Samurai and the Long-nosed Devils. Lensey Namioka
poke around for the right openings!
The second man wore clothes that were even more outlandish. On the top half of his body he wore what was obviously armor, but instead of the flexible pieces sewn together in Japanese armor, it consisted of large flat pieces of welded metal. Below the waist his pants puffed out in a grotesque fashion. What was inside the pants boggled the imagination.
It was the color of the man’s legs that caused Matsuzo’s eyes to start. “Look at that! His legs are blue!”
Hambei laughed. “No, no, that’s not the color of his skin! The man is wearing closefitting hose that’s colored blue.”
The blue legs, so long that they looked like the legs of a heron, terminated in clumsy boots made of leather. Altogether, thought Matsuzo, it was the most bizarre ensemble that he had ever seen on a human being.
But the two ronin were more interested in the man’s weapons. Dangling from his waist was a sword, long and straight, which looked as if it could be used only for frontal thrusts. It was the weapon that he carried over his shoulder, however, which aroused their greatest interest.
“A gun!” said Zenta. “I’ve seen a few of these weapons, but they were clumsy ones made by our ironworkers. This one looks like a sleek new model!”
He turned to Hambei and asked, “Are these the men that some people call the Southern Barbarians?”
“Yes,” said Hambei. “But they call themselves Portuguese. Their country Portugal is not really in the south. It’s to the northwest and it’s so far away that their ships take two or three years to get here.”
“What are they doing in our country?” asked Zenta. “Are they eager for trade? Many warlords I know would be very anxious to buy their guns.” “Some of the Portuguese here are merchants, but the one in the long gown is a priest trying to spread his religion, which he calls Christianity.”
“He won’t be very successful if his religion is as barbaric as his clothes,” said Matsuzo.
“I’m no authority on Christianity,” said Hambei, “but I’ve heard that a number of people, including several lords of high rank, have been converted. Nobunaga has received the foreigners several times and is very favorably impressed by them.”
“Not everyone feels so cordial towards the Portuguese,” said Matsuzo, noticing some of the crowd below fearfully backing away from the two foreigners.
“That’s true,” said Hambei. “And it’s not just the superstitious common people. Lord Fujikawa, Chiyo’s employer, lives next door to the Portuguese, and he hates them so much that he has hired some bully swordsmen to harass the foreigners whenever they get a chance.”
“Why does Lord Fujikawa hate the Portuguese?” asked Zenta. “Is he against the foreign religion?”
“That’s one of the reasons. Another one is that a member of his household was converted to Christianity, and she left to work for the Portuguese.”
Suddenly Hambei turned and stared at Zenta. “I have an idea!” he cried. “You have always liked unusual jobs. How would you like to be bodyguards for these Portuguese?”
Chapter 3
“What?” cried Matsuzo. “But we came to Miyako especially to enlist with Nobunaga!”
He was insulted by the suggestion that they become mere bodyguards, and bodyguards to some long-nosed devils at that. He glanced at Zenta to see how he reacted to Hambei’s proposal, and he was surprised that Zenta did not look at all outraged, only interested.
“Give me a good reason why we should take the job,” Zenta said to Hambei.
“There are many anti-Portuguese elements in the city, people who don’t hesitate at violence,” replied Hambei. “Nobunaga has a very high regard for the Portuguese, and if you take the job of protecting them, you will be already entering his service.”
“Why doesn’t Nobunaga order some of his own men to protect the Portuguese?” asked Zenta.
“Some of the worst Portuguese haters are influential men,” explained Hambei. “Lord Fujikawa is one of them, and he is a favorite of the shogun. At the moment Nobunaga’s relation with the shogun is rather delicate, and he wants to avoid unnecessary friction.”
“But there hasn’t been a shogun with any power for generations,” objected Matsuzo.
“The present shogun is no more than a figurehead. How can he be a threat to Nobunaga?”
“Many people still regard the shogun as the symbolic military head of the country,” said Hambei. “Very soon Nobunaga’s position will be strong enough so that he can challenge the shogun openly. But until then, he is afraid that many of the uncommitted warlords may unite and rally to the shogun’s support.”
Zenta smiled. “If I understand you correctly, Nobunaga doesn’t want his own men to risk a fight with Lord Fujikawa’s bullies, but if we become involved, it will just look like a fight between some ronin.”
Hambei smiled back. “I didn’t say that being bodyguards to the Portuguese would be an easy job.”
From the window of the restaurant the three men could see the two Portuguese cross the Gojo Bridge. The man in half armor stopped and wiped the perspiration from his face.
“They suffer from the heat just like normal people!” said Matsuzo, surprised.
“Nobunaga personally ordered me to find bodyguards for the Portuguese,” said Hambei. “If you accept this position, you will attract his notice more than if you were one of hundreds of samurai with routine duties.”
Hambei’s last argument had been unnecessary. To Matsuzo’s alarm, Zenta nodded agreement, his decision apparently made. When Hambei left to pay for the meal, Matsuzo whispered fiercely, “Are you seriously thinking of taking Hambei’s suggestion?”
“Yes,” replied Zenta. “Why not?”
“But being henchmen to some long-nosed devils is so degrading! Do we really have to sink so low?”
Zenta’s face went rigid. After a moment he said, “You are not a hereditary vassal of my family, and there is no reason for you to follow me. We have been more like teacher and student. I know that I haven’t been able to provide decent food and shelter for you recently, not even a bath. If you find life too degrading, you are free to leave.”
Matsuzo, not having realized that his remarks could be interpreted as a complaint, was overcome with shame. “You’ve misunderstood me completely,” he said. “I wasn’t criticizing you. I merely had the impression that Hambei didn’t want you to work for Nobunaga, and the bodyguard job was to get you out of the way. He also tried to discourage you by describing Nobunaga’s violent temper.”
The anger left Zenta’s face and was replaced by surprise. “Hambei knew perfectly well that Nobunaga’s violent temper wouldn’t frighten me away. And why do you think he wants to stop me from working for Nobunaga?”
“I thought he might be a little jealous of you,” said Matsuzo in a low voice. “Perhaps he didn’t want you to surpass him in Nobunaga’s favor.”
Zenta looked even more astonished. “There is absolutely no reason for Hambei to be jealous of me. During all the times that we worked together, we have never been rivals. How can he possibly be jealous? Look at how successful he is and then look at me!”
He paused and examined Matsuzo. “But speaking of jealousy makes me wonder if you might be a little jealous of him. You’re attracted to Chiyo, aren’t you? And he is obviously her close friend.”
Matsuzo felt his face burning. But he was that rare being, a totally honest person, and he examined his feelings carefully before replying. “I do like Chiyo, but I don’t think that was the reason why I suspected Hambei’s motives.”
Zenta seemed