White Serpent Castle

by Lensey Namioka

  The envoy’s interest in the chamberlain’s youth did not seem to have increased since dinner. He merely gave a curt nod and moved off, trying to edge his way around the chamberlain’s portly figure toward Zenta.

  “Please don’t overlook this beautiful stone lantern!” said the chamberlain, following his guest closely. “I’m told that it is older than the castle itself.”

  Help for the envoy arrived in the form of his chief retainer, Saemon. “I know that you are an expert on poetry, sir,” he said to the chamberlain. “Can you come and settle our dispute? One of the men claimed that by giving the Chinese reading to the word, he would have the proper number of syllables in his poem. The rest of us said that this should not be allowed.” Zenta frankly doubted that there was such a poetic dispute. Most of the samurai he saw didn’t look capable of writing any poetry at all, much less worry about the Chinese reading of a word.

  The chamberlain, however, looked greatly flattered by Saemon’s request and allowed himself to be led away. While he was arbitrating in the dispute, the envoy beckoned to Zenta, and the two men walked away until they were at the edge of an artificial pond.

  But the chamberlain dealt with the poetic dispute all too quickly. Looking around frantically, he found his guest of honor. “Ah, yes, I see that you are admiring that rock,” he cried, panting a little as he ran up to the two men. “This is the volcanic rock that I was telling you about. What a matchless shape! After contemplating it, I always feel that my spirit has been refreshed!”

  Saemon suddenly appeared out of the shadows. Just as he reached the group by the pond, he stumbled and fell heavily against the chamberlain.

  Zenta heard a cry, followed by a loud splash. “I’m so sorry!” cried Saemon. “How clumsy of me!”

  “You tripped me!” yelled the chamberlain, splashing and floundering in the water.

  Zenta and Saemon both leaned over the pond and offered their hands. But the bank was muddy, and the chamberlain slipped back several times before they finally succeeded in pulling him out of the water.

  “I certainly hope that the dye of your gorgeous kimono is colorfast,” said Saemon as he tried to wring water from his victim’s dripping sleeves.

  The chamberlain snatched his sleeves from Saemon’s hands and glared with red eyes at the envoy’s chief retainer. Then he turned away and stalked off furiously.

  When his squelching footsteps receded, Saemon grinned at his master, bowed, and tactfully moved away.

  For the moment, the envoy had the privacy that he desired. But it was not likely to last long, and he did not waste time in coming to the point. “You announced this afternoon that you intended to serve the new lord of the castle,” he said to the ronin. “Are you still of the same mind?”

  “I still plan to serve the designated successor to Lord Okudaira,” replied Zenta. “Would it be too presumptuous to ask what the daimyo’s exact instructions are on the succession?”

  The question seemed to displease the envoy. “The daimyo is some distance away, and he is leaving the local situation to me,” he said coldly. “He would like to respect the wishes of his late friend Lord Okudaira, but he thinks it more important to have a seasoned warrior here as commander.”

  Since Ume had said almost exactly the same thing, Zenta began to have a strong suspicion that the envoy and Lady Tama’s people were working closely together.

  “It is possible that you could influence the choice of successor here,” continued the envoy. “As you know, this castle is well fortified against attack. Therefore my master is likely to accept anyone who is actually in command here, provided that he has a legitimate claim to the succession.”

  Again, these were almost Ume’s words. Did the envoy hear them from Lady Tama, or did she hear them from him? Hiding a smile, Zenta said, “The chamberlain is in command here, and he can make his claim legitimate by marrying Lady Tama.”

  “Lady Tama will never marry that upstart!” exclaimed the envoy. “He is only a distant relative, and she despises him!”

  The envoy spoke so vehemently that Zenta wondered if he was in love with Lady Tama.

  He cleared his throat and said cautiously, “Speaking of legitimate claims, what about Lord Yoshiteru? Didn’t his father name him as successor?”

  “Yoshiteru is too young, and this castle is too strategic for the daimyo to take a risk on the succession,” said the envoy impatiently.

  Still more familiar words, thought Zenta and waited.

