“This is Mizuki, Lord Oyama’s sister. In answer to your earlier questions I was with her other brother. We were trying to rescue her from Kurohoshi’s castle. We got separated but Mizuki and I managed to get out and so you find us here. We are trying to make our rendezvous. We have twenty four hours, no, less now, perhaps only eighteen. You, are holding us up,” Thom explained rapidly and Stefan continued to gaze at the pair before him. He was frankly astounded. The pirate was an enigma, a contradiction to all he believed. He looked at the girl. She certainly had the air of nobility despite her dishevelled appearance. He spoke to her in her own language.
“Is this true? Are you the daughter of Oyama Naoki?”
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“And this man. You know what he is? You know he is a pirate, a murderous villain?” he continued.
“He is a brave and honourable man. He saved my life and that of my brothers. He cannot help what he was born to, but he is no villain Sir,” Mizuki returned hotly.
“Forgive me, but so that I can be sure, would you tell me who I am,” Stefan asked knowing that he had met this woman several times when she was a little girl and that even if she did not remember his name, if she truly was the daughter of Oyama she would at least remember the ship and its officers that spent time with her father.
“You were a Levtenant I believe. An officer on the Imperial Frigate Orca. You and your friends used to visit my father when I was a little girl. I only remember you so well because you learned to speak our language so very quickly and you married my mother’s maid Ayame. Your name is Marrel,” Mizuki replied with a smile. Shock spread over Stefan’s face and he bowed low.
“My Lady,” he said, “Forgive my doubting you, but you have changed so much since I last saw you. I am your servant.”
Mizuki moved towards him and lifted his head.
“There is nothing to forgive Marrel-san. Please, believe me though, Thom is a good man.”
Stefan looked from her to Devlin, and though his heart did not want to let go its prejudice, he nodded.
“My family are camped not far from here. We escaped the city and came to the forest. I was looking for fresh water when I came across you. Please, you are welcome to join us for supper and I think I may have something we can use to dress that wound properly,” he offered Thom speaking Westlandish once more.
“Thank you,” Thom replied and limped to where Mizuki held out her hand. Stefan noted their affection for each other, thought to say something and immediately decided against it. It was not his place and none of his business. He led the way to his camp.
The camp lay between a cluster of rocks on a small beach just below the forest. A sail had been hung across the boulders to give shelter from the sun and rain. A light scattering of ash covered the awning and the beach, but most of the outfall from the eruption had blown northwards on the prevailing wind. From the water’s edge, where Mizuki bathed Thom’s leg in salt water, they could just make out the smouldering, sunken cone of the volcano and hear its muffled thunder.
She washed off the brine with a tincture she had brewed from the nettles she had picked. It soothed the wound and she knew it would cleanse it better than water alone.
“This will hurt,” she said softly and held his gaze for a second, questioning whether he wanted her to continue. He did not reply, but picked up the bottle of Saki that Stefan had given him and took another swig. He was quite drunk already, but knew it was not enough to prevent the pain. He nodded and gritting his teeth in anticipation, dug his hands into the soft wet sand and leant his weight back against them. Mizuki started to sew, using the needle and boiled hemp that had been teased from the stolen fishing boat’s main sheet. She hesitated when Thom uttered a stifled moan of pain through his pursed lips and looked at his face.
“Go on,” he said with a harshness born of anxious anticipation of more hurt to come. She carried on and he blinked away the salty water and sweat from his eyes.
At the camp Ayame watched the pair from a distance. She held in her hands some clothes and over the other side of the bay her girls played in the surf, oblivious to any danger and enjoying their adventure. She smiled at their antics and then returned her gaze to the young couple.
“They love each other,” she said sadly as Stefan joined her and handed her a spare set of Hakama pants.
“Here he can have these. His trousers are ripped to bits,” he said and then considered her words as he too watched the girl tending to the pirate.
“She insisted on doing it herself. I offered. But look how they touch each other. Always seeking comfort and longing for more. I see it in both their faces,” Ayame continued.
“It will end in tears. There is no way Hayato will let her marry a foreigner, no matter what he has done.
“She is very beautiful is she not? Much like I remember her mother to be. Poor child,” Stefan returned and turned his attention to his own daughters thankful that they would not be restricted by the protocol of a noble birth. His girls would be able to marry whom they liked, within reason, and he was glad of it. He had never yet met an aristocratic woman, or man even, who had found true happiness in marriage. There was always some political agenda at work, somewhere.
Later, when Mizuki sat clothed in a plain dark blue kimono belonging to Ayame and Thom had donned the Hakama pants and haori jacket that Stefan had lent him, they talked around the camp fire. The little girls sat quietly in awe of the lovely lady they had been told was a princess and the handsome young man whom their father had told them not to speak to. They listened to the adults’ conversation with wide eyes, fascinated that it took place totally in Westlandish.
“I am surprised she sailed at all. Naoki must have kept her better than I thought,” Stefan admitted after Thom had finished his tale of how they had used the Orca to attack Hana-Shi-Ku.
“I had my doubts when I first saw her. She looks a hulk, but most of the degradation is superficial. She sailed well enough. Slow with only wood to burn, but well enough,” Thom added.
