Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kunieda Shirō

I

The town of Córdoba was bustling with activity, for tomorrow marked the first day of the bullfighting season.

One of the inns near the bullfighting arena—a vast establishment called "The Six Young Pirates"—had a room taken by a young man.
He looked neither like a merchant nor an official, nor of course a soldier—an unidentifiable figure whose clothing was shabby.
Therefore, after signaling discreetly to the bellboy beforehand, the inn manager grudgingly guided him to the most inferior room in the entire hotel.

Having done so, the manager still thought to himself as follows.
What does he think this hour is?
In the midst of the busy bullfighting season, to come here with such a shabby appearance and have the nerve to ask for lodging—remarkable.
"If I weren’t a philanthropist, I would’ve refused him outright without a second thought."

The bellboy, for his part, having apparently resigned himself early to receiving no decent tip from that gentleman, didn't even attempt to offer a single flattery.

Yet that gentleman showed no sign of minding the hotel's visible cold treatment. No sooner had he entered the dim room—its walls uniformly painted gray without a single pretension of decoration—than he plopped down onto the sofa and gazed out through the window at the bustling streets with expressionless eyes.

A town of eternal summer in a land of eternal summer!
Everywhere one looked in Córdoba, there were dark green trees bearing golden fruits and gray houses with silver mosques—there was nothing else to be seen.
The countless streets sprawling like a spiderweb were all filled with people.

As the sun set and lights were lit, turning the town resplendent, the crowds grew even more bustling from that hour onward.

The bar in the basement of The Six Young Pirates Hotel, too, saw its commotion grow louder from that hour onward.

Beside an obese, white-haired old man who claimed to be a Moroccan tycoon—surrounded by several prostitutes while popping champagne corks—sat a young man who appeared Persian, teasing a handsome boy as he sipped from a cup of hinta wine. An arrogant man who appeared American, an expressionless Chinese merchant, a gem dealer claiming to be from South Africa, a turban-wrapped Indian—people from nations across the world had taken positions at tables throughout the grand hall capable of holding a hundred, all chattering away in their native tongues. In the orchestra hall, musicians were playing the music from Carmen...

On this night alone, every bar in town conducted business through the night.

When the night had grown quite late, the shabby gentleman who had been coldly treated by the manager and bellboy emerged into the bar.
The gentleman surveyed the bustling grand hall, then—striving to remain inconspicuous—quietly settled into a seat behind a vase in the corner before ordering his meal from the waiter.

And so the gentleman quietly ate his meal without drinking any alcohol.
A brazen middle-aged prostitute approached his side nonetheless, but when the gentleman shot her a piercing glance, she retreated in a fluster.

"What a terrifying glare!"
"It's the glare of a murderer or a robber!"
The prostitute muttered this as she fled.

At that moment, a car pulled up at the front entrance.
The moment he saw the automobile, the manager’s complexion paled as he scrambled forward to greet them.
For although it was unmarked, that car was unmistakably a vehicle of the Imperial Household.
Sure enough, when the door was pushed open, a high-ranking official in chamberlain attire appeared.

The manager bowed his head three times and rubbed his hands as if to crush them.

“Are you the manager here?”
The Chamberlain solemnly inquired.

The manager bowed his head again.

“Then I shall ask you: A gentleman of thirty-seven or thirty-eight, wearing a linen suit, a bird-hunting cap, and carrying a Chinese bamboo cane—he should have come to your establishment today?”

“Ah!” The manager’s eyes widened. “He is indeed here.”

“We have come to fetch him, but where might he be now?”

“Boy!” The flustered manager called out shrilly. “He is said to be in the basement bar.”

“I would like you to guide me there.”

The manager wiped away sweat while glaring indiscriminately at the bellboy, then led the Chamberlain to the bar with thoroughly cowed steps.

The moment the Chamberlain appeared in the bar, the establishment fell deathly silent.

