SI3 The Way of the Traitor (1997)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Peony would answer, oI'll never dance for you or anyone else again. Then she would throw the money in Minami's face and walk right out the door.

  She imagined buying a house and hiring a maid; riding through the merchant district in a palanquin, shopping.

  oI'll have this, and this, and this, she would say to the clerks as she selected the finest hair ornaments, clothes and food, household furnishings. Spending money would give her the power she'd once derived from stealing. But Peony knew that wealth alone wasn't enough. She also needed the kind of companionship she'd enjoyed with Spaen-san.

  Her new bedchamber would be furnished with lacquer chests and tables, gilt murals, painted screens. Upon silk cushions she would recline, dressed in a lavish red satin kimono, watching a shy young man enter the room.

  oWelcome, she would murmur.

  The youth, chosen not only for his handsomeness but for his poverty and compliant nature, would gaze in awe at the luxurious surroundings. oI'm honored, my lady, he would say, kneeling and bowing as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

  And she would bring out the ropes, the chains, the knives, the whip, the gun. oDon't be afraid, she would say as she initiated him into the way of love that she'd learned from her Dutch barbarian.

  In the corridor outside Peony's room, the floor creaked under the pressure of footsteps that came from the stairs leading up from the reception room. Peony's fantasy evaporated; she dropped the comb and mirror, dismayed.

  Minami!

  Peony had to hide. She couldn't let him drag her back to the party, not now, when her visitor might still come. She leapt to her feet. In her awkward haste, she bumped the box on the table. Its loose lid popped off. Caught in a flurry of panic, Peony moaned. She must put out the lamp and get out, now. But she couldn't let Minami find the box and punish her for stealing it. She couldn't leave the treasure lying in plain sight. She couldn't think what to do first.

  Her indecision doomed her. The door slid open. Helplessly Peony watched, wringing her hands. Then, when she saw him, a huge wave of relief broke over her.

  oOh, it's you! she cried.

  Her eagerly awaited visitor carried a cloth bundle under his arm. He entered the room and closed the door. Involuntarily she glanced at the open box on the table. His gaze followed hers; he saw. Quickly Peony stepped between him and his property.

  oGive me the money, and you can have it back, she blurted, uneasy because things weren't going the way she'd planned. She'd wanted to tease him by withholding the property at first. She wanted to enjoy her power over him, but had lost the advantage.

  Moving closer, he began unwrapping the bundle. He must have been at the party downstairs; Peony could smell liquor and tobacco smoke on him. Now a gleeful anticipation dispelled her uneasiness. She smiled and held out her hands. She started to thank him.

  Then he flung the cloth aside. Instead of the money she'd expected, Peony saw a knife in his hand, and read the evil intent in his eyes. A gasp sucked the words back into her throat. Triumph turned to horror. She stumbled backward, raising her clasped hands in a plea for mercy.

  oNo, please, just take it and go, she babbled.

  Unspeaking, he advanced until her back hit the wall. Then he lashed out at her.

  The knife's long, gleaming blade slashed Peony's throat. Pain seared her vision. She tried to scream for help, but managed only a gurgle. A warm, salty liquid filled her mouth. She clutched at the wound; blood poured over her hands. A dizzying weakness flooded her muscles. She slid down the wall and landed in a crumpled heap. Through her terror, she saw him turning away, crouching to reach inside the box.

  Then darkness obliterated external sights and sounds. Peony could hear the relentless thud of her heart, pumping blood out of her body. She was eight years old again, running down an alley with a stolen doll in her arms. She'd gotten away safely, then. But this time, a horde of furious soldiers, police, and townspeople pounded after her. She ran faster. Then strong hands grabbed her, pulling her deeper into darkness. She heard her heartbeat fading.

  She, the nimble, clever thief, could not escape death.

