The Way Of The Sword (7 page)

In the gloom of the bolt-hole, Jack noticed a narrow passage leading off to his left. With no other choice open to him, he turned and slipped along the walkway. He had no idea where he was headed, but after a couple of turns the passage lightened, a dim glow filtering through the translucent walls.

‘Where can he have gone?’ said a voice, close by his ear.

Jack froze, then realized his hidden walkway ran parallel to one of the main corridors. He could see his pursuers’ silhouettes through the paper-thin wall. Yet, as he was in shadow, they were completely oblivious to his presence, barely a knife thrust away.

‘Let’s try down here. He can’t have got far.’

Jack heard their bare feet pad away down the corridor before continuing along the passageway until, to his surprise, he hit another dead end.

Convinced the passage must lead somewhere, Jack felt around for a door. He tried to slide the wall panels back, but nothing shifted. He gave one a firm push to see if it opened that way. All of a sudden, the lower section gave way and he was catapulted into the main corridor.

‘There he is!’ came a shout.

Jack jumped to his feet as the false wall sprang back into place. He ran as fast as he could, dodging left and right down the warren of corridors. Spotting a narrow staircase, he was up the stairs in three quick bounds. As he landed on the top step, the entire staircase retracted upwards, Jack’s weight triggering the hidden fulcrum. From the corridor below, the staircase had completely disappeared into the ceiling.

Astounded as he was by the remarkable staircase, Jack had the wits to remain silent and still. Oblivious to his presence above their heads, his pursuers shot by beneath.

Walking carefully back along the steps, the staircase descended to its original position and Jack backtracked down the now deserted corridor until he found a door he hadn’t yet tried. On the other side was a long corridor with a highly polished wooden floor. It ended in a wooden gateway that
had
to be the way out.

With barely the length of a ship’s quarterdeck to cross, he knew he could escape the
daimyo’
s castle. Jack started for the exit, but as his foot went down, the floorboard warbled like a bird. He tried to lighten his movements, but however softly he trod the floor sang out with every step he took, mocking his attempted flight.

He could hear the pounding of feet coming his way.

Jack ran as the floor sang even louder.

‘Got you!’ said the guard, grabbing hold of Jack. ‘The game’s up.’

Jack let himself be led back down the corridor and towards the reception room with the wall hanging of the white crane. Upon entering, Jack immediately knelt down and bowed low until his head touched the
tatami
in deference to the
daimyo
.

‘So you were caught out by my Nightingale Floor?’

Daimyo
Takatomi sat cross-legged upon the cedar dais, guarded by six samurai who lined the walls like stone statues.

‘Yes,’ Jack admitted.

‘Excellent!’ he cried, a satisfied grin on his face. ‘The Nightingale Floor is the new security feature in my palace that I’m most proud of. The bird sound is produced by metal hinges under the floorboards that are triggered with the pressure of a single foot. This makes it impossible to cross without being detected. I think our little game of “Escape” has proved its effectiveness.’

‘What I would like to know, Father,’ asked Emi, who knelt between Yamato and Akiko, ‘is how Jack got out of
this
room.’

Jack smiled to himself. While he hadn’t managed to avoid all the traps during the
daimyo’
s challenge to each of them to escape his castle undetected, he had evaded the guards longer than anyone else.

‘Emi-chan,’ said her father reproachfully, ‘I cannot believe my own daughter didn’t spot the other door.

Jack glanced over to see the
daimyo
indicating the blank wall to their right. They all studied it, bemused. Takatomi, with a wave of his hand, prompted one of his samurai guards to push at the central wall panel. It gave a soft
click
, then pivoted on a central axis.

The samurai disappeared in the blink of an eye.

A moment later, the wall revolved again and the guard was back in the room. Jack, Akiko, Yamato and Emi looked at one another, dumbfounded by the hidden door. For even now, though they knew it was there, the wall appeared solid and unbroken.

‘As I said before, children, Nijo Castle is now ninja-proof, but you can never be too careful. I have a guard behind that door every time I receive guests in this room.’

