Read Online The Samurai and the Long-Nosed Devils by Lensey Namioka - Free Book Online

him that the sound had a slightly different timbre.
    Zenta, too, sat up straight at the last clap of thunder. “That one was close to home,” he remarked. “But it sounded quite different. I hope it didn’t strike a building. We really should keep our eyes open for the possibility of fire.”
    Pedro had lived long enough in Japan to understand the universal dread of fire, for the houses were largely built of paper and wood. He noticed a faint sulfurous smell in the air, rather like gunpowder, and he knew that Zenta’s fear of lightning striking a building was justified. They stood up and peered anxiously in the direction of Lord Fujikawa’s house, from which the sound had come. In the next moment the sky broke open and the rain thudded down on them like physical blows. There was no longer any danger of a general fire.
    â€œSpeaking of fire, I don’t see how you expect to defend your castles against fire arrows when the main structures are all built of wood,” Pedro said as they hurried back into the room out of the rain. “In Europe we build our castles of stone, and only heavy artillery has a chance of making a breach.”
    Heavy artillery had not yet made its appearance in Japan, and Zenta was very eager to learn all that Pedro could tell him about cannons. While the rain poured in great sheets outside, they rekindled the lamp and Pedro described European warfare as he had experienced it. At Zenta’s suggestion, Pedro used the go board as a battlefield and the stones as soldiers to demonstrate how forces were massed by European commanders. The ronin was extremely quick at grasping the explanations. Pedro had met only one other person whose understanding was so quick, and that was Nobunaga.
    In the middle of Pedro’s descriptions, Zenta suddenly interrupted. “What was that? I thought I heard a splash.”
    Pedro had heard it also. The sound had seemed close at hand, but in the noise of the rain, he couldn’t be sure. Once more they went out on the veranda, and this time they even stepped down into the garden. Suddenly, a torrent of water, which had been collecting on the roof, broke its dam of pine needles and came down like a waterfall right into the back of Pedro’s collar. The shock of cold went down his back, into his pants, and even entered his hose.
    Pedro sputtered furiously, and the two ronin laughed out loud. “There is plenty of room in your puffed pants for more water,” said Matsuzo rather unkindly.
    At least that explained the splashing sound, thought Pedro sourly. Opening his mouth for a retort, he was overcome by a gigantic sneeze. If he didn’t take care, the drenching could cause a bad chill. It was time to retire for the night.
    Back in his room Pedro changed into dry clothes and lay down wearily on his thin mattress. He had long ago grown accustomed to the Japanese way of sleeping on the floor, and he fell immediately into a deep sleep.
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    It seemed to him that only five minutes later someone was shaking him awake. He opened his eyes and found to his surprise that it was already morning. The person urgently shaking him was Matsuzo.
    The young ronin looked very grave. “I think you should get dressed immediately and come outside. Something very serious has happened.” As Pedro pulled on his doublet and fastened his sword belt, he became aware of angry voices shouting outside. “What are they shouting about? It sounds as if someone has been killed.”
    â€œSomeone has,” replied Matsuzo grimly. “This morning Lord Fujikawa was found murdered.”
    Even as Pedro tried to absorb the meaning of these words, he heard some loud booming thuds. “Lord Fujikawa’s men are trying to break open our front gate,” explained Matsuzo.
    Pedro could now make out cries of “Death to the Portuguese murderers!”
    â€œBut why are they so positive that we are the murderers?” he asked. Passing the