The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 24

The clerk told them that the remaining travellers and wagons had rea.s.sembled and, after giving evidence and filing a list of the valuables that had been plundered, had been allowed to proceed. Did they intend to rejoin the convoy? They did. The clerk promptly provided them with a laissez-pa.s.ser to get them across the ferry.

It was all quite bewildering. From past experience, both women knew that any procedures involving the issuing or examination of doc.u.ments usually took hours, sometimes the better part of a day - no matter how piffling the transaction might be. Their audience with this particular clerk had taken less than an hour and they had not even been required to 'polish the table' - the phrase used to describe the payment of bribes. Billed as voluntary donations to a.s.sist the widows and orphans of low-paid clerks, such payments were on a scale which varied with the importance of the doc.u.ment required, and ensured that paperwork did not go astray. It was an entrenched tradition and everybody, from the top man down, had a hand in the pot.

Bobbing up and down from the waist, Su-Shan and Nan-Khe withdrew from the clerk's presence and turned to beg the a.s.sistance of the kindly innkeeper. They had some money that the ronin had not found. Was it possible to hire a pushcart for themselves and afinrikisha for their mistress? It was. The G.o.ddess of good fortune had smiled on them yet again. Both vowed to offer gifts and burn many joss-sticks in her honour at the next shrine they came to.

Having released the captives, n.o.buro now led the column on a circuitous route which took them across the highway west of the three women and into the trees on the other side.. Dawn came, and soon the forest was pierced by slanting rays of light. Pausing only to feed themselves and the horses, the ronin pressed on throughout the day and the following night, riding first north, then east across the Susquehanna River where it swept into a narrow right-hand bend on its way south to Harrisburg now a ferry-crossing known to the Iron Masters as Ari-saba. The Susquehanna was the border between the domain of the Se-Iko and their eastern neighbours, the Mitsu-Bis.h.i.+ - staunch allies of the Shogun.

Provided they kept a low profile, n.o.buro and his men were relatively safe here.

They camped on the top of a forested ridge - one of the many hundred that Steve had glimpsed from his tree-top perch and had likened to the wave-crests of an endless tree-covered ocean. n.o.buro allowed his men three hours' sleep then, after a pre-dawn breakfast, the column swung south in a wide curve around Arisaba.

Steve, who had been noting the various changes of direction, sensed that their present course would eventually lead them back to the highway. As on the previous day, they stayed on the back trails and rarely broke cover. Each time they had to cross open ground, they sent a scout on ahead to spy out the terrain, and when they stopped to water the horses and let them crop patches of gra.s.s, everyone stayed in the saddle.

In the middle of the afternoon, n.o.buro gave the signal to halt and dismount. Apart from a few mild canters, the horses had covered the ground alternately walking and trotting, and were thus in fairly good condition when they were unsaddled. The same could not be said for Steve. As soon as he was released he slid to the ground, sank gratefully against the nearest tree and stayed there.

Over the last three days, at his reckoning, he had been in the saddle for almost a day and a half. At this point, death would have been a blessed release and the direst threats his captors could utter would not have persuaded him to get up on a horse again.

As it happened, his mood of grim determination coincided with their arrival at the place n.o.buro had chosen to lie up for the rest of the day. So for the next eight hours, the only movement demanded of him was to sit up on the one occasion he awoke to find that a bowl of food had been thrust under his nose.

While Steve slept, n.o.buro stripped off his dusty clothes and washed himself from head to foot in the stream that ran past their camp site.

After a vigorous towelling, he opened a saddlebag and took out the travelling dress and wig of a samurai. Two of his men helped arrange the folds in his tunic and made sure the wig was seated properly.

Several more swapped the harness on his horse for a more elaborate set decorated with blue ta.s.sels, and laid a black cloth trimmed with blue over the horse before replacing the saddle. n.o.buro slid his two swords through the folds of the sash around his waist and, when he was a.s.sured that his appearance was correct in every respect, he mounted his horse and rode away accompanied on foot by two ronin dressed up as red-stripes.

Their destination was the post-house at Midiritana where he had met with the Herald Hase-Gawa some ten days earlier. Hase-Gawa had stepped out of the darkness swathed in black from head to foot like a ninja, and would no doubt appear in similar guise tonight.

n.o.buro smiled at the role the Herald had adopted.

Despite his obvious, flair for intrigue, the young man was a romantic at heart, with a taste for drama. In n.o.buro's view, an ill-fitting combination. Nevertheless he was a Herald - and only the brightest and most capable young men were selected for that prestigious post. n.o.buro concluded that Hase-Gawa must have other, less obvious, qualities to recommend him.

Flanked by the two red-stripes - the customary escort for a single samurai - n.o.buro arrived at the post-house around six in the evening, intending to make his usual careful check of the location and the travellers who were planning to stop there overnight. He knew HaseGawa was anxious to hear his report on the outcome of the raid and his examination of the masked courtesan. The Herald would not be disappointed - but what would he make of the valiant gra.s.s-monkey who claimed to be a long-dog?

Entering the courtyard of the post-house, n.o.buro was surprised to see a large number of loaded ox-wagons, some of which looked vaguely familiar. Parked alongside them was a carriage-box. Pa.s.sing the reins of his horse to one of his red-stripes, he dismounted and strode boldly around the veranda and terraces of the post-house, eyeing the faces of all those he encountered. One of them belonged to the master of the convoy his ronin had raided! By the sacred kami.t It had rea.s.sembled and was stopping here for the night!

n.o.buro knew there was no danger of being recognised and accused of banditry. He had been masked during the attack and dressed as a disreputable, down-at-heel character. But what an odd coincidence!

