White Serpent Castle Read online

  The problem was that to draw one’s sword in a feudal lord’s castle, unless in self-defense or under orders, was a grave offense. Zenta decided that he had to provoke the chamberlain’s men into becoming the aggressors.

  When the officer approached to disarm him, Zenta took his short sword and threw it on the ground with the hilt towards the other man. This was a deadly insult, for the act said, “My contempt for you is such that I’m not afraid of putting my weapon in your hands.”

  The officer turned pale and his breath hissed. Determined to wipe out the insult, he drew his sword and rushed furiously at the ronin. His sword flashed up in a great arc and came down with an impressive swish. But it fell on air, for Zenta was no longer there.

  Watching the officer struggling to regain his balance, Zenta laughed. “That was a breach of etiquette, you know. I’ve heard about cases of people who were ordered to commit hara-kiri for this.”

  Shifting his grip, the furious officer slashed again at his tormentor. The force of his swing nearly brought him to his knees, but Zenta had no trouble escaping the blow. He decided to play the furious officer the way a hunter might direct the charge of a wild boar. He maneuvered his position so that he was standing in front of the wooden gate. When the officer brought his sword down again, Zenta quickly ducked his head, and the sword was driven deeply into the wood.

  Zenta looked around the courtyard. Had he succeeded in attracting the attention of the rest of the castle? He couldn’t see any sign of additional activity. Very well, then, more drastic measures were necessary.

  Looking over the rest of the chamberlain’s men he said, “Is this officer a particularly bad example, or are you all as incompetent as he is?”

  Meanwhile Matsuzo had finally realized what Zenta was trying to do. “Since the officer can’t seem to get his sword out,” he said loudly, “perhaps one of the other men could lend his. They don’t have much use for their weapons here.”

  This taunt was too much for the self-control of the chamberlain’s men. On all sides, swords flashed out as the men rushed forward without waiting for orders.

  Zenta threw himself down to avoid an attack aimed at his head. Behind him another burly samurai rushed up with raised sword, but Matsuzo moved in to deflect the attack. The battle began.

  When Zenta got to his feet, his right hand was holding his long sword, and his left hand was gripping the short sword which he had earlier thrown on the ground. Although the short sword was usually reserved for the ceremonial suicide, some samurai have developed a technique for using both swords at once.

  The two ronin assumed a defensive position by placing themselves back-to-back. Surrounding them, the castle men did not immediately rush to attack. The samurai sword, razor sharp and exquisitely balanced, was not designed for constant hacking. Combatants tested each other with their eyes, not with physical contact, and the physical clashes, when they came, were savage and brief.

  Suddenly two of the castle men lunged forward. Zenta’s right hand swung down while his left hand flashed up and across. One man staggered back and the other one doubled up with pain. Matsuzo kicked him out of the way.

  Once more the combatants froze in place. The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of rough breathing and someone’s foot grating on sand.

  Again there was an explosion of movement. One man aimed a cut at Matsuzo, who swerved to dodge the blow. The young ronin swung his sword in the stroke which he had learned from Zenta only two days earlier. His attacker stepped back, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

  Darting a quick look at the blood, Zenta whispered, “Use the back edge of your sword, you fool! We don’t want to kill anyone!”

  “Maybe we don’t, but they don’t seem to feel the same reluctance,” muttered Matsuzo.

  The charges from the chamberlain’s men were now coming faster. Zenta made a savage slashing attack, temporarily breaking the ring around them. When the encircling formed again, Matsuzo saw that Zenta had succeeded in shifting their position so that they were in front of the open gate.

  Apparently the chamberlain realized it too. “Don’t let them get away!” he screamed. “Close the gate!”

  “With pleasure,” answered Zenta. Stepping to one side, he swept the door into the faces of the four men advancing on him. There were resonant thumps of foreheads smacking against iron studs.

  Matsuzo leaped for the other door. With a mighty push, the two ronin swept the door closed, pulling with it the officer whose sword was still stuck in the wood. At the same time the heavy door drove back three other attackers. The gate clanged shut with the three men left on the other side.

