The Way of the Dragon

by Unknown

  ‘That is a great shame, but don’t trouble yourself over it,’ replied the priest, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand.

  Jack was both relieved and astonished by the priest’s indifference. ‘But it was Father Lucius’s life’s work. It took him over ten years. He said it was the only one in existence –’

  ‘What’s gone is gone.’

  ‘But Dragon Eye, the ninja, stole it.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve heard of the man,’ replied the priest, his brow furrowing. ‘Besides, what would a ninja want with a dictionary?’

  ‘He wasn’t after the dictionary, he was after…’

  Jack stopped. This priest was cunning. He had a way of leading him on. By talking in English, he’d got Jack to drop his guard. If Jack wasn’t careful, he would reveal too much.

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Father Bobadillo.

  Jack suddenly seized on the idea that this influential Jesuit might be able to instigate an official search for Dragon Eye and this could lead him to the rutter.

  ‘He was after… me,’ repeated Jack, correcting his answer. ‘But Father Lucius insisted the dictionary was crucial for the Brotherhood to spread your faith in Japan. Surely you want to get it back from the ninja?’

  ‘If you haven’t noticed, we’re faced with the possibility of war,’ said Father Bobadillo, his voice thick with sarcasm. ‘A dictionary is the least of my concerns. You, however, are a concern.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m right to believe that Father Lucius was unsuccessful in persuading you to follow the true path, am I not?’

  Jack answered ardently, ‘I’m already following the true path.’

  Father Bobadillo sighed. ‘We’re not here to discuss semantics, or lost causes. I have made his lordship aware of the traitorous tendencies of the English.’

  He held up his hand, warning Jack not to interrupt.

  ‘I want to make it very clear that your presence in this castle is only tolerated because of your adoption by Masamoto-sama. When his lordship’s forces win this war, the Society of Jesus will be made the state religion and heretics like yourself will not be welcome on these shores. Ever.’

  Jack wondered how the priest could be so certain of the Jesuits’ rise to power, then remembered the silver cross around Satoshi’s neck. The priest must have ingratiated himself into Satoshi’s inner circle and become his spiritual adviser.

  ‘I will not lie to you, Jack Fletcher. You’re clearly resourceful to have survived this long on your own in Japan.’

  Resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, Father Bobadillo continued. ‘As an Englishman and Protestant, you’re an enemy of my country and the Brotherhood. But given your age and willingness to fight for his lordship, I wish to make a proposition. If you do not cause me any trouble, then once this war is over I’ll personally guarantee your safe passage back to England. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?’

  Jack was taken aback. He was being promised the one thing he’d desired above all else these past three years. But he was being offered his dream by a Portuguese Jesuit priest, his country’s arch-enemy. ‘How can I trust you?’

  ‘I swear upon the Word of God. I have ships at my disposal and will seal a letter with my insignia to ensure your safe return.’

  Jack found himself nodding numbly to the proposal.

  ‘Good. It’s decided. You will not speak about this conversation to anyone and if you should meet his lordship, or one of his retainers, you will not discuss the conflicting religion or politics of our countries. Understood. You may now leave.’

  In a daze, Jack got up from his chair, bowed and turned to depart. As he did so, his eyes passed over the bookshelf and there was a flicker of recognition.

  He looked again. Among the leatherbound tomes, there was a Bible, a collection of sermons and, nestled between them, Father Lucius’s dictionary.

  39

  THE ENEMY

  ‘I’m certain it was the same dictionary,’ said Jack as he sat with Akiko and Yamato in the star-studded darkness of the barracks’ garden.

  The three of them had slipped out of the hall and found a secluded spot to talk. The moonless night was silent save for the trickling of the stream beneath them. In the distance glowed the lanterns of the keep and the silhouettes of soldiers patrolling the battlements.

  ‘You only caught a glimpse of it,’ said Akiko. ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I’d recognize that binding anywhere. It’s exactly like my father’s rutter.’

  ‘But couldn’t this just be another dictionary, compiled by one of his priests?’

  ‘No, Father Lucius said his book was unique.’

