The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

by John Flanagan

  Will and Alyss exchanged amused glances. ‘Yes. That’s what Gundar’s crew call Horace. Sounds as if Nils is still with him,’ Will said.

  ‘He’ll be a handy person to have along,’ Alyss put in, recalling Nils Ropehander’s massive build and ferocious skill with a battleaxe.

  ‘Any Skandian is handy to have around if there’s a fight in the offing,’ Halt said. Then, changing the subject, he turned to Evanlyn. ‘Is there any need for you to present yourself to the Toscan Emperor’s court? Do you have any official duties to attend to?’

  Evanlyn shook her head. ‘Officially, I’m not here. That’s why I’m travelling as the Lady Evanlyn. So no, I’m free to come and go.’

  ‘Then I suggest we do go, and as soon as possible. We’ve already made our official goodbyes. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and get down to the docks first thing in the morning.’

  ‘You can take my room, Lady Evanlyn. I’ll sleep on one of the couches,’ Alyss said quickly. But Evanlyn shook her head.

  ‘We’ll share the room, Alyss,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t want any special privileges. We may as well get used to it. A wolfship is too small for all that nonsense.’

  Alyss was astute enough to recognise an olive branch when she saw one. She smiled at Evanlyn – a genuine smile for the first time.

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure to share with you,’ she said.

  The others had risen now and Selethen shook hands with them all as he bade them farewell.

  ‘Good luck to you,’ he said. Then he added, a little wistfully, ‘It sounds like an interesting trip. I’m tempted to join you. Horace is a friend of mine as well. But…’ He made a graceful hand gesture, dismissing the idea.

  Halt nodded. ‘You’d be welcome to join us any time, Selethen. But you have your own duties to attend to. We understand.’

  Selethen made the Arridi gesture of greeting and farewell, touching his hand to mouth, brow and mouth again.

  ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I have my duty, and it’s a hard mistress. But as I say, I am tempted.’

  He smiled at them all and left to return to his own quarters.

  They arrived at the docks just after first light. Gundar’s wolfship, named Wolfwill in Will’s honour, was moored alongside the jetty. Will frowned as he caught his first sight of her. He’d seen the ship when she’d been launched. But now there was something different about her.

  ‘Something looks odd,’ he said thoughtfully.

  Halt was studying the ship too. ‘Have they moved the mast?’ he asked of no one in particular. ‘It seems a little further aft than I remember.’

  ‘And where’s the cross-tree?’ Will asked. Normally, the square-rigged cross-tree was set seven-eighths of the way up the mast, with the big square sail brailed up on it when in port. Wolfwill’s mast was bare, aside from a complicated arrangement of rigging at the masthead, and what looked to be a pair of carefully rolled sails lying fore and aft on the deck at its base.

  ‘All I know,’ Evanlyn said, ‘is that it’s the fastest ship I’ve ever sailed on. Look, here comes Gundar. You can ask him.’

  She pointed to where a familiar figure, huge as all Skandians were, was rolling in his seaman’s walk along the jetty towards them.

  ‘Will Treaty!’ he bellowed, startling the gulls for a fifty-metre radius into squawking, screeching flight. Will braced himself as the huge figure approached. He knew what was coming but there was little he could do about it.

  Sure enough, Gundar swept him off his feet in a breath-draining bear hug. Will could only grunt a greeting as he felt his ribs on the verge of giving way.

  ‘Gorlog’s beard, boy, but it’s good to see you! I hoped we’d run across each other when Erak assigned us as the duty ship. How have you been? What have you been up to?’

  ‘Le’ go an’ I’ll try…tell you,’ Will managed to grunt breathlessly. Finally, Gundar set him down. Will staggered as Gundar released him, and his friends were a little alarmed at the groaning intake of breath that was Will’s first, reflexive response as his emptied lungs desperately sucked air back in.

  Then, sighting Alyss, the huge seafarer seized her hand in one of his enormous fists and planted a smacking, clumsy kiss on it.

  ‘Lady Alyss!’ he boomed. ‘How can you have grown more beautiful than you were?’