After surveying his surroundings, the Chamberlain spotted the gentleman seated behind the vase and strode over to him.
When the Chamberlain respectfully bowed, the gentleman nodded and rose but betrayed no sign of surprise.
The two exchanged hushed whispers before departing the bar together.

At that moment, the young Persian who had been teasing the bellboy watched the two gentlemen depart, then inadvertently muttered as follows.

“That is the Crown Prince of Serbia.”

II

As soon as the palace automobile came to a soundless halt before the detached palace, two men alighted.
They were none other than the mysterious gentleman and the chamberlain.

Without so much as a glance at the saluting guards presenting arms, the two gentlemen resolutely proceeded deep into the palace.
Passing through several rooms and corridors, they had only gone a short distance when they arrived before the grand audience chamber, where ornamental electric lights shone brighter than daylight.

“Please,” said the Chamberlain, respectfully ushering the gentleman into the room—but he himself promptly exited.

The mysterious gentleman who remained behind showed no sign of trepidation as he settled heavily into a chair and leisurely lit a cigar.
Jet-black eyes, jet-black hair, tawny skin, and a slightly short stature—at first glance, his appearance bore a close resemblance to an Asian man.

When the cigar he was smoking had been reduced to nearly half its length, heavy footsteps drew near.
And the front door opened.
From there, the old man appeared.

The two exchanged glances.
Then they firmly shook hands.

“Thank goodness! Now I can rest easy!” With a sigh, the old man said, “How I searched for you! I dispatched people to every possible avenue, sent dozens of secret telegrams... Never did I imagine you would leave Madrid and come to Córdoba. I only searched Madrid... But now I can rest easy.”

“From the sound of your account,” he said, “it seems another incident has occurred.”

“Listen, Rasīnu the Great Detective!”
The old man wiped the sweat from his brow. “This isn’t just any case—it’s a catastrophe!”
“The Saracen’s Earring has been stolen!”

Rasīnu calmly smiled.
And then he said thus.

“Is this incident limited to just that?”

“What?” The old man’s eyes widened as if thunderstruck. “Are you suggesting that’s all there is? That’s precisely it! And isn’t that alone catastrophe enough?”

“Your Excellency,” Rasīnu replied without exertion, “while one might call it a major incident, to my mind such an affair amounts to mere theft.”

“Theft it may be, but no ordinary robbery—your manner suggests you remain ignorant of the stolen ‘Saracen’s Earring’s’ true worth...”

“Perhaps that may be the case. However, I am aware of the legend and superstition surrounding the earring.”

“You know about the legend and superstition?”

“Indeed that is so—according to the legend, that earring was one worn on the ear of an Arab Muslim chieftain who ruled over Spain in ancient times, and as long as one possesses that earring, their bloodline shall never perish…”

“Exactly as you say.”
“As long as one possesses that earring, their bloodline shall never perish.”

The old man solemnly replied,

“That is why I say this theft is no mere robbery!”

“In short, it seems the stolen earring has been stolen back—according to legend, His Majesty King Alfonso’s royal ancestor commanded a grand band of thieves to steal that very earring to overthrow the chieftain... Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”
Rasīnu smiled ironically.

“Then are you suggesting this thief might be a Muslim?”

“There exist others beyond Muslims who harbor grievances against the imperial family.”

“Who in blazes could they be?”

Rasīnu respectfully bowed his head,

“Your Excellency, rather than such conjecture, I would like to ascertain when the theft occurred, when it was discovered, and where it took place.”

“That’s quite simple. The location of the theft is within this detached palace. The theft occurred this evening. It was I who discovered it.”

“Ah, so Your Excellency discovered it?” Rasīnu let out a chuckle. “In what sequence was it discovered?”

