White Serpent Castle. Lensey Namioka
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, ragged 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.