  ‘Perhaps Dragon Eye, having stolen the wrong book, got rid of the dictionary and Father Bobadillo acquired it by fortune,’ she suggested.

  ‘Then why didn’t he say he had it?’ Jack countered. ‘Father Bobadillo wasn’t concerned about the dictionary’s theft because he’s already got it! Which means he might have my rutter too.’

  ‘That’s absurd!’ exclaimed Yamato. ‘Are you seriously suggesting a key retainer of Hasegawa Satoshi and his spiritual adviser is responsible for hiring Dragon Eye to steal your father’s rutter and murder you?’

  ‘Yes,’ stated Jack emphatically.

  ‘But he’s a priest. Aren’t stealing and killing against his religious vows? I know Jesuits are your country’s enemy, but he’s on our side. You even said he’s promised to help get you home. He seems to be a compassionate man, not a thief or a murderer.’

  Jack sighed with exasperation. It was all so clear to him. ‘Remember when Father Lucius was on his deathbed, he’d asked my forgiveness, saying that it had been his duty to tell someone but he hadn’t realized they’d kill for it? He must have been talking about the rutter and his superior, Father Bobadillo.’

  Akiko gazed thoughtfully at the sky, the starlight sparkling in her eyes. ‘You cannot accuse his lordship’s adviser of theft or hiring an assassin without proof. We need evidence. First, we must confirm that the book you saw was Father Lucius’s dictionary –’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ interrupted Yamato, worried where the conversation was leading. ‘That we simply march up to a heavily guarded keep, walk into the priest’s room and take a look.’

  Akiko smiled. ‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do.’

  It was a full week before the three of them had an opportunity to attempt the break-in. An afternoon given over to untutored weapons practice. Until that moment the sensei of the Niten Ichi Ryū had been drilling the young samurai hard, teaching them battle formations and getting them used to combat in full armour. The regime was relentless, the sensei knowing their students’ lives depended upon the quality of their training.

  With each day that passed, more and more troops loyal to Satoshi arrived. They brought news of skirmishes breaking out across the country and of a huge force advancing upon Osaka. Jack was astounded at the number of foreigners and Japanese converts now gathered inside the walls of the castle. Daimyo Takatomi’s crusade had evidently driven all the missionaries to seek refuge with Satoshi. The presence of so many European faces should have been comforting to Jack, but none appeared to be English or Dutch. Bar the occasional trader or merchant, everyone was either a Spanish friar or a Portuguese Jesuit.

  ‘This is suicidal,’ whispered Yamato as they approached the first set of gates. ‘My father will disown me for this.’

  He and Akiko, dressed in full armour and with menpō covering their faces, escorted Jack up the narrow road towards the inner courtyard.

  ‘Just march like you’ve got every reason to enter and don’t stop,’ hissed Akiko.

  One of the foot soldiers, spear in hand, stepped into their path.

  Before he could even challenge them, Akiko ordered, ‘Open the gates!’

  The man hesitated, taken aback at hearing a girl’s voice from behind the mask.

  ‘Now! This boy’s a guest of Father
Bobadillo.’

  Her tone was so authoritative that the bewildered man hurried to the door. The guards all bowed as the three of them passed through.

  ‘I told you it wouldn’t be a problem,’ said Akiko smugly. ‘Ashigaru follow orders. They don’t question them.’

  They crossed the courtyard to the main entrance of the keep. Two samurai guards blocked their way. Jack realized this would be an entirely different matter. They weren’t lower-status ashigaru.

  ‘Password,’ demanded the one on the right.

  Yamato gave them the answer Jack had heard his guard utter the previous week.

  ‘That’s an old password,’ stated the samurai.

  Yamato stood there, speechless, unsure what to do next. The other guard reached for his sword. Jack began to sweat. While their attempt to enter the keep was unlikely to result in a fight, they would have some serious explaining to do.

  ‘How annoying!’ complained Akiko, pulling off her mask. ‘Saburo-san has given us the wrong password. I bet he’s done this on purpose to embarrass us.’

  The guards looked at her, taken by surprise to discover a young girl behind the menpō. Jack and Yamato exchanged worried glances, as bemused as the guards by Akiko’s outburst.

