The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery (3 page)

Away from the shogun, who would be angry at his absence, and into Yanagisawa's power. Dread stole over Sano; nervous sweat dampened his kimono. The elders stirred. Sano stood his ground. oYou can't do that. I report to the shogun alone. My duty is to him, not you.
Yanagisawa laughed, as did the elders. oWith His Excellency indisposed, I am in charge. I can do anything I choose. And I choose to send you on an inspection tour of Nagasaki.
oNagasaki? Sano echoed, horrified. The western port was two months' journey from Edo. The trip there and back, plus the work itself, could consume a year "a year during which Yanagisawa could destroy Sano's reputation, turn the shogun against him, and deprive him of his position. Yet Sano foresaw even more serious consequences than these.
oYou seem displeased, ssakan. Chamberlain Yanagisawa fairly shimmered with amusement. oI can't see why. Nagasaki is a prestigious posting. All you need do there is document the state of the government, the economy, and the citizens.
On the blank paper, he practiced the same characters again "success, wind, tree "then signaled the servant for a clean page. oYou needn't work very hard, and you can exact a portion of the revenue from foreign trade, while enjoying a leisurely life on the beautiful Kyushu coast.
Sano didn't want money, leisure, or a trivial job. And he knew the dark side of the rich paradise that was Nagasaki. There, the most innocent behavior, wrongly interpreted as treason, could condemn a man to death "especially a man set up by his enemies for a fall from grace. Sano could guess why Yanagisawa was sending him to Nagasaki. The chamberlain knew his propensity for breaking rules and offending important people during his investigations. The chamberlain hoped that, in Nagasaki, Sano would get in enough trouble to destroy himself once and for all. And Yanagisawa's far-reaching power could virtually guarantee it.
oReally, Ssakan Sano, you should thank me for this splendid opportunity. Chamberlain Yanagisawa held his brush over the new sheet of paper. oI believe I'm ready to write the entire verse now, he told the elders.
oI'm sure you'll do it beautifully, Honorable Chamberlain, said Senior Elder Makino Narisada, who was Yanagisawa's chief crony. The sinews of his ugly skull face flexed in a sly grimace at Sano.
oI have to stay in Edo for my wedding, Sano protested, though he didn't welcome marriage and had few personal ties to keep him home.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa smiled smugly. oI'm afraid your plans will have to be postponed indefinitely.
Sano stood and bowed. He had nothing to gain by agreeing, and nothing to lose by refusing. oWith all due respect, Honorable Chamberlain. I'm not going to Nagasaki.
Yanagisawa laughed. Taking a deep breath, he wrote swiftly, covering the paper with flowing characters. He contemplated his work with a sigh of satisfaction, then laid down his brush. oOh, but I think you are, Ssakan Sano.
He fingered the fine scars on his lip and eyelid: souvenirs of his traumatic experience with the Bundori Killer. Leveling at Sano a gaze filled with vengeful glee, he clapped his hands. Five guards rushed up to the pavilion.
oSee that Ssakan Sano is on the ship that leaves for Nagasaki tomorrow, Yanagisawa told them.
Furious at this blatant coercion, Sano could only stare.
oAnd oh, before you leave to prepare for your trip, Ssakan Sano, Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, eyes alight with cruel mischief, owhat do you think of my poem? I composed it specifically with you in mind.
With a graceful flourish, he turned the paper around to face Sano. Thunder rumbled; raindrops pelted the pavilion's roof. Sano read the characters:
In this difficult and uncertain life
Success often requires many endeavors "
Ah! But the wind can fell a tree
From more than one direction.
Chapter 2
Where is that miserable Nagasaki harbor patrol? They should have seen us by now, and come to welcome us. Regal in his many-plated armor and horned helmet, the captain stomped angrily around the deck of the ship. oThis is a disgraceful slight against the shogun's envoys. Someone will pay! To the crew, he shouted, oPrepare for landing, and discharging our passengers.
He sneered at Sano and Hirata, who stood in the bow, hands shielding their eyes from the sun as the ship approached Nagasaki Harbor.
Hirata sighed in relief. Due to frequent seasickness, he was pale, shaky, and thinner than when they'd left Edo. oI sure will be glad to get off this ship.
oYou're not the only one, Sano said.