  Chapter 16

  SEDATED BY THE medicine Old Carp had given him, Sano slept until late afternoon the next day. Recalling the Dutch captain's ultimatum, he dressed hastily and ordered his horse saddled, anxious to make up for lost time. Then he rode out the gate, into a vastly altered climate.

  The wind had died; the sun glared from a hazy sky. Upon the ocean's flat metallic expanse, anchored ships sat motionless, sails limp, while barges and fishing boats moved sluggishly. Moisture saturated the warm air, muting the street noises and enriching the odors of sea, fish, and sewage. The hills closed in on the city, shutting out fresh breezes. Yet more than the weather had changed for Sano. Overnight, Nagasaki had turned hostile. Someone had tried to kill him. Now Sano warily scanned the crowds as he rode, ready to draw his sword or dodge arrows. Beneath the bandages, his injured shoulder was sore, stiff, and incapable of maneuvering a sword with his usual expertise. Blood loss had drained his strength. And Nagasaki's administration had turned against him.

  In response to Captain Oss's message, Governor Nagai had convened a meeting of top officials in his office last night. oDouble the number of troops on duty, he told the harbor patrol commander. oPut everyone on extra shifts and draft more men from the daimyo estates. I want two barges watching the Dutch ship, and messengers to report to me every hour. Ready the warships. Build bonfires on the hills, and be prepared to light them and summon troops from other provinces.

  To Yoriki Ota, he said, oDouble the number of police on the street in case there are disturbances when the citizens hear the news.

  Governor Nagai turned next to the armory captain. oWhat munitions do we have? Upon hearing the quantity of cannon, arquebuses, powder, and shot, he said, oI hope that's enough. Transfer supplies to the warships and the harbor forts immediately.

  He issued the magistrate orders concerning possible evacuation of civilians, then announced grimly, oWe shall maintain this state of emergency until Ssakan Sano meets the Dutch demands.

  Everyone turned disapproving glances on Sano, seated apart from the others. oI expect to identify the killer within two days, he said, trying to infuse his voice with confidence. Unless he regained face with Nagasaki's officials, his investigation would suffer. And failure would destroy his career along with the city. Quickly he summarized his interviews with Peony, Urabe, and Abbot Liu Yun.

  Governor Nagai frowned. oYou wish to attribute the murder to Japanese citizens?

  oThey had motive, opportunity, and more access to weapons than the other suspects, Sano said.

  The audience exchanged unreadable glances, and the room's atmosphere changed. Sano sensed a pressure against his ears and skin, as if from an approaching storm.

  oYes. Well, Governor Nagai said. oI suggest that in your rush to incriminate your fellow Japanese, you don't overlook the barbarians on Deshima. Otherwise, you might suffer worse consequences than a superficial arrow wound.

  Sano hadn't mentioned this. oWho told you about the attack? he asked.

  Nagai smiled briefly. oI have my sources.

  Either Nagasaki's spy network was very efficient, or Nagai had some other way of knowing. oI haven't overlooked Deshima, Sano said, emphasizing the last word to tell them that he didn't mean only the Dutch. oThe attack suggests that something is wrong there. Something that someone doesn't want me to know about.

  When he explained about chasing the lights, his words dropped into a pool of silence. Then Yoriki Ota said, oYou got shot while chasing ghosts? Ha, ha. You probably scared a drunk who thought you were a ghost, and fired at you.

  His laughter sounded artificial, but the others joined in. oThink what you will, Sano said coldly. oBut I mean to get to the truth about Deshima. When I do, I'll find Jan Spaen's murderer. And I should think it would be in your interest to support my efforts.

  oOf course it is, ssakan-sama, Governor Nagai said pl
acatingly. oWe must work together to save the city.

  oI'm glad we agree on something. Still, Sano wondered whether Nagasaki's administrators wanted Spaen's murderer caught, or had reason to sabotage his investigation. Had they staged the attempt on his life? If so, why? Because Chamberlain Yanagisawa had ordered it?

  Now Sano hoped that pursuing the murder's Christian angle would lead him to the truth he must find, in spite of the danger.

