Читать книгу White Serpent Castle - Lensey Namioka - Страница 8

Chapter 3

“What is the meaning of this disgraceful exhibition?” demanded the new arrival.

Zenta saw that everyone, even the chamberlain, was bowing down to the ground. The new arrival was a man of very high rank indeed. Aside from Lord Okudaira’s immediate family, who could possibly outrank the chamberlain?

“P-Pardon, m-my lord envoy,” stammered the chamberlain. “This is all a dreadful mistake!”

Envoy from where, Zenta wondered. He risked a look and was slightly surprised to find that the envoy was a youngish man. His features were handsome but severe, with thick, lowering eyebrows. Two deep lines ran down either side of his nose to the corners of his lips, giving him a disdainful expression. From the deepness of the lines, Zenta guessed that the sneer was habitual.

The envoy frowned at the groveling chamberlain. “As the man in command of this castle, you are responsible for this disturbance. When the daimyo hears of this, he might judge you unfit for your position.”

An envoy from the daimyo! The daimyo had been Lord Okudaira’s feudal overlord, and the presence of his envoy meant he was so concerned about the succession problem that he found it necessary to send a mediator.

Zenta had finally succeeded in controlling his breath, ragged from the fight. He raised his head and said respectfully, “My lord envoy, I’m afraid that I was the cause of this unseemly outbreak. I was seeking employment at this castle, and there was a question of my qualifications. A demonstration was needed.”

In provoking the fight, he had accomplished his purpose and could afford to be magnanimous. Now he wanted to save the men of the castle from blame, and a low murmur of relief from the men showed that they were aware of this.

The envoy’s brows rose. “This riot, then, was merely to demonstrate your fitness?”

“I’m afraid that in our enthusiasm, some of us got carried away a little,” apologized Zenta.

The envoy’s chief retainer, who had been standing beside his master, now stepped forward. “If this man was just a ronin looking for a job,” he said to the chamberlain, “why did you say that you expected him? You also ordered your men to arrest him. Don’t deny it. I saw the whole thing.”

The chamberlain stared helplessly, and turned to the tall samurai next to him for inspiration. “We thought . . . that is . . . Jihei said he got news that . . .”

Jihei interrupted smoothly. “We have been getting reports of a notorious bandit who has been harassing this region. When these strangers appeared, it was only wise to take them into custody and check their identities.”

“Yes, yes,” agreed the chamberlain. “We were preparing a welcome for a terrible bandit!”

“And a very hearty welcome it was, too,” said Zenta. “Do you go to all this trouble for every stranger who comes?”

The envoy was not ready to release his stern glance from the chamberlain. “Did the strangers draw their swords to resist? Was that how the fight started?”

Jihei stepped forward and answered for his master. “No, the officer who was escorting them lost his head and drew his sword first. Of course, he will answer for it.”

“Are you perfectly satisfied now that these strangers are not the notorious bandits?” pursued the envoy.

A flash of pure hatred escaped from Jihei, but it was immediately suppressed. “Yes, my lord envoy. I am positive that they are not the bandits. This man is Konishi Zenta, just as he claimed. His particular style of fighting with two swords is very well known.”

Zenta was convinced that Jihei and the chamberlain had not entirely given up their doubts about his identity. But in the envoy’s hearing they couldn’t very well say that they suspected him or Matsuzo of being Lord Okudaira’s older son, since the envoy might seriously consider this son as a desirable candidate for the succession.

The envoy examined Zenta intently. “So you came to this castle to enter the chamberlain’s service?”

“I was hoping to enter the service of Lord Okudaira’s successor, whoever he turns out to be,” replied Zenta. He looked calmly back at the searching eyes of the envoy. “Naturally I will wait for your decision on the question of succession.”

After a moment the envoy said thoughtfully, “I may want to have a talk with you later.”

He turned to the chamberlain and looked at him bleakly. “What has happened here this afternoon is no credit to the man in command of the castle. A report of this incident will certainly go back to my master the daimyo.” With a contemptuous glance around, he signaled to his retinue and swept out of the courtyard.

