The Samurai and the Long-Nosed Devils (15 page)

“You only did what your conscience told you to do, and no man can do better,” said Father Luis. “You couldn't permit Hambei to carry on his monstrous deception, and you couldn't stand by and see him butcher Zenta in cold blood.”

“But what shall we tell Nobunaga?” asked Pedro.

“We must tell him the truth. He will find out sooner or later, and he will be grateful to discover the sort of man Hambei was. Why, we may have saved him a campaign against Mt. Hiei that could have cost thousands of lives.”

Knowing how much Nobunaga hated the Mt. Hiei monks, Pedro didn't think that the warlord would be particularly happy at calling off the campaign. But at least he should be glad to rid his staff of a man who was a scheming liar and a murderer.

Pedro began to get the house ready for the warlord's visit. First, he called the two men who had returned, and with their help, raised Kotaro's body from the well and placed it next to that of Hambei's in the storeroom. When that grisly task was done, he made the two men promise to keep silent. He was afraid that the news of the discovery might spread next door. At the moment there was a fragile truce between the Portuguese and Lord Fujikawa's men, but he wasn't at all sure how they would react to the news that their leader's body had been found in the foreigners' well.

More of the staff returned, and Pedro set them to work dusting their best cushions and sweeping the sand in the front courtyard. The fight between Zenta and Lord Fujikawa's men seemed long, long ago. Pedro was surprised to realize that there hadn't even been time to call in a carpenter to repair the damaged gate.

Next Pedro considered the problem of refreshments. He knew that there would be no time to prepare anything elaborate. Fortunately they had some sponge cake made from eggs. It was the European food that had found the most favor with the Japanese. He was a little worried about what drink to serve. They had the saké which he and Hambei had been drinking, but it was of a quality too poor to offer to someone like Nobunaga. With a sigh he brought out some of the precious red wine from home that he had been saving for special occasions and emergencies. Well, this was an emergency.

 

On the other side of the city Matsuzo was pushing through the thick crowd with Chiyo. He thought over Kagemasa's parting words. “I wonder what he meant. That remark about needing refuge from powerful enemies sounded ominous.”

They were approaching an intersection of two major streets. It was blocked with holidaymakers. Instead of replying, Chiyo suddenly pulled Matsuzo behind a family consisting of father, mother and two children. Matsuzo snatched his sleeve away from the sticky hands of the younger child, who was eating a sweet. Behind the glaze of syrup, her fat, moon-shaped face was the homeliest that he had ever seen.

“Why are you trying to get us adopted into this family?” he asked, annoyed.

Chiyo hurriedly quieted him. “I saw several of Nobunaga's men here. Don't let them see us.” “Why not?” he demanded. “We haven't done anything to offend Nobunaga. It's Hambei who is our enemy. And besides, they don't even know my face.”

“Some of the men know
my
face, since they've seen me with Hambei,” explained Chiyo. “From that they can guess who you are, and they might be under orders from Hambei to treat you as dangerous.”

Their progress in crossing the city became slow and nerve-racking as they tried to merge with the holiday crowd and escape the notice of Nobunaga's men who were vigilantly patrolling all the major intersections. On the previous day, Matsuzo had thought the trip to Kagemasa's house agonizingly slow. But the return was taking twice as long. By the time they approached the street of the Portuguese, he felt hot, tired, and disheveled. He saw that Chiyo looked little better, although he had tried to shield her from the buffeting.

Just before they turned into their side street, they were overtaken by a procession of horsemen. Chiyo abruptly stooped down as if to adjust her sandal strap.

Matsuzo didn't notice her action, for he was looking at the leading horseman. From the reaction of the bystanders, he guessed that the man was a great warlord. He couldn't see much of the face because a wide hat covered most of the upper half. What he could see, the arrogant chin and the tightly compressed lips, indicated a formidable will.

When the last of the horsemen had passed them, Chiyo straightened. “That was Nobunaga and his men,” she told Matsuzo.

“What?” cried Matsuzo. He turned to look again at the leading horseman, but could see only the retreating back.

“Look!” cried Chiyo, pointing. “They are going down our street!”

