The Ring of Earth - Chris Bradford [70]
Miyuki began to sob. ‘My mother collapsed to the floor where I lay hidden. I think she did it on purpose, to stop the samurai discovering me. She wasn’t even trying to fight back, but the samurai still killed her. I saw the sword go in!’
Jack felt compelled to comfort Miyuki. He too had seen his father run through with a sword. The horrifying memory was burnt into his soul. Jack put an arm tenderly round Miyuki. She stiffened, then accepted his kindness, crying on his shoulder.
‘Your mother sounds very brave,’ said Jack. ‘Like my father, she sacrificed her life so you could live on. That’s why you must let go of these thoughts of revenge. Your mother wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life consumed with hatred.’
‘But that samurai actually stayed to watch her die! I’ll never forget the glee on his face. And all the time, my mother’s blood was dripping on to me!’
Jack could think of nothing to say that would comfort her. He just let her cry, tears long overdue streaming down her cheeks. Eventually, she became self-conscious of Jack’s arm round her. Sitting up, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘It’s an early harvest this year,’ she announced, standing up. ‘We should go and help bring it in.’
Nodding, Jack got to his feet.
‘You’ll need a hat, by the way,’ said Miyuki, offering him the one in her hand.
‘Thank you,’ replied Jack, and put it on. ‘It’s a perfect fit.’
42
HARVEST
The heat stretched the day into an endless toil. Sweat poured off Jack and he was glad for Miyuki’s hat. Though the work was arduous, Jack also found it satisfying. They worked in teams, bent over the crops, sickles in hand. The blades, glinting in the sun, swooped like silver swallows through the paddy fields. Some of the villagers sang while they worked, and a real sense of community spirit bound them all to their task. Every hour produced more and more sheaves of rice ready for threshing.
Tenzen had shown Jack how to cut the rice at its roots and tie the stalks into bundles. Then they laid them in rows for Hanzo and the other children to carry away. As midday approached, Tenzen suggested they take a break beneath the shade of a tree.
‘Any further news on daimyo Akechi’s plans?’ asked Jack, offering round his water gourd. He was concerned that the samurai lord would attack before Akiko managed to get to the village.
Tenzen gratefully took some water before passing it on to Shiro and Miyuki. ‘The last intelligence we received was that daimyo Akechi had recruited enough samurai and was impatient to begin his offensive. But without knowledge of our village’s location or the Shogun’s support, his generals were advising against a blanket invasion. They don’t want him to make the same mistake as General Nobunaga’s son.’
‘Which was?’ asked Jack.
‘Attacking several villages at once,’ explained Tenzen. ‘By dividing his forces, his troops were too widespread. Our ninja used this to their advantage and decimated the invading samurai.’
‘They were put into such a panic,’ Miyuki added, ‘some even turned on each other by mistake.’ With a barely concealed smile, she returned the water gourd to Jack.
‘Unfortunately,’ Tenzen continued, ‘his humiliating defeat brought the wrath of Oda Nobunaga upon the ninja clans.’
The terrible consequence for the shinobi of that battle was left unsaid, but it hung heavy in the air.
‘The good news is that the longer Akechi deliberates, the greater the chance our emissaries have of influencing the Edo court and persuading the Shogun to intervene. Whatever happens, we have to get the harvest in first.’
With that thought, Tenzen led them back to work.
‘Come on, Shiro!’ called Tenzen. ‘We’ll get it done a lot quicker if you put your back into it too.’
Shiro wearily got to his feet, grumbling, ‘A ninja’s work is never done!’
Earlier that day, Jack had discovered