He wasn’t sure of the exact moment when the music began. It was probably there all the time, underneath the shouting. In normal circumstances, the bamboo flute was an expressive instrument perfect for rendering plaintive and melancholy music. Coupled with the appearance of the ghost, the gliding notes of the flute had an unearthly effect that sent Matsuzo shivering.
Scuffling broke out on Zenta’s part of the wooden walk. Matsuzo heard some angry voices, and above the din he recognized his friend’s voice raised in a belligerent tone which he had never heard before. He immediately forgot all about his post and started to run towards the scene of the disturbance. The sight that greeted his eyes brought him up short.
Zenta, by some means or another, had become disgustingly drunk. Waving a saké jar in one hand, he was complaining bitterly about unmannerly oafs who were jostling him on all sides. His flailing arms blocked the way to Jihei’s men, unsuccessfully trying to edge past him on the narrow walk. One samurai, more agile than the rest, was on the point of working his way past the obstruction, but the wine jar suddenly came down with a sharp crack against his cheek bone.
“That’ s funny,” hiccuped Zenta. “I thought that the saké was all gone.”
His face streaming with saké and blood, Zenta’s infuriated victim had his sword halfway out before his companions stopped him. Then his anger gave way to caution, and he stood sulkily mopping his face while Zenta peered stupidly at him and made sympathetic noises.
When Matsuzo came up, Zenta brightened and said to him, “You’re always well prepared, and you must have paper tissue on you. Quick, I need some.”
Another one of the men tried to edge by, but Zenta’s hand whipped out and caught him by the arm. “Oh, no, I can’t let you go without making amends for cutting your cheek open. Here, let me wipe your face.”
The object of his attentions tried to protest, but he was being muffled by the paper tissue. His struggles to escape were quite futile. Zenta might be drunk, but his fingers retained their steely strength.
“I think you’re wiping the face of the wrong man,” Matsuzo pointed out helpfully. “This man here is the one who is bleeding.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Zenta asked his victim. He pushed the man away and sent him crashing into one of his comrades who had almost succeeded in making his way past the congestion.
“What do you think you are playing at, you fools?” snarled Jihei, running up furiously. He had temporarily abandoned his chase of the ghost in order to find out why his men were in a thick clot on the wooden walk. “What are you waiting for? The ghost went that way!”
“Oh, look at his face, the poor man,” crooned Zenta, who had finally located the man with the cut cheek. “The least I can do is to make him a bandage.”
He bent over and clumsily attempted to tear a strip off the already ragged hem of his kimono. As he bent over, his sword swung up and tripped the first of the men that surged forward at Jihei’s command. A few of the others fell over the first man. During the ensuing scramble, Zenta finally caught Matsuzo’s eye and drew his attention to Jihei, who was already charging down the direction taken by the ghost.
Matsuzo caught the message. He turned, breathed a silent prayer to his childhood wrestling teacher and flung himself at Jihei. The result was not quite what he intended. Before he managed to get any sort of a hold, he found himself flying through the air. As he landed, he had time to reflect bitterly that he should have listened to his teacher during wrestling lessons instead of thinking about poetry. Fortunately his fall was cushioned by a thick pile of Jihei’s men who, groggy but game, came forward still trying their best to obey their leader’s command.
And now it seemed that Jihei and Zenta were entangled together in some way that was puzzling at first. Eventually it became clear that Jihei had put his foot through a hole in the bottom of Zenta’s kimono. His frantic efforts to free himself merely made things worse.
As he worked at enlarging the hole, Zenta remarked, “You know, I really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. Just look at the state of my kimono! And I’m seeing things, too. If I hadn’t known that I was drunk, I would have said that I saw a big white worm crawling over there.”
Every head swiveled around. In the frozen silence, his long, thin finger pointed unsteadily in the direction of Lady Kaede’s apartments.
“People always say that you should eat while you drink,” continued Zenta, ignoring the fact that he was losing his audience. Underneath the sound of the retreating footsteps, ghostly flute music was clearly audible again. “It makes you hear things, too,” he shouted after their backs.
