Tokyo Bay (45 page)

norimono,
from which its bearers had retreated a few paces.
Pu
ll
ing open the door he leaned inside
-
then froze, staring into the carrying-chair with an astonished expression on his face. For several seconds the new guard captain stood as though paralysed; then, after glancing anxiously over his shoulder towards his waiting masters, he dragged into the daylight the trembling figure of the anonymous Japanese bearer who had been taken captive at dawn by the Kago samurai of Prince Tanaka Yoshio. Still blindfolded, and bound hand and foot, the scrawny Nipponese bearer swayed unsteadily on his feet while Lord Daizo, Yakamochi, all their assembled warriors and the watching crowd gazed at him in stunned disbelief.
‘Who is this?’ roared Lord Daizo suddenly. ‘Identify him!’
Reaching out with one hand the samurai guard captain tugged off the blindfold and the bloodstained cloth which had been wound around the captive’s head by Tanaka’s men as a rough disguise. Confused further by the sudden, blinding sunlight, the terrified prisoner tried to cower away, and would have fallen if the guard captain had not seized him by the shoulder.
‘Where is the foreign barbarian?’ demanded Daizo, his voice shaking with barely controlled fury. He urged his horse forward, peered for a moment into the empty carrying-chair, then glared round at his son. ‘He seems to have disappeared into thin air!’
Speechless and white-faced with shock, Yakamochi dismounted and hurried to stare incredulously into the empty
norimono.
‘I don’t understand he stammered, looking up at his scowling father. ‘I can’t imagine how
-
’
‘This is one of our own bearers,
O
Kami-san,’ exclaimed Sawara suddenly, staring hard at the shuddering captive. ‘But where are the rest of them?’
‘There!’ said Daizo sharply from his saddle, pointing over the heads of the crowd. ‘They’re running away!’
The disguised Kago samurai, who moments before had been standing unnoticed a few yards from the carrying-chair, had slipped quietly away through the crowd and were now dashing through the sand dunes towards the hills. But they were not fleeing in disarray, like fearful men. Instead they were running purposefully, in a disciplined group, making for a track that led up into the nearest belt of trees. Some of them had lost their turbans or cast them off deliberately and their warrior topknots were now clearly visible as they ran.
‘Samurai in disguise: breathed Yakamochi in astonishment. He stared after the fleeing men, then turned suddenly to his guard captain. ‘Send men to cut them down! But try to capture at least one of them alive for questioning!’
As two dozen yelling Makabe warriors spurred their horses towards the hills, scattering the crowd before them, Yakamochi drew his sword and seized the terrified captive by his hair.
‘What happened?’ he rasped, jerking the man off his feet. ‘Tell the truth!’
‘Please be merciful, my lord,’ wailed the bearer in terror. ‘I was captured in the mist at dawn
-
’
‘Who captured you?’
‘Men of the Kago clan, my lord... They threatened to kill me. They made me tell them about the barbarian prisoner. .
‘And you told them?’
The trembling bearer nodded despairingly. ‘Yes, my lord. And they seized a
norimono
just like ours. - - They tied me hand and foot and put me inside. -. Then they followed you down the ravine, watching for their chance to switch the carrying
-
chairs and deceive you.’
As comprehension dawned, Yakamochi released the bearer’s hair and let him sink sobbing to his knees. For a brief instant he stared down at the cowering man, his eyes ablaze with anger and frustration.
‘You betrayed the Makabe clan and the land of the gods,’ he said quietly.
‘I deeply regret it, my lord!’ whined the bearer. ‘Please forgive my weakness.’
‘There can be no forgiveness for such abject cowardice,’ breathed Yakamochi, and in the same moment swung his sword downward with great force, severing the man’s head from his shoulders. He watched dispassionately as the headless body rolled sideways, gushing blood into the sand; then he stepped forward and wiped his crimson blade on the dead man’s tattered clothing, before thrusting it back into its scabbard.
Looking up, Yakamochi sought the eye of his guard captain. All colour had drained from Sawara’s face during the ruthless execution, and he understood instantly the significance of Yakamochi’s grim expression. Drawing a quick breath, he nodded briefly to his nearest Makabe warrior, then sank slowly to his knees in the sand. He tugged his body armour aside, fumbled briefly with his clothing below the waist, then very slowly drew his short sword from its scabbard. The finely honed blade gleamed in the sun, and Sawara stared at it for only a second or two with a strangely calm look in his eyes.
‘I, Sawara, have failed in my duties towards the Makabe clan,’ he said, speaking very softly. ‘Therefore this action is inevitable.’
