Читать книгу White Serpent Castle - Lensey Namioka - Страница 7

Chapter 2

The stout man’s words were heavy with menace, in spite of his smiling face. Hiding his alarm, Zenta bowed deeply to the welcoming party. “We are overwhelmed. But this reception can’t be meant for two insignificant ronin. You must be expecting someone else.”

The stout man smiled even more broadly. “I’m the chamberlain of this castle, in command since Lord Okudaira’s death. I assure you that there is no mistake.”

Zenta looked at the chamberlain and despised what he saw. This, according to rumor, was the ambitious schemer who was trying to marry his lord’s daughter. The chamberlain’s hands were soft and his body pudgy. He had the look of a man who ordered others to do the fighting.

Keeping a respectful expression on his face, Zenta said, “Let me announce our names, then. I am Konishi Zenta, and this is my traveling companion, Ishihara Matsuzo.”

He nudged Matsuzo, who was staring with his mouth open. The young ronin gave a start and stepped forward, managing a creditable bow.

Zenta was aware of someone’s hard stare on him. Standing next to the chamberlain was a tall, muscular samurai with heavy shoulders.

After studying Zenta closely, the samurai bent his head and spoke into the chamberlain’s ear.

The chamberlain nodded and turned to the ronin. “Jihei here tells me that he has heard stories of Konishi Zenta. According to him, your appearance is not consistent with the stories.” “Really?” said Zenta. “I’m not sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.”

The chamberlain paid no attention to Zenta’s remark. “Disarm these two men and take them into custody,” he ordered the officer at the gate.

Zenta knew that people who met him for the first time were always skeptical of his identity. He remembered Matsuzo’s open doubt and disappointment at their first meeting. But now the chamberlain’s skepticism was dangerous. Zenta had just thought of a possible explanation for their ominous reception.

He had heard some talk that Lord Okudaira’s older son was planning to return and claim his inheritance. He had not expected the chamberlain to take the rumor seriously, but if the chamberlain suspected that one of them was the missing older son, he would consider their arrival most inconvenient. Zenta didn’t doubt that they would be taken somewhere to be quietly executed. It began to look as if coming to the castle was a serious mistake.

Zenta glanced quickly at Matsuzo and saw that the young ronin was waiting for a signal to draw his sword. Even if Matsuzo had not guessed the chamberlain’s intention, he seemed to know how desperate their situation was. They had no chance of fighting their way out of the castle, but anything was better than going unresisting to their death.

Zenta had only one hope. He had been counting on finding forces opposed to the chamberlain within the castle. If he could delay his arrest and attract their attention, they might come to his aid.

The problem was that to draw one’s sword in a feudal lord’s castle, unless in self-defense or under orders, was a grave offense. Zenta decided that he had to provoke the chamberlain’s men into becoming the aggressors.

When the officer approached to disarm him, Zenta took his short sword and threw it on the ground with the hilt towards the other man. This was a deadly insult, for the act said, “My contempt for you is such that I’m not afraid of putting my weapon in your hands.”

The officer turned pale and his breath hissed. Determined to wipe out the insult, he drew his sword and rushed furiously at the ronin. His sword flashed up in a great arc and came down with an impressive swish. But it fell on air, for Zenta was no longer there.

Watching the officer struggling to regain his balance, Zenta laughed. “That was a breach of etiquette, you know. I’ve heard about cases of people who were ordered to commit hara-kiri for this.”

Shifting his grip, the furious officer slashed again at his tormentor. The force of his swing nearly brought him to his knees, but Zenta had no trouble escaping the blow. He decided to play the furious officer the way a hunter might direct the charge of a wild boar. He maneuvered his position so that he was standing in front of the wooden gate. When the officer brought his sword down again, Zenta quickly ducked his head, and the sword was driven deeply into the wood.

Zenta looked around the courtyard. Had he succeeded in attracting the attention of the rest of the castle? He couldn’t see any sign of additional activity. Very well, then, more drastic measures were necessary.

Looking over the rest of the chamberlain’s men he said, “Is this officer a particularly bad example, or are you all as incompetent as he is?”

Meanwhile Matsuzo had finally realized what Zenta was trying to do. “Since the officer can’t seem to get his sword out,” he said loudly, “perhaps one of the other men could lend his. They don’t have much use for their weapons here.”

