The Samurai and the Long-Nosed Devils (16 page)

Zenta looked fiercely back at him. “You talked to Hambei about honor. Then you must understand!”

Pedro understood, but refused to admit it. “I plan to stay in Miyako, marry Maria, and continue to work for Father Luis, whatever you discover about Nobunaga.”

“But your case is different from mine!” cried Zenta. “Your service is with your priest, and his work is spreading his religion. For this you need Nobunaga's patronage, whatever his personal morals. But when I enter Nobunaga's service, I have to give him something more important than my life. I have to give him my loyalty.”

There was no answer to that. As he watched Zenta limp heavily to the door, Pedro made one last try. “I can tell him that you are too ill to see him today.”

Zenta smiled. “He will expect my attendance, even if I have to get there crawling on my hands and knees.”

 

As the door of Father Luis's study closed behind him, Zenta was in a state rare for him. He was terrified. Nobunaga was alone in the small study, except for a page boy who acted as sword bearer. The warlord's appearance was a surprise. Zenta had expected to see a giant with the immense physical strength suitable to a man of his reputed demonic energy and drive. Instead, he found that Nobunaga was tall and spare, with a build not unlike his own. The warlord's eyes were his most striking feature. They were very direct and bright, with whites of a startling purity. It was difficult to sustain the gaze of these piercing eyes, and Zenta found it easier to keep his head lowered.

Nobunaga appeared to be in an affable mood. “The Portuguese told me that Hambei had conceived this plot in an effort to gain favor with me,” he said. His speech was clipped and staccato, totally unlike the drawling speech of Kagemasa and other supporters of the shogun. “He also said that a great part of Hambei's motive was his jealousy of you. I find that easy to believe.”

This was gross flattery, and being flattered by a great man like Nobunaga was an intoxicating experience. Zenta realized that Nobunaga's swift and spectacular success was largely the result of his ability to control the men under him.

“More than money and weapons, I need good men,” continued the warlord. “My struggle to unify the country is reaching a climax, and if I am successful, I shall need deputies to hold territory for me, men whom I can trust absolutely. My most able general, Hideyoshi, was once only a lowly foot soldier, but he rose to become my chief lieutenant through sheer ability. Your background, I suspect, is less humble than Hideyoshi's, and probably personal reasons rather than political ones caused you to become a ronin.”

Zenta opened his mouth to reply, but Nobunaga interrupted him. “I don't wish to know about your private life. With me, the only things that count are loyalty and ability, and by ability I mean more than just skill with weapons.”

Again Zenta bowed his head and murmured assent. It was the only thing he could do. Nobunaga seemed to find the interview proceeding satisfactorily, and his tone became quite kindly. “Still, a samurai must handle weapons well. Skill in swordsmanship always has a good psychological effect on the men under one's command. I heard of your performance in cutting off Kotaro's topknot. Very nice! Kotaro was supposed to have been Lord Fujikawa's best man.”

This was the opening that Zenta had been looking for, but he found it almost impossible to move his tongue. In a voice that sounded husky to his own ears he said, “Kotaro was not a good swordsman. Hambei had no difficulty in defeating him.”

Hambei was dead and there was no point in giving him more credit than he deserved. “Hambei didn't kill Kotaro in a fair fight,” said Nobunaga contemptuously. “Kotaro was unarmed, and Hambei cut him down as he tried to escape.”

Zenta now had the answer to his question. Hambei had told his master about what he had done.

Nobunaga did not seem to have noticed Zenta's reaction. He said crisply, “Enough of Hambei. At least he told me the truth when he said that you wished to enter my service. There is nothing more that you have to do here for the Portuguese, and I have important tasks for you. Therefore give me your oath of allegiance now and join my retinue when I leave.” Zenta felt trapped under those compelling eyes. His greatest fear was that he might fall to the temptation of entering Nobunaga's service. To help in the task of unifying the country and bringing stability was work he desperately wanted to do. But if he surrendered his loyalty to such a master, knowing of his treachery, he would lose his own integrity. He couldn't just leave as he had done when disgusted with his former masters. He might never break free from the spell of Nobunaga's powerful personality.