Leaning quickly to the ground, he tucked the wide sleeves of his fighting kimono securely under his knees to avoid the humiliation of toppling backwards when he no longer had control. As soon as this was done, he grasped the hilt of the short sword in both fists, placed its sharpened tip against his lower abdomen on the left-hand side, and jabbed it deeply into his vitals. With an expressionless face he drew the sword steadily across to the right
-
hand side, before turning it in the long wound and cutting sharply upwards. As he removed the sword, his face betrayed its first signs of pain and he stretched out his neck. In this instant the warrior hovering at his side drew his own long sword from his sash. For a second, the blade hung in the air, then
it
flashed downward, and the ugly thud of the blow striking home was followed by another softer sound. At the moment of his decapitation the guard captain uttered no sound, and died silently.
A fearful stillness had fallen on the watching civilian crowd. For several long moments they stood and stared blankly at the lifeless remains of the bearer and the samurai guard captain, lying only yards apart. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they began one by one to turn and move quietly away.
In the distance, at the foot of the hill, the galloping Makabe samurai were beginning to catch up with the running men. Their swords flashed repeatedly in the morning sun as they struck again and again from the height of their saddles; two Kago warriors fell before they could reach the protection of the wooded slope, then both pursuers and pursued disappeared among the trees.
‘It’s not yet too late,’ whispered Lord Daizo fiercely. He had sat unmoving astride his horse, watching without emotion as his son decapitated the hapless bearer, then the guard captain performed the expected, ritual self-disembowelment; now he turned his back on the distant skir
m
ishing and gesticulated towards his son. ‘Send more men quickly into the hills to search again!’
‘Yes,
O
Kami
-
san,’ said Yaka
m
ochi, bowing low in response. ‘I will do that at once!’
Lord Daizo watched his son despatch a larger number of warriors to begin combing the hills, then leaned down towards him from the saddle. ‘We can still launch the lethal attack in the pavilion! Even without the barbarian prisoner, warriors hidden under the floor will obey my signal through the interpreter. Bring the rest of your men and follow me!’
Pulling the head of his horse round towards the sea, Lord Daizo dug his spurs sharply into its flanks and sent
it
springing forward, in the direction of the ceremonial pavilion once more.

PR
I
NCE TANAKA
glanced repeatedly over his shoulder as he raced downhill on foot beside the captured Makabe
norimono.
There were no immediate signs or sounds of pursuit from the winding, wooded track to their rear but, because he could still scarcely believe how perfectly his deception had worked, he felt an irresistible compulsion to check behind every few moments. Close around the
non- mono,
Gotaro and a dozen Kago guards who had quickly retrieved their horses were riding with drawn swords in their hands, determined not to make the same error as their enemies. They had gained their prize unseen, by emerging from the mist above the ravine like silent, fleet-footed ghosts, and from time to time they brandished their blades wordlessly before the faces of the frightened Makabe bearers to remind them of the continuing need for silence as they hurried the chair down towards the bay.
‘Look,
O
Kami-san!’ exclaimed Gotaro excitedly, pointing ahead as they rounded another bend in the track. ‘There’s the bridge!’
A quarter of a mile below then, half a dozen unrailed planks had become visible, straddling a narrow rushing stream. Just below it, the stream widened into a turbulent but navigable creek, where water that foamed down the hillside swirled onward more slowly, heading for the sea. Tanaka nodded wordlessly as he ran, then exclaimed aloud himself as a guard-boat rowed vigorously by a dozen Kago samurai oarsmen came into sight, pulling hard upstream.
‘That’s our craft. Let’s speed up!’
Although one of the rearmost guards was now leading his riderless horse, Tanaka had chosen to run down the hillside on foot in order to supervise the progress of the
norimono
more closely. Because he still wore the loin-cloth and turban, when he arrived at the bridge where the Kago guard-boat had moored, its occupants did not at first recognize their master. Only when Tanaka tugged off the turban and tossed
it
aside did the boat commander bow apologetically low, along with all the startled members of his crew.
‘You’ve made excellent progress against this fierce current,’ called Tanaka from the bank, raising his voice above- the roar of the water. ‘Now I have a special mission for you. Are you ready to conquer any difficulties you may face?’
‘Yes, of course,
O
Kami-san replied the commander, bowing again. ‘What is the mission?’
Tanaka darted a last wary glance up the hillside as the bearers lowered the
norimono
to the ground beside the bridge. ‘You are to ro
w
as swiftly as possible to the nearest of the black ships, taking with you the body of the foreign
barbarian
prisoner. It’s vital that you keep the body conc
e
aled from all eyes, and once you reach the ship, mak
e
absolutely sure it is taken safely aboard. Then row
a
way fast, without offering any explanation. Is that clear?’
