The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [33]
They wound through the forest, following the main track, stopping briefly for a sparse lunch of cold rice. By late afternoon, they were the only travellers on the road. Hana, still as vocal as ever, enthused, ‘This is like being part of a kōshakushi’s story. I once saw one of those storytellers giving a street performance in Kizu. He recited from the Taiheiki and Heiki Monogatari and told tales of legendary battles and brave samurai and –’
She stopped, cocking her head to listen to a strange noise. Jack heard it too – a kind of strangled crooning. They looked at one another, then up ahead to Ronin. To their utter astonishment, he’d begun singing to himself – if his tuneless wailing could be called singing. Throughout the day, Jack had noticed the samurai’s manner gradually lightening the more he drank. Ronin had insisted on buying another two bottles for the journey, along with their food supplies. Having got through the first, he was apparently on to the second and was now weaving slightly as he walked.
‘Is he dancing?’ asked Hana incredulously.
Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing either, yet it appeared Ronin was performing a jig, kicking out his feet and waving his arms. Catching Hana’s eye, Jack could no longer keep a straight face. They both started sniggering at the bizarre spectacle, Ronin oblivious to their amusement.
‘What a merry yet strange band of travellers!’
A dark figure stepped out in front of them. He was broad as an ox, his hair tied back into a single plait and with a nose as wide and flared as a pig’s. In one hand, he nonchalantly swung a large wooden club.
‘A drunken samurai, a giggling girl and a gaijin!’
Ronin swayed where he stood, appearing a little surprised by the man’s sudden appearance.
A rustle of bushes signalled the emergence of five more men. The first, also carrying a club, was short and squat like a tree stump. The one nearest Jack was bald with muscular arms and held an axe. Beside him was a younger man, armed with a staff. The fourth possessed a vicious barbed spear. The fifth, thin as a rake, crept up from behind. He snarled at Hana, revealing a large gap where a tooth had been knocked out, and raised a bloodstained knife.
As the bandits surrounded them, Hana edged closer to Jack.
‘We’re as good as dead,’ she whispered.
20
DRUNKEN FIST
Without taking his eye off the bandits, Jack smiled reassuringly at Hana. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got Ronin on our side.’
Hana stared at Jack as if he was crazy. ‘But he’s drunk!’
‘Exactly,’ replied Jack, his staff poised for the moment Ronin made his move.
‘If you wish to pass, you must pay a toll,’ declared the bandit leader.
Ronin hiccupped. ‘How mushh?’
‘Everything you’ve got.’
‘Oh, good!’ replied Ronin cheerfully. ‘We’ve got nothing … that means we can pass.’
Waving Jack and Hana on, Ronin started walking. But the leader put a hand to Ronin’s chest.
‘I don’t think so, samurai. We’ll have that bottle for starters.’
‘Thisss?’ slurred Ronin, giving the bottle a shake. ‘But it’s empty.’
To prove his point, he drained the last of its contents into his mouth.
‘I can see you’ve got another bottle! Hand it over –’
At that moment, Ronin pretended to choke and spat the rice wine into the bandit’s face. The man shrieked as the alcohol burnt his eyes. Ronin drunkenly lurched forward, headbutting him in the nose and breaking it. The leader staggered away, blood gushing down his face.
‘Get them!’ he yelled.
Immediately, the squat bandit attacked Ronin with his club. Swaying to one side, Ronin’s arms whirled as if trying to catch his balance. He easily evaded the vicious swipe and in the process smashed the ceramic bottle over the bandit’s head. The man was unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Jack leapt into action. Spinning his