Читать книгу Samurai and the Long-nosed Devils - Lensey Namioka - Страница 10

Chapter 5

“And you say that his family is from the north?” asked Nobunaga.

“Zenta doesn’t talk about his family,” said Hambei. “Apparently it’s a painful subject. But from his accent and his knowledge of the area, my guess is that he is from the northern part of the country.”

“Has it occurred to you that this ronin may have been sent as an assassin?” said Nobunaga. “Some of the northern lords like Uesugi and Takeda see themselves as future rulers of the country. They must want me out of the way.”

“After your recent successes, my lord, assassination is a great danger,” said Hambei. He was not trying to flatter his master. He was simply stating a fact. “But I don’t believe that Zenta is an assassin. I’ve worked with him before, and I know his character well. He would rather starve than work for a master he considered unworthy. He told me that he came to Miyako to enlist in your service because you had the best chance of unifying the country.”

“Very gracious of him,” said Nobunaga dryly. “I hope that I can live up to his high expectations.”

When Pedro went into Father Luis’s study, he found the priest fanning himself with a large folding fan painted brightly with irises in blue, green and gold. It was a gift from Nobunaga, and it looked odd against the dark color of his Jesuit gown. Although it was still early morning, the day already promised to be sweltering, and Father Luis seemed to have decided that the way to cope with Japanese weather was to use a Japanese implement.

“Well, what do you think of our new bodyguards?” Pedro asked.

The priest took off his spectacles and polished them. Pedro suspected that Father Luis’s eyes were quite good and that he occasionally wore his spectacles because he took a simple pleasure in startling the Japanese with them. At least being called “four eyes” was a change from being called “long-nosed devil.”

“Our bodyguards looked as violent as the men who attacked us,” said the priest and sighed. “What is to stop them from turning their sharp swords on us if they feel like it?”

“They won’t do that,” protested Pedro. “Loyalty is very important to the samurai. Once they enter our service they won’t turn against us.”

“Ah, but what people say and what they do are quite different,” said Father Luis. “The samurai are all so cruel! Remember the man we saw last week who cut off the head of a peasant because he didn’t bow down fast enough?”

“Not all of the samurai are cruel,” said Pedro. He rather liked the two bodyguards and hoped to make them his friends. “That man Zenta could have killed his opponent yesterday, but instead he only cut off the man’s topknot. It was a feat much more difficult to perform.”

“His skill with the sword proves that he is a man of war at heart,” said the priest. “The common people in Japan are the gentlest and most courteous in the world, but the warriors are like another race. I sometimes wonder if I shall ever make Christians of them.”

Pedro knew what Father Luis meant. He had once seen a samurai use his sword on a man just to test its sharpness. But he also found much to admire in the warrior class. The best of the samurai had a very strict code of honor, and they possessed a personal integrity often superior to that of the warlords who employed them.

“There is cruelty in Europe as well,” Pedro pointed out. “I have seen Protestants and Catholics slaughtering each other, and I have seen babies hacked to pieces in front of their mothers’ eyes.” He had served as a mercenary soldier in the religious wars ravaging Europe, and some of the atrocities had sickened him.

“Rooting out heresy is not a matter for us to question, Pedro,” said Father Luis heavily. His glance was both affectionate and anxious. “I know that you are devout, in spite of the bluff soldierly manner you like to put on. But Pedro, you should watch your tongue when you return to Europe. Otherwise you might be suspected of heresy.”

“In that case I may decide to remain in Japan,” said Pedro lightly. “I can make my living manufacturing guns for the warlords here, and then I shall marry and start a family. There are some beautiful women in this country. Did you see that lady in the sedan chair?”

“Pedro!” exclaimed Father Luis. “Are you mad? Remember how furious those samurai were when you merely bumped into her sedan chair!”

“Don’t worry, Father. I was merely joking,” said Pedro. “I know better than to look at Lady Yuki. Besides, her father is already arranging a marriage for her with a nobleman of the imperial court, although from what I hear, she isn’t very enthusiastic about the match.”

Father Luis stared at Pedro in surprise. “How did you find out all this? Lord Fujikawa hates us, and we have no social contact with the people next door.”

“I get my news from our recent convert, the girl we christened Maria,” explained Pedro. “After she left Lord Fujikawa’s household, she kept in touch with her friend Chiyo who is still working there. The two girls have discovered a weak place in the fence which separates our garden from Lord Fujikawa’s. The twine that bound the bamboo fence has rotted, and Chiyo had the idea of tying it back in slipknots. In this way they can unfasten the fence when no one is looking and pass back and forth to exchange news.”

Father Luis frowned. “I don’t like this, Pedro. If Lord Fujikawa finds out, he will accuse us of spying on him. Not only that, Chiyo might learn something about us which she could distort and repeat back to her master.”

“Chiyo wouldn’t do that,” said Pedro. “She is betrothed to Hambei, who is Nobunaga’s man. According to Maria, she is quite sympathetic to us.”

“I still think it’s dangerous for the two girls to continue,” insisted Father Luis. “You must have the fence mended at once.”

