The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [39]
‘Stay here,’ ordered Ronin, stopping beside a tea house on the corner. ‘I’ll make some enquiries as to Araki’s whereabouts.’
He ordered a pot of sencha for Jack and Hana, paid the serving girl and headed off down the street in search of the samurai who now had Jack’s swords.
‘How long do you think he’ll be?’ asked Hana, pouring the tea for Jack.
‘Not long, I hope.’
Jack felt terribly exposed having come to Kyoto. He now wished he hadn’t taken the risk. It was like entering a lion’s den. He had to hope that most of Kyoto’s citizens were too busy with their own daily lives to notice a traveller in a non-descript blue kimono and straw hat.
Hana gazed around in awe. ‘I never imagined Kyoto to be like this!’
As Jack sipped his tea, she gave him a running description of everything she saw – the white-faced geisha girl, the strutting samurai, the lion-dog statue outside the local temple, the hawker selling wooden spinning tops.
After a while, the proprietor of the tea house came over. ‘More sencha?’
Hana looked to Jack, who shook his head.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied.
‘You’re not from these parts, are you?’ observed the man.
Hana smiled sweetly. ‘We’re on a pilgrimage with our master,’ she said, repeating their pre-planned answer.
‘Of course,’ said the proprietor, glancing with interest at Jack but making no attempt to enquire further. ‘A friendly word of warning, travellers don’t go unnoticed in this city. And some are not so welcome as they once were.’
Jack daren’t look up.
‘You two appear to be of particular interest.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Hana.
‘To the metsuke on the other side of the street.’
Hana gave him a blank stare. The proprietor leant in close, as if to clear their table.
‘A watcher. One of the Shogun’s spies.’
24
METSUKE
‘What does the metsuke look like?’ Jack asked Hana, once the proprietor left to attend to his other customers.
Hana was sharp-witted enough as a thief not to look directly at their observer. Instead she pretended to admire her surroundings, while casting a casual glance across the street. At first she didn’t see anyone. Then she noticed a figure lingering outside the entrance to the temple. He appeared to have little interest in praying. Nor was he in any rush to go elsewhere.
‘Young,’ replied Hana. ‘Thin as a chopstick, with eyes that look a little too close together. He’s wearing a black kimono and a pair of samurai swords. The odd thing is he can’t be much older than you.’
Jack felt a chill run through his body. Hana’s description was worryingly familiar.
‘Where is he now?’ asked Jack.
‘Over by the lion-dog statue.’
Jack warily peeked from beneath the brim of his hat. A steady flow of traffic crossed the square, but no one wore a black kimono. ‘Where?’
‘In front of the – ’ Hana looked around. ‘He’s gone!’
‘We should leave too,’ said Jack, reaching for his staff.
‘Why? It’s got to be a good thing. He obviously doesn’t think we’re a threat.’
‘Perhaps,’ replied Jack, thinking they should head towards Nijo Castle. ‘But it could also mean trouble.’
‘But we can’t leave before Ronin gets back. How will he know where to find us?’
Jack pondered this a moment. They hadn’t arranged an alternative meeting point. Nor did they know in which direction the metsuke had gone. They could run straight into him. And if Jack’s hunch was right they’d need the protection of Ronin’s swords.
‘All right, we’ll stay a little longer.’
The passing minutes were excruciating. Even though it wasn’t a particularly warm day, Jack began to perspire. He felt as if everyone was watching him. They all knew he was a gaijin. They could tell by his manner, smell his foreignness.
Jack thought about leaving a message with the proprietor, but there was no guarantee they could trust him.
‘Let’s move to the temple,’ said Jack, the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. ‘We can keep an eye on the tea house from there.’
‘Wait!’ said Hana, pointing down the road. ‘I see Ronin.’
But Jack didn’t look round. His eyes were fixed on the four figures clad in black