  NAGASAKI JAIL was a complex of tile-roofed buildings set on multiple levels of a terraced slope near the edge of town. Guard towers rose from the surrounding high stone walls. In the adjacent neighborhoods, tumbledown shacks lined narrow alleys down which ragged peasants toiled and reeking open gutters flowed. Jails were places of death and defilement, where no one went voluntarily. Only the poor, who could afford no better accommodations, would live nearby.

  As Sano dismounted outside the jail's ironclad gate, he surveyed the crowds and saw a familiar figure: the paunchy guard from his mansion. Coincidence might have brought the guard here, but Sano guessed that the man was spying on him.

  Or waiting for a chance to kill him?

  oI wish to see the official in charge of eliminating Christianity from Nagasaki, Sano told a gate sentry.

  oThat would be Chief Persecutor Dannoshin Murashige. I'll take you to him.

  Sano secured his horse at the gate and followed his escort into a large compound, where more guards patrolled earthen paths between buildings with cracked plaster walls. Screams and groans issued from tiny, barred windows. The guard took Sano through passages, up flights of stone steps, and through other gates to the prison's uppermost level. Here, neat, freshly plastered barracks with dark woodwork and latticed windows surrounded a small courtyard. Sano's escort led him to the largest building, into a room where samurai knelt in rows before a dais. Upon it stood a low desk from behind which presided Chief Persecutor Dannoshin.

  Stout and middle-aged, Dannoshin had pale, moist-looking skin and the soft flabbiness of a man accustomed to rich food and no physical exercise. Puffs of fat surrounded his narrow eyes; a double chin girded his neck. His mouth was full and red, the corners upturned in a perpetual smirk. Wearing a glossy cream silk kimono printed with mauve irises, he looked like an idle bureaucrat. Yet Dannoshin's authoritative manner imposed an air of military discipline upon the assembly.

  oWe must increase our efforts to banish Christianity from Japan. His voice, a heavy, deep monotone, brooked no resistance. To a group of men seated to his right, he said, oYou shall administer the Anti-Christianity Oath to two hundred citizens a day instead of the usual one hundred.

  oYes, Honorable Chief Persecutor, the men chorused. They filed out of the room, taking portraits of the Christian deity for the oath takers to trample, and scrolls for them to sign.

  Dannoshin addressed his remaining subordinates. oYou will search fifty houses for Christian crosses, pictures, and holy writings. Leave no place or person unexamined.

  The searchers left, carrying spears for threatening citizens and poking into small spaces. The chief persecutor bowed to Sano. oGreetings, ssakan-sama. Have you come to inspect Nagasaki's anti-Christian operations? You'll find that we've been very successful in controlling the spread of Christianity. However, the rabble cling tenaciously to their faith. Total eradication will take time.

  Dannoshin's sly smile hinted at his pleasure in harassing citizens. Sano immediately distrusted him, but he needed the chief persecutor's help. Approaching the dais, he opened his cloth pouch, took out the crucifix, and explained that it had been found on Director Spaen's corpse.

  oI'm trying to track down the owner, who may be a member of Nagasaki's Christian community, and involved in the murder.

  The chief persecutor took the crucifix from Sano. Their hands touched; Dannoshin's was repulsively warm and moist. As he examined the intricate carving, his pale, thick tongue slid over his lips, coating them with glistening saliva.

  oA fine example of Spanish work, he said. oWe don't see these often; most have been destroyed. The last time one turned up was in a raid on a secret Christian church ten years ago. I personally supervised the melting of all the gold and silver artifacts. So I must conclude that this crucifix belonged to a Dutch barbarian, who brought it with him to Japan and placed it on Director Spaen's corpse after killing him. He smiled, and his eyes creased into puffy slits.

  oBut it's my understanding that all Christian artifacts are confiscated from the Dutch before they enter Japan, Sano said, oand not returned to them until the ship leaves.