“Well listen—it happened like this… This evening I was summoned to His Majesty’s august presence, where I had an audience for about two hours before taking my leave. But when I reached the treasure vault’s entrance—the door stood wide open!”
“As I moved to enter in surprise, a jet-black figure came rushing out from within the vault, hurled me to the floor, and dashed away!”
“Scoundrel!” I bellowed.
“Then I gave chase.”
“In the long corridor, lamps glowed dimly at distant intervals.”
“The surroundings lay shrouded in hazy gloom.”
“The thief kept fleeing onward relentlessly.”
“Finally, at the corridor’s bend, I lost sight of the villain.”
“Even so, I continued pursuing him.”
“When I rounded the corner, a chamberlain came running up—I swiftly explained matters, and we both gave chase—yet the scoundrel had vanished. The corridor ended at a rear courtyard containing only a lone cattle shed, with no other structures in sight.”
“Moreover, high brick walls surrounded it on all sides, leaving no gap for escape.”
“And yet the rogue was nowhere to be found.”
“Only cows and cattle handlers remained there; we questioned them but received replies that no suspicious figures had been seen.”
“So regardless, I summoned the police and had them comb every last corner of shed and courtyard—yet not even a stray pup could be found.”

“So when we returned to the treasure vault to check, only that single ‘Saracen’s Earring’ appeared to have been stolen—not a trace remained……”

“So I’ve roughly grasped the situation.”

Rasīnu gave a slight nod but,

“So there are still police officers stationed at the cattle shed and rear courtyard?”

“Since that area remains suspicious, police officers are still stationed there even now.”

三

“Are both the cows and cattle handlers still present?”

“Of course,” the Minister nodded.

“The bull must have been quite startled. Being suddenly rushed by a crowd of people—ah ha ha!” Rasīnu laughed with apparent amusement. “At any rate, I should like to see that startled bull’s face at least once.”

“This is no matter for jests!” The Minister of the Imperial Household involuntarily raised his voice in irritation. “The task I entrusted you with was never meant to involve inspecting bulls!”

Rasīnu rose to his feet,

“Your Excellency, you may say that, but perhaps that startled bull—in its panic—has swallowed up the thief whole.”

Cracking jokes all the while, the detective briskly exited the room, leaving the Minister no choice but to follow him out.
And he took the lead and walked toward the rear courtyard.

Before long, the two arrived at the rear courtyard, and indeed, just as the Minister had said, police officers were gathered in countless numbers.

The courtyard was nearly dark.
Encircling three sides of the courtyard stood a high brick wall.
And the remaining opening led to the palace corridor.
There was not a single gap through which to escape.

The cattle shed stood at the center.
It was a remarkably grand structure—one would never take it for a bovine dwelling.
The shed's interior lay shrouded in darkness.
Within this dim edifice resided a solitary fighting bull—a colossal beast one might mistake for an elephant.

Rasīnu strolled leisurely toward the bull.

“If you get too close, it’s dangerous.”
“That’s a fierce bull stronger than any tiger.”

The elderly Minister whispered thus to Rasīnu from behind.
Rasīnu nodded but made no attempt to exercise caution.
He briskly approached and entered the cattle shed.

“Danger! Danger!” shouted the police officers in unison when they saw that.

The moment it spotted Rasīnu approaching, the fierce bull momentarily raised its head, but in the next instant lowered its horns and charged sharply at him.
The Minister of the Imperial Household clenched his sweating hands, and the police officers screamed once more.
“Hurry and escape! Hurry and escape!”

However, Rasīnu himself swiftly twisted his body to the left. Having done so, without a trace of panic, he danced out of the cattle shed in a single fluid motion.

“Your Excellency,” he sighed, “truly a magnificent bull. The citizens must be beside themselves with anticipation.”
“I hadn’t imagined it would be this impressive.”
“What extraordinary feats this creature might perform in tomorrow’s spectacle—why, it’ll be worth the price of admission alone… Incidentally, where is the cattle handler?”
“To command such a fierce beast—now that’s what I call a master of the craft.”

“Where is the cattle handler José!”

The elderly Minister of the Imperial Household called out.
Then, from amidst the group of police officers, a twenty-eight or twenty-nine-year-old man came running as though dancing.

“Well now, so you’re José.”
Rasīnu addressed him cheerfully.

“I am José.”
The young man’s voice was strong.