  Evanlyn, it has to be admitted, pouted a little at this. Gundar had never commented on her looks and she was aware that alongside the elegant blonde girl, she was a little…tomboyish.

  Alyss was grinning delightedly at him. ‘Ah, Gundar, I see you haven’t lost any of your courtly charm. You’d turn a girl’s head with that silver tongue of yours.’

  He beamed at her, then turned his attention to the grey-bearded, slightly built figure standing behind her.

  ‘And you must be the famous Halt?’ he said. ‘I expected someone a little larger,’ he added, half to himself, as he advanced.

  Halt, experienced in the ways of Skandians, retreated at the same pace. ‘Yes. I’m Halt,’ he said. ‘And I need all my ribs intact, thank you very much.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Instead of bear-hugging Halt, Gundar contented himself with a firm, manly handshake. Halt’s eyes glazed as he felt his fingers and knuckles crushed inside the island-sized fist. He shook his hand painfully as Gundar finally released it.

  ‘Any friend of Erak’s is a friend of mine!’ Gundar glanced around curiously. ‘But where’s that shaggy pony of yours, Will?’

  ‘We left our horses in Araluen,’ Will told him.

  Since the trip had been intended as a brief, ten-day mission to the Toscan capital, there had been no good reason to bring Tug and Abelard. They had been left in the care of Old Bob, the Ranger Corps horse breeder. Now, Will wasn’t sure if he regretted that decision or not. He’d like to have Tug with him, but the sea journey to Nihon-Ja would be a long one, far longer than any Tug had undertaken before. There would be little chance of going ashore to exercise the horses, and he wasn’t sure how they would have coped.

  Similarly, Ebony, Will’s dog, had been left behind with Lady Pauline. Ebony was only half trained and he felt her boisterous behaviour might cause problems with the rather starchy Toscan officials.

  Gundar nodded vaguely. He had no idea of the soul searching that had gone on with the two Rangers before they decided to leave their horses behind. He glanced up the quay.

  ‘And who’s this Lenny Longshanks?’ he said. ‘Is he with you?’

  The four Araluans turned quickly to look back up the jetty. Striding purposefully towards them, a pack slung over one shoulder, was a tall, slender figure.

  ‘Temptation got too strong,’ Selethen told them as he came closer. ‘I decided to come with you.’

  Nihon-Ja

  After George left them and headed down the back trail towards the port of Iwanai, Shukin picked up the pace.

  Now, as they kept their horses in a steady canter along the narrow, muddy mountain track, Horace realised just how much George had been slowing them down and felt a guilty sense of relief that he’d convinced his fellow countryman to go his separate way.

  The rest of the party, all of them skilled horsemen, managed easily and the local ponies, somewhat smaller than the battlehorse that Horace was used to, were sturdy and long winded. Best of all, he thought, as his mount slithered, slid and then recovered himself, they were sure-footed beasts, well used to these sloping, rough mountain trails.

  One of the escort noticed the stumble and saw Horace suddenly sit up straight in the saddle before the horse recovered his footing. He rode up close beside him.

  ‘Leave it to the horse, Or’ss-san,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s used to this sort of terrain and he’ll manage by himself.’

  ‘So I noticed,’ Horace said, between clenched teeth. When the uneven ground gave under his horse’s hooves again, he forced himself to remain loose and supple in the saddle, instead of tightening his muscles and bracing himself, and trying to haul the horse’s head back up again. T
he horse grunted as he recovered. Horace had the uncomfortable feeling that it was a grunt of grudging appreciation, as if the horse were saying to him: That’s better. Just sit easily, you big bag of bones, and leave the work to me.

  He reached forward and patted the horse’s neck. The animal responded by shaking its head and mane.

  They rode on, maintaining a steady canter for half an hour, then letting the horses walk and trot for the next twenty minutes. It was similar to the forced march pace of the Rangers, which Horace had learned from Halt and Will in their travels together. And while at first he begrudged the time spent at the slower pace, he knew that in the long run they would cover more distance in a day this way.

  The sun was a milky presence, glowing weakly through the scudding grey clouds that passed over them. When Shukin judged it was pretty well directly overhead, he signalled a halt at a spot where the trail widened and formed a small, level clearing.

