The Samurai and the Long-Nosed Devils Read Online Free Page A

out in a rectangular pattern, and that the big east-to-west avenues were numbered, from First Avenue to Ninth Avenue. They were now walking along Gojo, Fifth Avenue.
    Eventually they left the broad avenue and turned into a narrow street. Ahead of them they saw two Portuguese. “There they are,” said Hambei. “That’s their residence down the street.”
    At that moment, the front gate of a nearby house opened and a file of samurai emerged, escorting a sedan chair enclosed by bamboo blinds.
    â€œI don’t like the looks of this,” said Hambei. “Those are Lord Fujikawa’s men, and there may be trouble.”
    His prediction was fulfilled immediately. The Portuguese who was in half armor swung aside to make way for the sedan chair, but he had little room in the narrow street and his sword struck against the bamboo blind.
    The leader of the samurai turned his head and glared. “Clumsy foreign devil!” he snarled. “You have just insulted our lady!”
    His men added their voices to his. One of them made remarks about the foreigner’s blue legs, while another said something obscene about the puffed pants and what they concealed.
    The priest in the long gown walked serenely on, probably unable to understand the remarks, but the armed Portuguese evidently understood Japanese well, for his face turned dusky red and his hands clenched around his gun.
    â€œCome on,” said Zenta and began to run forward.
    Matsuzo looked around, surprised to find Hambei walking rapidly away in the opposite direction.
    â€œHambei can’t afford to get involved in this,” explained Zenta quickly. “He is known to be Nobunaga’s henchman. He is confident that he can leave the matter to us.”
    Things were reaching a critical stage. One of the samurai drew a sword, and immediately the Portuguese raised his gun into firing position. The samurai shrank back. He had obviously heard about the gun’s terrifying power.
    â€œI will fire upon the first man who tries to attack me,” declared the Portuguese. His Japanese was perfectly understandable, for the consonants and vowels were very accurately produced. The intonation was somewhat strange, however, and to Matsuzo’s ear the speech sounded like a familiar song sung to the wrong tune. What ruined the foreigner’s speech most disastrously was that he used verb forms that were spoken only by women.
    As soon as he spoke, the awe produced by his weapon vanished, and the leader of the samurai laughed with contempt. “Let’s get rid of this foreigner once and for all. He won’t have time to kill us if we all rush him at once.”
    â€œWait!” called Zenta as the men drew their swords. He came up to the leader of the samurai and said, “I saw the whole incident. The Portuguese meant no insult. He was trying to move aside and make room, and his sword struck the sedan chair entirely by accident. I’m sure that he will be glad to apologize.”
    The leader of the samurai stared at the dusty and unshaven ronin. “How dare you meddle here? Who are you, anyway?”
    Zenta placed himself in front of the foreigner who held the gun. “We are the new bodyguards for the Portuguese,” he replied.
    The leader laughed. “Then you are exactly what they deserve!” Turning to his men he said, “Come on. We’ll get rid of these vagabonds first and then finish off the Portuguese.” Zenta beckoned to Matsuzo. “It seems that we shall have to teach these men a lesson,” he said. “Now remember, don’t kill anyone. Use the back of your sword whenever possible.”
    Zenta had once worked as an instructor in a fencing academy, and he liked to adopt his classroom manner during actual combat. It never failed to intimidate his opponents by reducing them to the status of students. On Lord Fujikawa’s men it had the desired effect. Involuntarily they retreated a