  Breathing fast, Matsuzo spared a moment to flash a grin at Zenta before he whirled around to meet another furious attack. The number of attackers had been substantially reduced. Moreover, the two men now had the advantage of the gate protecting their backs. There was still the officer trying to free his sword from the gate, but he could not count as an active combatant.

  By this time the chamberlain was jumping up and down in consternation, and even the heavyset Jihei was showing signs of wanting to join the fight.

  “I think it’s coming out,” said the officer, who felt his sword loosen slightly from the door.

  “Open the gate!” yelled the three men on the other side.

  “Matsuzo, they want it open after all,” said Zenta, and cleared a space.

  With a sudden heave, Matsuzo pulled open the gate and quickly stepped aside. The three men pushing on the other side crashed into the attack of their own comrades.

  The sudden jerk of the door jammed the officer’s sword back into the wood.

  In the confusion, Zenta and Matsuzo were again working their way to the open gate.

  “Close the gate!” shouted the chamberlain. “Can’t you decide how you want it?” Matsuzo yelled back at him. In his excitement, he slipped on a patch of blood and crashed to the ground. Instantly two men were above him with raised swords. Zenta kicked the feet from under one man and drew the other away with a feint.

  “At last! I got it out!” cried the officer, triumphantly waving his free sword. He swung it hard at Zenta, who quickly swerved. The sword sank back into the door.

  In the tangle on the ground, Matsuzo found a hairy arm in his mouth. He bit. Struggling with the writhing heap above him, he thought, “Why is it that in all the great epic poems, fights were never so messy as this?”

  Without warning, Matsuzo’s opponents loosened their grip, and the young ronin realized that all sounds of fighting had stopped. In the background, an authoritative voice was speaking. Sitting up, Matsuzo looked around and found all the chamberlain’s men crouched on the ground bowing to a figure high on the steps behind the chamberlain.

  Chapter 3

  “What is the meaning of this disgraceful exhibition?” demanded the new arrival.

  Zenta saw that everyone, even the chamberlain, was bowing down to the ground. The new arrival was a man of very high rank indeed. Aside from Lord Okudaira’s immediate family, who could possibly outrank the chamberlain?

  “P-Pardon, m-my lord envoy,” stammered the chamberlain. “This is all a dreadful mistake!”

  Envoy from where, Zenta wondered. He risked a look and was slightly surprised to find that the envoy was a youngish man. His features were handsome but severe, with thick, lowering eyebrows. Two deep lines ran down either side of his nose to the corners of his lips, giving him a disdainful expression. From the deepness of the lines, Zenta guessed that the sneer was habitual.

  The envoy frowned at the groveling chamberlain. “As the man in command of this castle, you are responsible for this disturbance. When the daimyo hears of this, he might judge you unfit for your position.”

  An envoy from the daimyo! The daimyo had been Lord Okudaira’s feudal overlord, and the presence of his envoy meant he was so concerned about the succession problem that he found it necessary to send a mediator.

  Zenta had finally succeeded in controlling his breath, rag
ged from the fight. He raised his head and said respectfully, “My lord envoy, I’m afraid that I was the cause of this unseemly outbreak. I was seeking employment at this castle, and there was a question of my qualifications. A demonstration was needed.”

  In provoking the fight, he had accomplished his purpose and could afford to be magnanimous. Now he wanted to save the men of the castle from blame, and a low murmur of relief from the men showed that they were aware of this.

  The envoy’s brows rose. “This riot, then, was merely to demonstrate your fitness?”

  “I’m afraid that in our enthusiasm, some of us got carried away a little,” apologized Zenta.

  The envoy’s chief retainer, who had been standing beside his master, now stepped forward. “If this man was just a ronin looking for a job,” he said to the chamberlain, “why did you say that you expected him? You also ordered your men to arrest him. Don’t deny it. I saw the whole thing.”

  The chamberlain stared helplessly, and turned to the tall samurai next to him for inspiration. “We thought . . . that is . . . Jihei said he got news that . . .”