“Well then, let me ask you briefly—does this bull eat its feed well?”

“It eats about three times as much as the other bulls.”

“How many times did you feed it today?”

“Just once this morning.”
“And an extremely small amount at that.”

“Why didn’t you give it more than once?”

“It’s standard practice to reduce feed for the week before the competition.”

“By the way, did you give it water?”

“I gave it water once in the evening.”

“Hmm, once in the evening, huh?”
The detective smiled mysteriously but immediately regained his cheerful tone,

“I have no more questions.”
“Thank you for everything.”

José bowed respectfully.
However, Rasīnu reached out his hand.
José was thoroughly flustered but eventually shook hands with reluctant hesitation.

Rasīnu looked at José once more, then approached the Minister.

“Your Excellency, I have kept you waiting.”
“Truly an impressive cattle handler.”
“Well, by the way, there’s no need for so many police officers to be here.”
“Let’s keep just two people here and have the rest withdraw.”

“I’ll agree to anything you say.”

The Minister of the Imperial Household gave orders to the police officers.
After leaving two behind, all the rest exited through the corridor.

After seeing them off, Rasīnu summoned the two remaining police officers and secretly issued some orders.

IV

Rasīnu and the Minister of the Imperial Household once again faced each other in the audience chamber.
The Minister of the Imperial Household looked genuinely concerned,

“Well now, have you made any progress?”

“Perhaps I have made some progress.”
“Or perhaps I haven’t made any progress at all.”
Rasīnu said this nonchalantly,

“By the way, Your Excellency, there’s someone else I’d like to meet.”

“I’ll agree to anything you say.”
“And who is it you want to meet?”

“Your Excellency, I would like to meet that Chamberlain we encountered in the corridor.”

Curiously enough, the Minister of the Imperial Household began to panic.

“What’s this about wanting to meet that Chamberlain?”
“Then are you implying that Chamberlain is suspicious?”

Rasīnu smiled subtly but,
“I’m not saying he’s suspicious at all.”

"Well, that’s how it must be," the Minister of the Imperial Household muttered bitterly, but suddenly lowered his voice,

“I swear upon my honor! The Chamberlain is not suspicious at all! Because that Chamberlain is actually my nephew!”

Rasīnu showed no particular surprise. “Ah, Your Excellency’s nephew, is he?”

“That’s right.”
“And so you should have already met my nephew.”

“So that Chamberlain who came to greet me is him, then.”

“Indeed, that is my nephew.”

“He was an admirable man, but judging by his demeanor earlier, he seemed rather lacking in vigor for someone so young.”

The elderly Minister sighed and said, “There is a reason for that as well.”
“To tell the truth, that man recently had his engagement broken.”

“And what of the lady in question?”

“Well, it’s truly difficult to say, but in truth, she’s my youngest daughter.”

Rasīnu, upon hearing the Minister’s words, smirked faintly for no apparent reason.
He then fell into deep thought.

The two of them exchanged glances and remained silent for quite a long while.

“Who broke off the engagement?”
Rasīnu solemnly inquired thus.

“It was I who broke it off.”
The old man’s voice weighed heavily.

"Why did you break it off?"

"Because there was something I disliked."

"What particular aspect did you find objectionable?"

"To put it bluntly—his impertinence!...Parading about with new ideologies and such."

Rasīnu suddenly stood up.
And then he bid his farewell.

“Your Excellency, I’ve found a lead. Tomorrow, when the bullfight concludes, I shall meet you in this room… Hmm—though I must say, your nephew strikes me as rather emotional, wouldn’t you agree?”

“He’s nothing short of a madman!”

The Minister of the Imperial Household spat bitterly.

The detective nodded deeply but grasped the old Minister of the Imperial Household’s hand, then left the room.

V

It was the next day.

In the audience chamber, only the Minister of the Imperial Household remained alone.
Bathed in the faint gray light of twilight filtering through the window, he sank into thought.
On the desk before his eyes lay a letter and a small box.