Following at a discreet distance, Matsuzo and Chiyo turned into the side street just in time to see Nobunaga entering the gate of the Portuguese's residence. When the gate closed after the last of the procession, the two turned and stared at each other in astonishment.

“What does this mean?” said Matsuzo. “Could Nobunaga be investigating Lord Fujikawa's murder in person?”

“Whatever it means, I don't think it's safe for you to return immediately,” said Chiyo.

“But we have to find out what is happening,” said Matsuzo.

“I know!” said Chiyo. She seemed to have recovered some of her old vivacity. “I can go to Lord Fujikawa's garden and pass through the weak section of the bamboo fence to the Portuguese's side. Then I'll try to find Maria. She will tell me the news.”

“That sounds very dangerous,” said Matsuzo. “What if Hambei catches you?”

“I'm hoping that Hambei still thinks I'm under his domination,” said Chiyo. Before Matsuzo could say anything, she gave him a reassuring smile, then turned and walked quickly down the side street to Lord Fujikawa's house.

It went against Matsuzo's training to let a girl make the decisions and take the risks. But he had the honesty to see that her plan was a good one. The matter was too important to let his masculine pride interfere.

Pedro and the staff were in a whirl of frantic last minute preparations. The tatami mats on the floor of the principal hall were thoroughly swept, and a number of large flat cushions were set out for seating Nobunaga and other high-ranking guests.

He visited the kitchen and was relieved to see that the refreshments were arranged and ready to be served. The European food looked slightly strange on the Japanese lacquered trays, but Pedro decided that this exotic touch was precisely what the Japanese visitors would enjoy.

He was less pleased when he inspected the scientific instruments that he planned to demonstrate. The alarm clock was in good condition and gave a pleasant chime, but the astrolabe used by Portuguese sailors for navigation was badly rusted. While he was trying to polish the metal loops of the instrument, he heard Maria's voice.

“The guests have arrived!” she called. Dashing into the corridor, Pedro nearly tripped over a girl who was on her hands and knees giving a final touch of mirror smoothness to the wooden floors. The house was not quite ready, but in one important respect Pedro was prepared. The storeroom containing the two bodies was locked and the key safely in his pocket.

When Pedro arrived in the reception room, he saw that Father Luis was already greeting the guests of honor. The priest seemed to be doing quite well without his interpreter. He was saying the proper courtesy phrases, although in an atrocious accent. He understood none of the replies, but he nodded with a simple dignity that seemed to produce a very favorable impression.

As Pedro entered and saw to the seating arrangements for the guests, he noticed that one or two of the men were not part of Nobunaga's retinue. If his memory served him, the crests of their kimonos showed that they were members of the shogun's party.

Pedro was pleased to see the shogun's men, for they might serve as a buffer between him and Nobunaga's anger. He felt like a boy who had killed his father's prized falcon. He wanted to confess and have done with it, but he was terrified at the thought of beginning. Seeing the serving girls hovering in the doorway with the refreshments, Pedro tried to decide whether Nobunaga was a man who mellowed with wine or angered more easily under its influence.

Nobunaga took the decision from Pedro. “Before we look at your instruments, I have a small matter of business,” he announced. “One of my retainers, Hambei, told me that he came here in connection with some clues to the murder of Lord Fujikawa. So far he has sent me no word. Can you tell me whether you have seen him?”

Pedro took the plunge. “Hambei is dead. I killed him.”

Angry cries burst out in the room. Several of Nobunaga's men half rose and reached for their swords. Nobunaga held up his hand and his men subsided, still muttering angrily. With a face set like iron, the warlord turned to Pedro and silently waited for the explanation.

Pedro tried to control his trembling, then found to his surprise that he could speak quite calmly. He reported the conversation which he had overheard between Hambei and Zenta. As he spoke he glanced quickly at the shogun's men and saw that their expressions were studiously blank. At first he wondered why Nobunaga had brought them, but then he realized that the warlord had expected to be met by Hambei. What could be better than to have the shogun's men hear Hambei present the proof of Mt. Hiei's guilt? Drawing a little comfort from their presence, Pedro stated his conclusion that Hambei had killed Lord Fujikawa and arranged to have the suspicion fall on the monks of Mt. Hiei. “Since Zenta had discovered the truth,” said Pedro, “Hambei had planned to kill him and place the blame for Zenta's death on the monks as well.”