‘So that’s how you escaped,’ said Emi, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you spotted it and we didn’t.’

Jack was going to correct her, but decided against it. Clearly, the
daimyo
thought no one had discovered his bolt-hole behind the wall hanging of the crane.

It was
daimyo
Takatomi’s secret.

Now it was Jack’s too.

‘But enough of the games for this evening,’ announced the
daimyo
. ‘It is time for
cha-no-yu
.’

• • *
    

‘The host will sometimes spend days going over every detail to ensure that the ceremony is perfect,’ explained Emi in hushed tones.

They were entering the
roji
, a tiny cultivated garden, devoid of flowers but sprinkled with water so that all the mossy rocks, ferns and stepping-stones glistened like morning dew. Emi led the way and seated herself on a bench, indicating for Jack, Akiko and Yamato to join her.

‘Here we wait,’ informed Emi softly, ‘in order that we may rid ourselves of the dust of the world.’

Jack’s anticipation grew. He didn’t particularly like green tea, but he knew the tea ceremony was of the greatest significance. Emi had tried to explain the ritual, but there was so much symbolism attached to every action, movement and moment that Jack understood very little of what she said.

‘There are four guiding principles to the tea ceremony,’ she had explained. ‘Harmony, respect, purity and tranquillity. At its deepest level, you should experience the same qualities in your own heart and mind.’

As they sat there, silently absorbing the peace of the
roji
, Jack began to understand some of Emi’s meaning. The soft trickle of flowing water sounded like distant bells and the simplicity of the garden somehow eased his mind. The setting was almost magical and he felt his spirits begin to lift.

‘Now remember, Jack,’ whispered Emi after a moment of silence, ‘when we go in, do not step on the joins between mats. Do not walk on or touch the central
tatami
where the hearth is. You must remain in the kneeling
seiza
position throughout the ceremony, and don’t forget to admire the hanging scroll, study the kettle and hearth and comment favourably on the scoop and tea container when they’re offered to you for inspection.’

‘Is that all?’ exclaimed Jack, his brain bursting with so much etiquette.

‘Don’t worry. Simply follow what I do,’ said Akiko softly, seeing Jack’s growing alarm.

She gave him a tender look and Jack felt reassured. With Akiko by his side, he should be able to avoid the most embarrassing of mistakes.

‘You have to be quiet now,’ ordered Emi under her breath, straightening out her kimono as her father appeared.

Daimyo
Takatomi, dressed in a stark-white kimono, approached along a black-pebbled path. He paused by a large stone basin set among rocks and filled it with fresh water from the stream. Jack watched as the
daimyo
took a small wooden ladle from beside the basin, scooped up some of the water and washed both his hands and mouth. Once he had completed the purification ritual, he made his way through the
chumon
gate, and silently welcomed his guests with a courteous bow. They responded likewise before following the
daimyo
back through the
chumon
, which Emi had informed Jack was a symbolic doorway between the physical world and the spiritual world of the
cha-no-yu
.

They each took up the wooden ladle in turn and purified their hands and mouth, before continuing along the path to the tea house. Here, the entrance was only a few feet high, so they had to crouch to enter. Emi had explained that the doorway was constructed like this so that everyone had to bow their heads, stressing that all were equal in
chano-yu
, irrespective of status or social position. It also meant a samurai could not carry a sword inside.

Jack was the last to enter. He slipped off his sandals and ducked through the entrance. As he stood up, he gasped in astonishment. The small square room was decorated entirely in gold leaf. To Jack, it was like standing inside a bar of solid gold. Even the ceiling was gilded. The only adornment in the room was a single scroll hanging in the alcove. The
tatami
, while not gold, were lined with rich red gossamer, so that the tea room’s magnificence totally overwhelmed the senses.

Jack had been under the impression from Akiko that tea rooms were modest, simple buildings made of wood and decorated in subdued colours, but this tea house was grand beyond imagination.

Akiko and Yamato looked equally dumbstruck and the
daimyo
Takatomi was clearly pleased with their reactions. He gestured for them to kneel and join him.

