“It’s ready.”
“Good, good.” The old man sounded pleased. “There are two bowls on the floor near you. Why don’t you serve us?”
Getting the bowls, he served up the rice. He gave one of the bowls to the priest and took his own with him back to his side of the room.
“An odd thing happened late last night,” the old man said.
Toshi glanced up, forgetting his food for the moment.
“We had some visitors.”
“Visitors?” He fidgeted despite himself.
“Yes. An unusual group, really. I’ve never seen the like before. I wanted a better look at them, so I invited them out of the rain, but they wouldn’t come in. Strangely enough, though, they did leave this.”
The old man lifted a wrapped bundle of food. A silver bell hung from one end. “An odd set of friends for such a young man.”
Toshi stared across the room, wondering just how much the man had sensed about his companions with his unusual sight. Had he known them for what they were?
Feeling tense and uncomfortable, he hurried through his breakfast. As soon as he was done, he began packing away his things.
“You’re not planning on leaving already, are you?” the priest asked.
A kernel of fear grew in his stomach as he glanced at the blind man’s smiling face.
“Yes, honorable sir, I must be going. There are some things I need to do.” He bit his tongue as he felt the urge to try and explain further. He grabbed his basket and slipped it onto his shoulders.
“Ah, well, then, thank you for your company, and your help,” the priest said. “You’d probably better take this with you, as well, since they went through so much trouble to get it to you.” He held the wrapped bundle out in Toshi’s direction.
Toshi approached him warily and took the package. He slipped the tinkling bell from it and then laid the package on the man’s lap.
“Please, you should have it. I know I must have taxed what little food you had. There are not many travelers on the road, and I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. I still have plenty, so, please, keep it. And, if you would, please pray for me and my friends.”
Not waiting for a response, he slipped on his sandals and immersed himself in the mugginess outside.
He ran down the muddy, puddle-filled road a long way, desperately needing to put some distance between himself and the old man. As he ran, he paid no heed to the basket as it slapped over and over again against his back.
He had no idea how much the priest knew. He hoped he would tell no one of what he had seen, even as he realized the old man had found out enough to set their enemies after them. He’d been a fool to stay there the night.
The humidity hung on him like a cloak. His feet and legs were thickly covered in mud by the time he was forced to slow down his run to try and catch his breath. He glanced behind him off and on throughout the rest of the day, not entirely sure the blind man wasn’t coming after him.
The rain continued to fall sporadically for the next couple of days. When it wasn’t heavy, he trudged on, trusting his hat to keep the rain from his hair. During the afternoons, he looked for whatever shelter he could find, always ready to bolt if anyone showed up to share it.
By the third day, all he could think about was how glorious life would be if he could only have a bath.
The rain hadn’t yet returned to torment him, and sunshine was actually making its way past the clouds. He had no idea how long it would last.
The road he was on had been sloping out of the hills since the day before. The trees were slowly thinning out around him. By midday, the forest had given way to extensive paddies. Staring off into the distance, he saw what appeared to be a large town at the edge of a lake.
Chapter 25
He shouldn’t be here. Toshi knew that; but though he’d fully intended to skirt the town, he’d somehow ended up in the middle of it anyway. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. After all, he was just a common peasant boy. Surely, his mission wouldn’t be threatened when he could so easily hide as one of the crowd.
He knew cities and the many things they offered. How could he turn away from the thought of a hot meal, a bath and even a dry, clean place to sleep? It’d been so long. Surely, he could bend the rules just this once.
He became absorbed by the familiar smells of cooking food, sake, vegetables, that permeated the street, and the normal bustle of people going about their daily business. The calling of vendors assaulted his ears from both sides of the road as they tried to entice him and the other passersby into buying silk cloths, wooden implements, candies, woodblock prints and all other manner of goods. It was a radical change from the silence he’d been subjected to for so many days. It was wonderful to see something other than trees, bushes and lonely, muddy roads.
Entering the first eating establishment he spotted, he stood happily in place as his feet were washed at the entrance before he was shown to a table. He ordered more than he knew he could possibly eat, but didn’t care. He enjoyed himself as he ate cold soba and a wide variety of tempura. He ended up surprising himself by eating it all. It was wonderful!
“Has everything been to your satisfaction, young sir?”
“Oh, yes,” Toshi said. “It was marvelous. I couldn’t have asked for better.”
“I’m so very glad you think so.” The thin proprietor gave him the wide smile reserved purely for customers.
He knew what was expected as the proprietor stood beaming down at him giving no signs he would leave. So Toshi reached within his shirt to pull out the small bag of money Asaka had given him. As he did so, he realized he’d never taken the time to check what was inside. He held his breath as he opened the bag and glanced in it.
“I—I’m sorry, sir, but could you make change for this? I can’t find anything smaller.”
He bit his lip as the proprietor’s annoyance at his first few words turned into surprise as the man stared at the coin in his hand.
“Will it be all right?”