Both the letter and small box had been sent from Rasīnu to the Minister of the Imperial Household. And inside that small box was placed the "Saracen's Earring," while within the letter was written how the earring had been discovered.

And the Minister of the Imperial Household had already seen both. He had seen both the earring and the letter.

It was precisely because he had seen both that the Minister of the Imperial Household now sat sinking into thought in that manner.

By anger, sorrow, and a sense of responsibility, he was being tormented.

Even so, putting himself in the position of the Minister of Imperial Household, he simply could not believe that his own nephew, the Chamberlain, was both an accomplice in this crime and its key figure.

“No matter how emotional that fellow was, even if his engagement was broken, he simply couldn’t believe he would steal the Imperial Household’s treasure and attempt to hand it over to a syndicalist.”

He simply couldn’t believe it. However, despite that, Rasīnu’s letter clearly stated that it was indeed so.

(The one who rushed out from the treasure vault was none other than Your Excellency’s nephew. Your nephew had grabbed the Saracen’s Earring at that time and rushed out, then knocked Your Excellency down before running away. Although your nephew is young and robust, Your Excellency are over sixty and in frail health. Thus, by the time Your Excellency rose from where you had been knocked down by your nephew and proceeded to the corner, your nephew could easily have run to the cattle shed, handed the earring to the cattle handler, dashed back to the corner, and met you there.)

The letter was written thus.

"However," the Minister of the Imperial Household still thought.
"Why on earth would my nephew, the Chamberlain, commit such an audacious act of banditry?"

Now, Rasīnu’s letter had also resolved that very question.

(As to why Your Excellency’s nephew, the Chamberlain, committed this crime—there exists a primary reason.
That is precisely because—as Your Excellency yourself stated—of his impertinence!
It is because he is a new ideologue.
In short, he forgot his station—forgot his status as a Chamberlain—and was studying Syndicalism, the enemy of the Imperial Household.
And before long, he became utterly devoted to it.
Now, as Your Excellency is aware, when speaking of Syndicalism’s doctrine—at least for Spanish Syndicalists—their creed is to destroy Spain’s Imperial Household, and in executing this creed, they hesitate at no means whatsoever.
It was thus that they, the Syndicalists, conceived the idea of seizing the "Saracen’s Earring"—which the Imperial Household holds most dear—to shock the courtiers.
And as the executor of this scheme, they had a single syndicalist take up residence within this court.
As for who that is exactly—it is his cattle handler.

As for how I came to know he was a syndicalist—firstly, when I spoke with him in the rear garden, his frequent use of Saragossa dialect (the reason being that syndicalists are most numerous in Saragossa). The second was that when I shook hands with him, his hands were far too soft, which allowed me to discern he was no true cattle handler from the start.

And so, though he—the syndicalist—had thus become a cattle handler, his lowly status meant he could neither infiltrate the palace, enter the treasure vault, nor steal the 'Saracen's Earring.'

Thus, he planned to achieve their objective by recruiting a high-ranking official within the palace—such as a chamberlain—as his accomplice. And the one who fell into that snare was Your Excellency’s nephew. At that time, Your Excellency’s nephew—having had his engagement to your daughter destroyed through Your Excellency’s actions and sunk into self-destructive despair—promptly became his partner. Then last night, since it was the eve of the bullfight, he took advantage of the palace’s natural commotion to infiltrate the treasure vault and accomplish their purpose…

And furthermore, Rasīnu states as follows.

(Next, I wish to explain how and where I discovered the "Saracen's Earring.")

VI

(The magnificence of today's matches and that fervor among the citizens—there had been nothing comparable in recent years.)

Rasīnu’s letter suddenly shifted at this point to recount the bullfighting matches held that day at the arena.

(Every driven bull I beheld was such a magnificent specimen that I could only marvel in astonishment.
And as for the bullfighters’ dazzling display!

Each bull’s robust physique inspired nothing short of awe, but when at last came the final match and the palace bull appeared, were not the spectators utterly overwhelmed by its sheer size and ferocity, plunging into utter silence?
Yet what frenzied cheers erupted the very next moment!
Thousands of floral bouquets went soaring.
Perfume cascaded like rainfall.
The onlookers grew so overwrought that some even broke into wails.)

