The Ring of Earth Page 17

‘Hand it over,’ growled a man, ‘and we’ll let you live.’

  Coming to a rocky outcrop, Jack looked down to see three men on a forest path surrounding a fourth younger man. Judging by their appearance – shabby kimono, unkempt beards, wooden clubs and knives in their hands – the three men weren’t samurai. Or ninja. They were bandits.

  Their victim was better dressed, in a plain travelling kimono and wooden sandals. A merchant or craftsman, Jack guessed. The young man held out a pouch with a trembling hand and threw it to the middle bandit, a brawny, hard-faced man with a flattened nose.

  ‘Is that all?’ the bandit demanded, feeling the weight of the coins in his hand.

  The victim mutely nodded his head.

  The bandit snorted his disgust. ‘Kill him.’

  ‘But you said you wouldn’t,’ cried the man.

  ‘I lied.’

  The two other bandits, grinning maliciously, converged on their victim. One wielded a wooden club; the other had a rusty knife.

  Jack knew the next few seconds would decide the poor man’s fate. He couldn’t stand by and allow him to be murdered. Quickly pulling a shuriken from a pouch on his waist, he flicked it at the bandit with the club. Blood spurting from his wrist, the man dropped his weapon and screamed. Unseen, Jack leapt from the rock, landing between the second bandit and his victim.

  Blocking the knife attack, Jack grabbed hold of the bandit’s arm, twisted it and threw him to the ground. There was a sharp crack as the man’s arm broke, leaving him writhing in agony.

  ‘Oi, ninja! Try this for size.’

  Jack looked round just in time to see a massive cudgel being swung towards his head. Ducking, he simultaneously elbowed the leader in the stomach, but the man hardly flinched. As the bandit prepared for another bone-breaking swing, Jack drove in with Demon Horn Fist, sending him colliding into a tree and the cudgel flying from the leader’s grasp.

  ‘You don’t scare me, ninja,’ the bandit wheezed, now drawing a vicious knife from his belt. Then he stopped in his tracks as if he’d seen a ghost.

  ‘Blue eyes?’ he muttered, and began to edge fearfully away. ‘You’re no ninja. You’re a demon!’

  Turning on his heels, the leader fled down the path, his two companions following close behind.

  ‘P-p-please don’t kill me,’ stuttered the young man, who’d fallen to his knees, his face ashen with fear at the strange sight of a ninja with blue eyes.

  Jack retrieved the purse the bandit had dropped in his haste.

  ‘Take it! Take it all!’ the man pleaded.

  ‘It’s yours,’ replied Jack, placing the purse into the man’s begging hands. ‘And you’re free to go.’

  ‘Th-th-thank you,’ stuttered the man in astonishment. He bowed his head to the ground. ‘It’s my father’s takings from Maruyama.’

  ‘Your father’s a merchant?’

  ‘Yes, he sells fans,’ the young man replied, warily getting to his feet.

  ‘Tell me, where are you headed?’

  ‘Shono … But I left late and decided to take a short cut to the post station … Stupid idea. I should have listened to my father …’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘Kameyama … Tsu … Toba … Why?’

  Jack smiled behind his hood. Here was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

  ‘I need a favour,’ said Jack, deciding to trust his instincts with the man.

  ‘My life is yours to command,’ replied the merchant’s son, bowing solemnly.

  Jack reached into the folds of his shozoku jacket and removed the note. ‘Can you deliver this message to Date Akiko in Toba?’

  Taking the folded slip of rice paper, the merchant bowed again. ‘It would be an honour to be of service.’

  ‘This message is very important,’ Jack insisted. ‘It has to be given to Akiko and no one else.’

  ‘I’ll guard it with my life,’ promised the merchant.

  Jack watched the young man depart and prayed the message would reach its intended destination.

  41

  WAITING

  As dawn broke, Jack sat beside the temple overlooking the valley. The sun, peeking above the mountains, welcomed a new day and the village awoke to the sound of a cockerel crowing. Kajiya’s forge burst into life and a few farmers emerged from their homes, stretching themselves in readiness for the hard work ahead.

