The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [45]
‘Go on,’ encouraged Jack, taking another portion of smoked fish with his chopsticks. ‘What was she like?’
‘The Heike describes Tomoe as exceptionally beautiful, with white skin and long dark hair. She was an outstanding archer, and as a swordswoman she was a warrior worth a thousand men, ready to confront god or demon, mounted or on foot.’
‘She sounds invincible.’
‘To many samurai she was. Some thought her so powerful that they believed she was the reincarnation of a river goddess.’
Akiko put down her bowl and looked directly at Jack.
‘She could break wild horses with unparalleled skill and could ride down perilous descents unscathed. Whenever a battle was imminent, Yoshinaka sent her out as his advance guard. She wielded a katana and a mighty bow; and she performed more deeds of valour than any of his other warriors.’
Jack was stunned into silence. There was more to Akiko’s fervour than a simple respect for Tomoe Gozen’s achievements. Akiko clearly had something to prove – as a female samurai herself.
‘What did Dragon Eye mean by a… rutter?’ asked Akiko suddenly, keeping her voice low so that the samurai eating nearby wouldn’t overhear.
‘Err… I don’t know,’ mumbled Jack, taken off-guard by her directness. He knew this was a poor answer. He had been struggling with his conscience ever since he’d decided to keep quiet about the rutter.
‘But Dragon Eye demanded it from you. What is it?’
‘It’s nothing…’ Jack made a move to leave. He was not used to such forthright questioning from Akiko.
‘Jack, it is a mighty nothing for Dragon Eye to risk his life for… and for Chiro to lose hers!’
Her voice had risen in frustration and several of the samurai nearby glanced up from their bowls. Akiko forced a serene smile, bowing her head slightly by way of an apology for her outburst, and they returned to their meals.
Jack considered Akiko for a moment. Could he really trust her?
He had to. She was his only friend.
‘It’s my father’s diary,’ he finally admitted.
‘A diary?’
‘Well, not exactly. The rutter is a guide to the oceans of the world. My father said the person who possesses it has dominion over the seas,’ explained Jack. ‘Its knowledge is priceless, and it’s the only hope I have of ever getting home.’
‘So why didn’t you tell Masamoto?’
‘Because my father swore me to secrecy,’ explained Jack. ‘The more people who know of its survival, the more dangerous it is for all of us. I don’t know who I can trust.’
‘Well, you can trust me. I remained silent on your behalf – and so did Yamato – and you can trust me to stay silent.’
‘But what about Yamato? Can I really trust him?’ enquired Jack.
A cry from the head of the column interrupted them.
The samurai rapidly re-grouped in preparation for departure.
‘We must go,’ said Akiko, leaving the question unanswered.
Akiko mounted her stallion, and Kuma-san rode up before Jack could press Akiko further. Then in a long disciplined file, two abreast, they set off down the road.
By nightfall, they had reached the coastal village of Hisai. The main street boasted two resthouses, and Kuma-san secured lodgings in the better of the two for the night.
∗ ∗ ∗
The next day, they rose early and made rapid progress to Kameyama, a bustling stopgap of a town on the main route between Edo and Kyoto. This was the station at which they joined the Tokaido Road.
The main Tokaido Road was little more than a wide track but it was busy with foot traffic. Merchants. Samurai. Travellers. Exhausted porters warming themselves by fires. Some wore round-domed straw hats and carried large, square backpacks. Others had slung cloth bags over their shoulders and wrapped their heads with large patterned bandanas. The few that were on horseback were all samurai. The scene struck Jack as a little odd for there were no carts or horse-drawn vehicles of any kind, unlike the roads back in England.
As they journeyed along the thoroughfare, Jack noticed that they frequently passed small mounds with two trees planted