The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [26]
Masamoto spoke gravely to Father Lucius.
‘Masamoto wants to know the whereabouts of the rest of your family. What of your mother? Was she on board?’
‘No, she died when I was ten. Pneumonia.’ Jack looked meaningfully at Father Lucius, recognizing the priest’s symptoms for what they were. ‘My father left my little sister, Jess, in the care of a neighbour, Mrs Winters, but she was too old and didn’t have enough room to look after both of us. That’s why I was on the ship. I was old enough to work, so my father got me a job on board the Alexandria as a rigging monkey.’
‘You have suffered greatly. I am truly sorry for the death of your mother. And of your father,’ said Father Lucius, with apparent sincerity.
He then recounted Jack’s history to Masamoto, who listened solemnly. Masamoto poured himself some more sencha. He studied the cup before sipping slowly at its contents.
No one broke the silence.
Masamoto put down the cup and addressed the room. As he spoke, the colour drained from the priest’s face and Akiko’s eyes visibly widened in astonishment. Jack saw that the black-haired boy had turned rigid as stone, his thunderous expression darkening with barely contained malice.
With a slight tremor to his voice, Father Lucius translated.
‘Masamoto-sama has deemed that you, Jack Fletcher, are to be taken under his care until you are “of age”. This being the second anniversary of his son’s death, he believes you to be a “gift from the gods”. You have suffered under the same hand of Dokugan Ryu. You are therefore to take Tenno’s place by Masamoto’s side and shall henceforth be treated as one of his own.’
Jack was stunned. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the idea of being adopted by a samurai lord. But before he had a chance to respond, Masamoto had summoned Taka-san into the room. Taka-san was carrying a package bound in a hessian cloth, which he laid at Jack’s feet.
Masamoto addressed Jack, Father Lucius translating as he spoke.
‘Masamoto-sama found you clutching this to your person when he pulled you from the sea. Now you are recovered, he is returning your rightful possessions.’
Masamoto signed for Jack to unwrap the rectangular object. Jack tugged at the binding and the cloth fell away to reveal a dark oilskinned parcel. The entire room watched with mounting interest. Father Lucius edged closer.
Jack knew exactly what it was without removing the oilskin. It was his father’s rutter.
The room swirled around him and out of nowhere Jack could see his father’s face. He lay dying on the deck, blood bubbling from his lips. His head lolled to one side, his eyes meeting his.
‘Jack… the rutter… get it… home… it will get you home…’
Then his final breath…
‘Jack? Are you all right?’ asked Father Lucius, bringing Jack back to his senses.
‘Yes,’ said Jack, quickly gathering his wits. ‘I’m just upset. This was my father’s.’
‘I understand. These are your father’s charts perhaps?’ said Father Lucius nonchalantly, but all the while his glassy eyes coveted the oilskin-covered object.
‘No… no… It’s my father’s diary,’ lied Jack, snatching up the rutter.
Father Lucius appeared unconvinced, but let it pass.
With the presentation of the book done, Masamoto had clearly decided the meeting was over and stood. Everyone bowed as he spoke.
‘Masamoto-sama has ordered that you rest,’ translated the priest. ‘He will meet with you again tomorrow.’
Everyone bowed again and Masamoto swept from the room, swiftly followed by his two guards and the moody black-haired boy.
Father Lucius got up to leave too, but broke into a coughing fit that rattled his lungs. As the fit subsided, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
He turned on Jack.
‘A pox on you and your heretic ship! It’s brought an ill wind – I’ve been struck down ever since you landed upon these shores,’ he