‘Quite clear,
O
Kami
-
san,’ replied the boat commander gravely. ‘Where is the body?’
‘Wait a moment!’
Tanaka strode over to the samu
r
ai guard who had tended his horse and carried his ar
m
our and weapons down the hill. After a moment’s
h
esitation he drew a long sword from its scabbard. Hurrying back to the
nori
m
ono,
he motioned for G
o
taro and another guard to take up positions close to the carrying- chair. When they were ready, he
u
nlatched its door with his sword-tip, and stood bac
k
. He had opened it only once previously, just after s
u
ccessfully snatching the chair from the Makabe, to satisfy himself that the blindfolded figure inside was without any doubt the foreign barbarian who
m
he knew; during the frantic dash downhill, the d or had remained firmly closed but now he motioned for Gotaro to swing it back on its hinges and lift the prisoner into the open.
‘Hold him upright,’ comma
n
ded Tanaka, as Gotaro and the other guard dragged the trussed figure of Robert Eden out of the chair.
Stepping forward, Tanaka stret
ch
ed out his sword
and sawed quickly through the bonds around the American’s feet and legs. Eden sagged in the arms of the guard captain for a moment, then straightened to stand shakily unaided. Reaching upward with his sword, Tanaka sliced through the blindfold with a single deft movement and whiske
d
it
away. With his hands still bound behind his
back,
Eden blinked round uncertainly at the ring of samurai facing him. His peasant clothing was in tatters, the bandage around his head was caked with dried blood, and his eyes were hazed with pain; but when his gaze came to rest on Tanaka, recognition sh
o
wed immediately in his expression.
‘Last time we met, Eden-san, I told you that spying in Nippon was punishable with death,’ said Tanaka grimly. ‘To honour your earlier
actions,
I
freed you to return to your ship
-
why di
d
you choose to disobey my orders?’
Swaying on his feet, Eden straightened his body, trying to flex his cramped muscles as best he could with his hands still bound behind him. For a moment he looked uncertainly at Tanaka, then he lifted his chin defiantly. ‘I rode inland.. .
t
o
climb.., your sacred mountain,
O
Kami
-
san. That is all.’
Tanaka frowned in puzzlement. ‘In the midst of preparations for war that was a foolish thing to do,’
‘It was done... on an impulse.’ Eden shrugged, speaking with difficulty. ‘Perhaps I hoped
it
might help me understand. . . your country and its people. If that makes me a spy. . . then I am a spy.’
Tanaka took a step nearer and lifted his sword menacingly. ‘In the barn I warned that if you were recaptured, there would be no escaping e
x
ecution. You’ve acted very unwisely.’
Eden stood his ground, eyeing Tanaka and the surrounding warriors without f
lin
ching. ‘I’ve spent days... anticipating my death,
O
Kami
-
san. Why have you waited so long?’
‘You don’t understand,’ snapped Tanaka, taking another half-step forward. ‘Until a few minutes ago you were a captive of Lord Daizo’. And it’s Daizo’s insane wish to start a war with your country He planned to use you to help him gain his ends.’
‘How could he do that?’ asked Eden unsteadily.
‘Your admiral and three hundred other Americans landed half an hour ago to take part in a ceremony near here. Lord Daizo’s men captured you on Mount Fuji and kept you alive so that they could display you there by surprise, as a treacherous spy. That would have provided a reason for all the assembled forces of Nippon to launch an immediate attack.’
‘And now you’ve stopped him,’ said Eden slowly, understanding for the first time. ‘Why did you do that?’
Tanaka’s eyes glittered angrily. ‘Because I believe
it
would be madness for us to engage in war with well-armed barbarians
-
at least until Nippon has ships and guns that are just as powerful!’
‘But you’re also guilty,
O
Kami-san, of the same sort of madness as Lord Daizo
said
Eden. ‘I did learn something, climbing Fuji-san. . . although not what I expected.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘On Fuji-san, Lord Daizo’s men ruthlessly killed one of their own countrymen
-
and cast his body into the volcano. Sentaro was a simple man, but he understood something vital
-
that there
can
be true friendship between men of different races and nations. He was killed because he was a man of goodwill.’
‘Of what importance is that to me?’ demanded Tanaka coldly. ‘I didn’t kill him!’
‘No, but I heard the orders you just gave to your boatman continued Eden in the same subdued tone. ‘You want to send my dead body back to the black ships
-
even though I’ve told you I came ashore in peace. Until this moment I thought you’d tried to save my life on Fuji. But I can see now
-
you too wanted to kill me quietly... Your blindness is as great as Lord Daizo’s.’