There was an impatient rustle from Nobunaga, and Zenta knew that he couldn't delay longer in giving his response. As he lifted his head, he felt a wave of dizziness. Thankfully he saw an escape at last. He slumped forward to the mat and pretended to be overcome by weakness.

Not daring to breathe, he waited. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally heard Nobunaga rise to give a curt order for his page boy to summon the attendants. The interview was over.

 

Zenta's pretended weakness was partly genuine, and he had only a hazy recollection of being helped back to his room and put to bed. Some time later Pedro entered. The expression on his face was grim. “I suppose Nobunaga failed the test?”

Zenta nodded and smiled ruefully. “I'm afraid that I may have failed
his
test also.”

Pedro rapped out an exclamation of disgust in Portuguese. “What did you do? You told him that you didn't want to work for him after all? And then, I suppose, he gave you a week's wages and his blessing to go and enter the service of one of his opponents?”

“I tried to avoid giving him an answer at all, but I don't know if he was deceived,” admitted Zenta.

“People don't refuse Nobunaga and live to tell about it,” said Pedro sharply. “If you change your mind about entering his service, he will think that you have become an enemy.”

“He must know that a ronin like me can't be a significant enemy to a powerful warlord like him,” said Zenta. He added hopefully, “Nobunaga has important matters to keep him busy, and he will forget about me in a few days.”

Pedro gave a short laugh. “Does Nobunaga really look like a man who forgets easily?”

Zenta remembered the warlord's keen eyes which seemed not to miss any detail, however insignificant. He shivered. “I must leave Miyako, then.” He had a moment of aching regret as he thought of Lady Yuki.

“Yes, well, Nobunaga must have suspected that you might try to do that,” said Pedro. “This is what I came to tell you. He left some men here to discourage you from making any such plan. As soon as you are able to ride, they will bring you to him.”

Up to that moment, overwhelmed by Nobunaga's powerful personality, Zenta had felt hopeless and resigned. But the warlord's threat of coercion roused him to anger, and he sat up, feeling suddenly stronger. “He thinks his men will stop me, does he? We shall see!” “Wait!” said Pedro. “Don't be hasty. There are eight men posted about the place and you are in no condition to take them on. I would like to help, but even with my gun . . .”

“No, you must not be involved,” said Zenta quickly. “The success of Father Luis's mission depends on keeping Nobunaga's favor.”

“I was about to say that we must make careful plans,” said Pedro. “Instead of rushing into a fight, we'll have to think of some way to get you out without arousing the suspicion of Nobunaga's men.”

“If Matsuzo were here he could help,” muttered Zenta. “What could have happened to him? I hope that wretched girl Chiyo hasn't gotten him into trouble!”

Chapter 14

 

 

Matsuzo was waiting for Chiyo at a little refreshment stand around the corner from the street of the Portuguese. The benches of the stand were occupied by people waiting for the procession of floats which formed the climax of the Gion Festival. Matsuzo sat on one of the reed-covered benches and stared with unseeing eyes at the crowd. On the next bench some young girls dressed in their best holiday kimonos turned to look coyly at him. At any other time he would have blushed and stolen glances back at them, but to their infinite regret he was too preoccupied to notice.

Hearing commands being given for the people to make way, he turned to look and saw that Nobunaga's cavalcade was leaving the residence of the Portuguese. Now that he knew the identity of the leading horseman, Matsuzo looked curiously at him as he passed. The manner in which Nobunaga held his back and gripped the reins of his horse made Matsuzo suspect that something had happened to displease the warlord during the visit to the Portuguese.

The attitude of the crowd toward Nobunaga contained admiration mixed with fear. By insisting on orderly behavior from his own men and ruthlessly stamping out all lawlessness in the capital city, Nobunaga had gained the respect of Miyako's citizens. They had suffered the ravages of civil war too often, and they appreciated the iron hand of the latest conqueror.

After the procession of horsemen had passed, Matsuzo looked eagerly for Chiyo, but still the girl did not come. More time passed. Matsuzo wiped his brow, which was wet from the sultry heat, and he drank cup after cup of tea made from a roasted grain. He shook his head when offered an unappetizing tray of rice dumplings covered with yellow bean powder and buzzing flies.