The proprietor’s eyes rose to meet his, his expression unreadable. “Oh, ah, yes, yes, that’ll be fine. I can make change for you. Yes, yes, I can.”
He watched the proprietor with some trepidation as the latter took the coin and shuffled off toward the back of the shop. Once he’d disappeared, he turned his attention to the bag in his hands. He swallowed hard at the small fortune he found inside it. He pulled it shut as the proprietor returned.
The man forced him to count the change twice before letting him have it. Nervous at the attention, he put the change in the bag and slipped it inside his shirt.
“Sir, could you give me directions to a reputable bath house?” he asked, still worrying about the incident with the money.
“Ah, yes, of course, young sir. There’s one just down the street, a couple of blocks down. It will be on your right.”
“Thank you.” He quickly gathered his things and left.
The bath was ecstasy. He had scrubbed every inch of his body except his head twice before entering the hot pool. Allowing his cares to drift into the water, he listened to the other bathers as they talked about various subjects pertaining to the town—the coming fall festival, gossip about a newly married couple and more. He sighed in contentment. It was almost like being back home.
After lingering for longer than he knew was proper, he regretfully left the pool, dried and redressed. He looked forward to the prospect of finding a pleasant inn to spend the night.
As he left with some directions from one of the attendants, he was suddenly flanked on either side.
Looking up in surprise, he saw the two men were samurai. A wave of fear coursed through him as he forced himself to bow.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” This came from the shorter of the two.
“Sir?” How had they known? He’d thought he’d blended in perfectly here.
“We would like to see your traveling papers.”
He felt his throat fill wi
th panic. “Papers, sir?”
“Yes, your papers,” came the impatient reply. “Come on, let us see them. That is, unless you haven’t got any.”
The sneer he saw growing on the tall man’s face made it pretty obvious he expected him not to.
“I have papers.” Reaching inside his shirt, he desperately dug around for the bamboo tube containing the writ Asaka had given him. He cursed himself for a fool, realizing the proprietor of the eatery must have turned him in to the local guards. Someone like him would never be carrying around the high currency he’d used to pay for his meal. He should have realized the man would tell someone he looked suspicious.
He found the writ and pulled it out, breathing out a quick prayer. He opened the tube and handed its contents to the shorter of the two samurai.
Toshi waited anxiously as the man unrolled the yellowing parchment and read it. The boy’s brow furrowed as he saw a look of surprise and disbelief flicker across the man’s face. The samurai finished reading the paper and then gave him a long, hard look before glancing at his partner.
“Kimura, I think you’re right. Take a look at this.”
With a cold chill moving through him, Toshi watched the previously sneering samurai read the paper.
“It’s perfectly legitimate, sirs,” he told them.
“Oh, we don’t doubt its authenticity, boy. What we have a hard time believing is that this paper belongs to you.” The sneer had returned to the taller samurai’s face. His hand clamped down on Toshi’s shoulder.
“You’ll be coming with us.”
“But, sirs, the permit is mine,” he insisted. “It was entrusted to me with a mission, one I must finish!”
The grip on his shoulder grew painful. “Next you’ll be telling me Lord Asano himself gave you this writ, almost nine years ago.”
Both men laughed and forcibly led him down the street.
He kept silent, giving them no trouble. There was no way out for him. They’d cut him down if he tried to resist. He had to find a way to make them believe him.
Not far from the center of town, the samurai steered him toward a large wooden building standing on a rock foundation. They took him inside through a side door and dragged him downstairs. Cells covered one wall, all of them having strong, thick gates. As they led him toward them, Toshi felt a swell of panic rush inside him.
“Please, sirs, I’m not lying to you,” he pleaded. “That permit was given to me by my lord. I was to be his messenger to Lord Asano. I have to get to Narashi to see him! You must believe me.”
The taller samurai held him still as the other liberated him of his possessions.
“And just who might your lord be, boy?” Holding him by the scruff of the neck, the sneering samurai threw him into the nearest open cell. He hit the floor hard.
“I don’t think this peasant works for any lord, unless he means the lord of lies.”
Both men laughed as they locked the gate to the cell.
Toshi climbed to his feet, infused by a burst of anger. “I do serve a lord! His name is Asaka Ietsugu. He gave me that writ and sent me on a mission for Lord Asano. If you don’t release me immediately, you’ll have to answer to them.”
Both men stared at him, all trace of their previous amusement gone. The taller of the two reached threateningly for his sword.
“You’d better watch your mouth, thief. As it is, your fate will be quite unpleasant upon the magistrate’s return tomorrow. If you persist, though, we’ll be happy to give you a taste of what you might expect.”
Toshi stood defiant, his anger growing with his frustration. They didn’t believe him, and he could prove nothing. He had already given away too much.
“Why won’t you even try to believe me? You could at least tell me that.”
The tall samurai sneered at him and began ruffling through the contents of his basket.
“It’s obvious why, thief. Messengers for great lords don’t go around passing themselves off as peasants.