  Jihei interrupted smoothly. “We have been getting reports of a notorious bandit who has been harassing this region. When these strangers appeared, it was only wise to take them into custody and check their identities.”

  “Yes, yes,” agreed the chamberlain. “We were preparing a welcome for a terrible bandit!”

  “And a very hearty welcome it was, too,” said Zenta. “Do you go to all this trouble for every stranger who comes?”

  The envoy was not ready to release his stern glance from the chamberlain. “Did the strangers draw their swords to resist? Was that how the fight started?”

  Jihei stepped forward and answered for his master. “No, the officer who was escorting them lost his head and drew his sword first. Of course, he will answer for it.”

  “Are you perfectly satisfied now that these strangers are not the notorious bandits?” pursued the envoy.

  A flash of pure hatred escaped from Jihei, but it was immediately suppressed. “Yes, my lord envoy. I am positive that they are not the bandits. This man is Konishi Zenta, just as he claimed. His particular style of fighting with two swords is very well known.”

  Zenta was convinced that Jihei and the chamberlain had not entirely given up their doubts about his identity. But in the envoy’s hearing they couldn’t very well say that they suspected him or Matsuzo of being Lord Okudaira’s older son, since the envoy might seriously consider this son as a desirable candidate for the succession.

  The envoy examined Zenta intently. “So you came to this castle to enter the chamberlain’s service?”

  “I was hoping to enter the service of Lord Okudaira’s successor, whoever he turns out to be,” replied Zenta. He looked calmly back at the searching eyes of the envoy. “Naturally I will wait for your decision on the question of succession.”

  After a moment the envoy said thoughtfully, “I may want to have a talk with you later.”

  He turned to the chamberlain and looked at him bleakly. “What has happened here this afternoon is no credit to the man in command of the castle. A report of this incident will certainly go back to my master the daimyo.” With a contemptuous glance around, he signaled to his retinue and swept out of the courtyard.

  The chamberlain scowled at the haughty back of the envoy and then turned to frown at his men. “What’s the matter, you loiterers?” he barked. “Isn’t there any work to do?”

  Slowly the crowd dispersed, some of the men helping disabled friends to rise. More than one man looked at Zenta, who stood adjusting his swords in his sash. A limping samurai approached him respectfully. “We need you here, sir, to give us some lessons in swordsmanship.”

  Another man gingerly touched a painful lump on his forehead. “I agree! I should like to see more of your two-sword technique.”

  Zenta grinned. “My first lesson on swordsmanship is a warning to avoid swinging gates.” Matsuzo straightened his clothes, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction. He had fought well and had used several newly acquired techniques. What would Zenta decide to do next? Now that there was no question of being taken into custody, they could leave the castle if they wished. For himself, he had even less desire to work for the upstart chamberlain now that he had seen the man. Unfortunately the chamberlain and his henchman Jihei seemed to be in complete control of the castle.

  The chamberlain, who had been busily conferring with Jihei, now turned and beckoned to the two ronin. “We will forget about that little misunderstanding just now. My men acted hastily and got what they deserved. Now, I have positions open for warriors like you, and you will find the pay very generous. Waiting for the question of succession to be settled may take a long time, but if you enter my service, you can start drawing your pay immediately.”

  He glanced at Zenta’s shabby brown kimono as he spoke. The afternoon’s fighting had dealt a mortal blow to that long-suffering garment.

  Matsuzo bridled at the chamberlain’s condescending tone, but Zenta did not seem offended at all. “A bath, a clean kimono, and some food would be very welcome,” he confessed.

  The chamberlain nodded without seeming to notice that Zenta had not committed himself. He gave a sign of dismissal and turned away in a swirl of colors. With the departure of his gorgeous costume, the whole courtyard seemed quieter.

  The two ronin found Jihei in front of them. “Come with me. I will show you to your quarters.”

  “I hope they’re not the ones which you had prepared for the bandits?” asked Matsuzo, trying to imitate Zenta’s ironical tone.

