SAMURAI AND OTHER STORIES
WILLIAM MEIKLE
Kindle Edition
Published by Crystal Lake Publishing
www.CrystallakePub.com
Contents
Samurai
Rickman’s Plasma
Home is the Sailor
Turn Again
Inquisitor
The Scotsman’s Fiddle
The Toughest Mile
The Havenhome
The Yule Log
Living the Dream
The Shoogling Jenny
The Haunting of Esther Cox
Dancers
The Brotherhood of the Thorns
The Young Lochinvar
A Slim Chance
Connect With William Meikle
Copyright
SAMURAI
Dawn broke as Duncan MacKenzie stood watching the remains of the Dubh Glais break up on the reef offshore.
They’d only just got into the longboat in time. In truth Duncan had little recollection of what had just happened. He’d been woken from a drunken sleep to the sound of splintering wood and raging wind. Big Bill had half-dragged half-carried him up onto deck, and the next thing he knew they were in the longboat and sculling for shore in the teeth of a gale with all the strength they could muster. The surf threw them onto a long shingle beach. They lost Dave the Bosun’s Mate to the waves before they managed to drag the boat far enough up the shore to be safe. They turned just in time to see the Glais dashed into pieces on the rocks.
Only five men made it ashore.
Five out of fifty-five. ‘Tis a pity the Captain had to be one of them.
Duncan had made the Japan run three times now, but this last journey had been made almost unbearable by the pompous little man who called himself the Captain. In reality Moorhouse was little more than a lawyer with good connections, and Sailing Master Douglas had done all the actual sea-faring that was required, while Moorhouse strutted and preened like a well-fed peacock. Douglas had gone down with his ship, but Moorhouse had ensured that he was first to the longboat, and first ashore. Now he started to bark orders. So far none of the other four had bothered to comply, and Moorhouse’s face turned beetroot-red with anger and frustration.
“You need to get back out there, and salvage what you can. There are tens of thousands of pounds worth of silks and porcelain on that boat. And they are mine.”
Duncan laughed.
“You go and get them then,” he said. “I have no desire to get myself killed for some fancy plates and a frock.”
“I demand that you launch this longboat,” Moorhouse shouted. “I am your Captain.” He drew his sword and waved it in Duncan’s direction. “You have a clear duty, to my ship, and to me. You signed up for this.”
“I signed up for service on the Dubh Glais. That duty is now done. And if you dare point that thing at me again I will shove it up your arse,” Duncan said.
Moorhouse went even redder.
“I will see you flogged for that remark.”
Big Bill walked up to the blustering little man. He was nearly a foot higher and twice as broad. He reached out and took the sword even as it was drawn back for a strike. Moorhouse immediately made a grab for it. Big Bill smacked him on the side of the head with the flat of the blade and the little man went down in a heap.
Big Bill tossed the sword to Duncan.
“Here you go, Duncan. A keep-sake for you. Now come on, lads. Let us see if we can find some shelter.”
Duncan joined the other three as they walked off the shore leaving Moorehouse senseless on the gravel.
* * *
I am a man of honor. My duty, as it has always been, is as clear before me as the day I was called to it.
Before enlightenment, I chopped wood and carried water.
After enlightenment, I chopped wood and carried water.
I will serve, and I will protect.
There is nothing more.
* * *
John McLeod took the lead as they entered the forest that stretched right up close to the shore. Duncan was last to enter the woods. He walked behind Geordie McCann and used the man’s bulk to try to get some shelter... to no avail. Even here under the trees the wind howled and whistled. Water dripped in near continuous streams from dank gray lichens that hung in tangles from every branch. Underfoot the going was sodden, their boots sucking moistly on the mud with every step. Duncan tried swatting some of the lichen aside with the sword, but that just set it swinging and dripping even more water. In the end he put the sword through his belt, lowered his head, concentrated on watching Geordie’s back and took it one step at a time.
He almost walked into the man when they came to an abrupt halt.
“What is it?” he asked.
“See for yourself,” Geordie said and stepped aside.
They had arrived at a ravine where an inland river reached the shore. A wooden structure sat high above them up a steep stone staircase carved directly into the cliff face. Even from his position far below Duncan could see that the woodwork was highly lacquered and covered in intricate carvings.
“A temple?”
“Aye,” Big Bill said. “One of them heathen temples. But it is shelter, and that is what we need. Come lads. Let us see what kind of hospitality awaits us.”
Big Bill took the lead up the staircase. The steps were treacherous—steep, green with slime and slippery underfoot. They were forced to go on all fours for long stretches, and Geordie McCann had his eyes screwed tight shut most of the way to avoid looking at the vertiginous drop. All four of them were exhausted and filthy by the time they dragged themselves over a last lip and lay panting on the ground.
