SI3 The Way of the Traitor (1997)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  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.
<
br />   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.

  Wounds gashed Director Spaen's stomach and chest, the worst just below his left breast as if a wild animal had gnawed and slashed there, exposing pink tissue and splintered white bone. Snails and tiny crabs clung to the torn flesh. Flies buzzed and swarmed over the corpse; seaweed entwined the hair. But natures encroachment hadn't yet obliterated the shocking signs of human malice. The wounds, narrow and clean except for the chest mutilation, had been inflicted with a sharp knife. Between them, bruises stained Director Spaen's skin with blotches of purple, green, and yellow. Faint red indentations encircled his wrists and ankles, while his neck had swollen around some sort of ligature.

  Sano stooped to examine this, gingerly pushing aside the flaccid, cold flesh. Embedded there was a slender chain; from it dangled a small gold pendant. In meticulous detail, this portrayed a naked, bearded male barbarian suspended by his wrists from a cross. A wreath of thorns crowned his drooping head; a stake penetrated his chest.

  oGesu: the martyred Christian deity, Sano said.

  oContraband, which is forbidden in Japan. Governor Nagai shot a hard, questioning glance at Chief Ohira.

  oAll Christian relics were confiscated from the Dutch upon their arrival, Ohira said tonelessly, oas the law requires. Jan Spaen never wore a crucifix while in my charge. I can assure you that I don't know where it came from.

  Sano walked to the water and washed his hands in the cold, foamy waves, cleansing himself of the spiritual pollution incurred by contact with death. Returning to Governor Nagai, he said, oPossibly the crucifix came from the killer.

  There could be no doubt that this was murder, which meant that his troubles, instead of ending with Spaen's death, had just begun.

  Crowd noises filled the drawn-out silence within the circle. Then Governor Nagai, belatedly following the social convention that must be observed even during a crisis like this, introduced his other companions to Sano. oThis is Yoriki Ota. He was a stout, coarse man whose veinous nose glowed bright red, as if from drinking too much sake. oAnd Kiyoshi, the eldest of Chief Ohira's six children.

  The two men bowed. Kiyoshi was a slender youth whose bare crown was several shades lighter than his tanned face, freshly shaven in the ceremony that initiated samurai into manhood at age fifteen. He had sensitive features, but his body was muscular, with an athletic grace. Old bruises shadowed his high cheekbones; healed cuts marked his forearms. His well-shaped hands were callused, and Sano glimpsed faint ink stains on the fingers: the mark of a scholar. This was how he himself had looked at that age, pursuing martial arts and academic learning with equal ardor. Watching Chief Ohira gaze at Kiyoshi, Sano's heart ached. His own father had looked at him the same way, not quite managing to conceal his love and pride. He envied Kiyoshi and Chief Ohira that important bond which he himself had lost with his father's death a year and a half ago.

  Governor Nagai said, oI take a great interest in young men of talent. And Kiyoshi is my most promising protAcgAc.

  In the bakufu, samurai advanced by way of ability and connections. The governor's patronage would, Sano knew, guarantee Kiyoshi a good post in Nagasaki's administration.

  oAnd Kiyoshi is studying the Dutch language with me, so that he can be an interpreter, Iishino added. oHe shows great aptitude, great aptitude. For once Iishino stood perfectly still. The shock of seeing the corpse had blanched his face, and without his usual nervous motion, he looked like a wax effigy of himself. Nonetheless, he managed a weak grin. oSay something in Dutch, Kiyoshi.

  oNot now, Iishino, Nagai said impatiently, while Yoriki Ota grimaced in disgust: It was apparent that neither of them liked the interpreter. Kiyoshi blushed. Chief Ohira frowned at his colleagues, as though resenting Iishino for calling unwanted attention to his son, and Nagai and Ota for some other, indiscernible reason. Sano detected between the men an alliance whose nature he couldn't grasp. Certainly Nagai, Iishino, and Ohira shared something more than an interest in Kiyoshi's future, and whatever it was bound them together despite mutual antagonism. Sano remembered his arrival at the governors mansion and the exchange he'd overheard between Nagai and Ohira. He had a sense of secret tensions within Nagasaki's administration, an undercurrent of both discord and conspiracy. Did this relate to Director Spaen's disappearance "and murder?

  oThe person who killed Director Spaen must be found and punished, Yoriki Ota said. oThe laws concerning murder apply even when the victim is a foreigner. Reluctantly he added, oSo. I guess I'll begin the investigation at once.

  But he made no move to go. Everyone looked at Sano. And waited. In the expectant hush, Sano heard the gusting wind and the shriek of seabirds; the clamor of the crowd; the ocean's hiss and smack. Then his own voice, saying what he knew his companions wanted to hear.

  oThe murder is related to Director Spaen's disappearance. Therefore, the responsibility for apprehending the killer is mine.

  A reckless elation intoxicated Sano. Here was his chance to pursue knowledge and right a wrong. But the stakes were even higher than during the search for the missing barbarian. He face
d his companions, both hoping and fearing that someone would challenge his right to commandeer the investigation.

  No one did. Yoriki Ota nodded. Governor Nagai said, oAs you wish. Behind their neutral expressions, Sano sensed relief. Hirata's face shone with the certainty that Sano couldn't possibly refuse his assistance now. Sano hated to disappoint Hirata, but it was more crucial than ever to protect the young retainer from harm, and prevent subsequent anguish for himself.

  Chief Ohira kept his worried gaze fixed on Kiyoshi, who stared at the ground. Face pale, lips trembling, and Adam's apple bobbing, he looked as if he was trying not to vomit. Interpreter Iishino sucked air through his teeth as he studied the corpse.

  oOne of Director Spaen's comrades must have killed him, Iishino said. oWho else but a fellow barbarian could have hated him enough to tie him up, beat, stab, and strangle him? And who but a Christian Dutchman would leave a crucifix on him?