The chamberlain scowled at the haughty back of the envoy and then turned to frown at his men. “What’s the matter, you loiterers?” he barked. “Isn’t there any work to do?”

Slowly the crowd dispersed, some of the men helping disabled friends to rise. More than one man looked at Zenta, who stood adjusting his swords in his sash. A limping samurai approached him respectfully. “We need you here, sir, to give us some lessons in swordsmanship.”

Another man gingerly touched a painful lump on his forehead. “I agree! I should like to see more of your two-sword technique.”

Zenta grinned. “My first lesson on swordsmanship is a warning to avoid swinging gates.” Matsuzo straightened his clothes, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction. He had fought well and had used several newly acquired techniques. What would Zenta decide to do next? Now that there was no question of being taken into custody, they could leave the castle if they wished. For himself, he had even less desire to work for the upstart chamberlain now that he had seen the man. Unfortunately the chamberlain and his henchman Jihei seemed to be in complete control of the castle.

The chamberlain, who had been busily conferring with Jihei, now turned and beckoned to the two ronin. “We will forget about that little misunderstanding just now. My men acted hastily and got what they deserved. Now, I have positions open for warriors like you, and you will find the pay very generous. Waiting for the question of succession to be settled may take a long time, but if you enter my service, you can start drawing your pay immediately.”

He glanced at Zenta’s shabby brown kimono as he spoke. The afternoon’s fighting had dealt a mortal blow to that long-suffering garment.

Matsuzo bridled at the chamberlain’s condescending tone, but Zenta did not seem offended at all. “A bath, a clean kimono, and some food would be very welcome,” he confessed.

The chamberlain nodded without seeming to notice that Zenta had not committed himself. He gave a sign of dismissal and turned away in a swirl of colors. With the departure of his gorgeous costume, the whole courtyard seemed quieter.

The two ronin found Jihei in front of them. “Come with me. I will show you to your quarters.”

“I hope they’re not the ones which you had prepared for the bandits?” asked Matsuzo, trying to imitate Zenta’s ironical tone.

Jihei gave a short laugh, but his eyes were cold. “This way, gentlemen,” he said.

When Jihei took them to a door in the base of the watchtower, Matsuzo asked in surprise, “Then you’re not going to put us in the outer fortress?”

“The chamberlain’s opinion of you is so high that he is putting you in the inner fortress together with officers of the household,” replied Jihei. The words were flattering, but there was a hint of grimness in Jihei’s voice which Matsuzo did not like.

The three men mounted some stairs and soon found themselves on the ground floor of the central building which formed the base of the watchtower. The rooms here were airy and light, but rather bare. In the older and more primitive castles, the commander sometimes had his living quarters in the watchtower building, but Lord Okudaira had more luxurious quarters constructed for his household.

Leaving the watchtower building, Jihei swiftly led the two ronin along a series of narrow hallways, bewildering in their constant twists and turns. Matsuzo had to hurry to keep up with Jihei’s long strides. “Strangers to this castle could be lost for days here,” he panted.

“The mazelike effect is our best defense,” said Jihei with satisfaction. “Even if attackers were to get past the outer fortress and reach this building, they would wander around aimlessly and find themselves ambushed by our men at every turn.”

“With an impregnable castle like this, it seems strange that your chamberlain should be so nervous,” said Zenta. “Forgive me if I sound impertinent, but I got the impression that everyone here is on edge.”

“You are thinking of those fools who started the fight by the gate,” said Jihei. “They were just some hotheads who needed a lesson.”

“Perhaps people here are jumpy because of the White Serpent Ghost,” Matsuzo put in.

Jihei looked annoyed. “How did you hear about the ghost?”

“Well, it’s the chief topic of conversation in the region,” said Matsuzo. “Everybody here is talking about the death of Lord Okudaira and the White Serpent Ghost.”

Jihei’s lips curled contemptuously. “Those idle gossipers! They make up these stories in order to attract travelers to their business.”

“You mean the chamberlain’s intended marriage to Lord Okudaira’s daughter is only gossip?” asked Matsuzo.