  Jack waited, as he’d done every day for the past few weeks. In that time, the rice had turned from a vibrant green into a light brown, the fields had been drained and the seed heads had slowly drooped with the weight of their crop. They now shone like gold in the early morning sunshine.

  Sighing, Jack reconciled himself to the fact that Akiko wasn’t coming. Maybe she hadn’t got his message, or hadn’t been able to work out the code, or else couldn’t follow his directions to the temple. If she didn’t appear in the next few days, Jack decided he would have to make the journey himself to tell her about Hanzo. He couldn’t leave Japan now without imparting this knowledge, which would mean so much to his closest friend. Although he didn’t like the idea of having to retrace his steps and pass through Shono again, there was no alternative.

  ‘You’ve been visiting the Buddha a lot recently.’

  Jack looked up and was glad to see Miyuki. He’d been concerned it might be Shiro again, the boy having appeared unexpectedly on several other occasions. Each time he’d interrogated Jack about the samurai and their way of life. Try as he might, Jack didn’t warm to Shiro. But apparently the boy hadn’t mentioned to Momochi any suspicions regarding the note. And for that Jack was thankful.

  Miyuki was dressed in a simple white yukata and held in her hands a round straw hat with a wide brim for keeping the sun off. Clearly, she wasn’t training today and would be working in the fields like everyone else.

  ‘I’ve been praying for my sister,’ replied Jack.

  This was true, since each day he spent waiting for Akiko was another day Jess had to survive. He also took the time to call upon the spirits of his mother and father for their support in the journey ahead.

  Miyuki nodded sympathetically and sat down next to him. ‘I pay my respects to my family here too,’ she revealed.

  ‘Is this where they’re buried?’ asked Jack, glancing over at the small graveyard.

  ‘No, but I put up a grave marker in honour of them.’

  It was now Jack’s turn to nod sympathetically.

  They both lapsed into silence and gazed pensively across the valley.

  ‘I miss … my family,’ whispered Miyuki, her voice small and choking with emotion.

  Jack realized, despite the tough exterior she presented, Miyuki was vulnerable inside. He recognized the lonely emptiness she felt in her life. ‘I miss my parents too,’ he admitted.

  Miyuki looked at him, her eyes wet with tears.

  ‘At least your father’s killer is dead. You’ve had revenge. I’ve had nothing,’ she said, clenching her fists in her lap. ‘But one day I’ll punish the samurai for what they did.’

  Jack saw the flame of hatred reignite in her eyes. It wasn’t directed at him this time, but he knew the damage it could do to a person.

  ‘Revenge doesn’t solve anything. It’ll eat away at you until there’s nothing left,’ said Jack, remembering his Zen master’s words the time he’d announced his intention to avenge his father. ‘I didn’t kill Dragon Eye. My friend honourably sacrificed his life to do that. But Dragon Eye’s death brought me no comfort. I still grieve for my father every single day. You should focus on living, not killing.’

  ‘But how can I? When every night I go to sleep, I see my mother dying before my eyes …’ Miyuki once again lapsed into silence. She trembled as if wanting to speak, but was unable to.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ Jack suggested, understanding Miyuki desperately needed to talk through her grief. Possibly she’d never spoken of it to the others, afraid they might think she was weak and unworthy of being a ninja.

 
; Eventually she plucked up the courage.

  ‘I was eight at the time. It was summer. Jun, my brother, was playing outside with my father. I was in the house, helping my mother with the chores. The samurai attacked without warning. They rampaged through our village. Killing … killing everyone …’ Miyuki gave a shuddering breath as she relived her nightmare. ‘My father was shouting for us to run. My mother, hearing him shriek in pain, quickly pushed me under the floorboards. Jun ran in, screaming. My mother tried to shield his little body, but the samurai just kicked her away and cut him down. He was only five! What harm could he do them?’

  Miyuki began to sob. ‘My mother collapsed to the floor where I lay hidden. I think she did it on purpose, to stop the samurai discovering me. She wasn’t even trying to fight back, but the samurai still killed her. I saw the sword go in!’