  Nor did the envoy disappoint him. “We should consider Shigeteru, the older son. The daimyo would be more than happy to confirm his title once he is installed here as commander.” “And what is my role in this plan?” asked Zenta.

  The envoy ignored the irony in Zenta’s voice. “This afternoon in the courtyard, you not only disrupted the morale of the castle, but you also succeeded in gaining the respect of the samurai here. Having a swordsman like you in the right place at the right time can be a decisive factor.”

  Zenta was silent. When Ume had suggested the same thing that afternoon, he had dismissed it as an impossible dream. But that was before he knew that the envoy was in alliance with Lady Tama’s forces. He had to feel his way very carefully if he didn’t wish to antagonize this powerful alliance.

  The envoy said, “You must have come to the castle with the intention of acting in the succession dispute here. We are offering you an opportunity that any ambitious man would pray for. But if you persist on going your own way and acting independently, you may find the climate here very unhealthy.”

  At this unmistakable threat, Zenta laughed softly. “Are you referring to pests in the bathhouse, by any chance? I thought that was the work of a servant girl with a childish sense of humor.”

  The envoy’s smile was grim. “It was a warning, as you know perfectly well. Next time the cold thing on your neck may be a dagger.”

  “What if I become so frightened by your threats that I run to the chamberlain and report all your plans?”

  This time it was the envoy’s turn to laugh softly. “We are confident that you will not do that. You see, Saemon knows your reputation. From your past history, he knows that you would refuse to serve a master whom you despise. And how can you help despising that fat chamberlain with his gaudy . . .”

  Zenta was holding up a warning hand for silence. He had heard a faint sound, like someone’s foot crunching on gravel. When the sound was not repeated, he turned to the envoy and said, “The chamberlain may not have good taste in clothes, but he is quite capable of posting spies all around. You should be more careful of what you say. Otherwise you will find the climate here unhealthy also.”

  “Why should I be frightened of the chamberlain?” said the envoy contemptuously. “He knows that the daimyo would send an army if anything should happen to his envoy.”

  Zenta was beginning to lose patience with the envoy’s arrogance. Trying hard to preserve a respectful tone, he said, “This is a wellfortified castle, as you pointed out yourself. If anything happens to you, the daimyo will not try to attack this castle unless he has absolute proof of the chamberlain’s guilt. And the chamberlain will try to suppress the proof. He will have no trouble finding a scapegoat to take the blame.”

  The envoy was unmoved. “Saemon will see to my safety. Before he kills me, the chamberlain will have to kill every one of my men, and that is not something which he will find easy to hide.”

  “I suggest that you double your precautions to guard yourself, then. How many men do you have?”

  “We have forty men, not counting baggage carriers.”

  Zenta made no effort to hide his disapproval. “Forty men? That’s not enough for your mission.”

  “Time was short!” said the envoy impatiently. “I was not collecting an army in order to lay siege to the castle! Would it reassure you to know that these men were personally selected by Saemon himself?”

  Once again Zenta heard a faint sound, and this time he knew that it was not his imagination. “Per
haps we should postpone our discussion, since it’s getting quite late,” he murmured as he saw a dark figure appear behind the envoy.

  Jihei had arrived with his noiseless tread. “My master sent me to see that our guests are not being neglected,” he announced. “Please tell me how I can be of service.”

  The envoy looked at him coldly. “It is time for me to retire. I have no need for your services any further tonight.”

  Then he leaned over and whispered to Zenta, “We must continue our discussion. Come to my room tonight when it is quiet.”

  Jihei looked at the departing envoy, and his expression was sardonic. “I think that the party is coming to an end,” he told Zenta. “It’s time to settle down for a good rest.”

  “Oh, I agree entirely,” said Zenta. “I’m ready for bed myself.”

  He wondered how much of the conversation between himself and the envoy Jihei had overheard. On the whole, he thought pessimistically, he had better assume that Jihei had heard too much.

