by Anthony Grey
‘Sentaro, we’ve reached the snow line!’
He rose and moved out impulsively through the door of the hut, trying to see further up the mountain. Then, remembering their pursuers, he dropped into a crouch and retreated into the doorway again. His face thoughtful, he turned and looked back at the shivering castaway.
‘While you slept I’ve been thinking, Sentaro,’ he said quietly. ‘It wouldn’t be wise for you to climb any further. Our best course would be to try and get back down the mountain under the cover of darkness. Then I’ll head for the ship and you can begin making your way to Yurutaki.’
The Japanese looked at Eden without replying; huddled in his quilts close to the dead fire, he was still shivering, his face was very pale, and he was perspiring more freely than before.
‘I know how much it means to you, master, to climb to the summit of Fuji-san,’ he said at last in an unsteady voice. ‘In your dream you reached the very top.
‘It’s not more important than your safety’ replied Eden gently. ‘And you’ll recover faster if we descend immediately.’
The Japanese bowed his head in a gesture of thanks, but his expression remained dogged. ‘I thank you, master, but remember I also want to climb to the peak of Fuji-san for myself I feel the gods have guided my thoughts, and I want very badly to pray at the peak and give thanks. ..‘
‘Sentaro, I don’t think you have enough strength-’
‘But, master, listen,’ pleaded the castaway. ‘Riding here, I’ve seen once more the great beauty of my homeland. I’ve moved among my own people for the first time in a long while. In my heart I feel quite different now. I am very sure my place is here, no matter how great the dangers are. I know something of your country... Perhaps I can help others here to know something of it too . . . And I want to pray at the summit of Fuji-san for all these things He paused and peered anxiously at Eden. ‘Do you understand?’
Eden stared at the castaway’s bruised and swollen face. ‘I understand, Sentaro - but I still don’t think it’s wise for you to climb any further. It would be better for you to rest a little, before we go down.’
‘Then you must climb on alone, master!’ the Japanese persisted. ‘Go right to the top for both of us. I’ll wait here.’ Eden began to shake his head, but a beseeching look came into the eyes of the castaway. ‘At least go out now and climb above the hut! You will be able to see then how far it is to the top. Soon the sun will go down - this will be your last chance.’
Eden hesitated; then he smiled and patted the castaway on the shoulder. ‘All right, I’ll go and take a look. You wait here and keep warm.’
After scanning the slopes below the hut to check that there were no signs of the pursuing samurai, Eden picked his way up onto the cliff of lava, taking pains to conceal himself amongst the black boulders as he moved. Slipping into a crevice which provided cover on all sides, he raised his head cautiously above the rocks until he caught sight of the volcano’s magnificent white crown rearing towards the evening sky The sun was by now sinking fast into the western clouds, but the pyramid of snow was softly reflecting its golden light. A few thin wisps of vapour clung to the high crags of lava rock that ringed the crater, but otherwise the pinnacle of the volcano, remote and austere in its grandeur, had become fully visible in the light of the setting sun.
Eden stared upward, feeling himself gripped by a new sense of excitement and awe. They had come very close to their goal without realizing it, and he felt a sudden urge to rush headlong up a stepped lava dyke which he could see leading across the remaining escarpment. He guessed that no more than five hundred feet separated them from the crater, and he was filled with the sudden conviction that he could spring lightly to the summit within a few minutes, with little or no effort.
It was at that moment that he saw the tiny figure of a man appear on the crater’s white rim. Dwarfed by the mountain, the man remained visible only briefly as he moved in front of a column of snow-covered lava. A second figure followed, then a third, and all three men stood still as though looking down towards his hiding place. Then they disappeared abruptly and Eden’s heart began to thud faster in his chest as he ducked out of sight himself.
The figures silhouetted starkly against the snow had seemed so minute that he immediately revised his estimate of the remaining distance to be covered:
perhaps it was nearer a thousand feet than five hundred. But, more disturbingly, all three men, he was certain, had been wearing horned helmets and ribbed armour, and despite the distance it was clear that they were carrying the now familiar twin swords of the samurai tucked into their sashes.