  Jack felt compelled to comfort Miyuki. He too had seen his father run through with a sword. The horrifying memory was burnt into his soul. Jack put an arm tenderly round Miyuki. She stiffened, then accepted his kindness, crying on his shoulder.

  ‘Your mother sounds very brave,’ said Jack. ‘Like my father, she sacrificed her life so you could live on. That’s why you must let go of these thoughts of revenge. Your mother wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life consumed with hatred.’

  ‘But that samurai actually stayed to watch her die! I’ll never forget the glee on his face. And all the time, my mother’s blood was dripping on to me!’

  Jack could think of nothing to say that would comfort her. He just let her cry, tears long overdue streaming down her cheeks. Eventually, she became self-conscious of Jack’s arm round her. Sitting up, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  ‘It’s an early harvest this year,’ she announced, standing up. ‘We should go and help bring it in.’

  Nodding, Jack got to his feet.

  ‘You’ll need a hat, by the way,’ said Miyuki, offering him the one in her hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Jack, and put it on. ‘It’s a perfect fit.’

  42

  HARVEST

  The heat stretched the day into an endless toil. Sweat poured off Jack and he was glad for Miyuki’s hat. Though the work was arduous, Jack also found it satisfying. They worked in teams, bent over the crops, sickles in hand. The blades, glinting in the sun, swooped like silver swallows through the paddy fields. Some of the villagers sang while they worked, and a real sense of community spirit bound them all to their task. Every hour produced more and more sheaves of rice ready for threshing.

  Tenzen had shown Jack how to cut the rice at its roots and tie the stalks into bundles. Then they laid them in rows for Hanzo and the other children to carry away. As midday approached, Tenzen suggested they take a break beneath the shade of a tree.

  ‘Any further news on daimyo Akechi’s plans?’ asked Jack, offering round his water gourd. He was concerned that the samurai lord would attack before Akiko managed to get to the village.

  Tenzen gratefully took some water before passing it on to Shiro and Miyuki. ‘The last intelligence we received was that daimyo Akechi had recruited enough samurai and was impatient to begin his offensive. But without knowledge of our village’s location or the Shogun’s support, his generals were advising against a blanket invasion. They don’t want him to make the same mistake as General Nobunaga’s son.’

  ‘Which was?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Attacking several villages at once,’ explained Tenzen. ‘By dividing his forces, his troops were too widespread. Our ninja used this to their advantage and decimated the invading samurai.’

  ‘They were put into such a panic,’ Miyuki added, ‘some even turned on each other by mistake.’ With a barely concealed smile, she returned the water gourd to Jack.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Tenzen continued, ‘his humiliating defeat brought the wrath of Oda Nobunaga upon the ninja clans.’

  The terrible consequence for the shinobi of that battle was left unsaid, but it hung heavy in the air.

  ‘The good news is that the longer Akechi deliberates, the greater the chance our emissaries have of influencing the Edo court and persuading the Shogun to intervene. Whatever happens, we have to get the harvest in first.’

  With that thought, Tenzen led them back to work.

  ‘Come on, Shiro!’ called Tenzen. ‘We’ll get it done a lot quicker if you put your back into it too.’

  Shiro wearily got to his feet, grumbling, ‘A ninja’s work is never done!’

  Earlier that day, Jack had discovered the harvest was a time of ritual celebration. The head of each family had gone into the fields and made offerings to a stone shrine in honour of Ta-no-kami, the god of the rice fields. After presenting saké, flowers and other small gifts, the men had pulled out three plants each with fine heads of rice.

  That evening, Jack sat with Soke and Hanzo, and they enjoyed a simple but solemn meal together. The rice Soke had selected was laid out upon a small shelf that acted as the farmhouse’s kami shrine. Everyone washed their hands and Soke led them in prayer for a good harvest. Then in reverential silence he presented himself, Hanzo and Jack with a few grains. In turn, they tasted the rice.

  A satisfied grin appeared on Soke’s face. ‘The rice has grown well again this year,’ he announced.

  That night Jack went to bed content, but utterly exhausted. However, by the afternoon of the third day, Jack really knew what it meant to be tired. His muscles were knotted and aching, and the sapping heat had drained his strength. He’d thought being a rigging monkey on-board the Alexandria had been tough work, but that was nothing compared to the backbreaking labour of a rice harvest.

