by Unknown
Jack turned to run. But he knew he’d never make it to the shoji in time.
‘Your Eminence!’ cried someone, urgently hammering on Father Bobadillo’s study door.
‘Yes! What is it?’ demanded the priest, so close Jack thought he was in the room with him.
‘The enemy are here! Daimyo Kamakura’s army has been sighted. His lordship requests your immediate presence on the battlements.’
Father Bobadillo seemed to hesitate on the other side of the shoji.
‘We shouldn’t keep his lordship waiting,’ reminded Father Rodriguez.
Then Jack heard the study door open, slam shut and several sets of footsteps receding down the corridor. Jack remained where he was, his heart pounding within his chest.
Not only was the enemy outside the castle walls, he was also within.
40
SIEGE
Cannonshot rained down on the walls of Osaka Castle. The bombardment had been unceasing for three days. The noise of exploding gunpowder rolled like thunder over the castle compounds and the acrid stench of burning filled the air. A haze of smoke now hung over the plains of Tenno-ji like morning mist, obscuring much of daimyo Kamakura’s vast encampment. The size of a small city, its regimented rows of tents, pavilions and canvassed barracks stretched for miles into the distance. Masamoto had estimated some two hundred thousand troops were mustered outside the walls of the castle.
Jack stood on the inner battlements with the other young samurai. He was stunned at the sheer firepower of the enemy. Where had Kamakura got his cannon from? Osaka Castle possessed no such heavy weaponry and Satoshi’s forces gave no return fire. Jack realized if this had been a ship, they’d have been sunk a thousand times over by now. But as shot after shot pounded the fortifications, the robust stonework proved invulnerable to the barrage.
In lulls between the cannon battery, daimyo Kamakura’s troops mounted attacks on the castle gates. But they were repelled each time. Mangonels upon the ramparts hurled huge rocks and fireballs into the midst of the advancing force. Volleys of arrows fell like hailstones, killing and wounding row upon row of ashigaru. Any battalion that did make it through was then faced with the challenge of crossing the moat. Most were killed as they attempted to row across on rafts or tried to fill it in to create a crossing. The few samurai who did reach the walls had little hope of scaling the steep incline of their bases. They were picked off with arrows and arquebus shot, scalded with boiling oil, or battered by rocks dropped from murder holes.
Osaka Castle was proving impregnable.
It became obvious that daimyo Kamakura’s only option was to lay siege.
‘How long can we hold out for?’ asked Yori, his voice trembling as he peeked fearfully over the edge of the rampart.
‘Months, maybe even a year,’ replied Taro, dressed in full battle armour like the rest of the students.
‘But won’t we run out of food before then?’ asked Jack. Despite the numerous storehouses, he was certain one hundred thousand troops would consume their supplies very quickly.
‘I wouldn’t worry. The tatami in the castle are made out of vegetable roots. We can eat those if the situation gets desperate.’
Taro grinned at Jack, but the serious look in his eyes made Jack realize he wasn’t joking.
‘Hopefully, it won’t come to that,’ said Takuan, who stood stiffly beside Emi and Akiko, his injured ribs still giving him trouble. ‘Daimyo Kamakura will soon realize the futility of this battle and give up.’
‘But his army outnumbers us two to one!’ squeaked Yori, ducking down as cannonshot exploded on a nearby tower.
‘He’d have to draw our forces out into open combat to have any chance,’ replied Taro, unperturbed by the volley. ‘With the fortifications standing, there’s no reason for us to meet him on the plain.’
‘I’d heard daimyo Kamakura was already getting desperate,’ said Emi. ‘My father told me he’d sent a messenger this morning to bribe daimyo Yukimura with the offer of Shinano Province! It was bluntly refused, of course.’
‘But isn’t Shinano governed by Kazuki’s father?’ enquired Takuan.
‘Yes,’ laughed Emi. ‘That’s why we know he’s getting desperate.’
‘Well, a province will be the least that traitorous family lose if I ever meet Kazuki again,’ seethed Yamato, his eyes narrowing.