At the end of Pedro's recital, nobody dared to move. Everyone looked at Nobunaga as he sat tight-lipped, thinking deeply. Pedro had never felt so exposed and afraid, not even during the shipwreck.

Suddenly one of the shogun's men broke the silence. “But what was Hambei's motive for committing this hideous crime?” In the next moment he looked as if he would have bitten off his tongue.

“I believe that Hambei was deeply jealous of Zenta,” said Pedro. “From what I overheard, it seemed that he thought his act would provoke a war with Mt. Hiei, and he hoped this would please his master. He was also using the opportunity to get rid of a rival who might surpass him in his master's favor.”

At last Nobunaga nodded. “You have saved my executioner some work,” he told Pedro. “Hambei received a more pleasant death than he deserved.”

“Hambei also murdered Kotaro, one of Lord Fujikawa's samurai, because he was a witness to the murder,” added Pedro, anxious to mention every fact in his own justification.

Again Nobunaga nodded. This meant the cancellation of his campaign against Mt. Hiei, and it must have been a galling disappointment. But there would be no outward display of fury. Pedro realized that Nobunaga unleashed his famous anger only when he wished, and this increased his admiration for the man.

Gulping down a whole cupful of Pedro's precious wine without appearing to taste a drop, Nobunaga rose. “Enough of this. The purpose of our visit is to see your scientific instruments.”

After that the visit was an anti-climax. Pedro was in no state to give a good demonstration of the alarm clock. Under his fumbling hands, the alarm went off at the wrong hour, but fortunately his audience was too preoccupied to notice. Everyone, except possibly Father Luis, rose with badly concealed relief when Nobunaga finally gave orders to prepare for departure.

Before he left, however, the warlord told Pedro that he wanted to see Zenta. Since he had just lost a valuable henchman, he would need a replacement.

 

Maria had reported to Pedro that Zenta had been treated by Father Luis and had regained consciousness. On seeing Pedro the ronin's first words were, “Is he dead?”

There was no need to mention names. Pedro nodded. “I killed him.”

Zenta plucked restlessly at the thin quilt which covered him. “I don't know what Hambei has told his master. Nobunaga may be already planning a campaign against Mt. Hiei. It must be stopped!”

“It's already stopped,” said Pedro. “Nobunaga is here, in this house. I have just told him the whole story.”

Zenta sat up in amazement. After a moment he said, “He accepted your story?”

Pedro nodded. “The campaign against Mt. Hiei is called off.”

“Nobunaga can't be very pleased,” remarked Zenta.

“No, but the truth is now in the open,” said Pedro, smiling. “A few of the shogun's men were in the room and they heard everything.”

“You've managed very well,” murmured Zenta. “You must have had a few bad moments, though.” He lay back and closed his eyes.

“By the way, Nobunaga wants to see you,” Pedro told the ronin. “I suppose this means that you are leaving us and entering his service?”

When Zenta made no reply, Pedro looked at him in surprise and saw that he was shivering with cold, in spite of the heat which was making his own doublet stick to his back.

“Pedro, did you tell Nobunaga that Kotaro was struck down from behind?” Zenta suddenly asked.

“No, I only said that Hambei killed him,” replied Pedro. Then, as he understood the purpose behind the question, he stared at Zenta in horror. “You intend to test Nobunaga? Then you think that he was the one who conceived the whole plot to murder Lord Fujikawa and place the blame on the monks?”

“No, the idea was obviously Hambei's,” said Zenta. “I recognized his touch. But if Nobunaga was aware of the plot and didn't try to stop Hambei, I want to know.”

Pedro's heart was heavy as he looked at Zenta. “Is it really important for you to know?”

The ronin's lips were very pale. “Yes, it is.” He got up slowly and began to dress himself. Then he picked up his sword from the sword rack, looked at the encrusted blood on the hilt and put it back again.

Pedro was silent. After a while he said, “If I were you, I wouldn't want to know about Nobunaga.”