The Way Of The Dragon (34 page)

Jack tried to occupy his mind with memories of home, but he always came back to Yori. Just as he was drifting to sleep, he noticed a small white paper crane peeking from Yori’s pack. Reaching over, he pulled it out. Holding the little bird in his palm, he recalled Yori giving him one when he’d fought Sasaki Bishamon, an arrogant samurai on a warrior pilgrimage. That
origami
model had been Yori’s thousandth crane. As legend dictated, it contained a wish and Yori had wished for Jack’s protection during the duel. Hoping this crane would bring him the same good fortune, Jack put the little bird inside his own shoulder bag next to the Daruma Doll that Yori had rescued from the fire.

Jack would never forget his loyal friend.

A huge explosion woke Jack.

Yamato was gone. So too was Akiko.

He ran outside to see all the students dashing to the top of the inner ramparts. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he found Akiko and Yamato on the battlements. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky a bloody red. In the fading light, Jack could see the Tenno-ji Plain was crawling with
daimyo
Kamakura’s troops, their cannon and siege machines continuing to bombard the defences.

‘Kamakura’s forces have crossed the moat,’ Yamato explained. ‘They’re setting off barrels of gunpowder to destroy the outer wall.’

Another almighty explosion rocked the castle fortifications. Smoke and dust rose from a collapsing outer battlement and the Red Devils could be seen surging through the gap.

‘So it’s over?’ said Jack.

‘Not yet. They still have to fight their way through the castle complex,’ replied Akiko. ‘Remember, no one has
ever
taken Osaka Castle.’

The students watched as Kamakura’s army fought a war of attrition. Fierce sword battles broke out between thousands of samurai in and around the battlements as the two sides fought for ground. The Red Devils were intent on reaching the inner bailey, but their progress was slowed by the winding narrow roads of the castle’s outer fortifications. Every gate and outpost was hard won and their losses quickly mounted up.

By the time the sun was dipping behind the horizon,
daimyo
Kamakura’s advance had come to a standstill.

‘Look! The castle’s on fire!’ said Cho, pointing to the west side of the inner fortifications.

‘But the Red Devils haven’t even breached that section,’ said Yamato in astonishment. ‘We must have a traitor.’

‘It’s more likely to be ninja,’ corrected Akiko, giving Jack a knowing look.

Flames rose from the area of the castle kitchens, an ominous orange glow against the darkened sky. Fanned by the wind, the fire spread rapidly, causing confusion and panic among Satoshi’s troops.
Daimyo
Kamakura’s forces took immediate advantage of the chaos, breaking through the defensive lines and forcing their way into the inner bailey.

Suddenly the parapet to Jack’s right exploded in a hailstorm of rock and cannonshot. The students all threw themselves to the ground as another cannonball demolished a large section of the rampart. Jack dragged Akiko and Yamato to their feet and they stumbled down the damaged staircase. Screams and shouts of panic erupted from the young samurai. Masamoto and his sensei ran into the courtyard, rallying the students.

‘To the keep!’ he bellowed.

Grabbing their weapons and packs from the barracks, the young samurai followed. They ran through the inner bailey towards their final stronghold. Jack glanced behind. The Red Devils were already battling their way through the rearguard. As the students raced up the cobbled road, Jack knew the safety promised by the keep was only a few more turns away. But the enemy were closing in. Fast.

‘Hurry!’ urged Jack, seeing Cho fall behind.

The Red Devil with the twisted gold horns hacked his way past the remaining guards, his
nodaichi
‘s immense blade slicing straight through three of them in a single sweep.

The road narrowed as the students neared the keep’s inner courtyard. Masamoto was at the gateway, ensuring they all made it to safety.

Jack risked another glance over his shoulder. The gold-horned Red Devil was now hefting a long spear, launching it at the retreating young samurai.

‘Look out!’ screamed Jack to Cho.

The spear spiralled towards her.

At the last moment, Yamato pushed Cho out of the way.

Its cruel barb struck him instead and he fell to the ground.

The Red Devil roared with satisfaction and, wielding his
nodaichi
, bore down on the wounded Yamato.

Jack turned and ran back to his fallen friend.

Yamato was crawling desperately towards him, the spear still protruding from his side.