Duncan’s heart fell when he got his breath back and looked up at the temple. The wood was festooned with more of the gray lichen, and now that they were close, they could see places where the weather had won over the lacquer and eaten holes into the frame of the building. The whole place had a general air of aged decrepitude.
We will find no hospitality here.
“Chins up, lads,” Big Bill said, getting the men to their feet. “At least it is shelter. And who knows what awaits us inside? We may yet be surprised.”
And surprised they were. Although the outside of the temple seemed worn and decrepit, several of the inner chambers were still watertight. They walked through three echoing rooms, thankful of the shelter, and were beginning to think that the whole place was empty when John McLeod let out a shout.
“There’s something here.”
They had arrived at the dead centre of the building. In the middle of a polished lacquer floor sat a cauldron placed over a circular hearth of stone. Beside it was all they would need to make themselves welcome. There were three large stone jars respectively containing dried rice, beans, and water. At the foot of one of the jars there was a small wooden box containing tea-leaves, so strong that their scent filled the room as soon as the lid was opened. On the far side of the hearth they found cups, bowls and spoons, enough fuel to last for several days and a tinderbox to get everything going.
“Them heathen gods sure know how to treat their worshippers,” McLeod said as he got a fire going in the hearth. Big Bill muttered to himself but said nothing.
Duncan was just glad to get some heat into his bones. It took a good twenty minutes, but soon the fire had warmed the room and the aroma of rice and beans cooking on the cauldron had them salivating. It was only after he felt warm and dry that Duncan looked around. Besides the doorway they had entered there was only one other exit from the room, a large ornate door on the other side of the chamber.
* * *
Once again intruders have come.
They will be fed and wate
red, as the old ways command.
Time will tell if they are true or false. But whatever the outcome, I will serve, and I will protect.
If you understand, things are just as they are.
If you do not understand, things are just as they are.
There is nothing more.
* * *
Moorhouse turned up just as the food was ready to be served. Green slime coated him from head to toe. He had lost his powdered wig at some point on the ascent, and his bald head shone with a mixture of rain and perspiration. His face was redder than ever and he almost fell in the door, his legs seemingly incapable to taking him a step further.
No one moved to his aid.
“I will have you all flogged,” he said as he approached the fire.
Duncan laughed.
“Be careful, wee man,” he said. “We have no meat, and yon cauldron is just about the right size for you.”
Moorhouse looked around for help but he was ignored, the others being too intent on getting some hot food inside them. The little man took a bowl of rice and beans and took himself off to one side away from the others, eating in silence.
If truth be told, Duncan did feel a twinge of guilt. After so long on the ship taking and obeying orders it felt like mutiny to be so cavalier with the Captain.
But we are shipwrecked. The old order will not hold here.
Once the men had their fill of rice and beans they stewed some tea. The chamber had got warm and the air lay thick with smoke, but none of the men moved, all content to stay close to the fire. Above the crack of burning wood they could hear the drumming of rain on the roof, and none of them was keen to face the elements just yet.
Eventually talk turned to their predicament.
“We are not far off the shipping lanes,” Big Bill said. “Once this rain dies down we can make a pyre. We are high enough here that it should be spotted soon enough. And we have food and water a’ plenty to keep us until then.”
The others agreed. All apart from Moorhouse. He’d been muttering into his food since he arrived, and now that he was dry and warm some of his old bluster had returned.
“As soon as the weather abates you will row out to the Dubh Glais and see what can be salvaged of the cargo.”
Once more Duncan laughed.
“No. We will not. Mayhap if a rescue is forthcoming... mayhap then will we salvage your cargo for you, but until then, we stay here in safety.”
Moorhouse looked ready to debate the matter, but a single glance from Big Bill put a stop to that.
The day dragged on. McLeod and Big Bill got into an argument about the best way to make tea, Geordie McCann cried like a baby, and Moorhouse sat in a corner muttering to himself about rack and ruin.
At some point Duncan curled up near the hearth and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Now we draw near to it. I will bide my time, and let them decide.
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.
I will serve, and I will protect.
There is nothing more.
* * *
Duncan woke with a start. It was full dark outside, and only the fire illuminated the chamber. Geordie McCann was snuggled up close to him and snoring fit to raise the roof. Big Bill and McLeod were on the other side of the fire.
There was no sign of Moorhouse.
Now what is he doing?
Duncan grabbed for the sword and was reassured to find it still by his side. He rose, slowly, being careful not to wake the others. It was only when he stood that he saw the open doorway on the far side of the chamber. Moorhouse had gone to check out the other rooms.
Looking for a way to make a profit no doubt.
A dim light flickered in the room on the other side of the door. Duncan took the sword from his belt and crept forwards.