  ‘We’ll eat and rest for a short time,’ he said. ‘That’ll give us and the horses a chance to recover.’

  They unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down. In this weather, it wouldn’t do to leave the sweat on them to dry and cool in the chill wind. While this was going on, three of the servants unpacked food from the panniers they carried behind their saddles. By the time the riders had tended to their horses, the food was ready, and the servants had a fire going to make tea.

  Horace accepted a plate of pickles, smoked trout and spiced rice rolled into balls, and made his way to a level patch of ground. He hunkered down on a fallen log, groaning slightly as his knees and thighs let him know how hard they had been working. It was pleasant to rest for a few minutes, he thought. He just hoped that the brief stop wouldn’t be enough to let his muscles stiffen. If they did, the first half hour on the trail again would be torture. He resolved to get up and walk around the clearing once he had eaten.

  The food was good. Light, tasty and with a welcome tang. Horace looked at the size of the helping on his plate. The Nihon-Jan were, on the whole, a small race. He felt he could have happily dealt with a much larger portion of lunch. Then he shrugged philosophically. He always thought that, wherever he was and whatever he was given.

  Shukin, having checked that Shigeru needed nothing, had done a quick tour of the temporary camp, ensuring that all the men were eating and none of the horses had developed problems. Then, when he was satisfied, a servant handed him a plate of food and he sank down on the log beside Horace. The Araluan noted glumly that Shukin, used to sitting cross-legged on the ground since childhood, showed no sign of stiffness or discomfort as he sat.

  ‘How far do you plan to go today?’ Horace asked him.

  Shukin screwed up his face as he considered the question. ‘I had hoped to cross the Sarinaki River,’ he said. He indicated the direction they had been travelling in. ‘It’s another twenty kilometres uphill from here. There’s a waterfall with a crossing just above it.’

  ‘We should be able to make that distance,’ Horace said. ‘We’ve got another five hours of daylight, at least.’

  ‘Depending on the trail,’ Shukin told him. ‘It’s relatively easy going at the moment but it gets steeper and rougher in a few kilometres. That will slow us down.’

  ‘Hmmm. That could be a problem. And if it rains, the track will get more slippery, I suppose?’ Horace asked.

  The Senshi lord nodded. ‘It certainly won’t help. But if we can, I’d like to get across the river before dark.’

  That made sense to Horace. Crossing a river just upstream of a high waterfall could be a difficult and dangerous business. And any waterfall in this mountainous terrain would be a high one, he knew.

  ‘The crossing’s tricky, is it?’ he asked.

  Shukin pushed out his bottom lip and made a so-so gesture with his hand. ‘It’s not the easiest,’ he admitted. ‘But I have another reason for wanting to get there before dark. The spot commands a view of the country below us. I’d like the chance to see if there’s any sign of Arisaka and his men.’

  Travelling as they were, surrounded by high, dense trees on either side of the trail, they could gather little knowledge of what was going on behind them. Horace realised that Shukin was feeling the inevitable uncertainty of any leader conducting a retreat from a superior force. He needed to know where their pursuers were – how close they were, whether they were gaining on the small party that travelled with the Emperor. Running blind, as they were, was a recipe for tension and uncertainty. You never knew when armed warriors might burst out of the trees, yelling their battle cries, swords poised to strike.

  Just as they had that morning.

  ‘And if we don’t make the river?’ Horace asked. It was all very well to plan for the best possible circumstances. But the worst possible had to be considered as well.

  Shukin shrugged. ‘There’s a small village not far from the falls. We’ll shelter there for the night.’

  The rain, which had been absent for almost an hour, began again as he spoke. It was a light, misting rain, deceptive in its intensity. It seemed harmless enough at first but it was constant and unremitting. After ten to fifteen minutes of this, Horace knew, cloaks and trousers would become saturated, so that the water, no longer being absorbed by the weave, would flow off and run down into boot tops. It didn’t take long under these conditions for a person to become sodden and miserable.

  ‘Well, if we don’t make the falls,’ Horace said philosophically, ‘at least we’ll have somewhere dry to sleep tonight.’