He waited until the others were out of sight, and then he turned to the puzzled Matsuzo. “Come on. We have a visit to make.” His voice had become clear and sober, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going.
Chapter 10
“Where are we going?” asked Matsuzo.
“To Lady Tama’s rooms,” replied Zenta. He glanced back and saw that no one was watching them.
“Why did you send Jihei’s men to Lady Kaede’s apartments?” asked Matsuzo. “If they should find traces of the ‘ghost’ there, it could be very unpleasant for her.”
“They won’t find a trace,” said Zenta. “That’s why I’m sending them there. My three female warrior friends will give the searchers a stimulating reception, and keep them occupied long enough for my purposes.”
Zenta found the door that he was looking for. Without announcing himself, he swept it open and stepped into the room, signaling Matsuzo to follow and close the door.
It was Ume’s bedroom, and they found the old woman lying as if in peaceful slumber. She did not seem surprised by the arrival of the intruders, but her eyes widened when she saw who they were. “So! You have become the chamberlain’s henchmen after all,” she said bitterly.
Zenta paid no attention to this greeting, but looked slowly around the room, noting that its sparse furnishings provided no room for concealment at all. The clothes chest could be ruled out as a hiding place for the “ghost” since it would be the first place that Jihei’s men would search. Next he considered the shelves. They were standing bare. The quilts that were usually stored in them during the day were now spread out on the floor as beds for the night. Ume was lying on her bed and made no move to get up. Zenta stared down at the old woman and thought about her strange determination to stay put in her bed. She stirred uncomfortably and avoided his eyes.
“You are taking our intrusion very calmly,” he remarked. “Shouldn’t you be terribly indignant at the outrageous search taking place? It doesn’t look natural for you to be lying there so peacefully. You should jump up and clutch my arm and scream at me.”
In contrast to the calmness in Lady Tama’s apartments, screams and yells were coming from the direction of Lady Kaede’s apartments. Zenta could hear the sound of doors and shelves being slammed open and shut. That was followed by the sound of resounding slaps, and the screams this time were by no means all female. He could tell that some of them were from the throats of Jihei’s men.
Suddenly a girl burst into the room and leaned against the door. She was too overcome to speak, and when she lifted her head, Zenta saw that she was shaking with laughter. It took him a moment to recognize the little maid who had conducted them to the bath that afternoon. With the makeup washed from her face, she looked very much younger.
Finally she recovered her breath. “The searchers are all down at Lady Kaede’s apartments. You should have seen Jihei’s men trying to get past those women warriors that Lady Kaede has. One of them is almost as tall as Jihei, and when she stood breathing fire into his face, he had to back down . . .” She broke down into giggles and was unable to continue. Then, as she caught sight of the two men, the laughter drained from her face and she turned pale.
Zenta gave her a reassuring smile. “I was responsible for sending Jihei’s men to Lady Kaede’s rooms. I knew that they would get a much livelier reception down there than here.” The two
women said nothing. They glanced at each other, and then stared back uneasily at him. The little maid showed uncertainty. Ume showed outright mistrust.
Zenta was undiscouraged by their expressions. “While the chamberlain’s ghost hunters are happily occupied, I should like to take the opportunity to speak to your mistress Lady Tama.” After a second he added, “If she isn’t too busy to see me.”
Ume bared her dreadful teeth and laughed scornfully. “That’s outrageous! Why should my lady see a beggarly ruffian like you?” She took in his untidy appearance. The silk kimono which had been new only that afternoon was already torn.
“I have come here to help your mistress,” explained Zenta. “But even if I were an enemy, how can you stop me from forcing my way in? The chamberlain’s men are already close and they intend to search every room tonight. I merely wish to speak to Lady Tama privately before the rest of them arrive.”
The little maid looked ready to be convinced. She had regained her flirtatious expression and started to speak. But Ume stopped her. The old woman was implacable. “Before you enter my mistress’s room, you will have to kill me first,” she declared.