Making his way back to the courtyard, he met with an even bigger surprise. Only yards from where his own horse stood between the two disguised ronin, the two Vietnamese house-women were helping the masked courtesan down from a jinrikisha!

This was no longer mere coincidence, decided n.o.buro. Fate had conspired to bring the players in the drama together on the same stage.

He would make his promised report to the Herald, but he would also arrange for the young man to discover the truth for himself!

n.o.buro watched discreetly from a distance as the two house-women were brought to the convoy-master, who welcomed them back into the fold and helped them secure the best possible accommodation for their 'mistress'. When she had been whisked out of sight, n.o.buro sought out the innkeeper and his wife and announced that he wished to discuss a matter of some importance with them in private.

The innkeeper, who - like all men who plied his trade - was the social inferior of the samurai, led n.o.buro into his private quarters with the usual bowing and sc.r.a.ping, to which his wife added her abject apologies for the miserable state of their abode, et cetera, et cetera.

Once the niceties had been observed, n.o.buro adopted a cross-legged position facing the kneeling innkeeper.

His wife knelt in her traditional place, facing her husband's left shoulder. n.o.buro began by explaining that his previous visit to the post-house had been to verify its reputation as a clean, well-run establishment.

He had been gratified to discover that everything he had heard was true. The high standards of service and heart-warming hospitality offered to weary travellers reflected nothing but credit upon its proprietors. Their honesty and zeal was, said n.o.buro, an example that the rest of their profession would be hard put to emulate.

Praise indeed.

While the surprised couple searched for the correct form of words to express their unworthiness to be the recipients of such a fulsome accolade, n.o.buro produced a wad of high-denomination notes and placed them on the mat in front of the innkeeper. The man and his wife exchanged a startled glance, then both stared openmouthed at what was clearly a small fortune. Unable to believe his eyes, the innkeeper reached out towards the notes with trembling hands, then jerked them away. By the rules of etiquette he could not pick up the money until n.o.buro gave him permission to do so.

After receiving solemn a.s.surances that they would treat what he was about to say with the utmost discretion, n.o.buro revealed that he was acting on behalf of a young n.o.bleman of high birth who greatly desired to meet the masked lady - who they had only just received into their house.

Warming to his tale, n.o.buro painted a tragic picture of a young man's awakening love - in this case reciprocated by the lady in question.

But because of his family's exalted rank the liaison could not be allowed to continue. Arrangements had been made for the young man to marry a daughter from one of the many branches of the Toh-Yota family the rulers of Ne-Issan.

Hhhhaaawwww...! The innkeeper and his wife looked impressed. To think they were caught up in such great events!

For this reason, continued n.o.buro, the lady had been banished from court circles and was now on her way to become the chattel of some common east-coast merchant. This meeting - a.s.suming that the innkeeper and his wife would graciously allow it to take place under their own roof- was their last chance to be together.

The innkeeper's wife, a warm-hearted woman whose life had been entirely devoid of such grand pa.s.sions, listened avidly to the ronin's story.

Her husband only had one aim: to make a profit out of every transaction.

His fingers, which could flutter with incredible grace and speed over his abacus, no longer knew how to caress her body. As a consequence, her romantic appet.i.te fed vicariously off the details of other people's love affairs.

The gift of money satisfied the husband, and the heart-rending tale brought tears to the eyes of his wife.

On retiring to bed she would be able to close her eyes and project herself into the role of the courtesan locked in a last desperate embrace with her n.o.ble young lover.

Always providing, of course, that her dull lump of a husband did not shatter the illusion by snoring his head off.

But, in the meantime, how could they help? The question was put timidly to n.o.buro through her husband.

n.o.buro explained that the two women acting as her chaperones were in the employ of the merchant. The fact that he had provided two Vietnamese women was an insult in itself and showed what an uncouth fellow he was.

The innkeeper and his wife, who were both of Chinese dscent and thus superior to everybody except the Sons of Ne-Issan, were quick to agree.

Having ascertained that he could rent the small pavilion he had used on his previous visit, n.o.buro produced a small vial of powder - a potent sleeping draught that was to be mixed in two cups of sake that the innkeeper would generously offer the courtesan's servants with their supper. When they were soundly asleep, and the other travellers had retired for the night, he would, with their consent, introduce the lady into the pavilion where her n.o.ble lover would be waiting in the hope that she would receive him with a generous heart and a giving nature.

By morning he would be gone, never to see her again, the lady would be back in her chamber and her chaperones would be none the wiser.

The innkeeper gazed misty-eyed at the money and agreed it was a most excellent plan; his wife swore to guard the secret with her life and managed to convey by a lingering sidelong glance that while the master lay in the arms of his loved one she would not be averse to pleasuring his trusted servant. For n.o.buro, nothing was less likely but, aware she was his princ.i.p.al ally, he responded with an equivocal glance and withdrew, leaving her in a lather of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation while her husband's eager fingers riffled through the sweet-smelling pile of new dollar bills.

By the time the wafer-thin crescent moon had risen, Steve's body felt rested and his mood had mellowed considerably. Which was just as well, because the ronin had begun to saddle their horses.

With a huge yawn, Steve got to his feet and stretched his limbs, then leapt up to grasp an overhanging branch and hung there to loosen his spine. Ohh, yeah, that's better ... Just what the doctor ordered.

Dropping down, he did a few more limbering-up exercises, then scooped some water out of the nearby stream and splashed it over his face and down the back of his neck.