SI3 The Way of the Traitor (1997)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  oDo as I say, Iishino-san, he ordered.

  Iishino conveyed the request. Captain Oss nodded, motioning for the barge to pull alongside port deck.

  oSsakan-sama, please be careful, Iishino hissed.

  Sano gazed in awe at the ship as they circled it. The hull bore the scars of a long journey: gouges from rocks and reefs; repaired holes; barnacles clinging near the waterline. The square stern, crowned by bulbous lanterns, was like the facade of some bizarre temple, with gilded garlands dividing two rows of mullioned glass windows. The unbleached linen sails were seamed and patched. The Dutch had come from the other side of the world, braving other dangers besides the elements. Square outlines in the hull defined the gunports: The ship was prepared to defend itself against human threats as well.

  An order from the Dutch captain brought sailors swarming onto the ship's deck to help attach the barge. They seemed even more bestial than he, with shaggy fair hair on their heads, faces, and bare limbs and chests.

  oWho is the leader? Sano asked Iishino urgently.

  oOh, the captain rules the ship. But the officials are partners in the East India Company, which owns it.

  This ambiguous reply didn't bolster Sano's confidence. He ascended a ladder attached to the ship's hull, thankful for the presence of the guards who followed. Then he stepped onto the ship's deck, and as far into the outside world as he would ever go.

  The smooth planks were solidly stable under his feet, but the masts and yards creaked; the sails flapped; the rigging groaned. The ship seemed alive, like a great beast. Then Captain Oss and the two East India Company officials came to meet Sano, and their smell hit him: a foul, animal reek of sweat, urine, dirty hair, and a rancid scent he attributed to their diet of milk. From his two months at sea, he knew the discomfort of bathing on board ship, in cold salt water. Yet he'd done it daily, and so had Hirata and the crew. The barbarians stank as though they hadn't washed since leaving home! Sano's stomach roiled.

  oCaptain Oss. Feeling awkward and intimidated, Sano decided to accept Iishino's statement that the Dutch disliked formality, and get straight to the point. oPermit me to explain why I'm asking you to delay landing.

  As Iishino translated, at least a hundred sailors watched from the decks, the yards, and the rigging. They scratched themselves constantly. Studying the three leaders, Sano saw flea bites on their necks. Didn't the barbarians know that regular washing eliminated vermin? Oddly, their clothes seemed clean, down to their knee-length black trousers, black stockings, and shiny black leather shoes with square silver ornaments over the insteps "and high heels. To support their dog feet? They awaited Sano's explanation, regarding him with their eerie eyes, which were as clear and bright a blue as the ocean.

  oI'm sorry to say that Trade Director Jan Spaen disappeared last night, Sano said. oUntil we find him, no other Dutchmen can enter the country, so you must wait here. Sano hoped that Iishino would accurately convey his direct, courteous explanation. oI apologize for the delay, but it can't be helped.

  An immediate outcry greeted Iishino's translation. Shouting sailors waved their fists and bared broken teeth. A thrill of fear clenched Sano's spine as he remembered that these dirty, bestial creatures were fierce warriors. The Dutch had resisted Spanish takeover of their homeland, then replaced the Spanish Empire as the world's greatest maritime power. More recently, he'd heard rumors that they'd scored victories over the English, who were challenging their trade monopoly. They had quelled native rebellions in the Banda Islands and now ruled the world's sole source of nutmeg. They'd secured the pepper monopoly by battling and defeating tribal kings and English rivals on Java. By seizing the colonies of Malacca and Ceylon, they'd ended Portuguese domination of the East Indies trade. Dutch relations with Japan had so far been peaceful "but the past guaranteed nothing.

  Now Captain Oss quieted the crew with angry commands. He and his companions stood a head higher than Sano, who nervously eyed the long-barreled pistols at their waists. Knowing the ship's lower decks contained cannon and more guns "all powerfully superior to any Japan possessed "Sano felt tiny and vulnerable; his sword wouldn't protect him now. Again he longed for Hirata's company. But he'd made the right decision to face terror alone, with a clear conscience.

  Iishino translated as fast as the barbarians spoke. oThe captain says the ship has been at sea for a year, a whole year. They've braved storms and drifted for months without wind. They're out of food and water. The crew is desperate to go ashore.