Two tall pillars on either side framed the doorway. The smiling faces of wooden foxes watched him as he passed through, their features flickering slyly in the firelight, their eyes dark and hooded. Duncan looked back at the hearth. The fire suddenly seemed even more inviting.
A creak, as of a door opening, came from the room beyond, and his curiosity got the better of him. He stepped into the room.
The light was coming from a makeshift firebrand that had been placed in a sconce on the wall. The chamber was obviously the temple’s main altar. High arches of black lacquered wood overhung a large plinth that was painted in deep reds and golds that seemed to shine in the light from the brand. Three large wooden chests sat on the plinth, and the sound Duncan had heard was Moorhouse opening the nearest one.
“So it is desecrating holy ground now is it?” Duncan said in a mock whisper.
Moorhouse turned, unable to hide the sudden guilty look on his face.
“These are heathens,” the little man said. “It is no desecration if they do not follow the will of our Lord.”
Duncan raised the sword.
“Nevertheless, you will stand aside.”
Moorhouse eyed the sword warily, then pointed at the chest.
“There is gold here,” he said. “More than enough for us all. More than enough to cover our losses on this trip.”
Duncan laughed.
“Your losses you mean. Stand aside,” he said and showed the man the sword once more. “I will not let you defile a temple.”
A voice spoke behind him.
“Then you will have to stop us all,” Big Bill said quietly. “For if there is gold here, then we will have it.”
Big Bill, McLeod and Geordie all stood in the doorway.
Duncan focused on Big Bill.
If I can persuade him, the others will follow.
“You would not go into an Abbey and steal the monk’s gold, would you Bill?”
Big Bill spat on the varnished floor.
“This is no Abbey. And we are beggars in this land, Duncan. In case you have not been paying attention, yon shipwreck made paupers of us all.”
Duncan smiled sadly.
“I have rarely been anything but a pauper. If you are bent on this course, I will stand aside. I will not fight you, Bill, for you are my friend. But I will not help you in your desecration.”
Duncan put away the sword and left the room to sit by the fire in the centre.
No good can come of this. Of that I am certain.
He heard Geordie’s cries of delight as the boxes were opened. The sound of the chests being dragged to the ground and their contents scattered echoed through the temple.
* * *
It is decided then. I am called to act.
I will serve, and I will protect.
There is nothing more.
* * *
Duncan made more tea while the others counted up their prize.
Big Bill came over to where he sat.
“You can still have your share, Duncan,” he said. “We shall all be rich men after this night.”
Duncan shook his head.
“I prefer to stay a pauper.”
Big Bill laughed. He held up a gold coin.
“The Captain says these are nigh on six hundred years old,” he said. “And each one would buy a house in Edinburgh.”
He dropped the coin into the top pocket of Duncan’s tunic.
“I would buy you a house, Duncan,” he said. “And mayhap, on our return, I will buy you a whole street of them.”
The big man went back to fawning over the booty. Their laughter sounded too harsh to Duncan’s ears. Dawn was starting to come up so he took his tea to the main door of the temple and looked out over the view.
From this height he could see the whole strait through which they’d been sailing when the storm struck. The wind had dropped and the rain eased to a steady drizzle. But the length of the strait was under a thick haze of fog. Even if they lit a fire, no one would see it.
He was about to report this to the others when he heard a dragging noise behind him. He turned to see Geordie and McLeod manhandling a chest
across the floor. The polished boards showed white long gouges all the way through to the central chamber.
“Where the deuce are you going with that?” Duncan asked.
“To the longboat. The Cap’n says we need to be ready for rescue.”
So he is the captain again is he? That did not take long.
Duncan laughed.
“Do you not remember the cliff steps? You will never get yon box down there. Not in one piece anyway.”
The two men ignored him and made for the door.
They had just crossed the threshold when a dark figure stepped in front of them. It happened so fast that Duncan barely knew what he had seen. Something silver and bright swished in the air. The chest fell to the floor in the doorway. McLeod’s left arm was still attached to the handle.
McLeod looked at the spouting stump at his shoulder. He just had time to register surprise when there was another swish, like a lightning bolt from a clear sky.
McLeod’s head parted from his body and bounced away out of sight. The body slumped to its knees pumping blood over the treasure chest.
Geordie screamed and fainted dead away.
Duncan raised his sword but the black figure stepped to one side and was gone, as swift as a bird taking flight.
Big Bill ran up to Duncan’s shoulder.
“What the hell did you do?” he said. Duncan stepped back and showed the big man his sword.
“It was not me Bill. Look. My weapon is clean,” he whispered. “There is someone else here.”
Big Bill went to move towards the door, but Duncan pulled him back.
“Wait. ‘Tis not safe.”
The big man looked at the body slumped in the doorway, then back at Duncan. He must have seen something in Duncan’s eyes, for he nodded, and stepped back.
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