Samurai and the Long-nosed Devils. Lensey Namioka
springy with sweet-smelling tatami, a thick rush covered mat. In the provinces, Matsuzo had seen tatami only in the more prosperous homes. He accepted a hot towel from a serving girl and wiped his neck, surrendering himself to blissful luxury.
After discussing the menu with the proprietor, Hambei turned to his two guests. “He recommended the broiled eel, since it’s the right dish for this weather. But I told him that you’ve probably had enough eel for the day. Now tell me: How did you manage to undress that monk?” While waiting for the meal to be served, Hambei and Zenta recalled some of their experiences together. With a mixture of horror and fascination, Matsuzo listened to accounts of pranks for which the two men narrowly escaped well-deserved punishment. Since Zenta avoided talking about himself, this was the first time that Matsuzo had heard about the lighter side of his friend’s past life. Zenta broke off his reminiscing when the food arrived and devoted himself singlemindedly to his meal. Hambei looked on with a smile. “You’re all skin and bones. What happened? No work recently?”
Zenta merely grunted and held out his rice bowl to the serving girl for a refill. Although Matsuzo rather liked this boisterous new companion, he frowned when he thought he detected a patronizing note in Hambei’s voice. “We’ve had plenty of work,” he said stiffly. “But it wasn’t always work for which we received payment.”
Hambei looked amused by Matsuzo’s sensitivity. “You don’t have to tell me. I know what it’s like to travel with Zenta. He is notorious for being fastidious about his choice of masters.” There was envy in his voice as he added, “It doesn’t seem to harm his reputation. There was one petty warlord who was actually flattered when Zenta condescended to work for him. I really thought he was comfortably settled there for life. But he suddenly decided to leave. Do you know why? He didn’t like the way taxes were being collected! That warlord was so furious that I thought for a while Zenta wouldn’t be able to leave with his head on his shoulders.”
Beneath Hambei’s flippant manner Matsuzo thought he detected a trace of real feeling. He guessed that the warlord’s anger had been spectacular. Judging from his own experiences with Zenta, Matsuzo had no difficulty believing Hambei’s story. He described the abrupt way in which they had left their recent employer, which had resulted in their present penniless condition. Under Hambei’s skillful questioning, he gave a detailed account of their activities during the past months. Hambei listened so intently that Matsuzo was flattered by his serious interest, until he realized that news of the more remote regions could be valuable to Hambei’s master Nobunaga.
Finally Hambei turned to Zenta and said, “What are you doing in Miyako? I thought you were more interested in the activities of the northern warlords.”
Zenta cleaned the last grain of rice from his bowl and put down his chopsticks. “I’ve heard a lot of talk about Oda Nobunaga recently,” he replied. “It’s possible that he is the man who will finally unify the country and put an end to all these civil wars. I should like to work for him.” Hambei nodded. “I can bring you to him, of course, and give him my recommendation. But that won’t be necessary. He needs good subordinates, and he likes men who show initiative and independence.”
From Hambei’s expression of satisfaction, Matsuzo suspected that Hambei himself was one such fast-rising subordinate.
“Nobunaga started as only a minor warlord,” continued Hambei. “While the great warlords were fighting with each other, Nobunaga struck here at the heart of the country with his small but well-trained force and occupied the capital.”
“I heard that the reason for his success was his novel use of firearms,” said Zenta. “Didn’t that decide the outcome in several crucial battles?”
“An even more important reason for Nobunaga’s success was that he made good use of men like us that he raised from obscurity,” said Hambei.
He smiled and added, “If you work for him you will have to watch your tongue, though. He is a bad man to cross.”
“I’m not in the habit of insulting my superiors,” said Zenta mildly. “I only offer criticism when it’s really deserved.”
“That’s the kind of criticism that’s hardest to take,” said Hambei. “I’m warning you: Nobunaga has one of the most violent tempers I have ever seen.”
Zenta did not seem alarmed. “Tell me,” he said, “why is Nobunaga waging a campaign to discredit Buddhist monks?”
After a slight pause Hambei said, “What makes you think that?”
“The little performance that we saw by the eel vendor—that was designed to make the monks look ridiculous to the townspeople, wasn’t it?”
Matsuzo looked at Zenta in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. Those monks were terrorizing that poor girl Chiyo. They tried to kidnap her, perhaps for an immoral purpose.” “Chiyo wasn’t terrorized in the least,” said Zenta. “She easily slipped out of the grasp of that monk. Now, if she had been a normal, frightened girl, she would have taken advantage of the distraction that you provided to escape into the crowd. Instead, she stayed and made things worse by taunting those monks.”
Hambei was now smiling broadly. “I should have guessed that you would see through us. Chiyo is a clever girl, but she does overact.”
“And your arrival with your men was a little too timely,” added Zenta. “But what was the reason for the performance? It looked like more than just one of your practical jokes.”
“Chiyo hates those monks,” explained Hambei. “Her family was from Sakamoto, at the foot of Mt. Hiei. They were forced to go and work for the monks when Chiyo was a child. Fortunately an abbot of one of the temples on Mt. Hiei felt sorry for the little girl. He took her under his protection and even gave her some education. When she grew up and became beautiful, a few of the more lecherous monks began eyeing her. Last year, after her mother had died, Chiyo felt so unsafe that she escaped from the mountain. I came upon her hiding near the Yasaka Shrine and found her a job as a serving girl in a noble household. But she never got over her hatred of the Mt. Hiei monks, and she doesn’t lose any opportunity to help undermine them.”
“She risked her safety to help with your plan!” said Matsuzo, deeply touched by Hambei’s account of Chiyo’s history.
Zenta looked unimpressed. “I still don’t see why you and your men should be involved with the girl’s personal feud,” he said.
“We have orders from Nobunaga to do everything we can to embarrass the monks,” admitted Hambei. “I arranged this particular incident by letting Chiyo walk where she would be sure to be seen by the monks, and they played into our hands by grabbing her.”
“Is Nobunaga violently anti-Buddhist, then?” asked Zenta.
“He doesn’t seem more or less religious than the rest of us,” replied Hambei. “So far he hasn’t shown any hostility towards any of the Zen Buddhist temples here in the city. But he regards the warrior monks of Mt. Hiei as a serious menace.”
Matsuzo found this understandable. For centuries these militant monks had meddled in the political affairs of the country. He remembered a famous remark of Emperor Shirakawa, who said that there were three things he couldn’t control: the fall of dice, the waters of the Kamo River, and the monks of Mt. Hiei.
“Nobunaga believes that he cannot count himself as master of Miyako unless he breaks the power of Mt. Hiei,” said Hambei. “Of course, by their own licentious behavior, some of the monks are making it easy for us. . . .”
Hambei’s remarks were interrupted by a commotion outside of their window, and the three men leaned out to see the cause of the uproar.
Sauntering by the river right under their window were two very strange-looking men. The color of their faces was pale, not the creamy white of aristocratic ladies, but pinkly pale, like the color of certain raw fish.
A crowd was gathering behind the two strangers, and someone muttered, “Longnosed devils!”
One of the two men wore a long