The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [36]
‘Impressive,’ Ronin grunted as Jack reached the last of the stepping stones. ‘Here, catch this.’
Ronin tossed his bottle at Jack. With little time to react, Jack let go of his staff and clutched at the flying bottle. It hit him squarely in the chest.
‘Don’t drop it!’
Jack managed to keep hold but, with his balance gone, he splash-landed in the river. Floating there, bedraggled and with the bottle in his lap, Jack now became the focus of Ronin’s mirth, Hana joining in the laughter too.
Ronin offered his hand. Appreciating the samurai’s gesture, Jack reached up to be helped out of the chilly mountain waters.
‘The saké!’ said Ronin, ignoring Jack’s outstretched arm.
He should have known. He passed the samurai back his precious bottle.
‘You can’t let a simple distraction like that take your balance,’ observed Ronin as Jack dragged himself out of the river.
Despite all his training both as a samurai and a ninja, Jack realized there would always be more to learn. He wouldn’t be caught out like that again.
Ronin passed a cursory eye over the two of them, standing beside him like drowned rats. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll dry off by the time we reach Kyoto!’
They welcomed the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun as they left the forested mountain slopes of Yamashiro Province and entered the plains of Kyoto Prefecture. Following the main road, they passed by an immense field lined with row upon row of small bush-like trees, none much taller than Jack himself.
‘We’ve reached Aodani!’ said Ronin in delight. ‘This place is famous for its flowering plum-tree groves. There are some ten thousand trees here. In spring, the blossom must be truly magnificent.’
‘I didn’t take you for an admirer of blossom-viewing,’ said Jack, looking archly at the effusive samurai.
‘I love hanami!’ interjected Hana. ‘All the flowers are so pretty …’ A mischievous smile formed on her lips. ‘And no one seems to notice if one or two things go missing.’
Ronin laughed. ‘I much prefer harvest when the plum fruits are used to make umeshu. Aodani plum wine is reputedly the best in the whole of Japan!’
He quickened his pace when a village came into view. ‘Let’s see if it’s true.’
Jack and Hana followed in his wake. The village was small but well-to-do. Several thatched houses with verandas lined the road. There was a store selling provisions and a tea house. Two men sat outside near a palanquin, their eyes closed. They were evidently recovering their strength from bearing their master, a large round ball of a man, who was inside enjoying a pot of sencha and tucking into several sweet red-bean wagashi.
‘We’re in luck!’ announced Ronin, taking a seat. ‘They have a fresh barrel.’
‘We should really keep going,’ said Jack, eyeing the other customers warily from beneath his hat.
‘Just one drink,’ insisted Ronin. ‘Then we’ll go.’
Reluctantly, Jack agreed. What harm could it do? And moving on now might arouse more suspicion than staying.
The tea-house owner served Ronin a cup of honey-golden liquid. Breathing in its fragrant aroma, Ronin knocked back the drink in one. He smacked his lips appreciatively. ‘Mmm, sweet and smooth. Certainly the finest I’ve ever tasted.’
The tea-house owner bowed at the compliment, then poured him another.
‘But you said just one!’ whispered Jack.
Ignoring him, Ronin asked the owner, ‘Do you have any umeboshi?’
The man nodded and returned a moment later with some wrinkled red fruit in a bowl.
‘You can leave the bottle,’ said Ronin as the owner went to serve his other customers.
‘Ronin, you promised –’
‘Try this!’ said Ronin, waving away Jack’s protests and passing him one of the small dried fruits. ‘It’s a pickled plum.’
Hana took one too. Sighing in frustration, Jack relented and bit into his. He immediately gagged. The umeboshi’s sour salty taste was revolting.
‘Eat up!’ said Ronin, greatly amused by the disgusted look on Jack’s face. ‘They’re good