Emi stepped towards the alcove, taking her time to admire the scroll painting before seating herself in front of the hearth and examining the kettle appreciatively. Akiko and Yamato performed the same ritual, then Jack tried to copy their actions.

He approached the alcove and studied the scroll, a simple yet exquisite painting of a kingfisher upon a bare branch, with
kanji
scripture traced in ink down its right-hand side.

‘The
kanji
says
Ichi-go, Ichi-e
: one time, one meeting,’ explained Takatomi. ‘The scroll reminds me that each tea ceremony is unique and must be savoured for what it gives.’

The others nodded appreciatively at Takatomi’s wisdom.

‘The script may also be interpreted as “One chance in a lifetime”. This reminds me that in any conflict of life and death, there is no chance to try again. You must seize life with both hands.’

Ichi-go, Ichi-e
, repeated Jack quietly. The
daimyo’
s words rang true. Having lost so much, Jack understood the fragility of life.

Takatomi indicated for Jack to join the others, then the
daimyo
lit a small charcoal fire in the hearth and fed the flames with incense. The heady aroma of sandalwood soon filled the air.

Retiring to a preparation room through a discreet door to his right, Takatomi collected a black tea bowl containing a bamboo whisk, a white linen cloth and a slender ivory scoop. On his return, he meticulously arranged these by a large oval water jar placed on the central
tatami
.

Next Takatomi brought in a second water bowl, a bamboo water ladle and a green bamboo rest for the kettle lid. Closing the
shoji
door behind him, he then arranged himself in
seiza
.

With due ceremony, he removed a fine silk cloth of bright purple from his
obi
and began a ritual cleansing of the scoop and tea container. The level of concentration the
daimyo
applied to the process was quite remarkable. Every movement was painstakingly precise and heavy with a symbolism that remained a mystery to Jack.

As the
daimyo
ladled hot water from the kettle into the tea bowl, he spoke once again. ‘When tea is made with water drawn from the depths of the mind, whose bottom is beyond measure, we really have what is called
cha-no-yu
.’

And so the Way of Tea began.

‘Four hours for a cup of tea!’ exclaimed Jack as they made their way back to the
Shishi-no-ma
under a star-filled night.

‘Yes, how wonderful!’ enthused Akiko, misinterpreting Jack’s incredulity for awe. ‘The ceremony was perfect. The
daimyo
certainly has a flair for
cha-no-yu
, a rare master of
sado
. You should feel greatly honoured.’

‘I feel greatly sore!’ mumbled Jack in English, still suffering from his knees having locked up after the first hour. ‘God forbid tea ever arrives on our shores!’

‘Sorry, what was that?’ asked Akiko.

‘I said, we have yet to have tea in England,’ Jack mistranslated in Japanese.

‘Your countrymen can sail so far, but you don’t have tea! How sad to miss out on such perfection.’

‘We have other drinks,’ countered Jack, though he had to admit the drink on-board ship was an acquired taste too.

‘Oh, I’m sure they’re nice… but what about the Golden Tea Room?’ she continued. ‘To think that the
daimyo
once moved the entire tea room to the Imperial Palace to entertain the Emperor himself ! We are
truly
honoured guests.’

Jack let Akiko talk uninterrupted. The Japanese were usually very reserved in expressing their emotions and he was happy to see her so buoyant. While Akiko continued discussing the ceremony with Yamato, Jack thought about Nijo Castle and its inner palace. He was astounded at the lengths the
daimyo
had gone to protect himself. Takatomi was clearly proud of the new security features he had installed since Dragon Eye’s assassination attempt. Hence the escape challenge the
daimyo
had arranged to demonstrate its effectiveness.

‘Ninja-proof,’ the
daimyo
had said.

If that were so, reasoned Jack, then the bolt-hole behind the hanging of the crane was the most secure location to hide the
rutter
from Dragon Eye. Certainly far better than under a flimsy
futon
or in the grounds of the
Niten Ichi Ryū
. Besides, the school was the first place the ninja would look. Jack realized he had no choice but to somehow arrange a return visit to the castle and hide the logbook.