This taunt was too much for the self-control of the chamberlain’s men. On all sides, swords flashed out as the men rushed forward without waiting for orders.

Zenta threw himself down to avoid an attack aimed at his head. Behind him another burly samurai rushed up with raised sword, but Matsuzo moved in to deflect the attack. The battle began.

When Zenta got to his feet, his right hand was holding his long sword, and his left hand was gripping the short sword which he had earlier thrown on the ground. Although the short sword was usually reserved for the ceremonial suicide, some samurai have developed a technique for using both swords at once.

The two ronin assumed a defensive position by placing themselves back-to-back. Surrounding them, the castle men did not immediately rush to attack. The samurai sword, razor sharp and exquisitely balanced, was not designed for constant hacking. Combatants tested each other with their eyes, not with physical contact, and the physical clashes, when they came, were savage and brief.

Suddenly two of the castle men lunged forward. Zenta’s right hand swung down while his left hand flashed up and across. One man staggered back and the other one doubled up with pain. Matsuzo kicked him out of the way.

Once more the combatants froze in place. The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of rough breathing and someone’s foot grating on sand.

Again there was an explosion of movement. One man aimed a cut at Matsuzo, who swerved to dodge the blow. The young ronin swung his sword in the stroke which he had learned from Zenta only two days earlier. His attacker stepped back, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Darting a quick look at the blood, Zenta whispered, “Use the back edge of your sword, you fool! We don’t want to kill anyone!”

“Maybe we don’t, but they don’t seem to feel the same reluctance,” muttered Matsuzo.

The charges from the chamberlain’s men were now coming faster. Zenta made a savage slashing attack, temporarily breaking the ring around them. When the encircling formed again, Matsuzo saw that Zenta had succeeded in shifting their position so that they were in front of the open gate.

Apparently the chamberlain realized it too. “Don’t let them get away!” he screamed. “Close the gate!”

“With pleasure,” answered Zenta. Stepping to one side, he swept the door into the faces of the four men advancing on him. There were resonant thumps of foreheads smacking against iron studs.

Matsuzo leaped for the other door. With a mighty push, the two ronin swept the door closed, pulling with it the officer whose sword was still stuck in the wood. At the same time the heavy door drove back three other attackers. The gate clanged shut with the three men left on the other side.

Breathing fast, Matsuzo spared a moment to flash a grin at Zenta before he whirled around to meet another furious attack. The number of attackers had been substantially reduced. Moreover, the two men now had the advantage of the gate protecting their backs. There was still the officer trying to free his sword from the gate, but he could not count as an active combatant.

By this time the chamberlain was jumping up and down in consternation, and even the heavyset Jihei was showing signs of wanting to join the fight.

“I think it’s coming out,” said the officer, who felt his sword loosen slightly from the door.

“Open the gate!” yelled the three men on the other side.

“Matsuzo, they want it open after all,” said Zenta, and cleared a space.

With a sudden heave, Matsuzo pulled open the gate and quickly stepped aside. The three men pushing on the other side crashed into the attack of their own comrades.

The sudden jerk of the door jammed the officer’s sword back into the wood.

In the confusion, Zenta and Matsuzo were again working their way to the open gate.

“Close the gate!” shouted the chamberlain. “Can’t you decide how you want it?” Matsuzo yelled back at him. In his excitement, he slipped on a patch of blood and crashed to the ground. Instantly two men were above him with raised swords. Zenta kicked the feet from under one man and drew the other away with a feint.

“At last! I got it out!” cried the officer, triumphantly waving his free sword. He swung it hard at Zenta, who quickly swerved. The sword sank back into the door.

In the tangle on the ground, Matsuzo found a hairy arm in his mouth. He bit. Struggling with the writhing heap above him, he thought, “Why is it that in all the great epic poems, fights were never so messy as this?”

Without warning, Matsuzo’s opponents loosened their grip, and the young ronin realized that all sounds of fighting had stopped. In the background, an authoritative voice was speaking. Sitting up, Matsuzo looked around and found all the chamberlain’s men crouched on the ground bowing to a figure high on the steps behind the chamberlain.