  Chapter 8

  Zenta had his own ideas about how to spend the quiet night ahead. As soon as Jihei was out of sight, he looked around for Matsuzo. He needed an agile companion for his coming plans this night, and his young friend was the only person in the castle that he could trust.

  But Matsuzo was not to be seen. He was probably off somewhere to admire the moon and compose poetry. Zenta felt rather sorry for the young ronin. He knew that Matsuzo had come from a well-bred family and was used to comfort, and yet he had never questioned Zenta about his plans or complained about the hardships. Smiling faintly, Zenta decided to let Matsuzo enjoy his poetry in peace for the time being. He looked around to make sure that no one was watching, and then he made for the direction of the women’s quarters.

  Walking very softly himself, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps at once. He quickly stepped behind some bushes. Peeking out between the branches, he saw two figures creeping stealthily down the path: a woman holding a paper lantern, and a small boy clutching a bamboo cricket cage.

  “Hold the lantern lower so they won’t see our light,” whispered the boy, who looked about nine years old. He showed the guilty glee of a child out late at night without his mother’s permission.

  “Yes, but please keep your voice down,” warned the woman. She was dressed in some light-colored garment that floated a little in the evening breeze.

  “Why are we going so far?” asked the boy. “I thought that the best crickets are near the foot of the stone walls.”

  The soft voice of the woman was sweetly persuasive. “You told me that you wanted the biggest and noisiest cricket we could find, didn’t you? Well, I happen to know that the best ones are in the cracks between the stones of the bridge over the moat. Won’t everybody be impressed tomorrow when you show them what you’ve got in your cage!”

  Noiselessly, Zenta left his hiding place and began to follow the woman and the boy, keeping a distance of about ten paces. As the silent procession moved along, he began to wonder why they had not run into any guards. Considering the chamberlain’s nervousness about an attempted insurrection, one would expect to find armed men posted about. Was it possible that the chamberlain had given orders for his men not to interfere with what the woman was doing?

  She led the boy through a small gate. By the time Zenta had passed through in his turn, the boy was standing at the very edge of the moat with the woman right behind him. Slowly, she raised her hand. Her intention was unmistakable.

  Zenta lost no time. He covered the distance to the woman in four swift strides. Grasping her by the collar, he asked, “What are you doing?”

  The woman choked back the beginnings of a shriek and dropped her lantern.

  With a swoop, Zenta caught it before it fell to the ground. It was still lighted. He held it up to examine her, but she hid her face behind her sleeve.

  Then he turned to the little boy, who stood trembling so hard that the cricket cage rattled in his hand. “Isn’t it time for you to go to bed?” Zenta asked.

  The boy looked to the woman for support. Finding none, he controlled his trembling, drew himself up and held his head high. “I am Okudaira Yoshiteru, and this is my father’s castle.” Then some of his dignity faded, and in a slightly defensive tone he added, “I don’t see why you should care about my bedtime. Who are you, anyway?”

  So this was Yoshiteru. With his sturdy build and his determined stance, the boy was a small version of Lord Okudaira.

  Zenta found himself smiling. “My name is Konishi Zenta. I was taking a walk to clear some wine fumes from my head, and I saw your light. Earlier I noticed that the banks of the moat were slippery in some places. When I saw you standing at the edge, I was afraid that you were an intoxicated guest about to fall into the water. Please excuse my intrusion.”

  The boy nodded graciously to acknowledge the apology. Then his mouth dropped open. “Konishi Zenta! You must be the warrior who arrived this afternoon and turned all the chamberlain’s men upside down! I wish I had seen that fight!”

  “You didn’t miss anything interesting, only some rather clumsy tumbling about,” said Zenta. Then he put his hand out. “May I look at your cricket cage? What an elegant one! I used to collect crickets when I was a boy, and some of mine were champions.”

  As the boy proudly showed off his cricket cage, Zenta asked casually, “Do you often go out at night to hunt crickets? How does your mother feel about your going out so late?”

  The boy Yoshiteru looked a little shamefaced. “To tell the truth, my mother doesn’t let me go out at all after dark. She is becoming terribly nervous lately. That’s why we decided not to tell her about our plan to go out tonight. . . .” He broke off when he found that his woman companion had disappeared. “That’s funny, where did she go?”