  Dannoshin shrugged. oThe barbarians are clever. They probably hid this crucifix so well that it wasn't discovered during the search. Nothing like it has survived the vigorous persecution that has reduced Japan's Christian population from over three hundred thousand to a few hundred. He handed the crucifix back to Sano with an air of finality.

  Sano imagined searchers turning the city inside out, day after day, year after year. He understood the difficulty of locating every hiding place in the Dutch ship. However, he knew that the Japanese, too, were clever "and determined. Families who had preserved their traditions and treasures during wars, famines, and natural disasters could retain their religious faith and artifacts despite persecution.

  oAre there any individuals whom you suspect of practicing Christianity? Sano persisted.

  The chief persecutor compressed his lips in irritation. oYou shan't find the barbarians killer among them. When a Christian cell is discovered, the members are jailed. Their associates are relocated in order to disperse any remaining evil influence. There are several people under surveillance now, and if any tried to approach Deshima, they would have been arrested. We exert great effort to prevent contact between Japanese Christians and foreigners. And the effort has been very successful. Come. I'll show you.

  Rising, he led Sano outside and through a guarded gate. oWelcome to Nagasaki Jail's Christian compound.

  Sano knew that Nagasaki, where Christianity had first taken root in Japan, had always harbored the largest concentration of converts and thus seen the most severe persecution in the country. During the Great Martyrdom some seventy years ago, churches had been destroyed and one hundred twenty Christians beheaded or burned to death. Subsequent regimes had carried out over five hundred more executions. Sano had heard that Nagasaki's current administration continued the relentless, brutal campaign against the few remaining Christians. But his first sight of the Christian compound didn't confirm this.

  Within the fenced yard stood ten neat, thatched huts. Through the windows, Sano saw men and women placidly spinning yarn and sewing clothes; mothers nursing babies; families eating meals together; a doctor lighting herbal healing cones on a patient's chest.

  oThis is most of what remains of Nagasaki's Christian community, Dannoshin announced with a proud sweep of his pale, fat hand. oSixty people, including children. Locked away so they can cause no harm.

  In a larger building, residents bathed in wooden tubs or strolled around the room, watched by guards. More guards patrolled the yard; otherwise, the compound was a far cry from the jail's grim dungeons and torture chambers.

  oThe rabble are allowed to sell the things they sew, and keep the money, Dannoshin said. oMen and women have separate quarters, but families can visit freely. They can wash and take walks in the common house, and if they get sick, we cure them.

  Sano was about to commend the chief persecutor for his humane treatment of the prisoners, and to ask if he might question them about fellow Christians outside the prison. Then Dannoshin added, oYou might think we're too easy on them, but harsh punishment only makes them cleave more stubbornly to their faith. It creates martyrs, who attract more converts. We treat them well so they'll behave.

  He licked his lips and smiled, a salacious leer. oI prefer to concentrate my efforts on a few favored individuals whom I believe will make good informants. As you will see.

  Dannoshin ushered Sano into a small fenced enclosure. From a pulley attached to a pol
e, a man hung by a rope tied around his ankles. His head and torso dangled into a pit dug in the ground. His entire body was swathed in dirty hemp sacking, except for the right arm, which dangled free. Two guards awaited his confession. Sano stared, aghast.

  oThis torture method was devised by the governor who ruled Nagasaki seventy years ago, Dannoshin said. oHe convinced a Jesuit priest to renounce his faith this way. He also forced Christian women to crawl naked through the streets, where they were violated by ruffians. Then he had them thrown into tubs full of snakes. Saliva welled at the corners of Dannoshin's smile. oWhen the snakes entered their bodies, the women were more than willing to give up.

  Seizing the rope, he hauled the prisoner out of the pit. The man's face was purple and bloated, his eyes swollen shut. Blood oozed from his mouth, nose, and ears. His shaved crown and knotted hair marked him as a samurai; his lips moved in a cracked whisper: oGod have mercy on my soul...