasaki is crowded into the Hall of Sixty Mats, it becomes the Hall of Six Mats and Six Hundred Voices. One cannot think.'

'Deputy Fischer will be delighted with his audience.'

Shiroyama notes de Zoet's courteous distancing. 'First, then,' he nods at his scribes to begin, 'the warship's name, Fibasu Fibasu. No interpreter knows the word.'

'Phoebus is not a Dutch word but a Greek name, Your Honour. Phoebus was the sun-god. His son was Phaeton.' De Zoet helps the scribes with the strange word. 'Phaeton boasted about his famous father, but his friends said, "Your mother just is not a Dutch word but a Greek name, Your Honour. Phoebus was the sun-god. His son was Phaeton.' De Zoet helps the scribes with the strange word. 'Phaeton boasted about his famous father, but his friends said, "Your mother just claims claims your father is the sun-god, because she has no real husband." This made Phaeton unhappy, so his father promised to help his son prove that he was indeed a son of Heaven. Phaeton asked, "Let me drive the Chariot of the Sun across the sky." ' your father is the sun-god, because she has no real husband." This made Phaeton unhappy, so his father promised to help his son prove that he was indeed a son of Heaven. Phaeton asked, "Let me drive the Chariot of the Sun across the sky." '

De Zoet pauses for the benefit of the scribes.

'Phoebus tried to change his son's mind. "The horses are wild," he said, "and the chariot flies too high. Ask for something else." But no: Phaeton insisted, and so Phoebus had to agree: a promise is a promise, even in a myth - especially in a myth. So the following dawn, up, up, up the chariot climbed, from the east, driven by the young man. Too late, he regretted his stubbornness. The horses were were wild. First, the chariot drove too high, too far, so all the rivers and waterfalls of Earth turned to ice. So Phaeton drove closer to Earth, but too low, and burnt Africa, and burnt black the skins of the Ethiopians and set alight the cities of the ancient world. So in the end the god Zeus, the King of Heaven, had to act.' wild. First, the chariot drove too high, too far, so all the rivers and waterfalls of Earth turned to ice. So Phaeton drove closer to Earth, but too low, and burnt Africa, and burnt black the skins of the Ethiopians and set alight the cities of the ancient world. So in the end the god Zeus, the King of Heaven, had to act.'

'Scribes: stop.' Shiroyama asks, 'This Zeus is not a Christian?'

'A Greek, Your Honour,' says Iwase, 'akin to Ame-no-Minaka-nushi.'

The Magistrate indicates that de Zoet may continue.

'Zeus shot lightning at the Chariot of the Sun. The chariot exploded and Phaeton fell to earth. He drowned in the River Eridanos. Phaeton's sisters, the Heliades, wept so much they became trees - in Dutch we call them "poplars" but I do not know whether they grow in Japan. When the sisters were trees, the Heliades wept -' De Zoet consults with Iwase '- amber. This is the origin of amber and the end of the story. Forgive my poor Japanese.'

'Do you believe there is any truth in this story?'

'There is no truth at all in the story, Your Honour.'

'So the English name their warships after falsehoods?'

'The truth of a myth, Your Honour, is not its words but its patterns.'

Shiroyama stores the remark away. 'This morning,' he turns to the pressing matter, 'Deputy Fischer delivered letters from the English Captain. They bring greetings, in Dutch, from the English King George. The letter claims that the Dutch Company is bankrupt, that Holland no longer exists and that a British governor-general now sits in Batavia. The letter ends with a warning that the French, Russian and Chinese are planning an invasion of our islands. King George refers to Japan as "The Great Britain of the Pacific Ocean" and urges us to sign a treaty of amity and commerce. Please tell me your thoughts.'

Drained by his myth-telling, de Zoet directs his answer to Iwase in Dutch.

'Chief de Zoet,' Iwase translates, 'believes the English wanted to intimidate his countrymen.'

'How do his countrymen regard the English proposal?'

This question de Zoet answers directly: 'We are at war, Your Honour. The English break promises very easily. None of us wishes to co-operate with them, except one . . .' His gaze strays to the passageway leading to the Hall of Sixty Mats '. . . who is now in the pay of the English.'

'Is it not your duty,' Shiroyama asks de Zoet, 'to obey Fischer?'

