The Ring of Earth - Chris Bradford [10]
Jumping to his feet, the samurai angrily brushed the dirt off his uniform. Shamed by his apparent clumsiness, he ignored Soke and waved his soldiers on.
‘I’ll get this gaijin samurai if it’s the last thing I do!’
Once the troop had left the clearing, Soke beckoned Jack and Hanzo down.
‘They’ll be back if that tracker knows what he’s doing,’ said Soke. ‘And there are three more patrols out looking for you.’
Though surprised at the man’s knowledge, Jack was more than willing to believe him.
‘Are you saying I’ve got no chance of escape?’
‘Every path has its puddle. You just have to learn how to avoid them.’
‘But how can I, when I don’t know where they are?’
‘Thankfully, someone else does. Come, we’ll guide you through the mountains.’
‘But, Grandfather,’ interrupted Hanzo, ‘what will Shonin say?’
‘You forget, Hanzo, I’m Soke.’
Judging by Hanzo’s respectful tone, this Shonin was clearly important and Jack wondered who he was.
‘Besides,’ continued Soke, ‘our village is the only place your tengu will be safe. And if we look after him, perhaps he’ll teach you the Art of the Sword in return.’
Realizing the old man and the boy were his best chance of escape, Jack nodded his agreement. Hanzo grinned, barely able to contain his excitement.
‘But we can’t let you know where the village is,’ added Soke, producing a strip of cloth from the folds of his kimono.
Jack looked doubtfully at the grandfather. Was this some cunning trick? A means of leading him to the Shogun, so they could claim the reward?
‘It’s a matter of trust,’ explained Soke.
Against his better judgement, Jack let the old man blindfold him.
6
THE VILLAGE
Jack, guided by Hanzo, had no idea where he was going. Despite the sensitivity training Sensei Kano, his blind bōjutsu master, had once taught him, their route twisted and turned so much that Jack could no longer tell if they were walking north, south, east or west. For most of the morning, he gauged they were headed uphill. A number of times, Soke made them hide in bushes and climb trees until one of the samurai search parties passed by.
Stopping for lunch on a ridge, they feasted on mulberries, nuts and mushrooms, together with some of Jack’s dried rice.
‘Where did all this food come from?’ said Jack, biting into an especially juicy mulberry. He couldn’t remember either of them carrying a bag.
‘The woods and fields are our kitchen,’ replied Hanzo proudly.
‘I’m teaching the boy survival skills,’ explained Soke. ‘How to cook rice under a fire, recognize which berries are poisonous and trap animals.’
‘But I thought it would be more fun to trap a man!’ interrupted Hanzo. ‘Never thought I’d capture a tengu, though.’
‘I’m not a tengu,’ stated Jack for the umpteenth time. He turned to Soke. ‘Must I still wear this blindfold?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ replied the old man. ‘Our village’s location has to remain secret.’
‘But why?’
‘Our very seclusion means we’ve avoided most of the conflicts that have blighted the rest of Japan. We wish to keep it that way. Now we must press on if we’re to get there before nightfall.’
Following a stream into a valley, they scaled the opposite side. Here they remained high for a while, but Jack was tiring, dead on his feet from his sleepless night suspended in the tree.
‘Not much further now,’ promised Soke who, despite his age, showed no signs of slowing.
But it was almost sunset before they finally came to a halt.
‘Welcome to our village,’ announced Soke, removing Jack’s blindfold.
Jack blinked and rubbed his eyes. On the tree-lined ridge, where he stood, was a simple Buddhist temple with a small graveyard and Shinto shrine. This overlooked a lush, hidden valley. Cradled in its bowl was a community of well-maintained thatched buildings. These were dotted within a maze of terraced paddy fields that fanned out like a patchwork quilt to fill the valley basin.
A large wooden farmhouse dominated the village’s centre. Built upon a raised earthen bank and surrounded by a bamboo fence and