36

DAIMYO SANADA

‘Truly a magnificent work of art!’ declared daimyo Sanada, drawing the blade of Jack’s katana and admiring its exquisite hamon. In the sunlight, the swirling pattern of waves upon the steel shimmered as if flowing.

Having been escorted into the garden of the daimyo’s mansion, Jack, Ronin and Hana were now on their knees, their heads bowed and their hands bound behind their backs. They stared in submission at a chequerboard of black and white paving stones, awaiting their fate. The path along which they’d been dragged was laid out with black and white pebbles. And, sneaking a glance, Jack saw the mansion itself was built of white walls and black pillars. Just like his striped hakama, everything in the daimyo’s domain appeared to be either black or white.

‘Shizu’s craftsmanship is beyond compare,’ said daimyo Sanada, sheathing the blade with the utmost respect. ‘Certainly far too good for a gaijin!’

He handed the daishō to one of his retainers, a bald-headed man with sharp slanting eyebrows and a sour crumpled face. Jack’s heart sank. Having risked so much to retrieve them, his precious swords had once again been taken from him.

The daimyo paced in front of his three prisoners. ‘I didn’t expect your capture so soon. The warrant for your arrest was only delivered by the metsuke this very morning.’ He waved the scroll before them. ‘Three travellers – a ronin with a beard, a hinin girl and a hat-wearing gaijin samurai carrying red-handled Shizu swords. I suppose it wasn’t hard for my officers to spot you. But I’m puzzled why you’ve come to Nara in the first place?’

Jack saw little reason not to answer the daimyo. Despite their dire situation, he still wanted to know the fate of his father’s rutter.

‘I’ve been trying to reach Nagasaki and leave Japan – as decreed by the Shogun – but I was ambushed on the border of the Iga mountains and had all my belongings stolen. We came here looking for them.’

The daimyo sighed in mock sympathy. ‘That is such a great shame. And what exactly have you lost?’

‘The inro on your obi to begin with,’ said Jack, nodding to the lacquered carrying case. ‘One of your samurai stole it from me.’

‘That is a very grave accusation. This was a gift from my advisor, Kanesuke-san,’ revealed Sanada, indicating the bald-headed retainer. ‘Are you calling him a thief?’

‘Why not ask him where he got it?’ challenged Jack.

Kanesuke’s face screwed up with barely concealed outrage, but daimyo Sanada didn’t even glance in his direction. ‘Why should I even entertain the suggestion? You are the felon here.’

‘But that inro was a gift to me from daimyo Takatomi for saving his life from the ninja Dragon Eye –’

‘Daimyo Takatomi?’ interrupted the lord, his interest suddenly piqued. ‘A most honourable and astute man. He sits on the Shogun’s Council next to me. I do recall he once mentioned this incident in your defence to the Council. If it is yours, I need proof first.’ He undid the inro and held it close to his chest. ‘Describe to me the design and I’ll believe your claim.’

Jack nodded his assent.

‘But if you fail,’ added daimyo Sanada, his eyes narrowing, ‘Kanesuke gets the pleasure of cutting off the hinin girl’s right hand.’

A guard seized Hana, undid her bonds and forced her to hold out her arm. Kanesuke, borrowing another guard’s wakizashi, placed the blade’s edge upon her wrist. Hana looked to Jack with terrified pleading eyes.

‘A sakura tree,’ blurted Jack, ‘in gold and silver.’

The daimyo looked unimpressed. ‘You could easily have seen that when you were brought in.’

‘The blossom is in ivory!’

‘I still need convincing.’

‘But I’ve told you the design!’ Jack insisted as Kanesuke raised his sword and Hana began to scream.

‘Then tell me, gaijin, how many birds are in the tree?’ the daimyo demanded, a crafty smile upon his lips.

Jack wracked his brains, trying to remember. His mind had gone blank under the pressure. Hana’s scream faded into a pitiful whimper, her face turning deathly pale as Kanesuke adjusted his grip upon the sword, ready to do the deed.

‘Wait!’ cried Jack as the daimyo’s trick dawned on him. ‘There are none!’

Kanesuke looked to his lord for permission to cut off the hand, but daimyo Sanada’s smile disintegrated into a scowl. ‘Correct.’

Kanesuke, incensed by the disclosure, brought down the sword to chop Hana’s hand off anyway.

‘NO!’ ordered Sanada, glaring at his advisor. ‘The gaijin won the challenge. And it would appear he’s telling the truth about this inro.’

The man visibly shrank under the severe gaze of his master, returned the sword and shuffled, head bowed, to his former position. Hana clasped her hand to her chest with relief.

The daimyo toyed with the inro in his hand. ‘I’d willingly give this back to you, but you’ll have little use for it where you’re going.’ He passed the carrying case to another of his retainers. ‘So, we have your inro here and, of course, your swords … what about this book called a rutter?’

Jack’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘You have it?’

The daimyo slowly shook his head. ‘I was hoping you did. The Shogun has requested its return.’

‘Return?’ Jack exclaimed. ‘But it’s mine. It belonged to my father.’

‘You lay claim to much, young samurai,’ said the daimyo. He walked over to a small wooden table, tutting in disappointment. ‘It’s most unfortuate you no longer have it. I’d have gained great favour with the Shogun for finding this rutter.’

Surprisingly, Jack discovered he was relieved to hear that the rutter had not been found. The Shogun was the last person he wanted to own it. That meant Botan might still have the logbook, unless he’d traded it … or thrown it away … or used it for tinder. With a death sentence hanging over his head, Jack realized he might never know.

Daimyo Sanada seemed lost in contemplation for a moment. He sat down at the table on which a set of black and white stone counters was arranged in a complex pattern across a square grid scored into the table’s surface. From a bowl he removed another small white stone and placed it down with a clack.

‘Have you played the game of Go before?’ he suddenly asked.

Jack shook his head.

‘How uncivilized your country must be!’ remarked daimyo Sanada. ‘Then it’s my duty to introduce you to Go before you die.’

Astounded, Jack couldn’t help himself. ‘As you intend to kill us, why on earth would I want to play any game with you?’

‘For your freedom?’ suggested daimyo Sanada to Jack’s utter disbelief. ‘In respect of the great service you showed daimyo Takatomi, I propose a game for you to win your life back.’

‘But I’ve no idea how to play,’ said Jack.

‘Oh, the rules are simple,’ said the lord, waving away his protest. Sanada looked to Ronin. ‘I assume you know the game.’

Ronin, tight-lipped since their arrival, gave a barely perceptible nod.

‘Good. Then I’ll give you the rest of the morning to teach the gaijin.’

‘You’re too kind,’ Ronin muttered.

‘But if I beat you,’ interjected Jack, ‘how can I trust your word?’

‘I’m an honourable man who plays by the rules and my word is my bond,’ replied the daimyo, offering an ingratiating smile.

Jack knew that was probably the best he’d get. ‘And what about my friends?’

The daimyo considered them for a moment, then threw up his hands. ‘Why not? I’m in a generous mood. You’ll all be released … if you win.’

Turning to Kanesuke, daimyo Sanada instructed, ‘Keep six guards on them at all times. They can use the game board by the tea house. You are responsible for them, but first I need to speak with you alone.’

As the daimyo and a very repentant Kanesuke headed for the mansion, Ronin leant close to Jack and whispered, ‘He’s playing a cruel game with us. We don’t stand the remotest chance of winning Go against the likes of that man!’

‘But he said the rules were easy,’ interjected Hana, with a desperate look of hope.

‘Go may be simple to learn,’ acknowledged Ronin, ‘but it takes a lifetime to master.’