Jack wondered what had happened to Kazuki. Even though Masamoto had sent out a search party for him, the traitor had never been recaptured. His defection was no longer openly discussed among the students. Nonetheless, it remained in everyone’s minds like an infected splinter under the skin.
‘Stand down!’ commanded Sensei Hosokawa, appearing on the battlements. ‘You’re all summoned to the barracks.’
The young samurai took up position in the courtyard, each unit headed by a sensei.
Masamoto stood before them, his face grave.
‘I’ve called you together to discuss a matter of great concern.’
Jack exchanged worried looks with Akiko and Yamato. Was this about the break-in? During the commotion created by the arrival of daimyo Kamakura’s army, the three of them had managed to return to the barracks unnoticed. But Father Bobadillo remained a problem. He knew someone had been in his room and Jack was certain the priest would suspect him. It was just the excuse Father Bobadillo needed to discredit him. Had Father Bobadillo spoken with Masamoto?
‘With war on our doorstep, we must face the prospect that we’ll be going into combat.’
At Jack’s side, Yori began to tremble like a leaf.
‘We must be a united force,’ he declared, striding along the lines of young samurai, his hand upon the saya of his sword.
‘Be committed without a shred of doubt. Be able to trust one another – with our lives.’
Masamoto stopped in front of Jack’s line. Taking a deep breath, the samurai seemed to struggle with his emotions for a moment. Jack began to perspire. He realized he was in serious trouble.
‘The traitorous actions of one of our students has undermined the morale of the Niten Ichi Ryū.’
Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. The summons could only be about Kazuki’s defection.
‘This is a dangerous state of affairs for warriors about to engage in war. Sensei Yamada, please inspire our young samurai with your wisdom.’
Leaning upon his walking stick, Sensei Yamada shuffled forward and addressed them.
‘Every tree has one bad apple, but that doesn’t mean the tree itself is rotten.’ He twirled the tip of his long grey beard between his fingers as he spoke, his gentle words somehow carrying above the noise and thunder of the raging battle. ‘Testing times such as these feed the very roots of our strength as a school.’
‘Your quiver, please?’ said Sensei Yamada, approaching Akiko.
Bemused, Akiko unslung her arrow case. Sensei Yamada removed one of the arrows and passed it to Yamato.
‘Break it in half.’
Yamato blinked in surprise at the order, but Sensei Yamada nodded his assurance. Everyone watched as Yamato took the wooden shaft in his hands and, without much effort, snapped the arrow in two.
Sensei Yamada now took three arrows from the quiver and put them into his hands.
‘Break all three at once.’
Holding the shafts before him, Yamato glanced apologetically at Akiko as he prepared to ruin more of her precious hawk-feather arrows. He started to force his hands together. But the wooden shafts refused to yield – even when he put his knee against them. However hard he strained, the arrows wouldn’t break. Sensei Yamada indicated for Yamato to stop trying.
‘A samurai alone is like a single arrow. Deadly but capable of being broken,’ he explained, returning the quiver to Akiko.
He now held the three arrows aloft.
‘Only by binding together as a single force will we remain strong and unconquerable. Remember this, young samurai of the Niten Ichi Ryū. By the seven virtues of bushido, you’re forever bound to o
ne another.’
‘HAI, SENSEI!’ roared the students, the fervour of loyalty exploding from them. ‘LONG LIVE THE NITEN ICHI RYŪ!’
As their cry echoed off the walls of the castle courtyard, the cannon bombardment suddenly stopped.
41
MOON-VIEWING PARTY
‘Kachi guri?’ enquired Yori, his face beaming in the pale white light of the full moon.
He held out a small plate of brown nuts to Jack, who was leaning thoughtfully over a wooden bridge in the tea garden of the keep, observing the golden carp swim peacefully beneath.
‘They’re dried chestnuts,’ explained Yori, popping one into his mouth. ‘Kachi also means victory. That’s why his lordship’s provided them for the party. We’ve won, Jack! We’ve won without having to fight!’
Jack smiled warmly at his friend’s enthusiastic relief and tried one of the chestnuts. It tasted sweet, like victory.
