SI3 The Way of the Traitor (1997)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  oYou didn't find the gun? he asked, noting with disappointment their empty hands.

  oNo, and it's too dark to see anything now, said the leader.

  oResume the search in the morning, Sano said.

  He'd intended to requestion Chief Ohira and the staff, but before he could dismount and enter the guardhouse, a strange spectacle drew his attention. He rode down the waterfront promenade for a better look.

  In the harbor, a Chinese junk glowed with hundreds of lanterns that hung from its masts, golden sails fluttering like flames. On the deck, musicians played a dissonant melody on flute, drums, and cymbals.

  Sailors danced, queues waving; their song drifted across the water. Down the hill came a procession of marchers carrying red lanterns and orange-robed priests bearing two litters. The first held the large gold statue of a fat, smiling god, surrounded by flowers and smoking incense burners. Upon the second litter rode a diminutive old man with a shaven head. He wore a multicolored brocade stole over his clerical robes. Other priests carried objects fashioned from gilt paper: houses, boats, furniture; animals; stacks of money. A boisterous crowd of Chinese sailors followed. Japanese guards, armed with bamboo canes, accompanied the marchers down a pier toward the junk.

  Dismounting, Sano joined the crowd that had gathered to watch the procession. oWhat's going on? he asked a soldier.

  oThis is a launching ceremony for the Chinese junk. The statue is their sea god. They pray to him for a safe journey.

  oAnd the priest on the litter? Sano asked, already guessing the answer.

  oLiu Yun. Abbot of the Chinese temple.

  Eager for a better look at this suspect, Sano gave the reins to the soldier, along with orders to mind his horse. He eased his way through the crowd of Chinese on the pier, where priests were helping Abbot Liu Yun off his litter. They handed him a flaming torch. Chanting in a deep, resonant voice, he set fire to an elaborate gilt-paper mansion. Smoke rose to the sky; ashes wafted over the water. From his litter, the golden sea god smiled benignly as the symbolic offering was sent heavenward. The sailors aboard the junk waved and shouted. The music played louder and faster. The audience cheered. Sano approached a guard.

  oIs there anyone here who can translate Chinese and Japanese? he asked, regretting that while he'd learned to read Chinese, he couldn't speak it. oI need to talk to Abbot Liu Yun.

  oAn interpreter is not necessary, interjected an oddly accented voice.

  Turning, Sano saw that the other priests had assumed the task of burning the offerings, and Abbot Liu Yun stood beside him. The abbot's wrinkled skin had the thin fragility of ancient silk and the yellow color of old ivory. His head, supported by the feeble stalk of his neck, seemed too large for his body, but his features were delicate and precise, with a pointed chin and ears like tiny seashells. He bowed stiffly.

  oYou speak Japanese very well, Your Holiness, Sano said, impressed. Here was the elegant, scholarly refinement he'd expected of the Chinese and found lacking in the merchants. The abbot exuded a distinct air of class, wealth, and education. Sano was awed at actually meeting a citizen of the venerated Middle Kingdom, and curious to know more about him. This was as close as the hateful bakufu would let him get to that land of ancient knowledge and tradition. oHow did you learn our language?

  oIn my youth, I was an official in the Ming Imperial Court in Peking, the abbot said. oThis was before your government forbade its subjects to travel abroad. Sano noticed that he slurred his r sounds and retained the musical cadence of his own tongue. oI studied with a Japanese tutor, and later served as a minister of foreign relations, receiving Japanese merchants, priests, and scholars who came to pay homage to the emperor. And I have been in your wonderful country for six years now.

  Chinese priests, like their Japanese counterparts, often pursued other careers before entering the monastery, yet Sano was surprised to learn that Abbot Liu Yun had done so. He had the ethereal serenity that Sano associated with priests who'd taken their vows early and had limited contact with secular life. His voice carried a faint echo of shadowed worship halls. His tilted eyes, which did not quite focus on the same point, seemed to behold a landscape visible only to him. But Abbot Liu Yun was cognizant of city affairs, as his next words proved.

  oI understand that you are investigating the murder of the barbarian. Is there some way in which I might assist you in this endeavor?