Drawing both his swords, Jack charged at the enemy.

The Red Devil was ready for him. As Jack cut down with his
katana
, the samurai sliced upwards at the same time. Jack barely avoided the lethal length of the blade, managing to deflect it with his
wakizashi
at the last second. But he lost his grip on the
katana
when the Red Devil’s forearm smashed across his wrist. The samurai swiftly followed up with his armoured fist, punching Jack in the face. If it hadn’t been for his
menpō
, Jack would have been killed. The facemask cracked and his helmet was knocked from his head as he flew into the wall.

Stunned, Jack expected to feel the hard steel of the
nodaichi
cut through his throat at any second. But the Red Devil had halted his attack to stare at Jack.

‘A
gaijin
samurai!’ he exclaimed, shocked at seeing Jack’s blond hair and bright blue eyes.

An arrow shot through the air striking the Red Devil in the gap between his helmet and
menpō
. He staggered backwards, blood pouring from his eye socket.

‘Never hesitate,’ said Jack, snatching up his
katana
.

But the samurai didn’t die.

Screaming in agonized rage, he charged at Jack. Another arrow penetrated his chest as Akiko was joined by Sensei Yosa at the gate. Yet still he attacked. Jack dodged the Red Devil’s wild strike, and a moment later Masamoto was by his side.

‘Go!’ ordered Masamoto, attacking the seemingly indestructible samurai with vengeful fury.

Jack ran over to Yamato. Removing the spear, he helped him to his feet and they staggered towards the gate. Behind them, hundreds more Red Devils stormed up the road. Akiko and Sensei Yosa launched arrow after arrow, trying to stall the enemy’s advance.

Masamoto, disarming the Red Devil with a lightning fast Autumn Leaf strike, thrust his
wakizashi
into the samurai’s gut. The Red Devil groaned and fell to his knees.

‘That’s for my son!’ declared Masamoto.

He then brought his
katana
slicing across, decapitating the gold-horned Red Devil. The man’s head fell from his shoulders and bounced down the road.

‘And that’s for Taro!’

As soon as Masamoto was inside the inner courtyard, the guards slammed the gates shut against the Red Devil horde. The enemy hammered against the other side, but the reinforced doors held. For the time being at least.

Jack laid Yamato on the ground. Akiko knelt beside him, her face etched with worry.

‘I’m fine,’ wheezed Yamato. ‘It’s not deep.’

Akiko gently rolled him to one side to inspect the wound.

‘How is he?’ asked Masamoto, standing over them.

‘He’s bleeding badly, but his armour’s taken the brunt of the blow.’

‘Can you stand?’ asked Masamoto of his son.

Yamato nodded.

‘Good,’ said Masamoto. ‘Take him to the keep and get him bandaged up.’

Even now, Masamoto’s austerity prevented him showing the love and approval Yamato desperately needed. Jack realized his guardian probably thought it a sign of weakness to display any emotion in front of his students. But Jack saw how Yamato’s head dropped when there was no recognition of his valour in saving Cho.

Taking Yamato by the arm, Jack and Akiko helped him across the courtyard.

‘Thanks… for saving… me,’ said Yamato between spasms of pain. ‘I owe you both my life.’

‘It’s Akiko we should be thanking,’ replied Jack. ‘If it wasn’t for her archery skills, we’d both be dead by now.’

‘It was a terrible shot,’ said Akiko.

‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed Jack. ‘You got him straight through his left eye!’

‘I was aiming for his right.’

The three of them burst into laughter.

‘Stop it,’ groaned Yamato. ‘It hurts to laugh.’

Inside the keep,
ashigaru
rushed past, ferrying arquebuses and gunpowder to the troops on the inner walls. The three of them headed up the stairs to the second floor.
Daimyo
Takatomi was there, giving orders to the surviving generals. He broke away from the group as soon as he saw that Masamoto’s son was wounded.

‘Take Yamato-kun to my quarters immediately. He can use my personal physician.’

As they climbed the stairs to the sixth floor, the sound of cannonfire appeared to be getting closer. Through a window on the fourth floor, Jack glimpsed the battle outside.
Daimyo
Kamakura’s troops were closing in on all sides, sending flaming arrows over the walls. Satoshi’s forces, however, were still keeping them at bay with a constant barrage of musket fire and arrows.