  ‘We’re going to be the laughing stock of the school!’ she said, directing her irritation at Yamato. ‘Our first assignment as samurai warriors for daimyo Takatomi and we can’t even escort a boy to Father Bobadillo!’

  One of the guards smirked at her anguish. Akiko turned to him, her eyes pleading. ‘Please let us pass. The boy’s been summoned to the keep before. You can’t forget a face like his, can you?’

  Grimacing and wrinkling up her nose, she pointed to Jack’s much bigger one and the guards fell about laughing. Jack wasn’t so impressed. He wondered if she really did think that.

  Lowering her eyelashes, Akiko gave the man an innocent look. ‘It’ll be so shameful to return without accomplishing such a simple order.’

  The guard’s resolve weakened under her gaze. He looked again at Jack and grunted in recognition.

  ‘Fifth floor, but no further. Beyond that are his lordship’s personal guard and they’re not so understanding.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, bowing and replacing the menpō.

  The three of them entered the keep. Slipping off their sandals, they ascended the stairs, Yamato taking the lead.

  ‘I hope I didn’t offend you,’ whispered Akiko in Jack’s ear.

  ‘No, of course not,’ replied Jack quickly, feeling his face flush.

  ‘Which way now?’ asked Yamato as they reached the fifth floor.

  ‘Um… left,’ said Jack, a little flustered in case his friend noticed his reddened face.

  They walked down the main corridor towards Father Bobadillo’s study. A couple of guards passed by. For a moment Jack thought they’d been caught, but the two guards ignored them and descended the stairs. There were no other samurai around.

  ‘What if he’s in his room?’ asked Yamato.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Akiko, indicating for them to wait in a side corridor.

  She knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  Akiko beckoned the two of them to rejoin her.

  ‘We’ll stand guard here,’ she said to Jack. ‘We’ll warn you if anyone comes.’

  Jack nodded his agreement and slipped into Father Bobadillo’s study. The weird sensation of crossing the world struck him again. In a single step, he’d gone from East to West.

  A few shafts of afternoon sun seeped through a shuttered window, giving the impression this darkened room was full of secrets. Crossing over to the recess, he looked for the dictionary. It was easy to spot. The binding was exactly as he remembered, worn from his constant use and slightly damaged on the lower edge where he’d once dropped it. Opening up the book’s pages, his suspicions were confirmed. Father Lucius’s name was clearly written in black ink on the first plate.

  Jack had all the proof he needed. Father Bobadillo was the devil behind Dragon Eye. How else could he have got the dictionary? Why deny all knowledge of it? A cold realization fell over Jack. If this Jesuit priest had the dictionary, then he must have the rutter too. A surge of anger coursed through Jack. If Father Bobadillo was responsibile for hiring Dragon Eye, then he was as guilty of his father’s murder as the assassin himself.

  Jack’s right hand clasped the ninja tantō tucked into his obi. He gripped the handle of the demon blade so tightly that his knuckles went white. Thoughts of revenge pulsed like fire through his veins.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’ said a voice outside the room.

  Jack went cold. They’d been discovered. He shoved the dictionary back on the shelf.

  ‘Guard duty, officer,’ responded Yamato, sounding nervous.

  ‘You’re on the wrong floor. I requested a change of guards for Father Bobadillo’s guest on the fourth floor.’

  ‘But –’ said Akiko.

  ‘No arguing. Follow me!’

  ‘Hai!’ responded Akiko and Yamato, and Jack heard them all march away.

  Jack let go of the knife. He had to think clearly. Revenge was not an option. Father Bobadillo was too powerfully connected and there was still the chance Jack could be wrong in his assumption. Besides, his priority was to find the rutter. Jack realized it could even be in this very room. He hunted through the other books, but with no success. He looked on the table. Then he spotted the locked casket in the corner.

  Jack knelt before the immense chest and unsheathed the tantō. Carefully inserting its tip into the lock, he jiggled the blade round. When his little sister had lost the key to their own chest at home, his father had shown him how to pick such a lock. But this one was stronger and wouldn’t budge. His knife slipped. As he tried again, Jack got the unnerving sensation he was being watched. Looking round, he saw a man’s dark eyes stare accusingly down at him, but it was only the portrait of St Ignatius.