When Chamberlain Yanagisawa had banished him, he'd dreaded reaching Nagasaki. Yet after two months at sea, sailing along the coasts of Honsh®, Shikoku, and Ky®sh®, he rejoiced at the thought of stepping onto land. Beyond the sparkling water, the green landscape of their destination looked like paradise, for the journey had been a terrible experience.
Like all Japanese craft, the ship, whose square sail bore the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest, was unseaworthy because the government wanted to discourage citizens from leaving the country. With its shallow draft, the awkward wooden tub pitched at the slightest wave. Sano and Hirata had experienced nerve-racking passages through reefs, shoals, and ferocious summer storms. They'd shared the tiny cabin with the officers, while the sailors slept on the roof, and eaten a monotonous diet of salt fish, pickles, and rice cakes. The journey's relentless pace told Sano that Chamberlain Yanagisawa had ordered the crew not to stop for bad weather, hoping Sano might die in a shipwreck. Hostilities within the bakufu's upper echelon were no secret to the lower ranks, and the crew had treated Sano resentfully, knowing the chamberlain would sacrifice their lives to destroy an enemy. And Sano had never ceased worrying about how the hiatus from Edo would affect his future.
Thuds and crashes erupted from the stern, where the crew was bringing baggage out of the hold.
oI'll make sure they don't ruin your things. Hirata ran down the deck, shouting, oHey, be careful with those!
Before leaving Edo, Sano had postponed his wedding again, angering his prospective in-laws and jeopardizing the match. He'd left his detective corps behind to serve the shogun in his absence, but knew it couldn't substitute for his personal attention; he might not have a post when he got home. He seethed with anger at the regime that rewarded his accomplishments with virtual exile. Surely Chamberlain Yanagisawa was sending the governor of Nagasaki instructions to ruin him.
But now Sano's relief at surviving the journey inspired a burst of optimism. As he neared Nagasaki, his interest stirred. He'd never been this far from home. What unknown challenges awaited him in this land of troubled history and exotic foreign influences?
The ship moved down a wide, convoluted channel in the Ky®shcoastline. Coves adorned the shores; woodlands topped high cliffs. Terraced rice fields ascended gentler inclines. Over small islands, seabirds soared and shrieked. Fishing boats dotted the calm water. In the distance, the city of Nagasaki cascaded down the lower slopes of steep hills.
oLook! Returning, Hirata pointed to a glint of light on a clifftop. oAnd there's another. What are they?
oThe sun reflecting off spyglasses, Sano answered. oThey're used by guards who watch for foreign ships and warn of any threat to national security.
Nagasaki, the center of overseas trade, received merchants from many nations "some with hopes of military conquest as well as financial gain.
The ship passed a large island that rose like a mountain in the channel. oTakayama, Sano said. oDuring the Christian persecutions a hundred years ago, foreign priests were thrown off it and drowned. And that smaller island must be the Burning Place, where hostile ships are set on fire.
Remembering these facts, Sano felt the resurgence of a buried passion. While a young pupil at the Zj Temple school, he'd sneaked into a forbidden section of the library. There he'd discovered scrolls documenting Japanese foreign relations over the past two hundred years, and read with fascination of the white barbarians... until the abbot caught him. Sano's back still ached when he recalled the beating he'd received. But his curiosity about the barbarians had persisted, despite much discouragement. Laws barred everyone except the most trusted individuals from contact with Europeans, whom the bakufu feared would incite rebellion, as they had in the past, and ultimately conquer Japan. Foreign books, and books about foreigners, were banned. Now Sano saw an advantage in his status and his unwanted trip to Nagasaki. At last he would see the legendary barbarians with golden hair, eyes the color of the sky, and bizarre customs. And hidden under his sash was a document that would bridge the language barrier between them.
Sano's closest friend was Dr. Ito Genboku, a physician sentenced to lifetime custodianship of Edo Morgue as punishment for practicing forbidden foreign science. Dr. Ito had assisted Sano with murder investigations and continued his studies, using foreign books obtained through illicit channels from Dutch traders in Nagasaki. Sano, kept under house arrest by Yanagisawa's men during his last hours in Edo, had sent Hirata to convey his farewells to Dr. Ito. Hirata had returned with this message:
Sano-san,
It was with great regret that I learned of your imminent departure. To make your stay in Nagasaki more interesting, here is a letter of introduction to Dr. Nicolaes Huygens, my trusted, confidential , source of information about foreign science. I believe you will enjoy his company as I have his correspondence. I hope that fate will soon allow your safe return to Edo.
