The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [56]
To either side, further within the hall, were two gigantic warrior statues. Carved from wood, one painted yellow, the other red, these fierce guardians were almost as tall as the pillars that held up the Tōdai-ji’s roof. Hana wandered off to take a closer look. Beside the entrance was a young priest and Jack approached, head bowed. He pulled the green silk omamori out of his kimono.
‘Ah! I see you’ve been here before,’ said the priest softly, greeting Jack with a humble bow.
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ replied Jack. ‘I actually found this and believe it belongs to someone from your temple. Perhaps you know the person who lost it?’
The priest smiled serenely and gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘We sell many of these amulets,’ he explained, pointing to a stall bedecked with green silk omamori. ‘That one could belong to any of a thousand pilgrims.’
Jack gazed at the rows upon rows of amulets, and despaired. The clue – the single piece of evidence he had from his attack – had come to nothing. He bowed his thanks to the priest and returned to Ronin.
The only lead remaining was the name Botan. ‘How are we going to find this samurai now?’
‘I’ll have to ask around town,’ replied Ronin, ‘but it will draw attention to us.’
‘Look at this!’ cried Hana.
‘Shh! Please don’t break the silence,’ cautioned the monk beside her.
‘My apologies,’ replied Hana, and mutely beckoned Jack and Ronin over to a large wooden supporting post towards the rear of the great hall.
The pillar, as broad as an old oak tree, had a hole running straight through its base. As Ronin and Jack approached, Hana expressed her thanks and bowed goodbye to the monk.
‘Would you believe it!’ she exclaimed. ‘This hole is the same size as one of the giant Buddha statue’s nostrils. If you can pass through it, the gods will bestow luck upon you and you’ll be blessed with enlightenment in your next life.’
‘Pah!’ dismissed Ronin.
Ignoring his scepticism, Hana knelt down and wriggled through the hole. She popped out the other side a moment later.
‘I’m enlightened. Who’s next?’
‘After you, Ronin,’ said Jack.
‘I don’t believe in the gods,’ he muttered. ‘And they certainly don’t believe in me.’
Jack felt he had nothing to lose. Furthermore, he recalled the Riddling Monk mentioning the Buddha’s Nose. This had to be it. Crouching down, he looked through the hole. It was far smaller than he’d imagined. Quickly checking no one was watching, he passed Hana his hat and Ronin his swords before entering the narrow tunnel, arms first. Crawling along, he got about halfway when his shoulders jammed. Jack kicked with his legs, but it was no use.
‘I’m stuck!’ he whispered as loud as he dared.
Hana’s grinning face appeared at the other end. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pull you through.’
Jack squirmed, his legs waggling on one side, while Hana tugged on his arms from the other. Ronin just smirked at Jack’s comical predicament. With much heaving and effort, Jack inched his way through and finally shot out and on to the floor, Hana falling backwards in a fit of smothered giggling.
‘That had better be worth it,’ panted Jack.
As he got to his feet and put his hat back on, Jack spotted something out of the corner of his eye.
A samurai had entered the main hall and was conversing with the head priest. Accompanied by a small entourage, the man was evidently important – either a high-ranking retainer or a lord. He was dressed formally in a black winged kataginu jacket, a pleated hakama of black-and-white stripes, stark-white tabi socks and, most unusually, his swords had handle wrappings of white silk.
But what had caught Jack’s eye was the small rectangular box on the samurai’s hip. The inro and its netsuke were exactly the same design as the one daimyo Takatomi had given him.
It couldn’t be coincidence. This had to be the man they were seeking.