  “What is her name?” asked Zenta. He had seen the woman slipping away, but had decided not to stop her by violent means for fear of alarming Yoshiteru. “Has she been serving your mother for long?”

  “No, she’s quite new,” replied Yoshiteru. “I’m afraid I don’t know her name. You see, after my father died, the chamberlain started to replace our attendants. We have so many new people that I haven’t sorted everyone out yet.”

  “Who thought of going out tonight to hunt crickets?” asked Zenta. “Was it your idea?”

  “She suggested it, because she knew how much I liked to collect crickets,” replied Yoshiteru. He added defensively, “I can’t stay cooped up by a lot of jumpy women all the time, if I want to grow up to be a proper warrior.”

  “I’m not sure that tonight’s expedition was a good idea,” said Zenta firmly. “When your mother finds you gone, she will be terribly worried. A proper samurai would not cause unnecessary anxiety to his mother.”

  “Do you really think so?” asked Yoshiteru. “I suppose you’re right, since you are such a great warrior yourself. We’d better go back before my mother starts looking for me, then.” As they started back, he began to look a little worried. “I’m afraid I don’t know how I am going to sneak back into my room again.”

  “A samurai would not sneak into his room,” said Zenta. Seeing that the boy was really looking worried, he added, “Let’s go back together. You can leave the explanations to me.”

  “Oh, yes, my mother would listen to you,” said Yoshiteru eagerly. “I still wish I had seen that fight of yours, though. Can you arrange another fight soon? And make sure that I’m there to see it?”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Zenta gravely. “Is there anyone in particular whom you want me to fight?”

  Yoshiteru gave this question serious consideration. “Well, I’d like it to be one of the chamberlain’s men again. How about Jihei? I don’t care for the way he looks at me sometimes. And he is such a strong man that everybody was afraid of him, until you came along.” “But he kept aloof from the fight this afternoon,” said Zenta.

  “That was because he thought his men could finish you off without him. Wasn’t he surprised!” As he t
alked, Yoshiteru led Zenta to the complex of wooden buildings that formed Lady Kaede’s apartments. They still had not encountered any guards.

  When they were within sight of the buildings, they could hear shrill and excited voices. Yoshiteru’s steps began to lag, and he finally stopped altogether. Looking for reassurance from his companion, he said rather dubiously, “You know, you don’t look very fierce. How do you frighten your enemies when you fight?”

  “Oh, I can look very fierce when I’m fighting. I roll my eyes and cross them like this. Then I gnash my teeth together,” said Zenta, and proceeded to demonstrate. Looming over the delighted boy, he gave a terrifying snarl.

  Instantly they were surrounded by a group of hysterically excited women. Cries and shrieks came from every side.

  “Help! Help!”

  “He’s threatening our little lord!” “Save Lord Yoshiteru!”

  Some of the women tried to carry off the indignantly kicking boy, while others clutched at Zenta, whose protests were completely drowned out.

  From the corner of his eye the ronin caught a flash. He flung himself to one side and barely escaped the swishing blade of a murderous looking weapon.

  This was a halberd, a broad curved knife mounted on a long pole. It was the traditional weapon of women in samurai households. When wielded by a trained fighter, it produced terror in the hearts of strong men.

  Zenta was frankly terrified. There were three women wielding halberds, and his attempts to dodge their swings were greatly hampered by lack of space and by the clutching hands of the other women. He did not draw his sword, not wishing to cause unnecessary bloodshed, and he tried to use one of the women as a shield. The ferocious women fighters, however, were willing to cut down one of their own people in order to reach him. He was hampered also by a fatal urge to laugh, which had a weakening effect worse than that of wine or fatigue.

  Help finally arrived from an unexpected quarter. Yoshiteru succeeded in escaping from his would-be rescuers. Wiggling through the legs of the women, he came up to the female warriors and grabbed at the handle of a halberd before it could descend again.