When at last the bullfighters entered and commenced the match, were not the spectator seats once again plunged into utter silence?

The lances hurled by mounted bullfighters, the swirling crimson capes, the bull’s roar that erupted with each wound—all were terrifying.

At that moment, was it not the case that a bullfighter, gored by horns, fell from his horse and died?

However, there remained one strange occurrence.
To explain—the bull persistently tilted its head to the left.

After rampaging excessively, did not even the palace bull eventually cower?
Then did it not collapse like a felled great tree?
Looking upon it—lances embedded indiscriminately in back and belly, blood cascading like a waterfall—the corpse was swiftly carried from the hall by workers.

Following the corpse being carried away, I went to the slaughterhouse and surreptitiously split open the bull’s belly.

The earring I was certain would be there was nowhere to be found!
My field of vision turned pitch black.
I had been utterly disheartened, but in the very next instant, I received a revelation.
Abruptly, I thrust the scalpel I held into the bull’s left ear canal.
And thus I gouged it out.
Sure enough, from there, the black diamond earring came rolling out!)

The letter took another turn.

(The case was simple.
The earring stolen by Your Excellency’s nephew was swiftly received by the cattle handler, who concealed it within the bull’s left ear.

However, I did not think so; though they had indeed stolen the earring, since Your Excellency would pursue them afterward and they found themselves at a loss for a hiding place, I concluded that in desperation, they had mixed it into the fodder and fed it to the bull.
Therefore, I had inquired about the fodder before anything else.
Then, when that cattle handler stated they had not provided fodder but had given water, I at once concluded they had put the earring into said water and made it drink, thus I split open its belly.

Be that as it may, the reason I came to realize that the earring must be somewhere within the bull was that no sooner had I entered the cattle shed than the bull charged at me. Even for a fighting bull, it would not charge at people so readily without reason. That is when I realized.

"Ah, so the Saracen's Earring has been swallowed by this bull. It must have charged at people like this because it had swallowed something indigestible and was feeling unwell."

However, the earring was not in its stomach but rather in its ear—a place with keener nerves than the stomach.

The letter took three turns here and bade farewell to the Minister of Imperial Household.

(Your Excellency, Minister of Imperial Household, I shall now take my leave; however, upon parting, I wish to bring one more grave matter to your attention.) To put it plainly—this concerns Your Excellency’s nephew no longer being in this world—as Your Excellency must have witnessed, there was one youthful bullfighter who was gored by the palace bull’s horns and died on the spot; that deceased young bullfighter was none other than Your Excellency’s nephew.

Nevertheless, though it must seem perplexing to Your Excellency why your nephew would deliberately disguise himself to enter the bullring and meet his death by goring, this occurred because I posed a riddle to your nephew. “Chamberlain!” I first invited your nephew to a secluded spot. “Even if you cast pearls before swine, the swine would show no delight! Even if they had made the bull swallow the earring, it would have spat it out anyway.” This is what I said.

As his passions raged more fiercely than others', so too did his intellect surpass them; it appeared he had deduced everything from my words alone, for your nephew too took up the crimson cape borne by bullfighters. Thus did he meet his end in a manner most Spanish—resplendently. As for that cattle handler, the other conspirator—nay, the principal culprit—I must inform you he is presumably under strict confinement by the Metropolitan Police Department.

Your Excellency, I shall now take my leave.
As for the reward due to me, I respectfully decline.
This case was an extremely bungled and distasteful matter for me.
Though I maintain it was unavoidable, the loss of Your Excellency’s nephew remains undeniably my failure.

"If Your Excellency still insists that I accept the reward, please have it delivered to the 'Six Young Pirates' inn where I was staying."
What on earth they mistook me for—upon returning yesterday from the detached palace, they proclaimed me the Crown Prince of Serbia and treated me with great hospitality…)