Kawasemi's kitten skitters after a dragonfly across the polished veranda.

A servant looks at his master who shakes his head: Let it play Let it play . . . . . .

De Zoet considers his answer. 'One man has several duties, and . . .'

Struggling, he enlists Iwase's help. 'Mr de Zoet says, Your Honour, that his third duty is to obey his superior officers. His second duty is to protect his flag. But his first duty is to obey his conscience, because god - the god he believes in - gave him his conscience.'

Foreign honour, thinks Shiroyama, and orders the scribes to omit the remark. 'Is Deputy Fischer aware of your opposition?'

A maple leaf, fiery and fingered, is blown to the Magistrate's side.

'Deputy Fischer sees what he wishes to see, Your Honour.'

'And has Chief van Cleef communicated any instructions to you?'

'We have heard nothing. We draw the obvious conclusions.'

Shiroyama compares the veins in the leaf to the veins in his hands. 'If we wished to prevent the frigate escaping Nagasaki Bay, what strategies would you propose?'

De Zoet is surprised by the question, but gives a considered answer to Iwase. 'Chief de Zoet proposes two strategies: Deception and Force. Deception would involve embarking upon protracted negotiations for a false treaty. The merit of this plan is lack of bloodshed. Its demerits are that the English will want to work quickly, to avoid the North Pacific winter, and that they have seen the stratagem in India and Sumatra.'

'Force, then,' says Shiroyama. 'How may one capture a frigate without a frigate?'

De Zoet asks, 'How many soldiers does Your Honour have?'

The Magistrate first tells the scribes to stop writing. Then he tells them to leave. 'One hundred,' he confides to de Zoet. 'Tomorrow, four hundred; soon, a thousand.'

De Zoet nods. 'How many boats?'

'Eight guard-boats,' says Tomine, 'used for harbour and coastal duty.'

De Zoet next asks whether the Magistrate could requisition the fishing-boats and cargo ships in the harbour and around the bay.

'The Shogun's representative,' says Shiroyama, 'can requisition anything.'

De Zoet delivers a verdict to Iwase, who translates: 'It is the Acting-Chief's opinion that whilst a thousand well-trained samurai would easily subdue the enemy on land or aboard the frigate, the problems of transport are insuperable. The frigate's cannonry would demolish a flotilla before the swordsmen could come close enough to board. The Phoebus Phoebus's marines, moreover, are armed with the newest' - Iwase uses the Dutch word "rifles" - 'a musket, but with three times the power, and much faster to reload.'

'So there is no hope,' Shiroyama's fingers have dismembered the maple leaf, 'of detaining the ship by force?'

'The ship cannot be captured,' says de Zoet, 'but the bay may be shut.'

Shiroyama glances at Iwase, assuming the Dutchman has made a mistake with his Japanese, but de Zoet speaks to his interpreter at some length. His hands mime at various points a chain, a wall and a bow and arrow. Iwase verifies a few terms, and turns to the Magistrate. 'Your Honour, the Acting-Chief proposes the erection of what the Dutch call a "pontoon bridge": a bridge made of boats bound together. Two hundred, he thinks, would suffice. The boats should be requisitioned from villages outside the bay, rowed or sailed to the narrowest point of the bay's mouth, and fastened, from shore to shore, to make a floating wall.'

Shiroyama pictures the scene. 'What stops the warship cutting through?'

The Acting-Chief understands and speaks to Iwase in Dutch. 'De Zoet-sama says, Your Honour, that to ram through the pontoon bridge, the warship would need to lower her sails. Sailcloth is woven from hemp, and often oiled to make it rainproof. Especially in a season of warm weather, like the present one, oiled hemp is combustible.' says, Your Honour, that to ram through the pontoon bridge, the warship would need to lower her sails. Sailcloth is woven from hemp, and often oiled to make it rainproof. Especially in a season of warm weather, like the present one, oiled hemp is combustible.'

'Fire arrows, yes yes,' Shiroyama realises. 'We can hide archers in the boats . . .'

De Zoet looks uncertain. 'Your Honour, if the Phoebus Phoebus is burnt . . .' is burnt . . .'

Shiroyama recalls the myth: 'Like the Chariot of the Sun!'