The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [17]
‘Those are my swords!’ exclaimed Jack.
The cooper stared at Jack in amused disbelief.
‘Not any more,’ he snorted, now curious about Ronin’s peasant boy who laid claim to such prestigious weapons.
Jack knelt down beside the body to avoid his enquiring gaze.
‘Do you recognize him?’ asked Ronin.
Jack studied the face – the high eyebrows, the flattened nose, the jutting jaw – but nothing came back to him and he shook his head.
Stroking his beard pensively, Ronin peered down at the man. ‘He looks vaguely familiar …’ Crouching beside Jack, he inspected the man’s blue kimono. ‘But he hasn’t any identifying kamon. We can’t be certain he’s the one responsible –’
‘Yes, I can,’ Jack interrupted, spotting a star-shaped tear on the man’s collar. ‘He’s wearing one of my kimono! I remember snagging it on an overhanging branch and pulling loose the stitching, just like that.’ His voice dropped to a whisper that only Ronin could hear. ‘I was also given blue kimono without crests, so I couldn’t be identified as a member of any family who fought against the Shogun.’
‘Such a shame the kimono’s slashed and stained with blood,’ said Ronin, raising his voice as he noticed the cooper edging closer to eavesdrop. Reaching down, he pulled off the corpse’s straw sandals and handed them to Jack. ‘But he won’t be needing these any more.’
Jack stood up, turning to keep his face hidden from the barrelmaker, and slipped on the dead man’s zori. A ghostly shiver ran up his spine, but his feet were grateful nonetheless for the comfort and protection.
‘Well, you’ve found your culprit,’ declared Ronin, ‘and he’s certainly got his comeuppance.’ The samurai examined the man’s wound, running his finger along the diagonal cut in his chest. ‘Whoever his opponent was, he’s a highly skilled swordsman. This is a perfect kesagiri attack.’
The cooper, his brow creased in suspicion, said, ‘Who is this boy –’
‘Tell me, who paid for the coffin?’ demanded Ronin, cutting off the man’s question.
‘One of his two so-called friends,’ the cooper replied, patting his handiwork proudly. ‘They left straight after – not even bothering to wait for the funeral. Funny, isn’t it? How the person who pays for the coffin never wants it and the one who gets it never knows!’
‘Have you any idea which way they went?’ asked Jack.
The cooper shook his head. ‘I only know where everyone is going …’ He paused dramatically, then pointed with a long bony finger down at the ground and grinned.
Ronin began throughly searching the body.
‘No good looking for spoils,’ said the cooper. ‘His friends took all that he owned … apart from his swords and this old inro.’
The cooper patted a small carrying case tied to his obi.
‘Is that yours?’ asked Ronin of Jack.
Jack shook his head. The rectangular box was plain with an ivory toggle carved into a monkey. ‘No, mine has a sakura tree engraved upon its surface and the netsuke is in the shape of a lion’s head.’
Ronin turned back to the cooper. ‘What happened to the swords?’
‘The other samurai claimed them as his prize.’
‘Does this samurai have a name?’
‘Oh, yes. He made certain everyone knew. Eager to spread his reputation, he announced this was the final duel of his musha shugyō – all without a single defeat,’ replied the cooper as he lowered the finished coffin beside the victim. ‘His name is Matagoro Araki.’
‘Did he say where he was going?’ asked Jack, hoping they could follow this samurai’s trail at least.
The cooper looked at the bloodied corpse and then at Jack.
‘If you seek a similar fate, then you should head to Kyoto.’
10
CROSSROADS
The very thought sent an ice-cold shudder through Jack. It would be suicidal to return to Kyoto. Someone could easily recognize him. Any of his old enemies could be there. In particular, those who’d attended the Niten Ichi Ryū with him and had objected to a foreigner learning the secrets of their martial arts – Nobu, Hiroto, Goro and, of course, his arch-rival, Kazuki. Jack had no wish to meet him ever again. Kazuki bore a deep hatred towards all foreigners,