Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky (13 page)

‘We need to keep moving,’ said
Jack, getting back to his feet. He offered his hand. ‘Is Benkei the Great still
willing to be my guide?’

‘Of course,
nanban
!’
replied Benkei, grasping his hand in friendship. ‘You’ve got a boat to
catch.’

By late afternoon they reached a confluence
of two fast-flowing rivers. Their turbulent waters coursed across the final stretch of
the plateau and into the treelined gorge that formed the only break in the
caldera’s wall.

As the two of them made their way along a
dirt track towards the gorge, Benkei explained, ‘Legend says the god Takei-watatsu
saw his people starving and kicked this opening in the western wall to drain the mighty
lake inside. Since then, the Aso caldera has become the rice bowl of Kyushu.’

Looking at the perilous way ahead, Jack
asked, ‘Do you think this same god could stop the river so we can cross
it?’

Benkei laughed. ‘I don’t know
about that, but there’s a bridge a bit further down.’

Keeping to the trees to avoid being spotted,
they found the main track and followed it to the crossing point. As they drew closer,
Jack became aware of more and more foot traffic. The
majority were
farmers carrying their goods to market, along with a few travelling merchants and the
occasional wandering samurai. All of them were converging on a checkpoint beside the
bridge.

Ducking behind a bush, Jack and Benkei
considered their options. Jack counted at least eight guards patrolling the crossing, as
well as two officials checking travel documents.

‘It never used to be like this,’
said Benkei. ‘Now the Shogun’s in power, every traveller is under
suspicion.’

‘We’ll have to find another
place to cross,’ said Jack, realizing that to fight their way through would be
both foolhardy and dangerous.

‘There isn’t one, unless you
fancy your chances swimming the rapids,’ replied Benkei. ‘This is the
only
gap in the caldera wall. Otherwise, we’d be forced to climb
again and your old schoolfriend is bound to catch us up.’

‘But I can’t simply stroll
through like you,’ said Jack.

Benkei considered this for a moment, then,
grinning, pointed to a solitary farmer leading an ox and cart down the track.
‘We’ll hitch a ride across!’

The rickety wooden cart was piled high with
rice straw and baskets of fresh vegetables.

To hide is the best defence
,
thought Jack. That had been the Grandmaster Soke’s final piece of advice to him.
And this was the perfect opportunity to put that lesson into practice. He nodded his
agreement to Benkei’s plan.

As the farmer passed by, they darted out and
leapt on to the back of the cart. Hurriedly, they buried themselves beneath the bundles
of rice straw before anyone spotted them. Huddled
next to one another,
they tried not to cough in the musty dust-laden air.

The farmer trundled his cart up to the
checkpoint.

‘Halt!’ ordered a bridge
guard.

Hidden under the straw, Jack and Benkei
exchanged worried looks.

‘Travel permit,’ demanded the
official.

They heard the farmer pull out a piece of
paper.

‘I’ve permission to visit the
market in Ōzu,’ explained the farmer, his voice low and deferential.

‘I’ll be the judge of
that,’ snapped the official. ‘What are you selling?’

‘Straw, rice, vegetables –’

‘
Saké?
’ interrupted the
official.

‘No … no … not at
all.’

‘You realize it’s
illegal
for a farmer to sell rice wine.’

‘Of course,’ replied the farmer,
alarmed at the accusation.

But, despite his protests of innocence, the
official ordered, ‘Check the cart.’

22
 
 

Jack and Benkei held their breath as they
heard a pair of wooden sandals clunk across the bridge and approach the cart. A moment
later, the wicker baskets were noisily rummaged through. The search drew nearer and
Jack’s hand reached for his sword.

‘Just vegetables,’ said the
guard, his tone disappointed.

‘What about the straw bales?’
asked the official.

The steel tip of a spear suddenly appeared
in front of Jack and Benkei’s startled faces. It disappeared. Then it shot through
the straw to land between Jack’s legs. It withdrew and Jack gave a nervous swallow
at his very narrow escape. The guard thrust again. This time the spear struck
Benkei’s thigh. The blade cut deep, piercing skin and flesh. Benkei bit down hard
on his lip to stop himself from screaming.

As the samurai tugged on the shaft, Jack
snatched the bandanna from his head and wrapped it round the blade. If the samurai
removed his spear and saw blood, their presence would be instantly discovered. The
bandanna wiped the tip clean as it exited the wound. Several more jabs were made further
down the cart.

‘There’s nothing here but
straw,’ said the guard.

‘You’re clear to go then,’
declared the official irritably.

The farmer urged on his ox and the cart
bumped across the bridge.

Beneath the bales, Jack frantically tied the
bandanna round Benkei’s thigh to stem the flow. But blood still poured out of the
wound, soaking the straw and dripping between the rough wooden planks. Benkei’s
face had gone pale with shock. Jack tried to silently reassure him, but they both knew
the injury was serious.

The cart left the bridge and continued down
the gorge road. Jack pulled out the last bandage from his pack and tried to tend to the
wound. But, with every rut and rock jolting the cart, this proved impossible. Staunching
the bleeding as best he could, he whispered, ‘I’ll finish off the bandage as
soon as the farmer stops.’

Benkei nodded, grimacing each time the cart
juddered on its journey.

Eventually the farmer brought his ox to a
halt. Peering between the straw bales, Jack saw that they’d reached a small
village. The gorge had widened into a forested valley, the powerful river snaking away
across the plain. Dusk was not far off.

The farmer tethered his ox to a stable
pillar, then walked over and greeted the owner of the village’s sole inn.