  Matters weren’t helped by the weather. There wasn’t even a breeze to alleviate the unrelenting heat of the sun. And the ground, baked hard, was now cracking into a dusty-brown mosaic.

  Jack took a water break, resting under the feeble shade of a tree. Shiro was already there, apparently dozing.

  ‘I warned you your arms would drop off,’ Shiro muttered from beneath his straw hat. ‘You should conserve your energy. Never know when you might need it.’

  Miyuki joined them.

  ‘It’s so hot today,’ she gasped, wiping her brow.

  Jack nodded, taking a long swig from his water gourd. As he did so, he noticed a column of hazy smoke rising from the ridge into the cloudless blue sky. ‘Too hot,’ he said. ‘Looks like a forest fire’s started.’

  Miyuki squinted in the direction Jack was gazing.

  ‘That’s no fire. It’s a smoke beacon!’ she said, her eyes widening in alarm. ‘We’re under attack!’

  43

  INVASION

  ‘How did they find us?’ Miyuki exclaimed as the alarm was raised throughout the village.

  ‘Who knows?’ said Shiro, glancing sideways at Jack.

  Jack felt a cold slither of dread run through him. It can’t have been his fault. Even if daimyo Akechi had somehow got his hands on the note, the message had been carefully coded.

  ‘All that matters is they have,’ stated Tenzen as he kicked away at a dam and allowed the paddy fields to flood again.

  ‘But why now?’ asked Miyuki. ‘When we’re in harvest?’

  ‘That’s exactly why. Our guard is down. We’re tired. Akechi’s been waiting for this moment.’

  A battalion of armoured samurai materialized from the forest to stand upon the ridge in one unbroken line. Raising their swords aloft, the countless blades catching the blazing sun, they gave an almighty battle cry. It echoed through the valley.

  This was answered by another.

  Jack was almost stopped in his tracks at the sight of a second battalion marching up the valley road, the column stretching into the distance like an immense dragon’s tail.

  ‘They certainly haven’t come to negotiate a surrender,’ said Tenzen. ‘This’ll be a fight to the death. Gather your weapons. My father will need us all in the village square.’

  Splitting from the others, Jack ran to Soke’s farmhou
se. The first wave of troops had already begun to descend the slopes. But the Ring of Earth was proving an effective defence. The steep valley sides and lack of paths hampered their advance. Some samurai were even falling over themselves, their armour hindering them.

  Jack flung open the door to the doma. In the hearth room, Soke had raised a section of the floorboards, beneath which Jack could see a whole host of hidden weapons – swords, knives, shuriken, shuko claws, chains, and even a small bow and quiver of arrows. The entire time Jack had been living in the house, he’d had no idea this compartment existed. The shock on his face must have been apparent.

  ‘Although I hope for the best,’ said Soke, fishing out a large katana, ‘I’ve always prepared for the worst.’

  He offered the weapon to Jack, unsheathing the blade to reveal a jagged, saw-like edge. ‘It’s a shikoro-ken,’ he explained. ‘A Sword of Destruction.’

  Jack tried not to imagine the damage such a weapon could do.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied, handing it back, ‘but I’d prefer my own swords.’

  Soke nodded. ‘Better the devil you know.’ He put the shikoro-ken together with the other weapons he was collecting.

  Hanzo appeared, a bag in his hand, and began to stuff as many shuriken as he could into it. He glanced up at Jack with fearful yet determined eyes.

  ‘Are they in the village?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Jack, hoping his voice didn’t give away the dread he felt.

  He squeezed the boy’s shoulder reassuringly and hurried past into the bedroom. Grabbing his katana and wakizashi, Jack slipped them firmly into the obi of his farming trousers. Even though he wasn’t dressed for combat, with his swords he felt ready to confront the samurai.

  His pack was stashed in the corner. All his possessions and, most importantly, the rutter. He couldn’t leave that behind. Snatching up the bag, he ran back into the hearth room. Soke and Hanzo were waiting for him at the doma entrance.

  ‘Hurry!’ urged the Grandmaster.