“All right, I’ll see to it immediately,” said Pedro. He knew that the girls were playing a dangerous game, but he had been reluctant to put a stop to it because Maria was rather lost in her strange new life and it raised her spirits to meet her old friend.

Taking leave of Father Luis, Pedro started for the garden. On the way something happened which caused him to forget the fence. Passing by the storeroom, he decided to enter and check for rust on his guns, for Miyako summers were humid, and great care had to be taken to prevent rust.

As soon as he opened the gun cupboard he realized that something was wrong. He usually kept three guns in the cupboard, and now there were only two. Pushing the sliding door all the way open, he groped frantically inside, but there was no mistake. One of the guns was missing.

What made Pedro particularly furious was that the missing gun was a very rare and new model with a rifled bore. This was a fairly recent invention, giving the bullet a spin which cut down the deflection from the line of aim. As a result, the gun could be fired with much greater accuracy. Pedro had gone to great trouble and expense to acquire this weapon, and he had already promised to bring it to Nobunaga at his next audience with him. Now it was stolen, and it might be months before a merchant ship from Europe could bring another one.

Pedro’s thoughts raced. Yesterday, when he returned from the walk with Father Luis and brought back his ordinary weapon to the cupboard, all three guns had been present, he was sure. Could any of the staff have taken one of the guns? More than once Pedro had warned them that firearms were very dangerous in inexperienced hands, and he was sure that they had been impressed by the warning.

Suddenly, he remembered the two bodyguards and their avid interest in the guns. He liked the two men, but he had to admit that they looked desperately poor. Pedro could think of many warlords, enemies of Nobunaga, who would pay handsomely to possess this new type of gun. Cursing under his breath, he made for the room assigned to the two bodyguards.

The two ronin were polishing their swords, and they looked up in surprise at Pedro’s abrupt entrance. This morning they had shaved and put on fresh clothes, and the result was a dramatic change in their appearances. Pedro realized that they were both much younger than he had thought when he saw them unshaven. Matsuzo looked barely twenty. Zenta seemed a few years older, with an air of authority that went with considerable maturity.

Pedro had discovered that it was difficult to guess the ages of the Japanese since their skin wrinkled less than that of the Europeans. But though their faces provided little clue, their hands usually did. Zenta’s hands were slender and well shaped, except for calluses resulting from the constant handling of weapons. They showed almost no prominent veins, and from that Pedro guessed that the ronin was in his mid-twenties, approximately the same age as himself.

There was nothing about the two ronin to recall the vagabonds of the previous day, and as soon as he saw them Pedro’s suspicions vanished. He felt extremely foolish under their steady gaze.

“Yes? Is there something wrong?” asked Zenta. Dressed in a clean, dark blue kimono, with his hair neatly tied back, he made a very formidable figure.

Pedro cleared his throat and lamely brought out the story of the missing gun. When he finished there was a strained silence in the room. Finally Zenta said icily, “You came to ask us if we had taken the gun, is that it?”

Pedro knew that only complete honesty would serve. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. “But now I realize that I’m wrong and I ask your pardon. Can you help me find the gun by questioning the staff? They would answer more readily to their own countrymen.”

Zenta’s manner thawed slightly. “Very well. This is a good opportunity for me to look over the whole staff, anyway.” He got up quickly, and Pedro envied the fluid ease of his movement. He himself, after sitting on the floor for a long time, always found his legs stiff and sore.

Pedro lost no time in calling together the staff to the front courtyard. Zenta stood on the wooden veranda and for a few minutes he silently studied the figures humbly crouched on the sandy ground in front of him. Then he summoned them one by one and questioned each on his activities of the morning.

With a mixture of amusement and irritation, Pedro saw that each person bowed very low and answered with the utmost respect. Father Luis had worked long and stubbornly to prevent his staff from getting down on their hands and knees before him. After months of hard work, he thought he had cured them of the habit. Now, faced with an authoritative samurai, they immediately went back to their groveling. Pedro began to think that the Japanese, even when converted to Christianity, would never behave like Europeans.

When the last man had been questioned and dismissed, the two ronin conferred with each other and compared impressions. Finally Zenta turned to Pedro and said, “I may be wrong, but my feeling is that none of these people stole your gun.”

Pedro was inclined to agree. In his opinion, the culprit would have betrayed himself under Zenta’s efficient and ruthless questioning.

“But not everyone is here,” said Matsuzo. “The cook told me that two of the girls have gone shopping for vegetables.”

“We can rule out the girls,” said Pedro. “They’re too frightened of the guns to touch them.” He remembered that one of the girls was Maria, the gentlest and most timid soul in the household. The thought of Maria, however, suddenly reminded him of the fence.

Meanwhile Zenta was saying, “We should check all the entrances to see how an outsider could get into the house.”

“I think I know of a place where an outsider can get in,” Pedro said slowly. He told the two ronin about the portion of the fence that could be unfastened and about the two girls, Maria and Chiyo, regularly exchanging news.

“Maria’s friend is Chiyo?” exclaimed Matsuzo. “But we’ve met her already!”