“Uh! Meddling priest and his lackey. You have no business here. The woman is an example to those foolish enough to stand against Lord Kurohoshi and his conquering army. Make him put her back as she was,” he instructed officiously.
Karasu hesitated. He could not explain to Thom what had just been said and even if he could he worried what the Kapitan might do. He briefly caught Hiraiwa shaking his head slowly in warning, but Karasu did not know what to do.
“What are you waiting for priest? Do it now or you will find yourself in a cell along with your servants,” the tall soldier sneered and his squatter friend sniggered.
“I’m afraid I cannot do that Sir. I cannot touch a dead body,” Karasu stalled desperately racking his brain for a way out. He felt the hatred pulsating from both Thom and Hiraiwa and dreaded to think what thoughts ran through their heads. A small knot of civilians had gathered in a side street not far from where the woman’s body lay behind Devlin. They were afraid, but curiosity had given them the courage to linger and watch.
“Bloody stupid priests,” the squat soldier laughed. “Get your lackey to do it you idiot, if you do not wish to soil your lily white hands. Do you good to get some dirt on them though.” He exchanged a knowing look with his comrade and suddenly in a swift movement both men took hold of Karasu’s arms and forcefully marched him to the body of the woman, barging Thom out of the way. They shoved him onto his knees and his head onto the corpse’s chest. Karasu closed his eyes and let out a despairing cry; both men laughed cruelly.
The pressure of hands on him vanished. An odd, gurgling choking noise filtered through the loud beating of his heart. He became aware of a struggle behind him, of feet furiously working against the wet cobbles. Then he saw blood washing away in the rivulets between the stones. Other sounds came to him. Voices whispering urgently, the rain pattering heavily onto the street and onto his head, the snort of one of the horses and hurrying footsteps. Hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him upright.
“Time to go Shukke,” Hiraiwa muttered in his ear. Karasu lifted his head to meet the Samurai’s eyes. Then he looked around. Thom was quickly pulling the bodies of the soldiers into the side street where the people had been standing. The witnesses were gesticulating at him to take them someplace else and the pirate gesticulated back rudely.
“Get on your horse and ride to the harbour. I will help the Kapitan,” Hiraiwa urged. “Oyama-san! Go now!” he added more urgently as Karasu made no effort to move but simply stared at the murder scene. He blinked rapidly and wiped away the rain that streamed down his face. Half blindly he staggered to his horse and with great effort mounted it. He felt sick, disorientated. Devlin had just killed the soldiers. Although he felt some relief he was shocked by the deed and for the first time he began to question his judgement. Saishu Ryuu and Yoshino had been right; he was not made for a world of violence. He wished to be back at the Inari Temple. Shivering, he urged his ride forward and did not look back.
Thom and Hiraiwa struggled with the two bodies, dragging them deeper into the side street. A young man ran up to them and rapidly told the Second Samurai of a sewer. He led them to it and helped them to lower the bodies down. Then he bowed twice to them with tears in his eyes and ran away towards Sakura Street again. Thom gazed after him with puzzlement. The fear he understood, but the tears and the help were hard to pin down until that was, as he and Hiraiwa left the side street to regain their horses. They encountered the young man with two elderly women. The little group gently lifted the body of the dead woman and her child onto a hand cart. They looked around anxiously every few seconds and then carried on with their task. One woman wept openly, the young man also and he constantly stroked the corpse’s head or held his own in his hands. The other woman threw a bucket of water into the road to help the rain wash away the blood that stubbornly stained it. She smiled at Thom and nodded a short bow as he passed. The others ignored the strangers and hurriedly pushed the cart into the darkness of the alley and out of sight.
“Man’s wife,” Hiraiwa grunted at Thom.
“What? You speak Westlandish?” the Kapitan exclaimed in surprise.
“Little,” Hiraiwa returned with a smile. “Come now.” He climbed onto his horse and waited for the pirate to do the same. Thom mounted also, stared at the Second Samurai for a brief moment and then returned his smile. He understood he had gained the warrior’s approval and with it the hand of friendship had been extended. They pushed their rides forwards to the harbour. No one was left in Sakura Street to tell the occupying forces what had happened. The citizens melted back into the city and no one spoke of the three riders and the murder of two guards. No one dare.