“And what now?” Stefan resumed after a moment’s silence.
“Now we try and join her. The bay is some way south though. We may not make it in time. If not, we will make our own way to Kyo-To-Shi.”
“You could use our boat. Tis not mine. I appropriated it from the harbour. I doubt its owner will miss it after all this,” Stefan gesticulated towards the volcano still rumbling in the distance. “I would ask a favour though, that you take us with you.”
Thom considered the ex-levtenant for a while and then nodded. His original hostility had been replaced by cautious friendship and though the Kapitan knew that the man before him still struggled with a long held belief that all pirates were evil, he was an affable man nonetheless.
“I do not have a problem with that and I doubt that Lord Oyama will. I owe you for your hospitality,” he said at last.
And so an hour after dawn, as a pale sun finally punched a hole in the brooding volcanic smog that hung around the coast of ‘Ubu Province, the family, the Lady and the pirate climbed aboard the little fishing craft and set sail from their secluded bay to hopefully find an old frigate and a warm welcome.
FIFTY
Kurohoshi battled his way through dense forest keeping to animal tracks as much as he could and descending further and further down the flanks of the trembling volcano. Every now and then he looked skywards at the looming mushroom cloud, but it was now a mere shadow of its former self and he gradually began to realise its threat had diminished. He was safe from the mountain and with this realisation his confidence returned.
After four hours he reached a grassy road that wove between the trees, heading downwards to where he could hear the distant rush of water. He was exhausted yet he quickened his pace and soon found himself by a wide mountain stream across which lay a rough wooden bridge leading to a small woodsman’s shack at the other side. His first thoughts were to run to the hut and seek food, but the call of the stream was stronger than his hung
er and he plunged into its cool embrace, sinking his head beneath its surface and finally drinking until he could drink no more. Only then did he consider the hovel once more and ventured towards it.
As he drew nearer he could see the door stood ajar and with increased caution he edged towards it using the walls as cover. He peered through the unshuttered window and beheld a dingy room beyond. No sign of life, but still he laid his hands upon his katana and gingerly pushed the door wider with his foot, listening. No sound. No protestation from an occupant or hurried footsteps trying to hide or slam the door shut. Slowly he moved inside and waited patiently until his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. Gradually the shadows became solid forms; a table, a cupboard, and two wooden chairs. The place was deserted, but had not long since been abandoned. He surmised its owner fled when the volcano threatened his existence.
Smiling cynically to himself he hurried to the cupboard and ransacked it for food. He found little. A hunk of stale bread and a bag of rice. He grunted but ripped the bread into pieces and stuffed them greedily into his mouth, struggling to swallow. He found a tin cup and returned to the stream where he filled the vessel with water and soaked the pieces of bread one at a time before eating. It was a meagre meal, but it staved off some of his hunger. He determined to spend the night in the hut. It was dry and it afforded him protection from wild animals. In the morning he would resume his journey. He reckoned the track would lead to the inner trade road and from there he could find his way easily to his summer house. He went back inside and threw himself onto a rough futon in the corner. He fell asleep in seconds.
FIFTY-ONE
Aledd was about to give up. They had already waited at the bay five hours longer than had been agreed with the Kapitan. He just had not wanted to admit that Devlin was dead. No one pressed him to end his vigil, though he sensed that Lord Oyama and his entourage were impatient to move on. Everyone in the Lord’s retinue was too polite and too understanding of the crew’s grief to demand action just yet.
He looked down at the water. The tide was still flooding. He decided to wait until the ebb began and then he supposed he should leave. It just did not feel right. It felt like abandonment. He still could not accept that he had lost his Kapitan and closest friend. It hurt like hell.
“Dafidd? You ready to leave?” Densall asked quietly, also reluctant to admit their loss. No spirit had come to meet them and no living being seemed likely to.
“We’ll wait ‘til the ebb Josef,” Aledd replied not taking his eyes from the shoreline.
“I think he’s truly gone Dafidd. Maybe we should go.”
“I said we’ll wait until the ebb!” Aledd snapped and then dropped his head. “I’m sorry Josef. I’m just not ready to give up yet. Another two hours then we go,” he added quietly.
Densall nodded and sadly laid a hand on the big man’s shoulder.
“We will all miss him. I dare not think of how the Queen will take it,” he said. Aledd grunted and closed his eyes at the thought of returning home and breaking the news to Devlin’s mother. How would the woman take the death of her only surviving son? She had never accepted the loss of his twin brother and now to lose her remaining child and heir. He sighed loudly and lent on the ship’s rails staring into space, his mind reeling with unwanted thoughts.
“A boat to the north east Mr Aledd!” came the shout from above. Dafidd and Josef both glanced up at the lookout and then followed his outstretched arm. Just entering the bay was a small boat with a single sail. They could make out a number of people on board, but not much else. As yet the distance was too far to reveal its occupants. Aledd sighed again thinking the boat likely to be full of refugees from Hana-Shi-Ku. It held no promise of good news nor did it pose a threat to the frigate, still he watched it with growing curiosity. It headed straight for them though it had to tack against the wind.