  Captain Oss's pointed incisors flashed. Combined with his red hair, these gave him the look of a fox "the animal reviled by Japanese as an evil prankster.

  oThe officials say this delay is a violation of the Dutch-Japanese trade agreement, Iishino continued. oThey insist that the ship be allowed to proceed to Takayama, and the crew and cargo conveyed to Deshima immediately. He wrung his hands. oOh, Ssakan-sama, they're angry, very angry that their colleague is missing. But you must tell them that your word is the law, and they have no choice but to obey!

  The sea spread around Sano; Nagasaki and its troops seemed very far away. Twelve thousand Dutch in the East Indies, Sano thought, with at least twenty ships like this. Even one could ruin Nagasaki before he could mount a defense. He must placate the Dutch "fast. And beneath his revulsion, Sano felt a tinge of respectful sympathy for the barbarians who had sailed for an entire year to reach Japan.

  oCaptain Oss, he said, oI shall order provisions sent aboard, compliments of Nagasaki.

  Iishino hissed, oThat's against the rules, the rules! The Dutch receive nothing until their goods are inventoried and unladed. And they must pay for all their supplies.

  Sano silenced him with a glance. Shrugging helplessly, Iishino spoke in Dutch. To Sano's relief, the captain and merchants nodded; conciliatory mutters rose from the crew.

  oAs soon as we find Trade Director Spaen, you may enter the harbor, Sano said, bowing.

  The barbarians bowed, too, watching him warily through their strange, light eyes. Sano headed for the ladder, trying not to run like a coward. But Interpreter Iishino tugged his sleeve.

  oSsakan-sama, you must disarm the ship. It's the law that all guns and ammunition be taken from the Dutch when they arrive in Japanese waters.

  Sano inwardly cursed his inexperience, and Iishino for not telling him sooner. oCaptain Oss, he said, oin accordance with Japanese law, I must order you to hand over your weapons.

  This request provoked another controversy. Captain Oss shook his head violently. The merchants threw up their hands. Barbarian protests deafened Sano; the ship shuddered under hundreds of stamping feet. The captain shouted above his men's voices.

  oHe asks you to reconsider, Iishino said. oThey've already been attacked by pirates three times this journey, three times. If you confiscate their weapons while they're outside the harbor and unprotected, you could be sentencing them to death. Let them keep the weapons, and he promises not to use them against Japan.

  Sano's nausea turned into the even more sickening feeling he knew all too well. In the past, someone had always suffered as a result of his investigations. Guilt welled up inside Sano as he recalled Aoi, in particular. He didn't like the foxy gleam in Captain Oss's eyes, or his arrogant posture. This man seemed the quintessential Dutch trader of Japanese myth: rashly adventurous, willing to exploit any situation to increase his own wealth. Sano didn't trust him. However, he couldn't endanger innocent human lives, alien though the barbarians seemed.

  oYou may keep your weapons, he said.

  Iishino reluctantly translated these words, and Sano's farewells. They climbed down the ladder onto their own pitifully small, inadequately armed barge. As the oarsmen rowed them away, Sano leaned against the cabin. His lungs still thick with the reek of barbarian, he breathed deeply, praying that he wouldn't be sick and thus betray weakness. He watched the receding Dutch ship and contemplated the enormity of what he'd just done.

  Opposite him, Interpreter Iishino drummed his fingers on the railing. oYou were
very brave out there, ssakan-sama, very brave. But for your own good, I must tell you that you weren't firm enough with the barbarians. You shouldn't have let them keep their guns, and you shouldn't give them anything. People might get the wrong idea.

  Sano could see the ugly aura of treason tainting his actions. Although he didn't know how he could have done otherwise, he already regretted the decision. By trying to protect the Dutch, he'd endangered his people by leaving an armed ship full of unruly barbarians off the Nagasaki coast.

  To avert the potential threat of attack, he must find Trade Director Jan Spaen, soon.

  Chapter 4

  THE MANSION THAT Governor Nagai had provided for Sano stood at the lower edge of the official district. Hirata, arriving with porters and the two guards who'd escorted him, said, oLeave the baggage at the gate. I'll take it inside. Although he was a trained detective with six years' experience as a police officer, he had nothing else to do. To the guards, he said, oYou can go now.

  oOur orders were to stay with you, the tall, thin one said, opening the gate.

