Hearing the abbot’s words, Zenta bowed and closed his eyes for a second with relief. “I do admit to being a bodyguard of the Portuguese,” he began. When the monks behind him growled angrily, he said, “According to the teachings of the Lord Buddha, all life is sacred. It is my job to preserve the lives of the foreigners.”
The abbot nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“This morning, Lord Fujikawa, whose house is next to that of the Portuguese, was discovered murdered,” continued Zenta.
“This we have heard,” said the abbot. Zenta was surprised, until he remembered that the Mt. Hiei monks had partisans among the townspeople and warlords in Miyako. News of importance such as Lord Fujikawa’s murder would not be slow in reaching the monastery. He said, “You may have also heard that the Portuguese were accused of being the murderers.”
“But I have heard that they were later shown to be innocent,” said the abbot. He smiled. “There was some evidence involving footprints, and my guess is that you are the man who pointed out the clue to the shogun’s investigator.”
The abbot was certainly well informed. Zenta nodded. “What you do not know is that there is a new clue. An orange-colored tuft was found in Lord Fujikawa’s garden and identified as belonging to one of the monks here.”
Hearing a sudden intake of breath behind him, Zenta turned around and saw the dismay on Ungen’s face. He knew who the owner of the tuft was.
Nor did the abbot miss the look of dismay. “Did the tuft belong to you, Ungen?” he asked.
Ungen’s face was gray. “Yes, but I lost it earlier when I went to pose as the gardener. I swear it!”
“But Chiyo said that she saw you running through Lord Fujikawa’s garden at the time of the murder,” said Zenta. “And she identified you by the orange tuft on your chest.”
There was a roar of anger and Ungen’s spear flashed down. But Zenta had already rolled aside. He caught at a second spear that was thrust at him by one of Ungen’s companions. But his reflexes were slowed by exhaustion, and he felt a sting on his right forearm.
“Stop this at once!” ordered the abbot. His voice was not loud, but its note of command was equal to any warlord’s. “Ungen: You and your friends will place your spears in the hall. If you cannot control yourselves, then go and join your weapons outside.”
Ungen began to weep loudly. “It’s not true!” he sobbed. “I didn’t go back that night.” He turned and glared at Zenta with red and streaming eyes. “You’re lying! Chiyo would never say that about me!”
Acutely embarrassed by the sight of this hulking monk weeping like a child, Zenta bent his head and dabbed at the shallow cut on his arm. One of his suspicions had been confirmed: Ungen was in love with Chiyo. The other monks placed their spears outside and tried to calm Ungen.
“Is that cut serious?” asked the abbot.
“No, it’s only a small graze,” replied Zenta, wrapping his sleeve tightly about his arm. He had decided that it was time to tell the abbot the whole truth.
“Ungen was right,” he said gravely. “What I said was a lie, but it was Chiyo who had lied in saying that she saw the tuft on Ungen’s chest at the time of the murder. I asked her how she could see in the dark. She replied that she saw the orange tuft during one of the flashes of lightning.”
“It is possible to see quite well in a lightning flash,” said the abbot. “It can be almost as bright as daylight.”
“But there is one property of lightning which I’ve noticed before,” said Zenta. “During a flash of lightning certain colors are changed. In that particular blue radiance, orange appears gray.”
“Yes, I see now,” said the abbot slowly. “Chiyo could not have seen the orange tuft.”
“Chiyo was lying,” said Zenta. “And the purpose of my visit is to find out why she lied. What sort of person is she? Only you can tell me. I believe that you’ve known her since she was a child. Did she act from a deep hatred of Mt. Hiei? Or was she part of a political plot? It’s desperately urgent for me to find out.”
The abbot was silent for a long time. His face had appeared ageless at first, but now Zenta could see faint lines on it. Finally he sighed. “You are right about Chiyo’s hatred. How much of her background do you know?” “I heard that Chiyo and her mother were among the villagers of Sakamoto who served the monastery. When her mother died, Chiyo became afraid that she might be molested by some of the monks here. Eventually she fled down the mountain to Miyako.”
