The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery (7 page)

He'd repaid Terukuni's kind generosity with betrayal, forsaken samurai loyalty for personal gain. After much soul-searching, he'd seen the error of his ways and vowed to embrace the Way of the Warrior. Hence he could not abandon Sano, his present master, to stand or fall alone, regardless of orders to the contrary.
Fierce resolve inspired Hirata. Sano had told him to amuse himself in town, but hadn't specified how. oI don't need anything, Hirata told the waiting servant. oI'm going out for the rest of the day.
When he walked out the door, the two guards followed. oGovernors orders, the paunchy one said.
Hirata realized they meant to spy on him, the last thing he wanted. If Trade Director Spaen had thus far managed to evade capture, someone might be harboring him "perhaps a professional criminal. From his police experience, Hirata knew that the best way to find such a man was by unobtrusive means, which he couldn't use with two soldiers in tow.
Reversing his steps, Hirata said to the guards, oI've decided to stay home.
They eyed him skeptically, then stationed themselves beside the gate. Inside the house, Hirata reconsidered his clothes "silk surcoat and kimono printed with the Tokugawa crest, flowing silk trousers, and high clogs "the uniform of an Edo official, and not exactly one to inspire trust in the townspeople. Hurrying to the bedchamber, Hirata found two maids unpacking his baggage.
oGive me those, he said, grabbing a short cotton kimono, sash, leggings, old wicker hat, and straw sandals. Hastily he changed into the ensemble and rehung his swords at his waist. Feeling younger and freer, as if he'd stepped back in time to his police days, he ran out the back door to the stables for a horse. Then the back gate opened, and the paunchy guard appeared. Hirata dashed back into the house. Hearing voices in the corridor, he skidded to a stop.
oWhere is your master? the tall guard demanded.
oHe changed clothes, then left, a maid replied.
Running footsteps came from the direction of the back door. Hirata swerved down another corridor as the paunchy guard called, oI saw him, he went that way.
Hirata bolted through the bustling kitchen and into a courtyard, where he came upon two men. Their furtive manner alerted his police instincts. A familiar warning buzz went off in his head, arresting his flight.
oOne hundred zeni for a barrel of prawns, ten quail eggs, a jar of candied plums, and steamed rice buns? The speaker was a shabbily dressed peasant. oThat's robbery!
The other man, who wore a neat blue kimono, stood beside the basket of provisions. oBut these are the finest quality foods, bought especially for the shogun's envoys. About fifty years of age, he had a long face with protuberant eyes and pursed lips. Wispy gray hair straggled around his bald pate. oWhy should I sell them for less, when they'll fetch twice that from the customers at your food stall?
Forgetting his pursuers, Hirata seized the bald man's arm, demanding, oHow dare you steal from my master? You're under arrest!
The peasant scuttled over the wall, but the captive thief bowed and smiled. oAllow me to introduce myself, master, he said. oOld Carp, kitchen provisioner, at your service. Perhaps you're hungry? He plucked a round bamboo box from the basket and offered it to Hirata.
Hirata laughed in spite of himself. With his bulging eyes and puckered mouth, the man really did resemble a fish. And how quick he was to bribe his way out of trouble "with stolen goods, yet! Then Hirata saw the two guards in the kitchen, coming straight toward him. Releasing Old Carp, he said, oI'll punish you later, and turned to flee.
The wily servant acted quickly. oHave this, master, with my compliments, he said, thrusting the box into Hirata's hands. Then he picked up the basket, ran toward the kitchen door "and collided with the guards as they ran out.
The basket crashed to the ground, spilling its contents. Amid streaming water and broken eggs, live prawns squirmed. The guards cursed as their feet slipped in the mess.
oA thousand apologies, masters! Old Carp bleated.
oGet out of the way!
Old Carp motioned for Hirata to run. The paunchy guard skidded on the eggs and fell flat on his back. The tall man dodged Old Carp, only to trip and sprawl facedown beside his comrade.
Hirata raced across the courtyard to the wall. He would have discarded the box Old Carp had given him, but for the delicious smell emanating from it. Tossing the box over the wall, he scrambled after it. He landed in the next yard, retrieved the box, ran out the gate, and sped down the street, dodging pedestrians. Ducking into an alley, he leaned against the wall and burst out laughing.
