The Ring of Earth - Chris Bradford [11]
‘Come,’ said Soke as Hanzo raced on ahead. ‘You’ll need food and a good night’s rest before I introduce you to Shonin.’
The sun was dropping behind the mountains by the time they reached Soke’s home, two paddy fields from the main farmhouse. Surrounded by a small fenced enclosure, it was a modest affair constructed of roughly hewn timber beams and white clay walls. Soke opened the sturdy door that served as its only entrance and ushered Jack through.
Inside, the house was more like a covered yard than a room. Basic and functional, with a compacted earth floor, the entrance area appeared to serve as both kitchen and storeroom. By the wall to Jack’s left was a clay furnace oven, housing two circular pots with domed lids. Next to the stove stood a wooden sink, a large jug full to the brim with water and two barrels that Jack guessed contained food. Resting against the opposite wall was a collection of farm implements: a hoe, four wooden flails and some very sharp-looking sickles. The only other items were a grappling hook attached to a length of rope, a broom and a basket for collecting firewood.
‘My apologies for the mess,’ said Soke. ‘I’ve been meaning to clear up the doma for a while.’
‘It looks fine to me,’ replied Jack, who even after three years was still amazed at the cleanliness of Japan compared to England.
‘That’s kind of you to say, but it’s far more pleasant through here,’ said Soke, leading Jack into the other half of the house.
This area, overlooking the doma, had a raised wooden floor and was divided into four rooms by sliding shoji screens.
Slipping off his sandals, Jack stepped up to join Soke in the first room. Most of the floor was matted, though the tatami felt much coarser and thinner than the ones at Akiko’s mother’s house. But that was to be expected. A farmer certainly couldn’t afford the same quality as a samurai. In the centre of the room was a sunken square hearth, above which was suspended a long iron pot hook with a lever shaped like a large fish.
‘Hanzo will get the fire going,’ said Soke. ‘Then I can brew us some tea.’
A moment later, the boy entered with some kindling and a smouldering piece of charcoal he’d removed from the oven. Soke knelt beside the hearth and invited Jack to do the same. ‘Make yourself comfortable. You’re holding on to that bag like your life depended upon it!’
Jack warily put his pack to one side, along with his swords, and sat down. He expected the old man to question him further, but Soke seemed more interested in preparing the tea than discovering the contents of his pack.
With the fire built, Hanzo scurried off to the doma again, while his grandfather gently fanned the flames and added logs from a neat pile next to the hearth.
‘Do you like sencha?’ asked Soke.
Jack nodded. When Akiko had first introduced him to the drink, he hadn’t enjoyed its bitter grassy flavour. But over the years he’d become used to it and was now quite fond of green tea.
Hanzo returned, struggling with a heavy iron kettle full of water. Jack helped him place it on the pot hook. Soke added some tea leaves, then used the fish lever to lower the kettle into the fire.
‘Tell me, Jack, where are you headed?’
‘Nagasaki. It’s where all foreigners have been banished to.’
Soke nodded his head in sympathy. ‘Such a long journey isn’t undertaken lightly. But you’ve done the hardest part – the first step. And where have you travelled from?’
Jack saw no reason not to tell the old man. ‘Toba.’
‘That’s on the Ise coast. Why did you not go by sea?’
‘No one was willing to take me. Any person found helping or hiding a foreigner could be punished … Soke-san, I –’
The old man held up his hand.