  Sano moved up the pier, separating himself and Liu Yun from the crowd. It was risky to speak to any foreigner alone, but Sano took the chance to further his investigation and indulge his curiosity. oI'm questioning everyone who had a connection with Jan Spaen and the Dutch. Your name has come up as someone with a grievance against them.

  Placidly the abbot contemplated the festivities. The priests were setting fire to a paper barn full of paper animals, chanting as it flamed and smoked. The junk's crew had extended a long platform from the prow over the water. Upon this, an acrobat performed somersaults and handsprings.

  oAh, yes, Liu Yun said, nodding slowly. oNagasaki, the great international port, is really just a small, gossipy town. My personal affairs, like those of everyone else, are grist for the local rumor mill.

  oAnd exactly what is this grievance that has inspired the rumors? Sano asked.

  The priests lit the paper money and cast burning fragments into the sea. Liu Yun watched with benign detachment. oJan Spaen was the man immediately but not solely responsible for the death of my only brother.

  A series of booms rocked the earth as rockets shot up from the ship and burst in great showers of red, gold, and green stars. The crowd gasped and exclaimed. The colored light illuminated Liu Yun's serene face.

  oHow and when did your brother die? Sano asked, surprised that Liu Yun could speak of the death with such equanimity. His own father had died a year and a half ago, but a part of him would never recover from the loss.

  oThe story of my brother is really the story of recent Chinese history, Abbot Liu Yun said. oI am seventy-five years old; he would have been seventy-three now. Thus we came of age during the decline of the great Ming dynasty. If you are familiar with Chinese history, you know that it follows a predictable cycle. A dynasty, founded by a strong leader, rises to power. The leader receives the Mandate of Heaven and becomes emperor. Eventually the dynasty loses its reigning vigor. The problems begin.

  oBankruptcy, famine, civil unrest, Sano said, remembering his lessons at Zj Temple. oAnd when government control over the country weakens enough, the emperor loses the Mandate of Heaven. Amid war and turmoil, a new regime rises to challenge the old. The cycle goes on.

  oExactly, Abbot Liu Yun said. oIn this most recent instance, the challenge came from the northeast Manchurian nomad tribes. They conquered Fushun, Liaoyang, Mukden, Shensi, Honan, Shantung, Kiangnan, Kiangsi, Hupeh, Szechuan, Fukien, Chinchou, Amur, and eventually Peking. The chieftain proclaimed himself emperor and founded the Ching dynasty.

  oMost of the population, including officials of the former dynasty, accepted Manchu rule. I was one of many who donned foreign costume and arranged my hair in a queue. But a few Ming loyalists would not concede defeat. A rebel named Kuo Hsing-yeh organized several thousand troops along the coast. They managed to take Amoy, Quemoy, Chinkiang, and the island of Taiwan. The Ching rulers recovered all the mainland territory, then hired the Dutch East India Company to help capture Taiwan. Taiwan fell seven years ago, in a fierce sea battle, after nearly two decades of war. My brother was one of Kuo Hsing-yeh's commanders "a broken old man and one of the last defenders of a lost cause. Jan Spaen was captain of the Dutch ship that destroyed his squadron. Spaen took my brother prisoner and tortured him to death. I suppose it's understandable that people who know this story would believe I bear a grudge against the Dutch in general, and Spaen in particular.

  oYou mean you don't? Sano asked skeptically. A samurai would take the torture and slaying of a brother as a personal insult, and seek revenge. Were the Chinese so different?

  Aboard the junk, t
he acrobat executed an impressive backflip, then bowed to the abbot. Liu Yun raised his hand in a gesture of praise before turning a condescending smile upon Sano. oWhen I entered the monastery, I freed myself from the pain, suffering, and complications of earthly life. I relinquished my diplomatic career, my wealth, and my family to seek spiritual enlightenment. Once I would have grieved over my brother's death. But in my present station, grief is an emotion that exists on a plane far below me. I feel only the joy of approaching nirvana "the eternal, ecstatic union with the cosmos.

  oSo you didn't blame Jan Spaen for killing your brother, or wish him dead? Sano asked, still unconvinced.