What a perfect getaway! Now he was free as the wind, his dinner in hand. He would overlook Old Carp's thievery just this once. With tears of mirth still wet on his cheeks, Hirata opened the box and found ten round white buns. Eagerly he ate them, savoring the prawns, soy sauce, and scallions in the filling. He licked his fingers and dropped the box in a wooden wastebin. Stomach full and humor restored, he cautiously emerged from the alley, looking both ways. No trace of his guards. He started downhill toward the waterfront in search of leads on the Dutch barbarian.
The streets grew narrower and more crowded as the mansions of Nagasaki's affluent merchants gave way to the modest quarters of humbler townsfolk. Keeping an eye out for the guards, Hirata passed open storefronts and the red torii gate of a Shinto shrine. As he descended a stone staircase, he looked over the rooftops and saw soldiers storming a pottery workshop. More soldiers rushed up the street. One grabbed Hirata by the front of his kimono.
oHave you seen the barbarian? he shouted. oSpeak up, rnin!
oNo, master, Hirata said.
The soldier released him and turned to question someone else. Hirata continued on his way, pleased that the soldier had mistaken him for a masterless samurai. Where he intended to go, he would blend right in.
The sea's fishy smell grew stronger, the screech of gulls louder. Sentries patrolled the beach. The harbor had been cleared of all craft except for the patrol barges and foreign ships. Wooden shacks cluttered the hills' lowest reaches. Nets covered thatched roofs; buckets and ropes cluttered doorsteps and balconies. Interspersed between the shacks were tiny teahouses. Tattered blue curtains hung from the eaves, partially shielding patrons from streets thronged with fisher-folk. Hirata selected a teahouse at random.
Two patrons sat on the edge of the raised floor. Both were old men with wrinkled, weathered skin. Through eyes permanently narrowed against sun and wind, they peered at passersby while clutching sake cups in gnarled hands. oHello, Grandfathers. Hirata bowed. oMay I join you?
They regarded him with lively interest. Heads bobbed on frail necks; grunts arose from scrawny chests as they moved over to make room. Hirata sat in the middle. The proprietor came up behind him.
oA round of sake, Hirata said.
Eagerly the old men raised their cups, cackling, oThank you, master. The proprietor filled their cups, and one for Hirata. They drank. Then the man on Hirata's left peered into his face. oDon't recall seeing you before. He had only three teeth, and his voice was too loud.
oI just arrived in Nagasaki today, Hirata said.
oEh? The man cupped his hand around a hair-filled ear.
Hirata repeated his words, then said loudly, oI just met some soldiers who were looking for a missing barbarian.
The man to Hirata's right snorted. He was so stooped that his chin almost touched his knees. The pipe between his lips shook with the constant tremor of his body. oThey'll never find him.
Hirata asked, oWhy do you say that?
oLet me tell you this, young stranger. Pipe jabbed a bony elbow into Hirata's side. oThere've been some very odd things happening around Deshima. He nodded sagely. oI'm not at all surprised that the barbarian disappeared.
oWhat kind of odd things? Hirata signaled the proprietor for more sake.
Everyone drank, then Pipe, speaking loudly enough for Deaf to hear, said, oEveryone in town knows about the mysterious lights around the island at night. They're purple and green and white, and make a lot of smoke. They float over the water toward Deshima, blinking. He sketched a slow, drifting movement, knotty fist opening and closing to simulate flashes. oAnd then they disappear.
oWhat are these lights? Hirata was intrigued.
oGhosts. Pipe emphasized the word with a large puff of smoke. oSpirits of Dutch barbarians who died on Deshima and have come back to haunt their countrymen.
Superstitious peasant nonsense "or more? oWere the lights seen last night? Hirata said, trying to relate them to the barbarian's escape.
oOh, yes. Puff, puff. oAnd many other times during the past two years.
oHas anyone ever followed the lights? Hirata asked.
oOh, no. Ghosts kill men and eat their hearts. All the townspeople stay away from the harbor when the lights come.
Deaf broke in, oI'll tell you what the lights are, young stranger. They're a magic spell, cast by the Chinese priest. Abbot Liu Yun, his name is. Runs a temple for the Chinese sailors. Hates the Dutch, he does. Especially the one who disappeared. Conjured up a demon to take him away.
The mention of a name quickened Hirata's interest. Could this Abbot Liu Yun, by magic or other device, somehow have abducted Jan Spaen?
oIt wasn't the Chinese priest, Pipe shouted.
oOh, but it was, Deaf shouted back.