Tanaka lifted his head angrily but did not reply. For several seconds the two men stood staring at each other in complete silence. Around them, Gotaro and the other guards shifted and murmured, watching warily.
‘We have spoken enough,’ said Tanaka at last, still holding Eden’s gaze. ‘It is time for action.’
‘I agree,
O
Kami
-
san!’
As Eden spoke, he tugged his hands from behind his back and threw aside his loosened bonds. Lunging sideways he snatched a long sword from the astonished Gotaro’s sash and backed away towards the bridge, holding the weapon at arm’s length in front of him.
‘I’ve had nothing to do... for days... except feign unconsciousness. .. and work at loosening my bonds: he gasped, breathing heavily from the sudden exertion. ‘I won’t be executed by you... I’ll die fighting.’
As one man, the ring of Tanaka’s bodyguards unsheathed their swords and began to move forward. Scowling furiously, Gotaro drew
his
own remaining short sword, and made to spring at the American. But before he could move, Tanaka raised his arm to signal restraint.
‘Wait, Gotaro! Leave him to me! He hasn’t the strength of a baby!’
Eden continued to back away until he reached the end of the bridge, where he stopped, swaying precariously. The crew of the boat, moored a few feet below, watched in silence as Tanaka approached, still holding his sword steadily in front of him. All who were watching could see that Tanaka’s assessment of Eden’s condition was accurate. Greatly weakened by loss of blood and the long, cramped days and nights in the
norimono,
his face was set in a grimace of pain and
it
was clear that he remained upright only by a supreme effort of
will
.
‘Your reckless bravery has not deserted you in the face of death, Eden-san,’ said Tanaka approvingly, as he stopped little more than a sword’s thrust away. ‘Yet a single light blow will finish you now’
Eden’s blade was wavering and his sword arm began to shake as he stared fixedly at Tanaka, half standing, half crouching by the end of the bridge. His eyes were blurring with exhaustion, and his expression suggested that he was aware how the sudden exertion had sapped nearly all his remaining strength; but still he held his racked body in a posture of defiance, readying himself for the attack.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Tanaka softly, looking past his raised blade and into the American officer’s high-cheek
-
boned face. ‘Perhaps we share some ancient ancestral blood. Perhaps your wild courage rises from the same fountain which has nourished the finest swordsmen of Nippon.’
‘The Iroquois wise elders used to say. . . “All men of this world are kinsmen”,’ grunted Eden, grimacing and shifting a step nearer the stream. ‘Knowing this, the greatest warriors always stood for peace . . . It seems in Nippon you haven’t learned this vital truth yet
‘I’ve learned another truth, though, Eden
-
san said Tanaka grimly, lifting his sword higher and taking another step forward. ‘That concerns a foreign barbarian who claims he wants peace above all else
-
but then does so many rash things that he almost brings about a war single-handed!’ Tanaka paused, his expression darkening. ‘The land begotten by the sun will be a much safer place without you! Your death will be one victory you can’t deny the people of Nippon...’
‘Killing me. . . won’t be a victory for you,’ panted Eden, staring defiantly back at Tanaka. ‘You’ll win only if you make me hate Nippon and its people.’
Frowning, Tanaka continued to stare at him uncertainly.
‘Hatred thrives on ignorance. . . And you want to destroy what little knowledge I have now of your country... You want to stop me taking those few shreds of understanding back to America, don’t you? You want to snuff out any faint h
o
pe of peace and friendship between our nations.’
Eden swayed again and almost fell, but recovered his ba
l
ance with an effort. He continued to stare defiantly at Tanaka, who held his ground but did not
/ move nearer. For some time, neither man spoke; then slowly Tanaka straightened up from his fighting crouch. Without taking his eyes from Eden, he used his free hand to summon the guard tending his armour and his horse. After another pause he suddenly handed over his long sword for re-sheathing, and signalled to the boat commander to step ashore.
‘You will take the foreign barbarian back to his ship now,’ he snapped. ‘Make sure he remains hidden at all times from the view of those in other boats.’ Turning again to Eden, he gestured for Gotaro to come forward. ‘Eden-san, you may restore that sword to Gotaro. In recognition of your valour, I’ve decided to return you to your ship alive.’
For several seconds Eden’s eyes remained wary; and he gazed round suspiciously at each Japanese in his range of vision. Only when he was confident that no trickery was intended did he slowly lift the sword into a vertical position before his face, and incline his head in a formal salute
-
first to Tanaka, then to Gotaro. The two Japanese waited until he had returned the sword hilt-first, then both bowed their heads similarly in acknowledgement.
Turning away, Eden allowed himself to be helped down into the boat by its com