34
PACING FRETFULLY along the lip of Mount Fuji’s summit crater on its northern side, Daizo Yakamochi seemed to see neither the infernal signs of scorching inside the awful cavity nor the breathtaking beauty of the necklace of mountain lakes that shimmered in the gathering dusk beyond the volcano’s northern flanks. Swathed in a long, thickly padded white kimono, his breath steamed from his mouth in clouds in the cold air and he gazed distractedly ahead as he walked, his expression agitated and ill-tempered. The stocky leader of the group of mountain monks, who had guided him and his first troop of samurai swiftly to the summit by the little-known north-eastern route, was trotting respectfully at his heels. Whenever the heir to the leadership of the Makabe clan slowed his pace, the monk slowed down too, taking care always to remain two or three steps behind him out of respect for his exalted rank.
‘Why have we not made any sightings of the foreign barbarian yet?’ demanded Yakamochi in an impatient tone, stopping to peer down abstractedly at the seared and blackened walls of the crater. ‘Why does there seem to be no sign of him?’
‘He has probably taken shelter somewhere against the storm, my lord: replied the monk mildly, as he came to a dutiful halt behind the young nobleman. ‘And, until the cloud lifted, it was difficult for anybody to see very far down the mountain.’
‘If we don’t find him soon, it will be dark,’ snapped Yakamochi. ‘The night will make our task more difficult.’
The monk glanced quickly across the gaping maw of the half-mile-long crater, checking in turn the positions behind rocks and lava knolls where he had stationed hidden groups of samurai alongside his guides. The second search group had long since caught up, swelling the small Makabe clan force to more than seventy warriors. Some were crouched in hiding; others were stretched out flat on the frozen ground so as to remain unseen, and from time to time small knots of men rose silently to their feet to hurry surreptitiously to new vantage points.
‘I am confident all our sentinels are continuing to maintain vigilance, my lord,’ said the monk quietly. ‘You can rest assured that every known approach to the summit is under our surveillance.’
‘What is the latest information on the movements of the men of the Kago clan?’ asked Yakamochi, still staring absently into the crater. ‘Which route are they following now?’
‘They are apparently still moving across the northern face of the mountain at the same level, my lord. They are heading westward. You will remember that, before the storm, one of my monks saw them change direction after they stopped to pick up some discarded sandals. It’s far from certain why they are going that way . .
The leading monk broke off, watching two samurai who had appeared suddenly in the distance at the western end of the crater. They were running swiftly side by side through the snow; and the monk watched without making any comment until he was sure that the two warriors were heading towards them.
‘But I think we can expect, my lord, that before the sun sets our patience will be rewarded. .
Yakamochi looked up sharply at him. ‘What do you mean?’
Instead of replying, the monk nodded silently in the direction of the fast-approaching samurai. One was Yakamochi’s guard captain and, on hearing their hurried footsteps, the nobleman turned quickly. When they slid to a halt to prostrate themselves on the snow before him, he signalled impatiently for both warriors
to rise.
‘What do you have to report, Motohiro-san?’ demanded Yakamochi, addressing the guard captain. ‘Have you seen something of importance?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ gasped the captain breathlessly. ‘There is a single climber below the western end of the crater. He was concealed among the rocks when I first caught sight of him.’
‘Are you sure he was alone?’ demanded Yakamochi.
‘Yes, my lord, we are sure! Nobody else was visible.’
‘Do you think it was the foreign barbarian that you saw?’
‘It’s impossible to say for certain, my lord,’ replied Motohiro, his chest still heaving. ‘He was wearing white clothing, and a broad straw hat - but he seemed to be a very big man.’
‘How far down the mountain is he?’ asked the monk quietly.
‘Just below the point where the snow begins,’ said Motohiro, turning to his companion. ‘Am I right?’
The other samurai nodded his agreement.
‘About a thousand feet from the crater; that would make sense,’ said the monk, his voice rising a little with excitement. ‘There is a pilgrim shelter there, at that level. And that is also the direction in which the men of the Kago clan have been heading.’