Passing the fifth floor, Yamato stopped.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack.

Nodding, Yamato whispered, ‘Look! Father Bobadillo’s door is open.’

Down the corridor, the wood-panelled walls of the priest’s study were visible, an oil lamp flickering in one corner.

‘This could be your only chance,’ said Yamato, looking meaningfully at Jack.

‘But what about you?’

‘I’ll be fine with Akiko’s help,’ he said, taking his arm off Jack’s shoulder. ‘Just find your father’s
rutter
.’

Jack crept towards Father Bobadillo’s study. Despite the raging battle outside, the corridor was eerily deserted. Most of the guards were engaged in fighting on the battlements. Standing to one side of the door frame, Jack peeked in and immediately drew his head back.

Father Bobadillo was in the room.

But he had his back to the door.

Jack risked another look. The priest was frantically emptying the most precious contents of his casket into a bag. Moving to the recess, he pulled the books off the shelf and slid open a hidden compartment in the wall.

Jack almost gasped aloud. This
had
to be where he kept the
rutter
.

But Father Bobadillo only palmed more jewels and silver coins into his bag. Shouldering his booty, the priest hurried towards the prayer room.

Jack was about to follow, when Father Bobadillo suddenly stopped as if he’d forgotten something. Turning, he considered the oil painting of St Ignatius.

Surely he isn’t thinking of taking that
, thought Jack.

But the priest returned and lifted it off the wall. Putting the portrait to one side, he pressed one of the wooden panels and there was a soft click.

Behind the painting lay another secret compartment.

Father Bobadillo reached inside and pulled out the
rutter
, still wrapped in its protective oilskin.

Jack, stunned to actually see it again, couldn’t contain his anger at the priest.

‘So it
was
you!’ said Jack, stepping into the room and drawing his sword. ‘You stole the
rutter
! You murdered my father!’

Father Bobadillo spun round, the momentary shock on his face quickly replaced by a sneer.

‘I stole nothing,’ he replied, ignoring the threat the sword posed. ‘I only took back what was rightfully ours.’

The priest calmly settled into his high-backed chair and eyed Jack.

‘This
rutter
is the property of Portugal,’ he said, placing the logbook on the table. ‘Before your father acquired it by ill means, it belonged to a Portuguese pilot. Your father was not only a Protestant heretic, he was a
thief
.’

‘You lie!’ shouted Jack, his outstretched blade quivering with fury at the accusation.

‘Have you never questioned how your father, an Englishman, came by such vast knowledge of the oceans?’ said the priest, laying his hands in his lap.

Jack faltered, unable to answer the priest’s question.

‘Let me enlighten you. Your father was a pirate. He plundered the seas and stole our
rutter
. I didn’t kill your father. He condemned himself. I was merely administering justice on behalf of my country. Having dared sail to the Japans, I thought it fitting his executioner should be a ninja.’

Jack didn’t know what to think. Father Bobadillo must be lying, but the priest had sown a seed of doubt in his mind. His father had never spoken of how he’d come by the
rutter
. He’d just said the logbook was obtained at great cost to life and limb. Jack had assumed he was referring to the dangers of exploration, not piracy. Anyway, he couldn’t remember a time when his father
hadn’t
possessed the
rutter
. It had to be his father’s.

At the same time, he knew the logbook contained more information than one man could obtain during a lifetime at sea. It even detailed the Pacific Ocean where his father had never sailed before. The more Jack thought about it, the more questions were raised.

‘So what are you going to do, young samurai? Cut me in half?’ said Father Bobadillo, enjoying the play of emotions and doubt on Jack’s face.

As Jack lowered his sword, the priest smiled cruelly.

‘Or perhaps I should try you for treason. Charge – attempted murder. Verdict – guilty. Sentence – death.’

Father Bobadillo rose from his seat, a wheel-lock pistol in his hand.

He aimed the gun at Jack’s heart.

‘Even a samurai can’t avoid a bullet.’

Jack tensed but the shot never came.

Father Bobadillo was staring past him, an eyebrow raised in surprise.