“We don’t have time for heroics,” said Zenta impatiently. “Jihei’s men may be arriving very soon.”
“Show the gentleman in, Ume. I should like to hear what he has to say,” said a voice behind the door to the adjoining room.
Zenta started toward the door, but the old woman did not give up her determination to stop him. Still not getting up from her bed, she rolled over, shot out her hand and grasped the bottom of his kimono.
Zenta struggled between laughter and exasperation. “Here, you can keep my hem if you want it so much.”
“What are you doing, Ume?” said the voice imperiously. “I said let him come in. At once!”
The door slowly slid open, and Zenta saw a dim figure in the unlighted adjoining room.
“My lady, you mustn’t!” cried Ume.
Ignoring her completely, her mistress beckoned to Zenta. With a rip, he freed his kimono from Ume’s clutches. He signaled to Matsuzo to watch the outside door, and then turned and followed Lady Tama into the next room.
She did not stop in that room, but crossed over in the dark and pushed open another door. “We will talk in the music room,” she said.
The music room was lit by two small lamps standing on the floor. Their light shone on an impressive litter of music books and instruments. Drums of all sizes and shapes stood about like toadstools, and a collection of flutes pointing every which way lay on a small table. Music books, some of them very old and valuable, were scattered all over the room. Clearly Lady Tama’s interest and passion for music went far beyond mere ladylike accomplishment.
Zenta looked hard at the collection of flutes. He was sure that one of them was still warm and had droplets of moisture in it.
“Oh, yes, the flute has always been one of my favorite instruments,” said Lady Tama sardonically.
He turned and saw her clearly at last. In the light of the lamps, her skin glowed with a pearly sheen as if newly washed. He guessed that Ume had not wanted him to see her mistress before she had a chance to put back her makeup. Lady Tama had removed not only her face powder, but also her lip rouge. With its natural contour revealed, her shapely mouth showed a hint of ruthlessness.
Zenta found himself tongue-tied. He had worked hard to contrive this meeting, but now that he was face to face with her, it was difficult to begin. What he had to say would not be well received by this determined-looking girl.
She seemed amused by his intent scrutiny. “Ume told me that she didn’t succeed in recruiting you this afternoon. Does your visit tonight mean that you are joining us after all?”
Zenta cleared his throat. “Lady Tama, Jihei and his men will be here any moment. Shouldn’t you paint your face? Otherwise they will suspect that you have just washed it to remove the ghostly makeup.”
“They won’t venture into my private quarters. If they do, the envoy will hear of it. The chamberlain would not dare to offend the envoy.”
Zenta thought of the arrogant envoy. Not only arrogant, but incredibly foolhardy as well. “You cannot place all your hopes on the envoy, Lady Tama. He has been making some careless remarks, and his very life will be in danger if the wrong person were to hear about them.”
That shook her. With an abrupt rustle of silk, she got up, opened the door of her bedroom and went to her dressing table, which was behind a folding screen.
Through the open door, Zenta could hear the clatter of cosmetic jars. He hoped her hands were steady, for a crookedly painted eyebrow or smeared lips would cause speculation.
When she spoke, however, her voice was steady and calm. “Don’t just sit there like a fool. Come in and tell me about yourself. Why did you come to this castle?”
Zenta entered and sat facing the screen. “I thought I had made that clear. I was looking for a job.”
“Don’t evade the question. If you were simply looking for a job, you would have snatched at the chamberlain’s offer. He is very generous with my father’s money when he’s enlisting swordsmen for himself.”
Zenta was silent for a moment. Then he said carefully, “I have admired Lord Okudaira for many years, but he died before I could enter his service. Now I should like to serve his successor.”
Lady Tama stepped from behind the screen, her makeup completed. The vivid young girl with the scrubbed face was gone, and in her place was a proud aristocratic lady. “Who is my father’s successor?” she demanded.