“Those peasants are talking about the chamberlain’s intention to marry Lady Tama?” cried Jihei. “The incredible insolence! We’ll soon put a stop to this idle talk!”

“I think the villagers really believed the stories,” said Matsuzo. “We got such a vivid description of the white serpent slithering down the hall, and of the ghostly flute music.” “Ha! Now I know who is responsible for these stories!” said Jihei. “It must be Lady Tama’s servant Ume! That old woman is either in her second childhood or sleepwalking. She claimed to have seen a dim white shape one night, and she managed to get the whole household upset.”

“What about the ghostly music, then?” asked Matsuzo.

Jihei gave a sigh of sorely tried patience. “There are several ladies in the castle who can play the flute. One of them may have been practicing late at night. As for the long slithering thing, those silly maids were probably chasing each other’s sashes!”

In spite of Jihei’s vigorous denials, Matsuzo was reluctant to abandon the serpent ghost and eerie flute music. They made such good subjects for poetry.

Suddenly Zenta said, “Speaking of foolish fancies, for a moment I thought that your chamberlain mistook one of us for Lord Okudaira’s missing older son. Ridiculous idea, isn’t it?”

Jihei stopped. He turned around slowly and looked hard at the ronin. “What do you know about Shigeteru?”

“Shigeteru—is that his name?” said Zenta. “I’m a stranger to this region, and I can’t tell you anything. Do you know the cause of his disappearance?”

In the slanting light from a small window, Jihei’s expression was hard to read. “Ten years ago, a serious break took place between Shigeteru and his father. I had not yet been hired here, but I heard that it happened during a battle in which Lord Okudaira’s sudden retreat caused some men to be stranded and killed. One of those killed was a close friend of Shigeteru. In his grief he spoke wildly and dared to accuse his father of cowardice. For such disrespect to his father he could have been sentenced to commit hara-kiri. But because of his extreme youth, he was spared and instead sentenced to exile.”

“You don’t know what happened to him afterwards?”

“There were reports that he was leading a band of ronin in a distant province,” said Jihei. “In that case he can’t be the cause of the tension here at the castle,” said Matsuzo.

Jihei took a moment to answer. “We have heard rumors that Shigeteru has returned to this region. He must have received news of his father’s death and is looking for an opportunity to take over the castle.”

Zenta looked dubious. “You don’t seriously expect Shigeteru to mount an assault on this castle with his band of ronin, do you?”

“We are not afraid of an attack from the outside,” said Jihei grimly. “We are watching for someone trying to start an insurrection from within the castle.”

“I see,” mused Zenta. “I did notice when we passed through that most of the outer garrison seemed to have been moved to the inner fortress.” He turned and looked searchingly at Jihei. “I have heard that if Shigeteru were to appear, nobody at the castle would recognize him. Is this true?”

There was no doubt that Jihei found the question annoying. “It’s true that the chamberlain took office after Shigeteru’s exile, and most of the men here are new. But how did you hear?”

“It’s common knowledge that the chamberlain has been sending away the old retainers to outlying forts and replacing them with men loyal to him,” replied Zenta. “News like that spreads quickly among ronin who are looking for work.”

“I heard that he was doing this even before Lord Okudaira’s death,” said Matsuzo. “He started placing his own men in the castle as soon as his master fell ill.”

Zenta smiled maliciously at Jihei. “Therefore in his haste to fill the castle with men of his own choice, the chamberlain is left with no one who can recognize Shigeteru. That would explain why he pounces suspiciously on every stranger who comes knocking at the gate.”

Jihei looked furious. “We can always call in a few of the old retainers from outlying forts and have them identify Shigeteru!”

“But you can’t rely on help from the old retainers,” Zenta pointed out. “They might be loyal to Shigeteru, and actually help him in his plan to take over the castle.”

Jihei started violently at the ronin’s last words. Then he collected himself and said curtly, “I suggest that you watch your tongue if you wish to stay in the chamberlain’s service.” He stopped before the room assigned to the two newcomers and swept open the sliding door with an angry crash.

Waiting for them inside the room was an old woman. At the sight of her Jihei’s anger increased further. “Ume! What do you think you are doing here?” he demanded.