Soon he began to imagine lurid scenes: Hambei snarling, Hambei dragging Chiyo by the hair, Hambei plunging his sword into her breast. Finally he stood up, determined to go to the residence of the Portuguese to see for himself. At that moment he caught sight of Chiyo turning the corner and hurrying toward him.

“Chiyo! You're safe!” he cried, dashing the romantic dreams of the three girls on the next bench.

Chiyo looked pale and shaken. She drew Matsuzo away from the curious bystanders at the refreshment stand. Then in a low and agitated voice, she gave him an account of what had happened at the residence of the Portuguese. Maria had not been cooperative at first. Having heard from Pedro about Chiyo's treachery, she had been furious with her former friend. Chiyo, startled by the anger in one usually so meek, needed all her powers of persuasion to convince Maria that she had a change of heart and sincerely wanted to help. Eventually she had succeeded in learning the whole story of Hambei's death.

Matsuzo was stunned. “Then our problems are solved! The monks on Mt. Hiei are safe, and Lord Fujikawa's murderer has been caught!” He examined Chiyo carefully. “Are you very unhappy about Hambei's death?”

“I feel as if I've been released from prison!” she said. “And I am glad that my father and the other monks will be safe.”

“But what has happened to Zenta?” asked Matsuzo anxiously. “Is he badly hurt?”

Chiyo shook her head and her expression turned somber. “After Nobunaga left, Maria took me to see the foreigner Pedro. He told me that Zenta had decided not to work for Nobunaga after all. Apparently Nobunaga had approved of Hambei's plan to blame the murder of Lord Fujikawa on Mt. Hiei; and when Zenta discovered this, he couldn't bring himself to serve such a master.”

Matsuzo groaned. “What was Nobunaga's reaction when Zenta refused to enter his service?” He realized that Kagemasa, that shrewd man, had suspected this very thing. That was why he had offered refuge.

“He doesn't know of Zenta's refusal yet,” replied Chiyo. She looked anxiously at Matsuzo. “Will you follow Zenta's example? There are dreadful stories about people who have tried to defy Nobunaga.”

Matsuzo had heard the stories, too. He suspected that most of them had been invented by Nobunaga's enemies, but it was useless to speculate on how many of them were true. “Zenta has made many sacrifices in order to do what he believes is right, and I will follow him,” he said quietly. “We must take refuge with Kagemasa first and then look for a way to leave the city. Is Zenta able to walk?”

“According to the foreigner, he is weak from loss of blood and limps very badly,” replied Chiyo. “There is another problem. You see, Nobunaga is determined to have Zenta enter his service, and he has left some soldiers behind to make sure that he does. There are men posted in the house and at the front gate.” Matsuzo's heart sank. He looked around the corner down the street of the Portuguese and saw that Chiyo was right. There was a samurai with some horses by the foreigners' front gate.

“But it's not completely hopeless,” said Chiyo. “Maria told me that Pedro has a plan to get Zenta past Nobunaga's guards in the house. We have to think of some way to proceed from there. We also have the problem of escaping the attention of Nobunaga's men who are patrolling all the major streets.”

“What we need is some form of transport for Zenta,” said Matsuzo. He looked thoughtfully at the horses in front of the Portuguese's gate.

Chiyo guessed his intention. “No!” she said sharply. “If you try to seize those horses, there will be a fight and you will alert Nobunaga's men, not only the ones in the house, but also the ones in the main street over there.”

“We can send a message to Kagemasa,” suggested Matsuzo. “He will gladly send us a couple of horses.”

“That will look too conspicuous,” said Chiyo. “Nobunaga's men will certainly be very suspicious if horses are brought to this street. Besides, it will be difficult to ride quickly. The streets here are too crowded with people waiting for the parade of floats.”

Suddenly she gasped. Matsuzo saw that her eyes were very bright. She was again the laughing, spirited girl whom he had seen on his first day in Miyako. “The parade!” she cried. “Of course! We must get him on one of the floats!”

It was a wild idea, but Matsuzo had to admit that it would solve the problem of transport. They could then get Zenta away from this neighborhood and to a different part of the city, to a place where Kagemasa could station men with horses without arousing suspicion.