  His companion, a short, paunchy man, ushered the porters and baggage inside. Before following, Hirata eyed the house critically. What he saw didn't improve the dark mood that had befallen him when Sano cut him out of the investigation.

  The two-story house had freshly whitewashed half-timbered walls, a neat thatched roof, and a latticed balcony. Built like a rich merchants dwelling rather than a fortified samurai residence, it was a security officer's nightmare. There were no enclosing barracks. Intruders could easily climb the stone wall "or drop into the yard from the roofs of adjacent houses "then snap the flimsy wooden bars off the windows and enter the house. Guarded gates at either end of the street wouldn't keep out a determined evildoer. How was Hirata supposed to protect a master who spurned protection?

  Gloomily he strode up the flagstone path beneath an arbor of flowering vines. The front door opened, discharging a horde of servants. oGreetings, new master, they cried, hurrying to take in the baggage.

  Hirata shook his head as he entered the house, shadowed by the guards. Remembering the attacks on Sano, he deplored the abundance of strangers in the house. Undoubtedly Chamberlain Yanagisawa's influence covered Nagasaki as well as Edo. Inside, Hirata discovered more problems. In the kitchen, servants unpacked rice bales, vegetables, sake barrels, and fish. His stomach growled hungrily. But in the living quarters, where landscape murals decorated walls and clean tatami covered the floors, numerous windows afforded too many access points. Flimsy paper-paned lattice partitions divided rooms and corridors. In the reception hall, doors led to a garden full of shrubs, trees, and plenty of other places for an assassin to hide.

  oMaster, would you like a meal? a servant asked.

  Hirata started to say yes, then hesitated.

  He'd been born into the police service, inheriting his fathers job as a doshin "patrol officer "at age fifteen. He'd captured criminals and maintained order in one of Nihonbashi's roughest sectors. When assigned to help with the Bundori murder investigation, he'd won a permanent post as Sano's chief retainer by demonstrating his competence and loyalty. Ecstatic over leaving a corrupt police force, he thought he'd gained his heart's desire: a master whose character he could respect.

  A year later, reality had set in. Bushido dictated that he provide Sano with protection, assistance, and counsel until his own death, which would ideally occur during battle at his master's side. But Sano refused Hirata's service when he needed it most, often leaving Hirata at home during crucial stages of murder cases, spying assignments, and the shogun's ghost hunts. Now he'd done the same thing again!

  Upon leaving Governor Nagai's mansion, Hirata had begged Sano not to lead the search for the barbarian. oIt's my duty to tell you that you're placing yourself in grave, unnecessary danger, he'd whispered as they walked out the gate. oNagai and his men let the barbarian escape; they're the ones who should suffer if he's not found.

  But Sano, waiting for the guards who would escort him to the harbor, had already withdrawn into his private world of inner compulsions and self-imposed challenges.

  oAt least let me help you, Hirata had persisted. oDelegate the investigation to me, so that if it fails, I'll die, not you.

  Sano had said gently but adamantly, oHirata-san, I appreciate your loyalty. But I've made my decision.

  oWhy must you always push me away and do things alone? Confusion had made Hirata outspoken. oIt's the same with the detective corps. They're supposed to serve you, yet you give them the safest, easiest tasks. It's as if you don't want them hurt, even though you've barely gotten to know them beyond their names and work records. What "

  The arrival of the guards had cut short their conversation. oYou have your orders, Sano had said. oI'll see you later.

  Now resentment kindled beneath Hirata's fear for his master. Sano was thwarting his fulfillment of Bushido and wasting his detective skills. Hirata couldn't loaf while Sano faced danger; but neither could he violate Bushido's most important tenet: unswerving obedience to his master. Yet Hirata was forced to acknowledge a more personal motive that exacerbated his dilemma. The present situation reminded him of a time when his character had been tried and found inadequate, an experience that had changed his life.

  He'd been eighteen, a doshin for three years, with a growing reputation for courage and skill. Craving official recognition, he'd gotten it when Senior Police Commander Terukuni had singled him out of the ranks to help break up a crime gang, and become his mentor. Hirata had been a self-centered young man who had valued the relationship mainly because of what it could do for him. Ambitious for wealth and power, he'd aspired to a position in the shogun's court. When the gangsters had ambushed him and Yoriki Terukuni in a teahouse, Hirata had chosen to escape with his own life, letting his master die.

  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 alerte
d 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!