They also don’t go into town in disguise and buy things with coins large enough to rent an entire legion of ronin. You say this writ is from your lord, yet you carry no papers of your own. Need I go on, thief?”
He cringed from the man’s sarcastic tone, realizing he had no way to repudiate his logic. His stupidity was going to get him killed.
“Well, well, look at all this.”
His gaze snapped to the basket as the tall samurai emptied its contents. A bolt of dread tore through him as the man brought out the kettle he’d gone so far to get. The samurai barely paid it any attention before setting it on the ground.
“A boken. Isn’t that interesting, little thief? Is this what you attack your victims with? Do you hit them from behind?”
“I never attacked anyone!” He glared at the man, but the samurai ignored him.
The shorter samurai took the boken as the other continued digging things out. “It looks to have been heavily used.”
“Hm, perhaps he belongs to a group,” the other speculated. “He may have to be tortured so he’ll give us the location of his accomplices.”
Toshi felt fear tingling up his spine. He tried not to let it show, but had a hard time of it.
“I tell you, there’s no one else. There is no gang. There are no victims! No robbery.”
“Save your breath, thief. Everything will come to light in its own time. You can tell all your lies to the magistrate tomorrow.”
“But I am innocent!” He rushed to the cell’s gate, only to jump back as the shorter of the two men slapped it with his sheathed sword.
“Keep quiet! You’re starting to make me regret the fact we didn’t just cut you down in the street and have done with it.”
He took a step back, horrified by the man’s sobering tone.
“Lord Asano will thank the magistrate once we’re through with you and have captured those you work with. For your sake, you’d better hope whatever message you intercepted wasn’t one of a grave nature.
Otherwise, your death could take a very, very long time.”
He was about to protest, but a hard look from the taller samurai made him think better of it.
After they’d inspected everything, they repacked it back into the basket. They left without a word, though the taller of the two turned back long enough to spit in his direction.
Toshi shook where he stood, fear and despair overflowing inside him now that he was alone. He had failed. All his trials had been for nothing. In one day, he had destroyed all his lord had worked toward all these years.
He was doomed and he knew it. The magistrate wouldn’t believe him any more than his men had. All there was to look forward to were pain-filled days of torture and, eventually, a dishonorable death. He would pay the ultimate price for having craved a few hours of comfort. He’d been such a fool.
He fell to his knees. Even in his worst nightmares, he had never imagined it might end like this.
Chapter 26
The day crawled by. No one came to disturb Toshi’s solitude as he sat in the cell’s semi-darkness.
His stomach grumbled as the day came to an end, but no food was ever brought to him. Rain started to fall, small trickles of it coming through the partial stone wall to pool on the dirt floor.
Wiping at his swollen eyes, he was forced to move away from where he’d curled up on the far corner of his cell. As the rain kept on, puddles began to form and spread across the floor.
By the time the rain stopped there were only a few spots on the floor of the cell that remained dry. None of them were large enough for him to sit on. Since he didn’t want to make himself even more miserable than he already was, there was only one other thing he could think of to do. And if he was lucky, it might even let him forget his problems for a little while.
Stepping out into the middle of the cell and placing his feet in a partially dry area, he took a deep breath as he positioned himself into his beginning stance. Sighing as he brought up an empty hand, he found he missed the
weight of his wooden blade. He couldn’t see his movements in the darkness, but he could feel them. It amazed him how well he could tell he was doing by just the feel of the movement.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was back on the glowing ship, moving under Mitsuo’s critical eye.
He latched onto one of Miko’s favorite tunes and had it play over and over in his head.
He speeded up his movements as he found his thoughts straying to his lord and his companions. He had to find a way to get out of here. He’d already tested the gate, the stone and the wooden walls. Nothing had given way.
What if he killed himself? He could try and come back, as Asaka had done and perhaps be able to escape this place. Then, he would go find the others and explain what had happened, tell them where the kettle was. But he had no guarantee he could kill himself, let alone come back.
He swiveled on his foot and almost fell as it slipped sideways in a patch of mud. Breathing heavily, he reached down to clean his sandal, cursing at the slippery ground. He was about to resume his practice when a thought brought him up short.
Dropping down on hands and knees, he felt around for one of the small rivulets of water and followed it to the gate. He pushed one finger into the dirt floor and felt it give. With a hopeful heart, he took what water was left in the rivulet and spread it around the immediate area of the gate. He took off one of his sandals and, gripping it tightly, used it to dig at the moist floor.
Scooping up water from other areas of the cell, he softened the packed dirt beneath the gate as much as he could. He focused on the need to be out of there before the sun rose.
Sweat covered his body as he continued working at the wet floor with his sandal, scraping as fast as he could. He had to hurry—he’d missed a good part of the day. Asaka and the others had probably gone past by now. He had to catch up. He wasn’t sure how they had been finding him every evening, but he doubted they’d ever think he might have come here. He had to get free.
Gloria Oliver Page 21