‘Are you in need of new bedding
straw?’ asked the farmer, bowing humbly.

Smiling agreeably, the innkeeper invited the
farmer inside to discuss the sale.

‘We have to get off,’ Jack
whispered to Benkei. ‘Can you move?’

Benkei put on a brave face. ‘I’ll
hop if I have to.’

Parting the straw bales, Jack checked the
way was clear, then helped him down. With Benkei’s arm over his shoulder, Jack
carried him into the stable barn. Carefully lowering him into an empty stall, he began
dressing the wound. But it was apparent his friend had lost a great deal of blood. His
face was ghostly white, his breathing rapid and his skin cool to the touch. Jack
immediately set to work on the
Sha
healing ritual. But no sooner had he begun
than he heard the sound of horses’ hooves pounding down the road.

Forced to leave Benkei a moment, Jack peered
through a gap in the stable door. The horses were at the far end of the village. The
setting sun glinted off a golden helmet on the lead rider.

‘That must be the cart!’ yelled
Kazuki.

His Scorpion Gang rode over, dismounted and
began tearing the goods off it.

‘Stop! Stop!’ cried the farmer,
bursting out of the inn. ‘That’s all I own.’

Nobu shoved the man to the ground as the
rest of the Scorpion Gang continued unloading, trampling the straw in the dirt and
discarding the vegetables.

‘Look what I’ve found,’
said Hiroto, grinning in satisfaction. He held up Benkei’s supply bag that Jack
had forgotten in his haste.

‘And there’s
fresh
blood too,’ Goro added.

‘Someone must have wounded him,’
exclaimed Kazuki with evident glee. He began to scan the village. ‘He’s
bleeding badly, so he can’t have got far.’

‘How can you be certain it’s the
gaijin
?’ asked Raiden.

Kazuki shot him an annoyed look. ‘Who
else is going to hide in a cart? Spread out and look for blood trails.’

Jack rushed back to Benkei’s side. He
took his arm.

‘Leave me,
nanban
,’
murmured Benkei, his eyes sunken and dark. ‘I’m just … a
weed.’

Jack hauled him to his feet. ‘I
never
leave friends behind.’

Stumbling to the rear of the stables, Jack
kicked open the back door. Moving as fast as he could, he took a track up the slope into
the forest.

‘Where … are we
going?’ groaned Benkei, barely able to stand.

Jack honestly had no idea. They simply
needed to get away and find a place to hide. If they could last until nightfall, they
might have a chance. The track took them past a Shinto shrine, but it was too small to
offer them any refuge.

Back in the village, Jack heard Hiroto
shout, ‘The
gaijin
’s gone this way!’

They hobbled on in full knowledge that
Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang were hot on their trail. Like a baying pack of wolves, they
could be heard bursting from the stable and into the forest. Jack was now dragging
Benkei along the track, his friend almost a dead weight in his arms.

The shouts of pursuit were drawing ever
closer.

As Jack headed deeper into the forest, they
came to a junction of paths. One track ran alongside a high wall, but Jack
couldn’t see any way of clambering over it with the half-conscious Benkei. Their
only hope lay in the onset of dusk concealing their escape or Kazuki taking the wrong
path. But his Scorpion Gang were almost on top of them and darkness would likely come
too late.

Suddenly a gate opened in the wall, and a hand
beckoned Jack and Benkei inside.

‘This way!’ urged a voice.

Desperate and with little alternative, Jack
dived through the entrance. An old man, with a grandfatherly face and a full head of
shiny black hair, hurriedly escorted them through a garden and into the hall of the
secluded house.

‘Hide in here,’ instructed the
old man, sliding back a panel in the wall to reveal a secret alcove. ‘And
don’t make a sound.’

Trusting his and Benkei’s life to the
old man, Jack carried his friend into the recess. The panel slid shut with a click.
Almost immediately, Jack heard furious banging on the gate. After a pause, the old man
hollered, ‘Patience! My door isn’t a drum!’

The old man crunched down the gravel path
back to the gate. Jack strained to listen to what was happening, but the alcove dampened
the noise outside. He wondered who the old man was and why he’d come to their
rescue … 
if
indeed he had. They were now trapped inside a
stranger’s house, and for all Jack knew the old man was claiming the credit as
well as the reward for capturing them.

23
 
 

Without warning, the panel shot open.
Prepared to face a gloating Kazuki, Jack was surprised to discover the old man
alone.

‘They’re gone,’ he
declared.

Almost unable to believe their good fortune,
Jack’s sense of relief was cut short when Benkei slumped unconscious to the
floor.

‘Let’s tend to his wound, then
we can talk,’ said the old man.

He helped Jack carry Benkei into an adjacent
room and settle him on a
futon
. With great care, the old man cleansed and
re-dressed the spear wound, applying a potent-smelling paste. Reviving him with smelling
salts, he then gave Benkei a herbal concoction to drink. The medicine eased
Benkei’s pain and his shallow breathing soon turned to one of deep sleep.

With Benkei out of immediate danger, the old
man showed Jack through to the reception room of his house.

‘You must be hungry,’ said the
old man, disappearing into the kitchen.

While he waited in the reception room,
Jack’s eyes were drawn to a large scroll hanging upon the wall. Two black
kanji
characters were inked on the paper’s surface as if the
calligrapher had attacked it in a fit of fury. Raging and brimming with intense energy,
the scroll was one of only two pieces of decoration in the
tatami
-matted room –
the other being a single white lily displayed in an alcove.