Ito Genboku
Folded inside this letter was a paper inked with scrawls that Sano assumed to be Dutch writing. Yet any encounter with foreigners could provoke accusations of treason.
oI wonder what's going on up there, Hirata said, breaking Sano's line of thought.
Following his retainers gaze, Sano saw running figures atop the cliffs, shouting to one another in inexplicable frenzy. Toward the ship sped a long barge, rowed by teams of oarsmen and crammed with samurai.
oAh, the harbor patrol. At last. The captain called out to the barge: oThe shogun's envoys wish an official escort into harbor. Wait, where are you going? Stop!
The barge raced past. Two more followed; none stopped. The faces of the crews reflected the urgency of men on some strange life-or-death mission.
oSomethings wrong here, the captain declared.
The ship neared Nagasaki, which formed an irregular crescent around the harbor. A jumble of tiled and thatched rooftops climbed the hills; crooked streets ran between them. Three rivers flowed through the city to the sea. The red pagodas of temples studded higher slopes, with the towers of watch stations above. On the water-front, more patrol barges circled anchored ships and herded fishing boats toward shore. Sano could see no reason for the commotion. Was this some peculiar military exercise, or preparation for an unknown natural disaster? Another barge rowed straight for Sano's ship and drew up alongside.
oIt's about time, the captain huffed.
The barges chief officer called, oOur apologies for the tardy welcome, but we've got big trouble. The Dutch East India Company's director of trade has disappeared.
Sano, joining the captain and crew on deck, heard their mutters of consternation. Beside him, Hirata whispered, oWhy is one man's disappearance such a problem?
oBecause any security breach in Nagasaki means death for everyone responsible, Sano whispered back, understanding the reason for the mysterious panic he'd witnessed. oThe missing barbarian might foment dissension and war, or spread Christianity throughout Japan.
The second threat went hand in hand with the first. Christianity had come to Ky®shabout a hundred and fifty years earlier, with Jesuit missionaries who traveled on Portuguese merchant ships. For a time, it had spread unchecked across Japan, welcomed by poor peasants who embraced this doctrine that promised salvation, and by daimyo " samurai warlords "who converted in hopes of luring the lucrative Portuguese trade to their domains. Fifty years after its arrival, Christianity had boasted some three hundred thousand followers.
But the foreign religion had later posed serious problems. Peasant converts destroyed Shinto and Buddhist temples, creating civil unrest. Missionaries supplied arms to Christian daimyo and conspired with them to overthrow the government. From overseas came news of Christian crusades against the Muslims; of Portuguese and Spanish conquests in the East Indies and the New World; of the pope's plans to seize the lands of non-Christian rulers. Finally Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun, issued an edict banning Christianity and deporting the missionaries. During the seventy-five years since, the bakufu had rigorously suppressed the dangerous foreign creed. Now the escape of a single Dutchman had revived the threat to national peace and independence.
oFollow us, and we'll see you safely ashore, the harbor patrol officer told the captain.
The ship sailed after the barge, into increasing chaos. From patrol barges, soldiers boarded Chinese junks with many-battened sails like insect wings and smaller ships manned by dark-skinned sailors, searching for the lost Dutchman amid loud protests in foreign languages. More troops swarmed the white stretch of beach and the docks and piers outside warehouses. From the starboard deck, Sano watched the activity with a mixture of excitement and fear, for a sudden thought had taken hold in his mind.
oStop here, or you'll run aground, the harbor patrol officer called when they reached a point some distance from the city.
The crew dropped anchor. From the beach, small ferryboats rowed out to carry passengers and baggage ashore. Sano moved astern, where the sailors raised and turned the rudder so it formed a gangplank. He was not only the shogun's ssakan-sama, but also Chamberlain Yanagisawa's designated Nagasaki inspector. Despite the ignominious circumstances of his arrival, didn't he have a tacit charge to locate the missing trader? Sano experienced a not unpleasant thrill of danger. As he climbed over the railing and walked down the wet, slanting rudder, the old fascination tugged. He looked toward the middle of Nagasaki's crescent, and saw the subject of many of the scrolls he'd eagerly perused as a boy.