They reached the harbour just as the downpour finally eased and a faint watery sun glinted weakly through the lifting clouds. A riderless horse stood fastened to a rail, its head plunged into a drinking trough. As they approached it pricked its ears and snorted, but did not tear itself away from its drink. Hiraiwa looked around with concern.
“There,” said Thom pointing at the quayside which bustled with fishermen unloading their catch. Karasu had his back to the city gazing, motionless, out into the harbour. His companions dismounted and approached him, taking care to note whether any soldiers stood around the quay. There were none.
“Shukke?” Hiraiwa said softly. Karasu did not turn but acknowledged the Second Samurai in Ashiman.
“Daiki. What have I done? Why am I here?” he asked despairingly.
“You have done nothing Karasu,” Hiraiwa answered, his voice compassionate.
“Devlin murdered the soldiers and it was because of me. I should have stayed at the Temple. I am no fighter,” Karasu carried on morosely.
“You talk foolishly. Would you prefer to hide away knowing your family’s and your father’s honour have died? You have done the right thing boy. Still, it is hard to see death the first time. Those men deserved their fate. They were beasts, lower than human. Devlin-san did what I would have done. He just got there first. You should honour him Oyama-san. He is a skilled warrior.”
The ronin laughed a little hysterically.
“The man commits murder and you say he deserves my respect?” he cried loudly. A few fishermen turned to see who had shouted.
“No! He probably saved your life. They were pigs! Who do you think raped and killed the girl? What other fate did they deserve?” Hiraiwa chastised angrily. Karasu hung his head. The Samurai was probably right, but the act of murder, committed so close to him, had shocked the young ronin more than he thought possible.
“I hate to interrupt your little argument. But do you want me to have a look at yon ship or not,” Thom cut in and nodded to the rusting grey hulk of a warship in the middle of the harbour. “Looks like she’s seen better days,” he added in an undertone and smiled at his companions. Hiraiwa grinned back at the pirate’s sudden good humour, understanding more of what had been said than he would openly admit to, but Karasu answered without meeting Thom’s eye.
“We need boat," he said churlishly.
“Something wrong mate?” Thom demanded picking up on the ronin’s tone.
“I simply amazed that you kill two men and act like nothing has happened,” Karasu replied with feeling.
Thom stared at him, grinding his teeth then, he burst out laughing. His mirth was so infectious that the Second Samurai joined in and the watching fishermen shook their heads and gesticulated that the strangers were crazy.
“What so funny?” Karasu demanded angrily.
“Yes, that’s the spirit!” Thom cried and shoved his face up close. “Feel that anger? Feel that passion? That is what tis to live Karasu. I thought you were a dead man, but now I know you are alive. Hell, it took a lot to see it though,” he mocked. “Go on hit me. You know you want to. Show me that you really do care.”
Karasu made an odd mewling sound and clenched his fists. He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm.
“Why you insist on provoking me Kapitan? What about me you dislike
?” he managed at last, though his voice wavered with emotion.
“Dislike? I do not dislike you Karasu. I just do not understand you. We ride down a street filled with the severed heads of your people. We find a dead woman, defiled and fastened to a stake upon which her infant child is skewered like a suckling pig. We see all this and you show nothing. Not an inkling that you care. Then I probably save your miserable, ungrateful life by killing the bastards that are, at least in part, responsible for the atrocities we have seen and you accuse me of murder. Tell me boy, where is the logic in that? What do you care about if not the people of this city? Surely you care more for them than their enemy?”
Hot tears streamed down Karasu’s face. He made no attempt to wipe them away. He felt no shame at what others may deem a weakness. Thom’s words had hit home.
“I have cried Kapitan, but rain wash away grief. You think I not feel, but I cannot express how deep hatred of Kurohoshi and his army is at moment. To let feelings win would, however, only be destructive. There will be a time for revenge and now not it. Now, you see weakness within me. You see fear, anger and tears. Does it satisfy you that I am human? You laugh if you wish Thom,” he divulged hotly.