A clap of thunder rent the air and it began to rain, the great drops splashing languidly at first as if the sky was reluctant to give up its moisture. But as the boat drew steadily closer the usual afternoon deluge began in earnest.
“Shit!” cried Densall, “Bloody weather in this place. Let’s get below man and sit it out. No point being wet to the skin.”
But Aledd was not listening. He gazed at the advancing fishing boat and with a sudden leap forward he ran from his position at the starboard rail to the stern. Densall was taken aback but, with his curiosity piqued, he followed the First Mate.
“I’ll be damned!” cried Aledd, his face breaking into the widest grin that Josef had ever seen.
“What? What is it,” the black officer asked.
“Tis him Josef! Tis Thom! He’s on yon boat. Quick, lower the ladder on the port side. Let us get him aboard,” Dafidd cried joyfully.
Densall stared sceptically at the little craft, but soon saw a familiar figure waving at them. He too began to grin and shouted an order to lower a ladder. The two men rushed to the opposite side of the ship.
When Karasu and Taku climbed onto the main deck in response to Hayato’s query regarding the commotion topside they both stopped and stood agog. Before them the First Mate had hold of Thom Devlin in a tight, filial embrace. The latter was laughing and patting the big man on his back at the same time shaking the hand of his Second Officer. Karasu’s heart quickened and he dared to look at the rail where a ladder had been slung. In moments a little girl’s head appeared and the child was hoisted onto the deck by one of the pirates. There was now a small knot of men around their Kapitan all obviously overjoyed at his resurrection from the dead.
Another child appeared, passed over the rail by a familiar looking westerner. Karasu knew he was not one of the pirates but could not quite place his face. The man climbed on board and then leant down over the rail. He helped a woman of maybe thirty five onto the deck. As the top of her head appeared in view the ronin held his breath, his heart almost skipping a beat, but he was disappointed. Finally Devlin pushed himself away from his friend’s grasp and eased the other refugees from the boat aside. He leant over the rails and with his help another head appeared. The Kapitan half lifted the girl onto the frigate standing in such a way as to hide her from Karasu, but the young man already knew. He felt her presence and as he pushed his spirit outwards he felt hers suddenly rejoice in recognition of him. Thom stood aside and there was Mizuki, dressed as a lowly maid with her hair fastened into a long plait, but looking radiant and unharmed nonetheless, excepting a small cut on her forehead.
Karasu rushed forward pushing his way through the crowd of men and the family until he stood before Devlin and his sister. She dropped Thom’s hand and rushed into her twin’s open arms where she stayed locked in tearful reunion until Taku intervened.
“We are getting soaked Karasu-san. Let us get below.” He bowed lowly to Mizuki. “My Lady, I rejoice at your return to us,” he added and moving to Thom, held out his hand. Thom took it.
“Sank you!” Taku said earnestly in poor Westlandish.
The pirate grinned at his mispronunciation and bowed his head in acknowledgment. He moved to Mizuki’s side and offered her his arm. She slipped her hand inside the crook of his elbow and smiled lovingly up into his face.
For a moment Karasu noticed nothing and then he felt his sister’s affection, her mind was focussed on Thom and not upon him. He realised the snake of jealously writhe in his stomach, but more he felt concern at what he perceived. He stood before the couple and gently took Mizuki’s hand from where it lay on Thom’s arm.
“I take my sister to brother Kapitan. Maybe you see to other guests,” he said and led Mizuki away.
Thom stood and stared as they disappeared through a doorway, an anxious resentment growing within him.
“Forget it Thom. They will not allow it, you must know that,” Stefan said quietly at his side.
“What?”
“They will not allow you to love her. She is a daughter of a Lord and you my friend, are a foreigner and a scurrilous buccaneer, whether you like it or not.”
Stefan placed a sympathetic hand on Devlin’s shoulder. Thom shrugged it off rudely.
“Mr Densall, show our guests to an appropriate cabin and get some food sorted, I’m half starved,” he shouted and as the crowd drifted away to seek shelter from the rain he continued to stand on the main deck and stare blindly at nothing.
“You’re getting wet Thom,” Aledd uttered at last sensing the change in mood from joyous to angry in his Kapitan. A half smile flicked over Thom’s face.
“I’ll be down in a minute Dafidd. I would like a moment alone,” he dismissed.
Aledd nodded and sought shelter also. He took a look back at his Kapitan before he ducked into the door leading below decks and saw a man who had just received a dreadful blow.
FIFTY-TWO
Mizuki sat alone in her small, spartan cabin. She had bathed and clothed herself back into the kimono loaned to her by Marrel’s wife and now she felt a hundred times more human again. Yet she was troubled. The joy of reunion with her brothers had been tempered by the conflicting emotions that whirled around the three men that fought for a place in her heart. To her, there was a place for each, but she knew her brothers did not share that opinion. She sighed and looked to the porthole where she could see the coastline scything past as the ship laboured its way southwards once more.
Then there was Kurohoshi. She knew he had survived and was no doubt gathering his forces to him, ready to regain power once more. She worried about Hayato’s plan, feeling that the Warlord would have similar ideas, and she allowed her mind to run over her brother’s words.
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