The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) (7 page)

‘No!’ The word came out a bit too forcefully, so Midori took a deep breath before continuing. She had to stay calm, had to convince them somehow. ‘That is, yes, my mother was a foreigner, but I didn’t adopt her faith. I follow my father’s teachings, nothing else.’

‘I think not. You have been observed.’ The man rustled some pieces of paper and peered at one. ‘It says here you have been heard praying to the Christian god and that you own a symbol which signifies your acceptance of this faith.’ He beckoned to someone next to him who held up a small gold cross on a chain. Midori blinked.

No, it can’t be!

‘This belongs to you,
neh
?’ Rat-face took it from his henchman and threw it at her contemptuously. With quick reflexes she caught the offending object, staring at it in disbelief and almost with loathing.
Such a small, pretty thing, but so dangerous. I should never have kept it.

‘I … it was my mother’s. She left it to me as a keepsake, but it means nothing to me other than that. I swear.’ Midori clenched her fists in frustration, slipping the offending item into a secret pocket inside her sleeve. How had they got hold of it? She’d been so sure it was well hidden, but she realised now that whoever had searched her basket must have unpicked the seam, then put the parcel back inside without the cross. She cursed inwardly; she should have made sure. But who had done such a thing and why? There must have been someone in Ichiro’s household spying on her, perhaps even one of her own servants.

‘I see you are proving difficult.’ The man nodded to himself, as if this was something he had already expected. ‘Well, we shall soon see if you change your tune. Tie her up and take her away.’ With a flick of the wrist, he dismissed her from his sight and the guard shoved her in the direction of two coarse-looking individuals.

‘No! I can prove it. I’ll sign a declaration, anything …’ Midori tried to protest further, but was cut off by a cuff across the cheek.

‘Let’s go.’ The taller of the two men dragged her away and she knew then that Ichiro had been right all along – no one would listen to her. No one would believe her.

She had lost.

Outside the main gate of the prison, Nico was wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses.
What on earth possessed me to offer to help?
Any sensible man would have boarded his ship, not become embroiled in some doomed rescue attempt because of a misguided sense of duty towards a woman he’d only met once.
Even if she is an outsider here like me.
He didn’t have any guarantees that Kumashiro wouldn’t just use him and leave him to his fate. After all, he barely knew the man.

Nico sighed.
Obviously I’m not sane in the least, but now the die is cast and I have to go through with it.

Following Kumashiro’s instructions, he had poured an entire keg of
sake
down the front of his jacket and drunk a few mouthfuls as well. The alcoholic fumes and cloying smell of the rice wine was making him feel nauseous, but he swallowed hard and tried to ignore it. Summoning up his best acting skills, he began to make his way along the street outside the prison. He weaved drunkenly from side to side and made sure he stumbled on anything big enough to trip over. He filled his lungs with air and began to sing a loud and raucous ditty, the only one he could remember the words to at the moment. Inwardly, he prayed.

The effect of his little charade was almost instantaneous, as Kumashiro had predicted. The gate was flung open and guards swarmed out of the prison compound as if they were under attack, surrounding him faster than he had thought possible. Swords were pointed at him, and he held up his hands in mock surrender and laughed out loud. Then he ended his song with a large belch and a hiccough.

‘What’s this?
Nani?
Are we having a parade?’ He swayed exaggeratedly on his feet, danced a little jig, then took a step backwards, almost tripping over his own feet.

A stream of Japanese words were fired at him by the man who appeared to be in charge. Although Nico understood the gist of it, he pretended ignorance and raised his
sake
bottle in a clumsy salute. ‘
Kampai!
’ He nodded at the man. ‘Bottoms up.’

More angry words followed, but Nico became engrossed in the fact that his bottle was now empty. He shook it repeatedly, as if to see whether there was anything left inside. ‘I want more!’ he bellowed. ‘
Mo ichi
,’ he repeated in Japanese, pointing at the bottle.

The head of the guard was now holding a whispered conversation with a fellow officer and Nico heard him muttering, ‘
Baka gai-jin
’ – stupid foreigner – several times, which he took to be a good sign. If they thought him a fool, they might consider him harmless. There was a lot of pointing towards the prison, as well as in the opposite direction towards the harbour, as if the two men couldn’t agree on a course of action. Nico ignored them and started on another ditty in a voice which was anything but melodious.

The muted conversation was interrupted by some newcomers on the scene, a group of men seemingly on their way home from a night on the town.

‘What’s going on here? Can we help?’ one of them shouted.

‘Yes, we’ll do our civic duty,’ called out another, or at least that’s what Nico had been told he’d say. Kumashiro had prepared him so that he’d know if things were going wrong. He pretended he wasn’t paying attention, but he listened closely and picked up the words which told him the conversation was going mostly as Kumashiro had planned.