Pipe reached across Hirata and swatted Deaf with his feeble hand. oYou old fool. It was the spirits of dead men who took the barbarian away.
oOuch! No, the Chinese priest!
Shouts and running footsteps drowned out the argument. Hirata looked up the street, then groaned. Hurrying toward him, red-faced and panting, came his two guards, their uniforms smeared with egg yolk and slime. oYou don't go anywhere without us, the tall man said angrily. oGovernor Nagai's orders.
Hirata said to Pipe, oWhy does Abbot Liu Yun hate the Dutch barbarian? And where could he have taken him?
But the soldiers' presence cowed the old men. Feigning exaggerated senility, Pipe blinked uncomprehendingly. Deaf said, oEh? Eh?
Hirata thanked them, paid the proprietor, and rose, only slightly discouraged. Perhaps these odd rumors reflected some truth about Deshima that, when exposed, might also reveal the barbarian's whereabouts. Walking up the street between the two guards, Hirata plotted how to escape them.
Somehow he would help Sano find Trade Director Jan Spaen. By doing so, he would achieve the highest expression of samurai duty and loyalty. He must not fail his present master as he had his first.
Chapter 5
WHEN THE PATROL barge drew into Nagasaki Harbor, Sano noticed that the horde of troops on the beach had swelled. Townspeople poured from the steep city streets onto the sand. Shouts carried across the water as soldiers tried to maintain order and the mob surged around the focus of interest at the waters edge. Sano, Interpreter Iishino, and the barge crew leaned over the railing to watch.
oWhat is it, what is it? Iishino said, hopping and craning his neck.
The barge docked at the harbor patrol station, a building with a square watchtower, mounted on stilts over the water. On the long pier waited a party of officers. A sense of foreboding stole over Sano. When the crew had secured the barge, he was the first one off.
oWhat's going on over there? Sano asked. oHas something happened?
The harbor patrol captain stepped forward and bowed. oSsakan-sama. The search for the missing barbarian is over. His dead body has washed ashore.
oOUT OF THE WAY! Let us through! shouted the harbor patrol officers who had escorted Sano from the barge to the beach, where the Dutch traders body had been recovered from the sea. They cleared a path through the crowd that had come to witness the anticlimax of the great manhunt.
Gritty sand cushioned Sano's footsteps as he walked past staring faces to the water's edge, with Interpreter Iishino close by his side. Both ends of the beach's long curve terminated at warehouses that jutted into the harbor. Beyond them to the right Sano could see Deshima's walled compound. Ahead waited a circle of soldiers and officials, their expressions grave. As Sano approached, his initial relief at hearing that Director Spaen had been found gave way to disappointment.
The investigation was over. He was out of danger. The Dutch ship and the Deshima barbarians were no longer his responsibility. He could simply document today's events, then spend the rest of his time in Nagasaki completing a cursory inspection and staying out of trouble until he could return to Edo. He and Hirata could visit scenic spots and relax at seaside inns. Yet Sano's spirit rebelled at the prospect of such meaningless leisure. He remembered his hunt for the body thieves: the painstaking investigation; the battle; his ultimate triumph. With an almost physical hunger, he wanted to experience it all again.
From amid the waiting officers, the commander came forward and bowed to Sano. oWe left the body just the way we found it, he said uneasily. oIt seemed the right thing to do, under the circumstances.
Before Sano could request an explanation, Hirata hurried up to join him, accompanied by two guards, one short and paunchy, the other tall and thin. Simultaneously Governor Nagai arrived with Chief Ohira and two other men.
oWhat circumstances? Nagai demanded.
In answer, the circle of officers opened to admit Sano, Hirata, and Governor Nagai's party, then closed protectively around them. Everyone gazed down at the dead Director Spaen.
Tall and muscular, the barbarian lay sprawled on his back on the damp sand just above the waterline. His square jaw, firm chin, and jutting nose reflected the masculine vigor he must have possessed in life. But now his face was a stark, pallid white; death had leached expression from his eyes. His parted lips revealed a bloated tongue and strong teeth. Strands of his long, straw-colored hair stirred in the wind. He wore only a pair of knee-length black trousers. His bare feet, though pale and large, were nonetheless human: So much for the Dutch dog-feet story. Sano's stomach contracted when he looked at the corpse's midsection.