  The abbot's chuckle sounded like a cricket chirping inside a brass temple bell. oI did not, and would not have even before I turned my back on secular life. It was my brother's own stubbornness that really destroyed him "his refusal to accept that the Mandate of Heaven had passed to the Manchu rulers. Jan Spaen and the Dutch East India Company were merely agents of his fate.

  More rockets exploded; the smell of gunpowder scorched the air. Smoke veiled the sky. Sano asked, oWere you personally acquainted with Director Spaen?

  oBefore I came to Japan, I managed a temple in the Dutch trade settlement of Batavia, Indonesia, where there are many Chinese sailors, merchants, and laborers, Abbot Liu Yun said. oJan Spaen was stationed there at the time. We met once or twice. But I did not know him well. My command of the Dutch language is far from perfect.

  In view of the priest's fluency in Japanese, Sano couldn't help suspecting that this gifted linguist had achieved equal facility in Dutch. oWhen did you learn of Spaen's role in the conquest of Taiwan?

  oA year later. When a merchant ship brought the news to Batavia.

  oAnd did you renew your acquaintance with Spaen when he arrived here?

  The abbot turned toward Deshima, where lamps burned outside the guardhouse. Sano couldn't tell whether Liu Yun's imperfectly aligned eyes saw the island, or some private scene, but his tranquil expression didn't waver. oI have not seen Jan Spaen since leaving Batavia. Chance brought us both to Japan, but there was no reason for us to meet again.

  Sano knew he must check the visitor's log and question the governor's staff to verify this statement, but could he trust either Nagasaki's officials or their documents? Was it really a coincidence that both Spaen and Liu Yun had ended up in Japan, or had the abbot followed his brother's killer?

  oHow did you happen to get assigned here? he asked.

  oThe previous abbot had died, Liu Yun said. oMy superiors chose me to replace him because of my language skills and diplomatic background.

  oI see. Do you own a gun, Your Holiness?

  The abbot chuckled again. oCertainly not. My Buddhist faith prohibits violence and killing. I have no need of weapons.

  But he did have contact with his compatriots who owned them. Sano had seen the relatively lax security around the Chinese. It wouldn't be difficult for a merchant or sailor to smuggle weapons into the Chinese settlement, then pass them to the abbot during a ceremony such as this. A search of the temple might be necessary if the divers didn't find the gun off Deshima, evidence against other suspects didn't materialize, or if Sano found witnesses to acrimonious relations between Abbot Liu Yun and Spaen. For now, Sano turned the conversation to the subject that had brought Liu Yun to his attention.

  oYou've also been mentioned in connection with strange lights that have been seen around Deshima, he said.

  The abbot nodded calmly. oI have heard this, certainly. The sailors bring me news of local events. But I have never seen the lights myself. Except on special occasions such as this, I retire immediately after evening rites at sunset, and do not venture outside my quarters until dawn. My attendants can confirm this, if you wish.

  oThen you don't know the cause of the lights? Sano said, disappointed. Even if the mysterious lights were indeed connected with Spaen's murder, he had yet to find an explanation for them. And Abbot Liu Yun had just presented an alibi for the night of Spaen's death.

  A shadow of impatience crossed the priests impassive features. oThere are many curious phenomena in this world. In my travels, I have seen crackling lights flash up and down the masts of ships. I have seen a fireball hurtle from the sky and burn a house. I have seen a whirlwind destroy a town, and a great sinkhole swallow an entire team of oxen. Such phenomena, including the lights in Nagasaki Harbor, are surely manifestations of the spirits. Some men may be able to evoke them. I cannot, for I am no magician.

  From the deck of the junk, the crew lowered two small boats into the water. Sailors rowed these up to the pier. The priests carefully placed the golden statue into the first boat. The sailor in the second boat called to the abbot.

  oIf you have any further questions, you can find me at the temple, Liu Yun said. oBut now I must accompany the sea god to the ship so he can bestow his blessings upon it.