‘It is none of your concern,’ the head guard replied haughtily, but his fellow officer whispered something in his ear which made him look at Nico again and mutter, ‘Hmm.’

‘Is the stupid foreigner bothering you?’ the civilian persisted. ‘Shall we throw him in the harbour for you?’ His companions erupted into loud guffaws, shouting agreement.

‘Yes, yes, let’s dunk him, serve him right. They are too full of themselves, these
gai-jin
.’

‘No, thank you. He is to be arrested. I have the matter in hand.’

Loud protests followed by the civilians. ‘No, surely not!’

‘He’s probably just lost, didn’t mean any harm.’

‘Yes, look at the state of him!’

‘We’ve all been there, a bit too much
sake
and before you know it …’

The second officer again whispered something to his superior and Nico wanted to shake the man. His nerves were stretched to breaking point; this was all taking too long and he wished himself a hundred miles away.

‘Very well, I will let him go,’ the man said at last. ‘Perhaps you could take him back to where he came from? I can spare you a small escort in case he becomes troublesome, but most of my men are needed here at this time.’

‘Back to where?’ The civilian peered at the guard, as if he didn’t quite understand.

‘To the island of Dejima, of course,’ the man snarled. ‘Take him to the gate there and tell the fool of a guard on duty that next time he lets one of these idiots on to the mainland, he’s a dead man.’

‘Oh, I see. Very well, we can do that, can’t we?’ The civilian looked at his friends, who all nodded. Two of them came forward and took Nico by the arms, dragging him along.

‘Come, it’s time for bed. Bed, understand?’

‘I want
sake
.’ Nico frowned petulantly and dragged his feet. ‘More
sake!
’

‘Yes, yes, we’ll find you some, now come along.’

The man waved away the guards, saying, ‘We’ll be all right, we don’t need help. It’s only one man, and a foreigner at that, we can manage.’

‘Very well. Thank you.’ Everyone bowed politely, including Nico whose head was unceremoniously pushed downwards by one of his new friends. The prison guards then began to disappear into their compound once again, like ants into a nest. The drunken party wended its way along the street and turned a corner. Out of sight of the prison they all began to run as if the hounds of hell were after them, and they didn’t stop until they reached the very darkest part of the harbour.

At first, sunk in misery, Midori barely resisted the pull on her arms and didn’t look to see where she was being taken. She assumed she was to be tortured, and it didn’t matter where that was to take place. All she could pray for now was that they would kill her by mistake. Better that than …

Her mind suddenly rebelled and a steely resolve spread through her, taking her by surprise.
No, I don’t want to die!
And she most certainly didn’t want to be tortured.
It’s up to me to do something about it.
Acting on impulse, she hurled herself at the guard on her right, taking him by surprise. She flung her arms round his neck from behind so the rope her wrists were tied with cut off his air supply. She crossed her hands behind his head, making the improvised garrotte squeeze him with all her might, her strength born of desperation and fear. Exhilaration flowed through her. She was in charge of her own destiny again and it felt good.

‘
Chikusho!’
She shouted out her father’s favourite curse.

She thanked the gods she was still wearing
hakama
and not hampered by a
kimono.
With her legs wrapped round his waist the man was hard put to stay upright, never mind shake her off. He struggled to pull her hands and the deadly rope away from his windpipe. In his frantic attempts to dislodge her, he swivelled from side to side. This protected Midori to a certain extent from attack by the other guard, who was trying to lunge at her. She kicked out several times, aiming for the second man’s most vulnerable parts, and had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt.

The guard whose back she was clinging to suddenly charged backwards and slammed her into the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs and dealing her head a heavy blow against a door post. She blinked to clear her vision and gasped for breath, but didn’t loosen her hold on the man’s throat. She could feel him panicking now, then weakening, and prayed he would die quickly.

As he fell to the ground at last, however, the other guard pounced on her and she wasn’t quite fast enough to escape his vice-like grip. His face was a contorted mask of fury only inches away from hers and he snarled, ‘Get up,’ and yanked her to her feet. She tried to resist, kicking out at him again, but this time he was ready for her. ‘Oh, no you don’t, you little
ama!
’

He grabbed her by the hair, while he kicked at the lifeless form of his comrade to check whether he was dead. ‘You’ll pay for this, just you wait.’ With a vicious yank, he lifted her up and threw her over one shoulder, knocking the air out of her again. Despair flooded Midori’s brain and all the fight went out of her as suddenly as it had come.
I have failed.