“All good lies contain elements of truth,” said the abbot. “What Chiyo did not tell you was that her mother was a village girl who had been seduced by one of the monks on Mt. Hiei, and that Chiyo was his child.”
Zenta felt his face stiffen with shock. The abbot smiled sadly at him. “It has been said, and truly, that many of the monks here are fugitives from justice and from worldly failures. The younger ones, especially, are often most unsuited to a religious life. Our monastery is too old and too powerful. We have grown arrogant and corrupt. Sometimes I think that Nobunaga is right when he claims that it is time to destroy us and start afresh.” Zenta began to understand Chiyo’s hatred of Mt. Hiei. The degradation of the life that she and her mother had led must have left deep scars. “Was there an attempt to seduce her like her mother?” he asked.
“This is where Chiyo’s lies begin,” said the abbot. “From a very early age, she showed signs of unusual cleverness. I took charge of her education, hoping to put that cleverness to good use. But in the end she chose to use her charm and intelligence to enslave some of the young monks here.”
Zenta’s eyes went to Ungen. The monk was staring straight ahead in a daze of bewilderment and grief. Had Chiyo tried to take revenge for her mother’s seduction by corrupting the young monk? Zenta wondered if Chiyo found the revenge inadequate. Was that why she had attempted to put the blame for Lord Fujikawa’s murder on the Mt. Hiei monks? “The girl grew beautiful, as beautiful as her mother,” said the abbot softly. He seemed to be talking to himself and no longer conscious of his audience. “But something happened to her after her mother died. It was as if a demon had possessed her. She became wild and began to use her beauty destructively. Finally I had to punish her. She screamed at me and threatened revenge. The next day I discovered that she had left the monastery.”
Something in the abbot’s soft voice caused a suspicion to form in Zenta’s mind. Was it possible that the abbot was Chiyo’s father? It would explain many things. The girl probably loved and respected the abbot. Then came the shock and disillusionment of learning the truth about her birth, and finally punishment by her father. Her love must have turned into hatred.
Ungen suddenly spoke. “Chiyo didn’t intend to stay away forever. She sent me messages, and I went to see her several times. But she always teased me so much that I never knew what she really wanted.”
Zenta looked pityingly at the monk, for he knew what Chiyo wanted. She wanted Ungen to look ridiculous to the townspeople, and she wanted witnesses to see him in the neighborhood of Lord Fujikawa’s house. In fact she must have made the arrangements for Ungen to enter the residence as a gardener. And she used the opportunity to cut the orange-colored tuft from Ungen’s yuigesa. The only question was, did Chiyo have the imagination and ruthlessness to steal Pedro’s gun and commit the murder? To answer that, Zenta had to learn more about Chiyo’s character from the abbot.
It was very late when Matsuzo and Chiyo finally reached Kagemasa’s residence. Unlike a castle town with its few narrow streets of armorers, fletchers, and other artisans of war equipment, Miyako was an immense city with straight avenues that stretched on and on. Crossing the city from east to west took a long time. Matsuzo found the going very difficult. Because of the festivities at the Yasaka Shrine, the streets were filled with people all pushing in the direction opposite to the way he was trying to go. He had to rely on Chiyo to show him the way, but the crowd continually separated them. When they finally arrived, it was to discover that Kagemasa was away attending the shogun. H
e and the girl were invited to enter and wait.
Matsuzo’s urgency must have impressed the attendants, for he was shown into Kagemasa’s presence as soon as the latter returned late that night. Almost stammering with impatience, Matsuzo poured out his story, beginning with the discovery of the tuft and ending with Zenta’s visit to Mt. Hiei.
When Matsuzo finished Kagemasa looked dumbfounded. “I must confess myself surprised. The monks of Mt. Hiei are violent and uncontrollable, but why should they murder Lord Fujikawa? He was their ally!”
Matsuzo was shocked. “You mean they were plotting together?”
Kagemasa gave him a sharp glance, and then he smiled wryly. “What is the use of watching my words with you? Any adult of normal intelligence living in Miyako soon discovers that many unlikely people band together simply because they all hate Nobunaga.” He sighed. “Their conspiracies are worse than dangerous. They are stupid.”