A week had passed since the hostilities had ceased. Daimyo Kamakura had sent a peace agreement confessing his folly at attempting to capture Osaka Castle. Unexpectedly repentant, he promised that all those loyal to Satoshi would be safe from attack, his lordship’s reign be unchallenged and that his campaign against the ‘foreign invaders’ would end. He’d even sealed the document with a kappan, a blood-stamp from his own finger, which rendered the agreement sacred and binding.
Everyone within the castle was stunned by this turn of events. In particular Masamoto, who couldn’t quite believe their enemy had surrendered so easily. The conflict had barely begun. Cautious as ever, Masamoto insisted the Niten Ichi Ryū continue their battle training.
Yet daimyo Kamakura seemed true to his word. The next day his colossal army struck camp and began to retreat in the direction of Edo Province. There was great rejoicing among Satoshi’s forces. They’d won the war without having to engage in direct combat.
As a token of his appreciation for his troops’ support, Satoshi ordered saké and extra rations to be given out. For the daimyo and samurai generals who’d rallied to his cause, he’d decided to hold a celebratory moon-viewing party in his tea garden. The invite had been extended to the students of the Niten Ichi Ryū with whom he felt a certain affinity, being of similar age.
Satoshi welcomed each daimyo in an open-sided tea house set on an island at the heart of the garden. The guests wandered round the meandering paths and bridges, chatting amiably and appreciating the clear night sky, the stars bright as diamonds.
Father Bobadillo was there too, making the most of the opportunity and circulating among the key members of the Council. Occasionally he would glance in Jack’s direction, his eyes narrowing. Jack tried to ignore the priest and kept his distance.
Across from Jack and Yori, on the far side of the oval pond, Takuan sat surrounded by a group of young samurai. Akiko and Emi were either side of him, admiring the reflection of the moon upon the still surface of the water. Inspired by its ethereal beauty, Takuan was composing impromptu haiku to keep everyone entertained.
‘Did you know that a rabbit lives in the moon?’ said Yori, gazing up at the night sky. ‘If you look closely at its surface, you can see him making rice dumplings.’
The sound of appreciative applause floated across the pond. Jack heard Akiko laughing lightly and found himself gazing at her, not the moon.
‘Look, there he is!’ said Yori, pointing gleefully at the nebulous outline of a rabbit.
‘I’ll now compose a poem in honour of each of you,’ Takuan announced, his voice carrying clearly through the night. ‘Akiko, you’ll be my muse.’
There was more delighted clapping and Akiko gave Takuan a bashful bow of her head.
Yori tugged on Jack’s sleeve. ‘Can you see it, Jack? The rabbit’s got a wooden hammer.’
‘You’re suffering moon madness,’ said Jack, irritably pulling his arm away. ‘Everyone knows it’s a man in the moon, not a rabbit!’
Startled by Jack’s curt reaction, Yori took a step back, his eyes showing hurt. Jack immediately felt ashamed. Bowing to Yori, he muttered an apology and strode off towards the well house to be on his own.
Sitting upon the lip of the well, he stared glumly through the open door at all the guests enjoying the party. Why had he snapped at Yori like that? Jack realized he could no longer deny that Takuan’s ever-growing closeness to Akiko upset him. The more time she spent with Takuan, the more Jack realized how important Akiko was to his life. He didn’t want to lose her as his best and most trusted friend.
Nor did it help his mood having Father Bobadillo around. He felt threatened by the man’s presence. Having confirmed his suspicions about the dictionary, Jack was convinced the priest was in league with Dragon Eye and responsible for his father’s death.
With the war now over, Father Bobadillo would insist upon arranging his passage back to England, arguing that it was in Jack’s best interests. But Jack could never trust such a man. The priest surely intended to double-cross him – perhaps lock him in a Portuguese prison; or put him on a ship only to have him thrown overboard; or maybe even send Dragon Eye to torture or kill him.
Although Jack despised his old rival Kazuki for his prejudice and bullying, he could appreciate the boy had been right about certain foreigners’ corrupt intentions to usurp the rule of Japan. Even now, Jack could see Father Bobadillo working his charm upon various daimyo, bowing and scraping, delivering honeyed words of praise and wheedling his way into their trust. A zealous Jesuit and a cunning diplomat, Father Bobadillo was a dangerous man.