  All of a sudden, the lock gave and Jack pulled it free from the plate. Lifting the heavy top, he looked inside. There were papers, silver coins, some jewellery, a thick velvet robe and three books. Jack snatched them up, but none were the rutter. He hunted the depths of the casket. Where would Father Bobadillo keep it? Had he given the logbook to someone to decipher? Perhaps Dragon Eye hadn’t even delivered it to him? Having discovered its true worth, the ninja may have kept the rutter for his own purposes. Through the rush of thoughts, Jack became aware of footsteps coming down the corridor. They stopped directly outside the door to the study.

  ‘Please thank daimyo Yukimura for his time today,’ said an oily voice.

  It was Father Bobadillo.

  Jack was trapped. Hurriedly replacing the contents of the casket and slipping the lock back on, he looked round in a wild panic. There was nowhere to hide.

  Then Jack spotted a slither of light running down the opposite wall. He ran over to discover a shoji disguised as a wooden panel. He slid it open, barely making it through before Father Bobadillo opened the main door. As the priest stepped inside, Jack shut the shoji behind him.

  Jack discovered he’d entered a prayer room. Furnished in a Japanese style, the floor was richly carpeted with tatami mats and the walls were constructed of washi paper. Thankfully, the room was empty save for a simple altar and wooden crucifix, beside which was a discreet door. To his right was a shoji leading to the main corridor.

  Jack heard Father Bobadillo opening the shutters to his room. Holding his breath, Jack put an eye to the crack in the door. Father Bobadillo was not alone.

  ‘I believe that went rather well, don’t you?’ said a small, rotund man of Portuguese origin. Balding, with deep-brown eyes and a prominent nose, he wore the cassock of a Jesuit priest.

  Father Bobadillo nodded. ‘The threat of war often makes men more pious. Before this is over, I expect to have all the ruling lords converted.’

  ‘His Holiness will reward you in Heaven for such faithful service.’

  ‘I hope a
little sooner than that,’ replied Father Bobadillo, a wry smile upon his lips. ‘I would, after all, be bringing the whole of Japan under his authority.’

  He sat down in his high-backed chair, offering the other seat to the priest.

  ‘But we still have one small thorn in our side that must be dealt with.’

  ‘I thought you’d already spoken with the boy.’

  ‘Father Rodriguez, every day that English heretic is in this castle he’s a threat to our holy mission. We must dispose of him.’

  ‘You mean murder him?’ replied Father Rodriguez, his eyes widening in alarm. ‘Have mercy!’

  ‘Of course not, I’d rot in Hell,’ relented Father Bobadillo. ‘But his death would be convenient.’

  ‘What harm can a mere boy do to us?’

  ‘The greatest harm. We’ve always presented the Church as united in faith and doctrine. We cannot have his lordship discovering there’s dissent among Christians. Imagine if the boy revealed to Satoshi the truth of the matter. He may question his faith in us and Christ. The boy could undermine everything we’ve worked towards in Japan.’

  ‘So what do you propose?’ asked Father Rodriguez, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Surely Masamoto-sama would question the boy’s disappearance?’

  ‘We need a reason to discredit Jack Fletcher,’ replied Father Bobadillo, looking thoughtfully out of the window. ‘Something that will guarantee his banishment. Then again, a war might solve the problem for us. After all, it’s a dangerous time to be a samurai…’

  The priest trailed off to stare quizzically at the recess. Jack followed his gaze and cursed himself silently at his stupidity. He’d returned the dictionary to the wrong place on the shelf. The Jesuit’s eyes flickered round the room. Getting out of his chair, he strode over to the casket and bent to examine the lock. In the cold light of day, even Jack could see the deep score mark where his tantō had slipped.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Father Rodriguez.

  Without replying, Father Bobadillo stood up slowly and approached the portrait. He studied it, appearing to be deep in thought. All of sudden he made for the door behind which Jack crouched.