  The rain turned the surface of the trail to a slippery, glue-like consistency. The horses lurched and stumbled upwards, occasionally causing Horace’s hair to stand on end as he caught glimpses of the dizzying depths below him, when the screen of trees beside the road thinned from time to time.

  Even more serious, the thick, sticky mud built up on the horses’ hooves, forcing the riders to stop frequently and clear the mess away.

  He saw Shukin glancing more frequently at the pale, watery disc that marked the sun’s position. The Senshi lord’s face was fixed in a frown now. It was midafternoon and Horace, even though he wasn’t sure how far they had travelled, knew it was nothing like the distance they would have to cover if they were to cross the river in daylight. Eventually, with a slumping of his shoulders, Shukin seemed to come to the same opinion. He held up his hand to stop the little column and edged his horse back down the slope to where the Emperor sat patiently. Horace urged his own horse closer to join in the discussion.

  ‘We won’t get across the river tonight,’ Shukin said.

  Shigeru pursed his lips in disappointment. ‘You’re sure?’ he asked, then he waved any possible answer aside as he corrected himself. ‘Of course you’re sure. You wouldn’t have said it, otherwise.’

  ‘I’m sorry, cousin,’ Shukin said, but Shigeru repeated the dismissive wave of his hand.

  ‘You’ve done everything possible,’ he said. ‘I can’t blame you for the rain – or for this mud.’

  He glanced meaningfully down at the irregular balls of mud that encased his horse’s feet. As he did so, one of his servants slipped from his saddle and hurried forward to clean the sticky mass away. Shigeru looked down at the man as he bent over the horse’s left forefoot.

  ‘I should send him away and do that myself,’ he said ruefully. ‘A man should attend to his own horse.’ He paused, then allowed himself a weary grin. ‘But I’m just too damned tired.’

  Horace smiled in return. ‘It’s good to be the Emperor,’ he said and Shigeru regarded him cynically.

  ‘Oh yes indeed. Look at the excellent time I’m having. Warm, comfortable travelling conditions. Plenty of good food and drink and a soft bed at the end of the trail. What more could I ask?’

  He and Horace shared the small joke but Shukin lowered his gaze. ‘I’m sorry, cousin,’ he said bitterly. ‘You don’t deserve this.’

  Shigeru reached over in the saddle and laid a gentle hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorr
y, Shukin,’ he said. ‘I’m not complaining. I know you’re doing your best to keep me safe. I’ll be grateful for a straw bed in a leaky hut in some small village tonight.’

  ‘Unfortunately, that seems to be what’s in store for us,’ Shukin agreed. ‘A little further up this rise, the road levels out and forks. Left leads to the falls and the crossing. Right leads us to a timber cutters’ village. We’ll turn right.’

  ‘One thing,’ Shigeru added doubtfully. ‘Will this rain have any effect on the crossing? What if it causes the river to rise? Should we perhaps try to get there even if it is in the dark?’

  But Shukin shook his head without any sign of uncertainty. ‘It’s not heavy enough for that. The water doesn’t build up because it escapes so easily at the falls.’

  Shigeru smiled at his cousin, understanding how heavily the responsibility for his Emperor’s safety and wellbeing was lying on the Senshi’s shoulders.

  ‘Well, my friend, there’s no sense in bemoaning what we can’t achieve today. Let’s get on with what we can achieve and find this village. As Or’ss-san mentioned earlier, at least we’ll have somewhere dry to sleep tonight.’ He included Horace in the smile.

  Shukin nodded and turned to issue a command to the small column. As they moved out, Horace noticed that Shukin now had a determined set to his shoulders. Not for the first time, Horace reflected on how the Emperor’s good-humoured, unselfish response to setbacks could inspire so much more loyalty and effort from his subordinates than blustering and bullying could ever achieve. It was a valuable lesson in leadership, he thought.

  It was another difficult two hours on the trail, riding, slithering, sliding and stumbling before they reached level ground once more. Shukin called a brief halt while horses and men caught their breath for a few minutes. He consulted his map, with one of his troops holding a waterproof cape over him. There was barely enough light to see the details on the sheet, Horace thought, but the Senshi warrior folded the map away and pointed down the trail.