Matsuzo realized that Kagemasa could drop his dandified airs when he wished. He suspected that it was simply the pose of a man frustrated by his empty life as a supporter of the ineffectual shogun. After thinking over Kagemasa’s words he said tentatively, “It’s possible that these allies fell out. Perhaps Lord Fujikawa threatened to betray the plot, and the monks killed him to silence him.”
“Whatever the reason, it’s a stupid waste,” said Kagemasa heavily. He looked at Matsuzo with sympathy. “I’m afraid it’s too late to save your friend. This is a great pity because he seemed like a brave and able man.”
Matsuzo started to speak, but Kagemasa went on. “As for Mt. Hiei, the shogun is not strong enough to send a punitive expedition against it. Nobunaga will be happy to do the job for us, and my master will send some men to support him. Naturally, in revenge for your friend, you will want to take a leading part in the attack on the Mt. Hiei monks.”
Matsuzo knew it was useless to protest. Even if the shogun did send an expedition, what good could it do for Zenta? It would be too late to save his life. Their errand to Kagemasa had been futile.
Kagemasa must have seen the bitterness in his expression. “I’m deeply sorry,” he said and rose with a sigh. “You and the girl had better stay for the remainder of the night. If what you say about the monks is true, the streets are not safe for you. Tomorrow I shall make my report to the shogun.”
Later, tossing sleeplessly on the floor of one of Kagemasa’s guardrooms, Matsuzo found time to think. He had been rushing around in a mindless panic, led this way and that by Chiyo. But now, in the quiet early hours of the morning, his brain finally functioned again. There was a discrepancy in something that Chiyo had said.
She knew that the false gardener was a monk in disguise. But Matsuzo remembered clearly that Pedro had told Maria about the gardener spying on the three men near the fence. Maria had certainly chatted with her friend Chiyo afterwards, and she must have mentioned the incident since the fence had an important place in their lives. Therefore, when Zenta left for Mt. Hiei, Chiyo had known perfectly well that he had been seen by the disguised monk and would be recognized as a henchman of the Portuguese. She knew that he was going into danger. Then why hadn’t she said anything to warn him?
Chapter 11
“I wonder if we haven’t been counting too much on Chiyo’s testimony,” said Nobunaga.
Hambei had been wondering the same thing himself, and he tried to hide his uneasiness. “Chiyo is extremely reliable,” he assured his master.
“From what you said, there is something not quite right about the way she presented her clue,” said Nobunaga. “Perhaps Zenta became suspicious, and that’s why he went to Mt. Hiei.”
Hambei avoided Nobunaga’s piercing eyes. “That’s not necessarily bad. It may even be to our advantage.”
“Things are not going according to plan, Hambei, and you know it.”
“I will take precautions, my lord,” promised Hambei.
Pedro felt abandoned. For a while he had held the center of the stage as the chief suspect in Lord Fujikawa’s murder. It had not been a comfortable position, but at least people had paid attention to him. Now he was being ignored.
Father Luis was gone, invited by Nobunaga to attend a feast connected with the Gion Festival.
While the Jesuit priest regarded Buddhism as dangerous idolatry which conflicted with Christianity, he thought of the Shinto religion as harmless ceremony. The Gion Festival had been started by the head priest of the Shinto Yasaka Shrine as a petition to the gods against a pestilence then sweeping the city, but gradually the religious aspect of the festival took second place to the merrymaking. Father Luis said that if Japan became a Christian country, the Gion Festival could be transformed into a Christian holiday, like Christmas and Easter, which had also been pagan festivals originally. The Jesuit looked forward to seeing the festivities, and had left in a sedan chair provided by Nobunaga.
Pedro’s new friends, the two bodyguards, had also abandoned him. Zenta had gone on a rash and mysterious errand to Mt. Hiei. What was surprising was Matsuzo’s disappearance as well. Pedro had to admit that he saw no immediate need for the services of a bodyguard. Without Lord Fujikawa or Kotaro, the samurai retainers next door seemed less antagonistic. Pedro thought that the change in their attitude had begun when he removed his boots to walk barefoot in the mud. Somehow the sight of his vulnerable, white, and callused feet had softened the animosity of the Fujikawa samurai. His feet were objects of fun to them. Amusement had led to sympathy and something akin to friendliness. One of the samurai had even grinned at him. At least his bunions had not been suffered in vain, thought Pedro.