‘Was the man you saw coming up towards us?’ asked Yakamochi.
‘No, my lord. He climbed a little way very cautiously, then stopped and hid among the rocks. We left our companions watching his hiding place.’
‘Then we must go down quickly to capture him! Otherwise he may fail into the hands of the Kago clan!’ Yakamochi turned to the leading monk, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘I want you to lead a dozen of my most nimble warriors quickly down that route.’
‘It is a good way up, my lord, but a dangerous way to descend from this peak,’ said the monk without any sign of emotion. ‘But it is possible, with care. If you wish me to lead armed men down there, I will do my best.’
Yakamochi turned back to his samurai. ‘You, Motohiro, select the twelve finest fighters and lead them down to capture the foreign barbarian - alive if possible. But don’t let him escape or fall into the hands of the Kago warriors, whatever happens. If necessary we can even use his dead body to foment war at Uraga!’
Motohiro placed his hand on his sword hilt and bowed low. ‘I have understood, my lord
‘You, remain here on the peak in command of the rest of our combined troop,’ ordered Yakamochi, turning to the other samurai officer. ‘Guard all other approaches and be ready to send reinforcements down in case the foreign barbarian evades capture or the Kago warriors appear!’
The second samurai also bowed in acknowledgement, then both men prostrated themselves formally at Yakamochi’s feet again, before dashing away to carry out his orders.
‘I shall accompany you myself’ said Yakamochi, looking grimly at the leading monk and urging him into a fast walk. ‘I wish to be on hand to see the foreign barbarian captured - or killed.’
35
WHEN HE THOUGHT it was safe again, Robert Eden raised his head cautiously above the ridge of black lava and stared up towards the rim of the crater. There were no further signs of movement, but he feared that unseen eyes might now be watching him from the heights. Yet if they were, how had the pursuing band of warriors reached the summit so quickly? Or had they split into two, he wondered, with one section heading rapidly for the summit while the other continued to follow on behind Sentaro and himself in an effort to trap them? This thought caused him to turn his head to peer back down the mountain; but again he could see no sign of human movement anywhere on the ominous black slopes that were visible to him.
In the act of turning to look southward he noticed that, as the sun dipped lower, the dense clouds were fragmenting and rolling apart more rapidly. An enormous panorama of mountain and forest landscapes, sunlit and shadowed by turns, was now spread before him, stretching for many miles in all directions. Dazzlingly golden in the far southern distance he could see the broad expanses of Yedo Bay and the coastlines. In the crystal clear light of the lowering sun, the sails of junks and other ships were visible, being blown like flecks of gold dust across the shimmering surface of the sea.
Narrowing his eyes he searched the waters of the bay until, with a jolt, he recognized a familiar sight:
twin columns of dark smoke were spiralling up in lazy drifts from indistinct black shapes on the surface, and he knew this smoke could only be issuing from the coal-burning engines of the Susquehanna and the Mississippi. Although it was obvious that the ships were not moving, he sat and stared at them for a long time, astonished that he was able to see evidence of the squadron from the higher reaches of the volcano. He guessed that the two most powerful warships must still be under orders to keep up steam, in case they were required to move into sudden action, and he realized then that he had scarcely given a thought to the ships since slipping silently over the side of the Susquehanna nearly forty-eight hours earlier.
The distance between the warships and his hiding place, which he knew must amount to fifty or sixty miles in all, seemed even more immense; snowy floes of cloud still drifted in patches across the face of this vast natural canvas, yet most of the land and seascape surrounding the ships was sharply defined in the perfect evening light. To his astonishment he was able to see the twin capes and the central islet at the distant mouth of the bay, as well as the rugged coastlines which funnelled up towards its head. There he could distinguish a shadowy concentration of buildings which he deduced must be the capital city of Yedo.