Devlin stood back and smiled a little sadly.
“I do not think you are weak Karasu, but now I know you are human. I was beginning to think you really were a spirit from another world. What do you call them, Kami?” he said quietly. “Now are you going to get us onto that bloody wreck out there or are we going to discuss psychology all day?”
Despite himself the ronin coughed a laugh and nodded.
“Tell me one thing though. What you feel when you kill them?” he enquired curiously.
“Feel? I felt nothing. Satisfied maybe, that some justice had been done,” Thom admitted.
“Justice! You not even know if they guilty of any crime. Just because they there does not mean they responsible for death of young woman,” Karasu insisted his tone a little incredulous.
Thom considered him for a moment. He thought he had got through to the lad, that they had begun to understand each other. He was mistaken. He shrugged.
“Maybe not, but they certainly were not innocent and they might have killed you if I had not acted. Now Priest, a boat,” he ended the conversation unwilling to waste any more time on bandying words.
They borrowed a rowing boat from one of the fishermen. He was not unduly suspicious and had learned over the past month not to ask questions of strangers. People had died that way, their heads cut off and rammed onto a spike. The fisherman valued his head too much and willingly leant his boat to the odd trio.
They climbed aboard and rowed quickly to the rusting steamer in the deep water channel, aware that the lack of soldiers or officials around the harbour was more a matter of luck than anything else. Thom keenly surveyed the warship as they drew nearer. Hiraiwa watched the dockside.
“Hell she’s a mess! I thought you said your father maintained her. She’s as rusty as an old bucket,” he muttered with a disappointed air.
“We don’t have right sort of paint here. I think she still seaworthy. She coated in lacquer to help halt rust, but I admit she not look good,” Karasu explained and Thom grunted. He was beginning to think this a waste of time.
“Well let’s have a good look at her shall we? Will there be anyone on board?”
“I not know. Perhaps or perhaps not. When my father lived she was only visited by those caring for her. I cannot answer for current regime. Would they wish to board her?” Karasu offered unhelpfully.
“Well, I would. Initially at least, but curiosity satisfied I’d probably leave her to rot. After all there is no one who could sail her is there? And no fuel. Better proceed with caution though. Just in case. I think Mr Hiraiwa should keep watch. You can accompany me. I presume you know your way around this old tub?”
“I think I remember, yes.”
The steamer had swung around on her anchors to face the ebbing tide. Around her were a number of decent sized sailing vessels all latten rigged and emptied of their cargoes. Their crews were either ashore or busy working. No one really paid the row boat any notice. It was just another bunch of curious strangers come to see the old Westland warship. There had been many since the occupation. The boat bumped into the rust stained hull out of sight of the quay. Thom took a metal spike and began to prod at the ship’s structure. The rust it seemed, so far at least, was fairly superficial. As Karasu had said there was no paint and the Kapitan could see the flaking lacquer and feel the grease that had been applied to the metal plates to prevent decay. He smiled with surprise. Maybe these land lubbers knew more about preserving steel ships that he had given them credit for. They pulled around to a ladder and he intimated that they climb aboard.
The wooden deck was splintered and cracked from the constant exposure to the sun and rain. Devlin sneered at the thought of how the Imperial Navy would view the Ashiman idea of maintenance. He wondered how many sailors had felt the birch on their backs for not ensuring the deck was spotlessly scrubbed and polished. What would they think now that all their hard work had been undone by the weather and a lack of care?
“Karasu. Ask Mr Hiraiwa to stand beside the gun on the for’ard deck. He can see the quay side from there,” Thom instructed.
“What deck?”
“Up front,” the Kapitan irritably replied.
