The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [15]
Understanding, she smiled and bowed. Disappearing through the sliding door, which Jack noticed had already been repaired, she returned with a scarlet lacquered tray bearing three small bowls. One contained water, one a thin steaming fish soup and the third a small pile of white rice with a serving of pickles.
Jack drained the water and, although he didn’t like the peppery taste, the soup warmed him. He then greedily shovelled the rice into his mouth, eating with his fingers. Jack had seen rice once before, when his father had brought some back after a trading trip for his mother to cook. To Jack it was a bit tasteless, but as he hadn’t eaten for days he didn’t care. Licking his fingers clean, he gave the woman a broad smile to show that he appreciated the food.
The woman looked utterly shocked.
‘Err… thank you. Thank you very much.’ Jack didn’t know what else to say.
Obviously upset, the woman collected the empty dishes and scurried out of the room.
What had he done? Perhaps he should have offered her some too?
A few moments later, the wall panel slid open again and she entered with a white robe and laid it by his bed.
‘Kimono wo kite choudai,’ she said, gesturing for him to put it on.
Jack, aware he was naked under the quilt, refused.
The woman appeared perplexed. She pointed to the robe once again.
Frustrated at their inability to communicate, Jack signed for her to go through the sliding panel. Clearly bewildered by the request, she nevertheless bowed and left the room.
Jack stood up as quickly as his aching body would allow and, taking care with his splinted arm, put on the silk robe.
Moving over to the door, he slid it open, being careful not to damage it this time. The woman was waiting outside on a wooden veranda that circled the house. A set of small steps led to a large garden surrounded by a high wall. The garden was unlike anything he had ever seen.
A little bridge spanned a pond filled with pink water lilies. Pebbled paths weaved their way through colourful flowers, green shrubs and large ornate stones. A tiny waterfall ran into a stream that wound around a glorious cherry blossom tree then flowed back into the pond.
Everything about the garden was so perfect, so peaceful, thought Jack. How his mother would have adored all the flowers. It was another world to the muddy patches of herbs, vegetables and hedges that were strewn across England.
‘It’s like the Garden of Eden,’ murmured Jack.
The woman indicated for Jack to put on some wooden sandals, then shuffled along the path in tiny steps, beckoning him to follow.
On the other side of the pond a bony old man, evidently the gardener, tended an already perfect plot with a rake. As they passed by, he bowed low. The woman gave a slight bow in return and Jack followed suit. It appeared bowing was the thing to do, at all times.
They entered a small wooden building on the other side of the garden. The room was pleasantly warm and inside there was a long stone bench and a large square wooden tub filled with steaming water. To Jack’s horror, the woman signed for him to get in.
‘What? You don’t expect me to get in there, do you?’ exclaimed Jack, backing away from the bath.
Smiling, she held her nose, pointed at Jack, then at the bath. ‘Ofuro.’
‘I don’t stink!’ said Jack. ‘I washed barely a month ago.’ Didn’t they know that baths were disease pits? His mother had warned him that he could catch the flux or worse!
‘Ofuro haitte!’ she said again, slapping her hand on the bath. ‘Anata ni nomiga tsuite iru wa yo!’
Jack didn’t understand and didn’t care. There was no way he was going to get in that bath.
‘Uekiya! Chiro! Kocchi ni kite!’ shouted the woman, making a grab for Jack.
He ran round the bath and headed for the door, but the gardener had appeared and blocked his path. A young maid then dashed in and caught hold of him. The woman pulled off his robe and began to sluice him down with cold water.
‘Stop that! It’s freezing!’ cried Jack. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Dame, ofuro no jikan yo, ohkina akachan ne,’ the woman