  Jihei gave a short laugh, but his eyes were cold. “This way, gentlemen,” he said.

  When Jihei took them to a door in the base of the watchtower, Matsuzo asked in surprise, “Then you’re not going to put us in the outer fortress?”

  “The chamberlain’s opinion of you is so high that he is putting you in the inner fortress together with officers of the household,” replied Jihei. The words were flattering, but there was a hint of grimness in Jihei’s voice which Matsuzo did not like.

  The three men mounted some stairs and soon found themselves on the ground floor of the central building which formed the base of the watchtower. The rooms here were airy and light, but rather bare. In the older and more primitive castles, the commander sometimes had his living quarters in the watchtower building, but Lord Okudaira had more luxurious quarters constructed for his household.

  Leaving the watchtower building, Jihei swiftly led the two ronin along a series of narrow hallways, bewildering in their constant twists and turns. Matsuzo had to hurry to keep up with Jihei’s long strides. “Strangers to this castle could be lost for days here,” he panted.

  “The mazelike effect is our best defense,” said Jihei with satisfaction. “Even if attackers were to get past the outer fortress and reach this building, they would wander around aimlessly and find themselves ambushed by our men at every turn.”

  “With an impregnable castle like this, it seems strange that your chamberlain should be so nervous,” said Zenta. “Forgive me if I sound impertinent, but I got the impression that everyone here is on edge.”

  “You are thinking of those fools who started the fight by the gate,” said Jihei. “They were just some hotheads who needed a lesson.”

  “Perhaps people here are jumpy because of the White Serpent Ghost,” Matsuzo put in.

  Jihei looked annoyed. “How did you hear about the ghost?”

  “Well, it’s the chief topic of conversation in the region,” said Matsuzo. “Everybody here is talking about the death of Lord Okudaira and the White Serpent Ghost.”

  Jihei’s lips curled contemptuously. “Those idle gossipers! They make up these stories in order to attract travelers to their business.”

  “You mean the chamberlain’s intended marriage to Lord Okudaira’s daughter is only gossip?” asked Matsuzo.

  “Those peasants are talking about the chamberlain’s intention t
o marry Lady Tama?” cried Jihei. “The incredible insolence! We’ll soon put a stop to this idle talk!”

  “I think the villagers really believed the stories,” said Matsuzo. “We got such a vivid description of the white serpent slithering down the hall, and of the ghostly flute music.” “Ha! Now I know who is responsible for these stories!” said Jihei. “It must be Lady Tama’s servant Ume! That old woman is either in her second childhood or sleepwalking. She claimed to have seen a dim white shape one night, and she managed to get the whole household upset.”

  “What about the ghostly music, then?” asked Matsuzo.

  Jihei gave a sigh of sorely tried patience. “There are several ladies in the castle who can play the flute. One of them may have been practicing late at night. As for the long slithering thing, those silly maids were probably chasing each other’s sashes!”

  In spite of Jihei’s vigorous denials, Matsuzo was reluctant to abandon the serpent ghost and eerie flute music. They made such good subjects for poetry.

  Suddenly Zenta said, “Speaking of foolish fancies, for a moment I thought that your chamberlain mistook one of us for Lord Okudaira’s missing older son. Ridiculous idea, isn’t it?”

  Jihei stopped. He turned around slowly and looked hard at the ronin. “What do you know about Shigeteru?”

  “Shigeteru—is that his name?” said Zenta. “I’m a stranger to this region, and I can’t tell you anything. Do you know the cause of his disappearance?”

  In the slanting light from a small window, Jihei’s expression was hard to read. “Ten years ago, a serious break took place between Shigeteru and his father. I had not yet been hired here, but I heard that it happened during a battle in which Lord Okudaira’s sudden retreat caused some men to be stranded and killed. One of those killed was a close friend of Shigeteru. In his grief he spoke wildly and dared to accuse his father of cowardice. For such disrespect to his father he could have been sentenced to commit hara-kiri. But because of his extreme youth, he was spared and instead sentenced to exile.”