A small rustling noise to one side penetrated the fog of despondency. In the next instant the man carrying her lost his grip on her and she fell to the ground, jarring her shoulder painfully. Looking up, she saw him staring at her strangely, before making a gurgling noise. He slumped to the ground, but a black-clad figure caught him from behind to stop any sound. Midori’s breath stuck in her throat and she watched the attacker remove a knife from the guard’s thick neck. Her rescuer had eyes that Midori would have recognised anywhere.

‘Ichiro!’ She mouthed his name, but no sound escaped her.

‘Come,’ he breathed next to her ear. ‘There is not a moment to lose.’

Her heart, which had been doing somersaults, returned to its normal position, and she moved with lightning speed. She followed the hand that tugged her along and whipped her through a nearby door before anyone else came.

Several sombre shadows followed them. Others detached themselves from obscure corners of the courtyard to run in silent procession towards freedom. There was no time to look around as, with calm efficiency and speed, the shadowy men all climbed a blackened rope ladder slung over one wall. There didn’t seem to be any guards on duty here, but Midori didn’t have time to wonder about it. When her turn came, she climbed as fast as she could, helped by someone pulling her from above and hands pushing from below. At any moment she expected to hear a cry go up as her absence was noted, but nothing happened. There was the sound of people talking and laughing in the distance, but no alarm raised.

On the other side of the wall a palanquin waited, as dark as all her rescuers and barely visible. She almost dove into it head first and it started to move immediately. Someone running on either side pulled down the flaps to leave her in darkness. Jolted along like that, Midori should have felt sick, but she didn’t. Instead, jubilation swelled through her and she breathed in the slightly stale air inside the conveyance, which, compared to the odours of the prison, was like perfume to her senses.

Ichiro had rescued her and she would be forever grateful to him.

By the time she was allowed out of the palanquin her brother was waiting near the shore, dressed in clothing identical to that worn by his men. They all blended into their surroundings and only his voice gave away his exact position. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, an anxious note in his voice which she had seldom heard.

‘No, I just feel indescribably dirty.’ She felt for his hands in the darkness and gripped them tight once she found them. ‘I can’t thank you enough. It was … You have no idea what … They were just about to …’

‘I know. Don’t think of it now, it’s over. You did very well to kill one man, it helped us to rescue you more quickly. There is very little time, we must make haste out to the ship. The captain awaits us. And remember, don’t show yourself until well after the ship has left in case there are other vessels around.’

‘I promise. But Ichiro, you must take care, too. There is a traitor in our midst.’ She told him quickly about the cross and Ichiro swore when she brought it out of her sleeve to show him.

‘I knew it. Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of this, never fear.’

Just at that moment, the moon came out and Midori caught sight of a pale face which stuck out briefly from behind a nearby tree, then disappeared almost as quickly. It happened so fast, at first she wasn’t sure she had really seen anything. Then a memory flashed through her brain and she suddenly knew without a doubt who the traitor was. Fury threatened to choke her, but she quelled it and instead pretended to stumble. When Ichiro caught her, she whispered to him urgently.

Ichiro set off towards the tree straight away and whoever had been hiding behind it burst out of the cover and ran for his life, thereby proving his guilt. The other men had by now realised something was going on, and followed their master, converging on the fleeing individual from different angles. The traitor didn’t stand a chance and, in the end, he was lucky to end his life swiftly with a knife between his shoulder blades. It was far too lenient a fate for such as him.

Midori waited by the shore and when Ichiro returned, panting slightly, she asked, ‘Was I right?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, Satoshi is dead. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed him capable of such treachery. That will teach me not to trust so easily in future. Thank you, you have no doubt saved me a lot of aggravation.’

‘I’m glad.’

It was time to go. She was led down to the shore, where a tiny rowing boat waited. Ichiro took her hand to steady her, then jumped in swiftly behind her.

‘Are you sure you should come?’ Midori whispered.

‘Yes, I want to see you settled.’

‘But it’s too dangerous. Someone might see you.’

‘If they do, they’ll be dead soon after.’ He nodded towards the shore, where dark shadows moved into position behind trees and boulders. If anyone else had followed them, they would be dealt with ruthlessly.

To Midori’s surprise they all bowed low to her as a gesture of farewell. She understood that they were honouring her, the
daimyo
’s
gai-jin
sister, and this was totally unexpected. She was deeply touched and, with equal respect, bowed back. She owed them her life.

The enormous ship lay anchored in the middle of the bay and, as they rowed out across the dark water, it rose before them until Midori felt completely dwarfed. It was moving slowly up and down with the almost non-existent waves. For a moment Midori felt like turning round and running as fast as she could, away from this hulking monster, but she took a deep breath and composed herself. No matter how terrifying her journey would be, surely it couldn’t be worse than what she had just escaped from?