  With a benevolent smile, he bowed to Sano, then allowed his subordinates to help him into the boat. Accompanied by chanting from the priests on the pier, bursting rockets overhead, and shouts from the waiting sailors, the boats glided toward the junk.

  Sano didn't believe Abbot Liu Yun was as indifferent to his brother's death as he claimed. Chinese and Japanese cultures weren't completely dissimilar; Confucian family loyalty dominated both, and could seldom be completely erased by religious fervor. That same loyalty could inspire a priest's brethren to supply a false alibi for him. Liu Yun had access to weapons, and transportation available to carry him to and from Deshima by water. The Chinese, inventors of gunpowder, fireworks, and other magic, could surely create mysterious lights. Sano saw salvation in pinning Spaen's murder on a foreign subject. Yet he couldn't arrest Liu Yun on the strength of motive and rumor alone. Might he possibly locate witnesses who could place the abbot near Deshima the night before last?

  The offshore commotion grew louder. A conch-shell trumpet blared insistently. Glancing up, Sano noticed that the new noise came from a barge docking at the nearby harbor patrol station. The crew disembarked, their panicky voices carrying across the water. A fearful premonition sent Sano hurrying up the pier. On the promenade, he caught a soldier who ran through the crowds toward town.

  oWhat is it? Sano demanded.

  oOh, good, it's you, ssakan-sama. Gasping, the man said, oThere's trouble with the Dutch ship. I have terrible news for you!

  Chapter 14

  YESTERDAY WE GAVE the Dutch captain your message, and he was furious about the additional delay of the ship's landing, the soldier blurted. oToday he decided he doesn't trust you to conduct a fair murder investigation. He thinks Japanese are slaughtering his countrymen on Deshima and intending to punish innocent Dutchmen for the crime. He says that if you don't bring him the head of Jan Spaen's Japanese killer and allow the crew ashore in two days, he'll blast Nagasaki off the face of the earth!

  Speechless with horror, Sano looked out to sea. The Dutch had reacted as he'd feared; his distrust of Captain Oss had proved valid. The ambitious barbarian meant to use Spaen's murder as an excuse for the Netherlands to declare war on Japan, plunder its wealth, and subjugate the citizens. Sano remembered the tales of Dutch conquests. Should he go out to the ship and try to avert the threat? No: The barbarian's ultimatum left him no time for a long trip that might accomplish little anyway.

  Hastily collecting his wits, Sano said, oConvey this reply to Captain Oss: ~My investigation indicates that a Japanese shot Director Spaen. I shall do everything possible to identify the culprit and deliver him " or her "to justice. You have my promise that I will not protect a killer, regardless of nationality.'

  It was a vow that endangered his own life, but which he hoped might placate the captain, especially since he now had even more reason to prevent the crew's landing. Until he either proved that the Deshima guards were not involved in Spaen's murder or identified and dismissed the guilty parties, he couldn't trust them to maintain security. He must keep the Dutch ship away.

  oTell Captain Oss that I will c
ome to him in two days, with the head of Spaen's killer. Until then, I respectfully request his patience.

  oYes, ssakan-sama. The soldier bowed.

  oI'll inform Governor Nagai about what's happened, Sano said. Retrieving his horse, he rode into town. Fatigue weighted his limbs; the old wound in his arm ached, as did his head when he thought of all he must do in the next two days: Force the truth out of Chief Ohira and the Deshima guards; pursue the murder's Christian angle; and follow up on his interviews with Peony, Urabe, Kiyoshi, and Abbot Liu Yun, whose stories he needed witnesses to confirm or disprove. All this, with the threat of war hovering over him. And he must discipline Hirata, whose help he desperately needed but could not accept.

  The sun's fiery disk dropped below the horizon; the sky darkened from bruise-red to black. As Sano passed tumbledown houses and dark alleys, a sense of danger prickled his skin. At three hours till midnight, Nagasaki's early rising fisherfolk had long ago retired. The only lights came from lanterns above neighborhood gates. The only pedestrians Sano saw were raffish-looking peasants and samurai. Wary of bandits and outlaws, he kept his hand ready to draw his sword. He forced his tired mind to stay alert and his horse to trot faster.