The Ring of Earth - Chris Bradford [55]
A steady flow of traffic could be seen passing in and out of the main gate. Some merchants had packhorses, but most were on foot, bearing their loads upon their backs. Two men, sweating in the heat, shouldered a fancy palanquin and people stepped aside to allow the important dignitary to pass. Then a young man came running out of town, leaving a trail of dust in his wake as he sprinted down the road.
‘He’s in a hurry,’ Jack commented.
‘Hikyaku,’ muttered Zenjubo.
Jack looked to Tenzen for an explanation.
‘We call them “Flying Feet”. He’s a courier. Merchants rely on them for business. But judging by his speed, he’s delivering a message for the daimyo.’
Jack was intrigued. Maybe he could hire one of these Flying Feet to contact Akiko. The problem would be finding one he could trust.
Zenjubo waited for a lull in activity before leaving the cover of the forest. Walking slowly in a line, their shakuhachi in their hands, the four of them merged in with the traffic and approached the main gate.
Through the grille of his basket, Jack saw a number of samurai guards on duty. They were randomly checking the travel permits of merchants entering the town. Only now did it strike Jack just how risky this mission was. If he was discovered, all his ninja training would be for nothing. Jack felt a desperate urge to turn back while he could.
‘Just remember,’ hissed Miyuki from behind, ‘I’ll be watching your every move.’
Jack held his breath as they levelled with the guards, but the samurai allowed the four of them to pass through unopposed. Maybe this was going to work, after all.
Zenjubo led them up the main street. The wooden buildings on either side were a mix of shops, inns, houses and shrines. Various banners and lanterns proclaimed their wares and services. A ball of cedar branches hung outside one establishment, indicating saké for sale. The smells of cooking wafted through the air from countless food stalls. Jack spotted an old woman crouched beside a brazier, grilling pieces of chicken. Smiling, he remembered how his old friend Saburo had loved yakitori.
Zenjubo and Tenzen parted company with them in the market square. Miyuki found a spot beside a shrine, put down a small wooden bowl and began to play her flute. For the most part people ignored her, but then an old man tottered by and dropped in a copper coin.
While she was performing, Jack took the opportunity to gather the information they required. Glancing around, he was surprised at how busy the town was. Despite being in the middle of the Iga mountains, it was apparent that a large number of samurai had recently arrived. All the inns had signs declaring they were full and the main street was thronged with people, many carrying katana and wakizashi. There could be no doubt that daimyo Akechi was raising a second battalion.
Miyuki stopped playing. Bending down, she picked up her alms bowl.
‘Only two coins and a rotten daikon,’ she complained, holding up the browning radish in disgust. ‘Let’s see if you do any better, while I look around.’
Putting down his own begging bowl, Jack wet his lips and blew into the shakuhachi. The soulful languid notes of ‘Hifumi hachi gaeshi’ floated over the hustle and bustle of the crowd.
Every so often a passer-by would drop a coin into his bowl.
As he reached the end of the piece, Miyuki stated, ‘Time to visit the temple.’
Jack fished out his offerings. ‘Five coins! And a bag of rice!’
‘They were paying you to stop!’ she muttered.
Walking through the town, they made note of what they saw, pausing to play and beg for alms at particular points of interest. They performed near the stables, counting at least two regiments’ worth of horses and discovering a warehouse full of rice sacks. Even though they were on a mission, their competitive spirit simmered away as they compared takings for each performance.
After surveying the stables, they paid their respects at the temple in order not to arouse suspicion. Several other