As usual, when he had nothing else to do, Pedro went to the storeroom to check the rust on his guns. A strange sound, half sob and half moan, caught his ears as he passed near the kitchen. It seemed to come from the garden behind the house. He looked out and saw Maria huddled against the kitchen well. The girl was shaking with great, shuddering sobs.
His heart thumping with alarm, Pedro rushed to the girl and put his arms around her. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Maria’s eyes were wide with horror. She pointed to the well. “I was drawing water, and my bucket hit something soft. There is a body down there!”
Muttering a few round Portuguese oaths, Pedro leaned over the well and peered down. Maria was right. Something was protruding out of the water, looking very much like part of a human leg.
As Pedro stood thinking furiously, Maria put a timid hand on his arm. She seemed to draw courage from his presence. “Who is it?” she whispered.
Pedro could make a shrewd guess. “I want to have a look at his face,” he said. “We must try to get him out.”
“But how?” asked Maria. “The others have gone to the Gion Festival, and it will be hard for the two of us to lift him up.”
What she said was true. The staff had been given leave by Father Luis to attend the festivities. When Pedro offered to stay guarding the house, Maria had shyly said that she would stay also. She had some tasks to finish first, and only later would she go to see the parade of floats.
Now, looking at Maria’s frail figure, Pedro decided that she would not be much help in raising the body. Moreover, he didn’t want to subject her to the horrors of the task. “Then I’ll go down into the well and examine the body,” he said.
Having found a stout rope, he attached one end of it to the posts of the well and the other end he tied around his waist. Then he climbed over the side of the well and slowly let himself down the mossy walls. It was slippery work, and he cursed as some green slime rubbed off on his knee, staining the better of his two remaining decent pairs of hose. He cursed again when he reached water level and found that he still had too much slack on the rope. After winding the slack around his arms a few times, he had the rope taut and could brace his feet against the side of the well. Then he reached down with one hand and pulled at the mass of sodden cloth until he had the head of the corpse out of the water. There was no mistake: the shorn head, the staring eyes, and the mouth
, snarling even in death, belonged to Kotaro.
Pedro suddenly remembered the splash that he and Zenta had heard on the night of the thunderstorm. “That settles it,” he said to himself. “Kotaro killed his master and then in remorse drowned himself in the well.”
“But it would have been more in character if he had committed hara-kiri outside his mistress’s door,” he added, not knowing that he was echoing Lady Yuki’s opinion.
Pedro was just preparing to climb back up when his eye was caught by a totally unexpected sight. After he had released the body, it had fallen on its face and now, clearly visible on the back, was a long and deep gash. Kotaro had not drowned himself after all. He had been struck down from behind and his body thrown down the well.
Busy with his thoughts, Pedro did not hear Maria’s voice at first. “Are you all right?” she called down to him. “What is happening?”
“I’m coming up,” he answered. It was not too soon, for his arms were becoming very tired.
“I’m afraid that we’ll have to get water from a neighbor’s well for a while,” he told Maria as he reached the top and untied the rope from his waist.
Maria was pale. “Who is it?”
“It’s Kotaro,” replied Pedro, sucking a skinned knuckle. In his adventurous life, Pedro had seen violent death in many forms, but even he felt somewhat cold and sick. After the dankness of the well, the hot sun outside was very welcome.
Maria also came to an obvious conclusion. “Kotaro must have killed himself because of remorse at murdering his master.”
Pedro opened his mouth to contradict her, and then stopped. The ghastly thing at the bottom of the well indicated treachery. He made a decision to trust no one, not even Maria, who was looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. He said only, “Don’t tell anyone about the discovery until I say so. We don’t want to alarm the household unnecessarily.”
He had the beginnings of an idea. Kotaro’s murder and the disposal of the body down the well indicated hasty improvisation. This second murder was not part of a calculated plan such as Lord Fujikawa’s had been. Pedro planned to use the discovery to make the murderer give himself away.
The Samurai and the Long-Nosed Devils Page 9