As he continued to survey the bay and all the land in between, Eden found himself wondering idly if any of the sailors on the warships might at that moment be peering towards the spectacular peak of the volcano; and, if they were, could they imagine that the missing officer from the Susquehanna might be gazing back at them? Thinking these thoughts, he was seized with an irrational desire to make some sign with smoke or a mirror that might be visible to the lookouts posted on the warships. But as soon as these notions entered his head he rejected them as foolish as well as dangerous. Any signal that could be seen from the ships would certainly be detected by the samurai looking down from the summit, and would betray the hiding place they had so fortuitously found.
While he sat staring out towards the ships, other thoughts and questions began to tumble rapidly through his mind. How were the negotiations faring? Had any agreement been reached yet on how the letter from the President of the United States should be delivered to the Emperor? And, if so, had the tension along the shores lessened? Lifting one hand to shade his eyes against the last dying glory of the sun, Eden found he could pick out in silhouette some of the fortifications that were ranged along the coasts. But because of the great distance involved he could not otherwise discern anything that indicated what progress was being made with military preparations. Although he knew for certain a massive force of warriors was being assembled to confront the might of the American guns, the wide evening landscape stretching from horizon to horizon gave an impression only of peace and a vast, silent serenity
As the light faded, new accumulations of cloud were racing in from the east, and large areas of land and sea had begun to disappear from view almost as quickly as they had been revealed. Within a few minutes the whole Bay of Yedo was again concealed, and the twin capes at its broad mouth had also melted into a misty invisibility. To Eden it seemed as if a gigantic natural veil were being drawn back hurriedly across a beautiful and enigmatic face, rendering it mysterious again at the very moment when it had seemed on the point of revealing itself fully for the first time.
The brevity of the revelation had been tantalizing, and he frowned as he stared down at the thickening belts of new cloud. He could scarcely believe that he had impetuously ridden some fifty miles across a land so different from his own. Ruled by strange and rigid codes which had endured unchanged since ancient times, it still seemed remote and impenetrable, even as he stood on the heights of its most sacred mountain. In the few skirmishes forced upon
him during the journey, he had more than once felt the ferocious courage of its fighting men; and, by contrast, in the shadows of the moonlit barn he had also fleetingly known some of the tenderest and most passionate moments of his life. These experiences, he realized, had served to deepen the sense of fascination he had begun to feel months before, when he first set out to learn the language of Nippon, although then, as now, he had not truly understood the reasons for this fascination.
As his mind went back to the ruined barn, vivid images of Tokiwa lying naked in his arms flashed disturbingly through his mind; they lingered to become inextricably mingled with the continuing sense of puzzlement he felt as he gazed down at the canopy of cloud spreading out below the mountain. What had Tokiwa thought and felt during the intense and tumultuous moments of their brief meeting? And what truly were his own feelings? Her beauty had been heady and intoxicating, but like her country and its people she had in the end remained remote and elusive. His own passions had been fiercely stirred and some emotional part of him that had long been dead and cold had been unexpectedly revived. But what, he wondered, could the people of Japan really think of those they so insistently called ‘foreign barbarians’ and of whom they knew so little? Could understanding, friendship or love grow between peoples of such extraordinarily different experience and history? Could naked emotion ever hope to bridge such an enormous gulf? A breathless feeling of physical excitement tightened his chest as these memories and unanswerable questions chased one another through his mind, and he shuddered suddenly from the cold.
Glancing towards the west he saw that the sun had been swallowed up in the dense cloud, and its light was being rapidly snuffed out. The earlier golden effulgence had turned to a flood of bruised, crimson shadows, and a single bright star was beginning to glimmer in the twilight. The sight of the solitary star in the darkening heavens made Eden turn his head to look up again at the peak of the mountain; but in the gathering dusk he could see no sign of the helmeted figures who had appeared earlier at the crater’s edge and, after carefully surveying the slopes all around him, he slipped out of his hiding place. ‘While slithering down the black lava rock, he realized he had left Sentaro alone for some considerable time and he began to hurry, anxious to tell him that he had seen the warships smoking on the distant bay. When he reached the pilgrim hut, its door stood ajar and he pulled it open eagerly to duck inside.