Hiraiwa was installed beside the large, forward mounted gun and the ronin joined the pirate in a slow and cautious sweep of the warship. They started in the engine rooms, the Kapitan stating that there was no point looking at anything else until they had ascertained whether the steam turbines were still functional. They found a fat lamp, lit it and set about the inspection. He had not expected much, but had been pleasantly surprised at the well oiled and greased machinery. Granted, there was an intolerable amount of dust, but the valves opened smoothly when turned and nothing appeared seized or rusted. He smiled vaguely to himself and muttered something about the engineer needing to take a good look, but he was quietly optimistic.
The boiler room next, which despite its long absence of coal managed to support its fair share of black dust and anthracitic remnants. A large pile of wood was stashed adjacent to boiler number one whose door was open and hanging limply on a broken hinge. Thom strode to the boiler and seemed to study it carefully, though in truth his mind was elsewhere. He felt confident there was nothing here that could not be readily fixed and his mood was gradually changing from frustrated irritation to excited optimism. He was beginning to realise that the liberation of his lost gold was a distinct possibility. He patted the boiler’s cold steel affectionately and turned to Karasu with a grin.
“Better check the bilges and then the magazines,” he said and ushered his companion reluctantly into the bowls of the ship.
The bilges stank. A mixture of rotting fish and greasy, stale salt water. Karasu coughed and covered his nose and mouth with his hand. Combined with the rancid stench of the fat lamp the additional stink of the soupy water, through which Thom now waded his hakama pants rolled up above his knees, made him feel sick.
“Thom what you doing? It smell very bad down here. I think we should go,” he choked through his fingertips.
“Not until I’m happy she is not full of holes down here. There should be a pump or two somewhere as well. Ah, that looks like one. Pass me the lamp,” Thom reached a hand backwards. Karasu handed him the light and retreated to the ladder down which they had climbed. He watched miserably as the pirate investigated what he could only discern as a lump of metal, but which was, in all likelihood, the said pump. He wished Devlin would hurry up. He wanted to get out of this dreadful stinking hole, it made him feel ill and claustrophobic, but the rooms above were black as ink without a light so he dare not leave. He felt his stomach knot and fought back the rising bile.
“Thom? Please, we go?” he begged eventually. He heard a laugh and was annoyed by it.
“Yes you girl. Go on up the ladder. I’m right b
ehind you,” Thom mocked.
They moved to the magazines and gun turrets. Devlin spent a long time here checking equipment, examining shells. He knew only too well the dangers of explosives especially when it had been left in a damp and corrosive environment. One pile of shells in the starboard magazine he would not touch, would make sure no one else did either. Some were sitting in a pool of water and encrusted with a whitish powder. He shut the magazine door and pushed a broom handle through the wheel.
“No one goes in there,” he said and moved on to the forward gun turret ignoring his companion’s questioning stare.
Finally they climbed onto the Bridge. It looked to all intents and purposes like the officers had just left. Spotlessly clean except for the sun-cracked timber planking and peeling paintwork. Everything appeared to function as it should although, without power, Thom did not know whether the lights throughout the ship would work or whether the helm would respond. There was only one way to find out for sure, but he thought he knew. He leant against the wheel and stared at the city directly in his line of vision. He could make out the white castle on its low hill and at the end of the long gruesome avenue. Karasu followed his gaze.
“It beautiful in spring, when all cherry trees have blossom. I not think I ever enjoy that beauty again,” he said with a hint of bitterness.
“You will, in time,” Thom uttered quietly with a smile at his companion. Karasu sighed.
“Well Kapitan Devlin. What your conclusion about ship?” he asked.
“She’ll sail. She looks like shit from the outside, but I think everything will work. We will not know for sure until we stoke her up and get some steam through her. Hell, every joint might leak for all I know, but I think not. A few maybe. We cannot use the shells in the starboard magazine, which will put that gun out of action, but given that we do not intend to confront a moving enemy I do not think that will hinder us. The port and for’ard guns and ammunition stores are fine. I’m not sure about the hydraulics though. They may not work. Seems like most of the fluid had gone. Still there are crank handles to hoist the shells aloft. Hard work for the poor buggers down there, but we can still load up. We need to spend a bit more time checking her over, but I am confident that there is nothing we cannot fix.
Raven's Quest Page 16