The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery by Laura Joh Rowland Page A
Authors: Laura Joh Rowland
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weapons while they're outside the harbor and unprotected, you could be sentencing them to death. Let them keep the weapons, and he promises not to use them against Japan.
Sano's nausea turned into the even more sickening feeling he knew all too well. In the past, someone had always suffered as a result of his investigations. Guilt welled up inside Sano as he recalled Aoi, in particular. He didn't like the foxy gleam in Captain Oss's eyes, or his arrogant posture. This man seemed the quintessential Dutch trader of Japanese myth: rashly adventurous, willing to exploit any situation to increase his own wealth. Sano didn't trust him. However, he couldn't endanger innocent human lives, alien though the barbarians seemed.
oYou may keep your weapons, he said.
Iishino reluctantly translated these words, and Sano's farewells. They climbed down the ladder onto their own pitifully small, inadequately armed barge. As the oarsmen rowed them away, Sano leaned against the cabin. His lungs still thick with the reek of barbarian, he breathed deeply, praying that he wouldn't be sick and thus betray weakness. He watched the receding Dutch ship and contemplated the enormity of what he'd just done.
Opposite him, Interpreter Iishino drummed his fingers on the railing. oYou were very brave out there, ssakan-sama, very brave. But for your own good, I must tell you that you weren't firm enough with the barbarians. You shouldn't have let them keep their guns, and you shouldn't give them anything. People might get the wrong idea.
Sano could see the ugly aura of treason tainting his actions. Although he didn't know how he could have done otherwise, he already regretted the decision. By trying to protect the Dutch, he'd endangered his people by leaving an armed ship full of unruly barbarians off the Nagasaki coast.
To avert the potential threat of attack, he must find Trade Director Jan Spaen, soon.
Chapter 4
THE MANSION THAT Governor Nagai had provided for Sano stood at the lower edge of the official district. Hirata, arriving with porters and the two guards who'd escorted him, said, oLeave the baggage at the gate. I'll take it inside. Although he was a trained detective with six years' experience as a police officer, he had nothing else to do. To the guards, he said, oYou can go now.
oOur orders were to stay with you, the tall, thin one said, opening the gate.
His companion, a short, paunchy man, ushered the porters and baggage inside. Before following, Hirata eyed the house critically. What he saw didn't improve the dark mood that had befallen him when Sano cut him out of the investigation.
The two-story house had freshly whitewashed half-timbered walls, a neat thatched roof, and a latticed balcony. Built like a rich merchants dwelling rather than a fortified samurai residence, it was a security officer's nightmare. There were no enclosing barracks. Intruders could easily climb the stone wall "or drop into the yard from the roofs of adjacent houses "then snap the flimsy wooden bars off the windows and enter the house. Guarded gates at either end of the street wouldn't keep out a determined evildoer. How was Hirata supposed to protect a master who spurned protection?
Gloomily he strode up the flagstone path beneath an arbor of flowering vines. The front door opened, discharging a horde of servants. oGreetings, new master, they cried, hurrying to take in the baggage.
Hirata shook his head as he entered the house, shadowed by the guards. Remembering the attacks on Sano, he deplored the abundance of strangers in the house. Undoubtedly Chamberlain Yanagisawa's influence covered Nagasaki as well as Edo. Inside, Hirata discovered more problems. In the kitchen, servants unpacked rice bales, vegetables, sake barrels, and fish. His stomach growled hungrily. But in the living quarters, where landscape murals decorated walls and clean tatami covered the floors, numerous windows afforded too many access points. Flimsy paper-paned lattice
Sano's nausea turned into the even more sickening feeling he knew all too well. In the past, someone had always suffered as a result of his investigations. Guilt welled up inside Sano as he recalled Aoi, in particular. He didn't like the foxy gleam in Captain Oss's eyes, or his arrogant posture. This man seemed the quintessential Dutch trader of Japanese myth: rashly adventurous, willing to exploit any situation to increase his own wealth. Sano didn't trust him. However, he couldn't endanger innocent human lives, alien though the barbarians seemed.
oYou may keep your weapons, he said.
Iishino reluctantly translated these words, and Sano's farewells. They climbed down the ladder onto their own pitifully small, inadequately armed barge. As the oarsmen rowed them away, Sano leaned against the cabin. His lungs still thick with the reek of barbarian, he breathed deeply, praying that he wouldn't be sick and thus betray weakness. He watched the receding Dutch ship and contemplated the enormity of what he'd just done.
Opposite him, Interpreter Iishino drummed his fingers on the railing. oYou were very brave out there, ssakan-sama, very brave. But for your own good, I must tell you that you weren't firm enough with the barbarians. You shouldn't have let them keep their guns, and you shouldn't give them anything. People might get the wrong idea.
Sano could see the ugly aura of treason tainting his actions. Although he didn't know how he could have done otherwise, he already regretted the decision. By trying to protect the Dutch, he'd endangered his people by leaving an armed ship full of unruly barbarians off the Nagasaki coast.
To avert the potential threat of attack, he must find Trade Director Jan Spaen, soon.
Chapter 4
THE MANSION THAT Governor Nagai had provided for Sano stood at the lower edge of the official district. Hirata, arriving with porters and the two guards who'd escorted him, said, oLeave the baggage at the gate. I'll take it inside. Although he was a trained detective with six years' experience as a police officer, he had nothing else to do. To the guards, he said, oYou can go now.
oOur orders were to stay with you, the tall, thin one said, opening the gate.
His companion, a short, paunchy man, ushered the porters and baggage inside. Before following, Hirata eyed the house critically. What he saw didn't improve the dark mood that had befallen him when Sano cut him out of the investigation.
The two-story house had freshly whitewashed half-timbered walls, a neat thatched roof, and a latticed balcony. Built like a rich merchants dwelling rather than a fortified samurai residence, it was a security officer's nightmare. There were no enclosing barracks. Intruders could easily climb the stone wall "or drop into the yard from the roofs of adjacent houses "then snap the flimsy wooden bars off the windows and enter the house. Guarded gates at either end of the street wouldn't keep out a determined evildoer. How was Hirata supposed to protect a master who spurned protection?
Gloomily he strode up the flagstone path beneath an arbor of flowering vines. The front door opened, discharging a horde of servants. oGreetings, new master, they cried, hurrying to take in the baggage.
Hirata shook his head as he entered the house, shadowed by the guards. Remembering the attacks on Sano, he deplored the abundance of strangers in the house. Undoubtedly Chamberlain Yanagisawa's influence covered Nagasaki as well as Edo. Inside, Hirata discovered more problems. In the kitchen, servants unpacked rice bales, vegetables, sake barrels, and fish. His stomach growled hungrily. But in the living quarters, where landscape murals decorated walls and clean tatami covered the floors, numerous windows afforded too many access points. Flimsy paper-paned lattice
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