Zenta met her eyes squarely and gave the answer that would anger her. “Your father’s successor is Yoshiteru. Who else is there?”
“Yoshiteru is only a child!” cried Lady Tama. “His mother and his sister will guide him.
As for commanding the castle, you can get military advisors.”
“You have been talking to Kaede, haven’t you?” she said furiously. “These Miyako noblewomen are experts at deception. A country warrior like you would stand no chance against them!”
It was a shrewd hit. Zenta admitted he had been dazzled by Lady Kaede’s beauty and helplessness. But that was irrelevant to the situation. “Don’t you think that at a crisis like this, Lord Okudaira’s family should be united?” he asked.
“If you are speaking of my family, you are forgetting one member,” said Lady Tama. “What about my brother Shigeteru?”
Zenta grew alarmed at the way her voice rose. “Lady Tama, be careful of what you’re saying.”
But she was beyond caution. “Shigeteru is a mature warrior, the kind of commander our daimyo needs for this castle.”
Zenta made one more effort. “Lady Tama, when Shigeteru left, you were only about six or seven years old. How do you know what sort of person he would turn out to be? Have you considered the possibility that he is unworthy to succeed his father?”
Lady Tama sprang up in a fury. “Shigeteru is a great warrior! I know, because . . .” She stopped, but it was too late. Her words echoed between them, and she stared at him with consternation.
Before Zenta could reply, he heard the sound of heavy feet and banging doors. The search party had arrived.
“Ume will need our help,” he said, rising quickly to his feet. He left the room and once more assumed the stumbling walk of a drunkard. Lurching into Ume’s room, he saw that it was crowded with men overturning chests and sliding open shelves. Lady Tama followed Zenta into the room, looking bewildered at his sudden transformation.
Jihei’s men looked shopworn. After the bruising encounter with the amazons in Lady Kaede’s service, they clearly didn’t expect opposition of the same caliber here.
“Sorry to intrude. Lady Tama, but we have to search every room of your apartment,” said Jihei without ceremony.
“They are looking for a big, fat twenty-footlong worm that’s loose,” Zenta explained helpfully to the women. He told Jihei, “I’ve already looked in the other rooms. There is not a trace.” “I shall see that for my
self,” said Jihei, and started for the next room.
That finally brought Ume up from her bed. She threw herself in front of the big samurai, but he simply brushed her aside like a piece of lint. Lady Tama stood absolutely still.
Zenta yawned and stretched luxuriously. “I really think that it’s my bedtime,” he announced, dropping down on Ume’s bed. He pulled up the quilt and made himself comfortable. Jihei’s men, ignoring him, started to open every chest and shelf.
Matsuzo looked down at his friend. Getting no response, he joined the others and made a great show of helping with the search. He was puzzled, however. The white thing that he had seen was long and substantial. It was not a wisp of a thing that one of the women could simply tuck into her sleeve. Nevertheless, from Zenta’s relaxed attitude Matsuzo guessed that he had already seen furnishings for the ghost, and furthermore did not expect Jihei’s men to find them. But where could the hiding place be? The rooms were quite bare.
Evidently Jihei’s men were also becoming discouraged. Most of them poked about rather listlessly. One man approached Zenta’s bed and prodded the mats around it with the scabbard of his sword.
The ronin opened his eyes sleepily and smiled at him with alcoholic friendliness. “How did you find things at Lady Kaede’s apartment? Was it more lively there?”
“Lively?” said the man with a shudder. “Listen, those three female ogres nearly tore us apart. Do you know what I think? They are not women at all. They are men in disguise.
Another searcher approached. “You look pretty comfortable,” he told Zenta. “I wish I could . . .” “Well? Have you finished?” demanded Jihei. “Did you find any lumps under the mats?” He had returned to the outer room, and his failure to find any trace of the ghost had not improved his temper.
Zenta looked up at him with a befuddled expression. “Maybe your worm or snake or whatever dissolved and oozed through the cracks in the floor?”
White Serpent Castle Page 7