But such political matters were beyond Jack’s influence. As a mere boy, any warnings would go unheeded. The greatest harm he could inflict upon Father Bobadillo’s cause was to get his father’s rutter back. If only for his father’s sake, Jack couldn’t let someone as evil as Father Bobadillo possess such knowledge of the seas and, therefore, such power.
But where could the rutter be? The hurried search of the priest’s study had come up with nothing, except the dictionary. He was certain Father Bobadillo knew where the logbook was. But the Jesuit was definitely keeping an eye on him and Jack couldn’t risk going back a second time.
Yori poked his head round the door. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked timidly.
Jack nodded and Yori perched beside him. Staring at the floor, Jack searched for the right words to apologize properly to his friend.
‘This well house is called the Gold Water Well,’ said Yori, attempting to fill the awkward silence. Looking into the well, he continued, ‘It’s fed by a tunnel from the inner moat, but to improve the taste Satoshi’s father sank bars of gold into the well’s depths.’
Jack looked down. A slither of moonlight danced upon the clear water below.
‘I can’t see any gold,’ replied Jack, relieved Yori had broken the tension by speaking first. ‘But I did see your rabbit in the moon. Sorry for being so rude to you.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Yori, smiling. ‘I know it was the tiger talking and not you.’
‘What do you mean?’ replied Jack, uncertain what he was referring to.
‘I saw the way you looked when Takuan made Akiko his muse.’
‘It’s nothing to do with that,’ mumbled Jack, glancing over at Takuan and his group of followers. They were strolling round the garden, Emi now at his elbow.
Yori smiled knowingly. ‘You really should show Akiko your haiku. I’m sure she’d like it.’
‘My haiku?’ said Jack, his brow creasing in puzzlement. ‘But it was destroyed in the fire.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ replied Yori, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from the sleeve of his kimono. ‘I spotted it when rescuing your Daruma Doll and slipped the paper into my obi.’
‘What were you thinking?’ exclaimed Jack, staring at Yori aghast. ‘The school was being attacked, the Shishi-no-ma ablaze, and you were saving my poetry!’
‘Don’t you remember what Sensei Yamada said? It is our duty to ensure we have a peace worth fighting for. Your haiku is exactly what Sensei Yamada meant by
a peace worth fighting for. It is, therefore, your duty to present this poem to Akiko.’
Jack sat there, dumbstruck by Yori’s suggestion.
Yori sighed with exasperation. Jumping down from the well, he pulled Jack towards the garden.
‘Go on,’ he urged, seeing Akiko wander away from the group and enter the sakura trees bordering the tea garden.
Jack felt Yori shove him in the small of the back and he stumbled in Akiko’s direction. He walked in a daze over the bridge, his haiku in hand, and followed her into the trees. Glancing back, he saw Yori smiling and nodding his head in encouragement.
Akiko had found a quiet bench in the lee of the castle wall. There was no one around and it was quite dark here, but the stars and moon were brighter and looked even more beautiful because of this. Her face was turned towards the sky in peaceful contemplation. Jack remained at a distance, hidden in the shadows, trying to pluck up the courage to approach.
‘I simply don’t trust Kamakura,’ said a voice in the darkness.
Startled, Jack slipped behind the trunk of a tree as three daimyo walked by. He recognized the voice as Emi’s father, daimyo Takatomi.
‘He’s laid a trap and we’ve fallen for it.’
‘I agree,’ said another gravely. ‘My scouts have informed me that his army is encamped but a day’s journey from here. There’s no doubt he intends to return.’
‘But daimyo Kamakura’s bound to the terms of the peace agreement by his own blood,’ noted the third daimyo.
‘Yes,’ replied daimyo Takatomi, ‘but you’re also aware he left a battalion of troops behind, demolishing the castle’s outer wall and filling in the moat. In light of the treaty, their captain said, there was no longer any need for the defences to stand!’
‘But they were eventually stopped, weren’t they? Repairs are already under way.’
‘And that’s when the trap was sprung,’ said Emi’s father with a weary sigh. ‘By ordering the walls to be rebuilt, his lordship played right into daimyo Kamakura’s hands…’