The Way Of The Sword (24 page)

This was Jack’s final session to prove to Sensei Kano he was ready for the Circle of Three. He concentrated hard on following Yamato’s movements with his hands. He and Yamato were evenly matched so their attacks got faster and faster, becoming a blur as they tried to outdo one another.

Strike. Block. Punch. Evade.

Jack sensed Yamato shift his body weight, but was a second too late in retracting his foot. Yamato swept his front leg from under him and Jack lost his balance. The moment’s distraction was all Yamato needed. He open-palmed Jack in the head and Jack toppled sideways. With nothing to grab on to, Jack fell and plunged into the water below.

Sensei Kano had instructed them to fight on a narrow footbridge that straddled the stream running into the pond of the temple. This had been their last training session and this, their final test.

Yamato had won.

Jack had lost.

He came up gasping. The stream was icy cold in contrast to the heat of the day and he climbed out on to the bank, shivering like a leaf.

‘Your balance is still off, Jack-kun, but you’re ready nonetheless,’ said Sensei Kano. ‘We’ll have to focus on that when you get back from the Circle of Three. I’ll get you fighting with
bō
blindfolded on a log. That should sharpen your senses, or else you’ll grow gills from being in the water all the time!’

Sensei Kano chuckled deeply at his little joke before wandering off into the gardens. Yamato grinned too and Jack knew why. Not only had Yamato outperformed him in
chi sao
, but he was the best student in their class with the
bō
. He could beat Jack in sparring every time, even if he was blindfolded and Jack wasn’t.

With the final test over, Jack hurried back to the
Niten Ichi Ryū
, Yamato in tow, to pack for the next day’s arduous trek into the Iga mountain range.

As they entered the school gates, Jack noticed Hiroto and Goro hovering over a small boy from the year below. He was looking up at them and shaking his head vigorously. Goro pushed the boy hard in the chest and the boy stumbled backwards, striking his head against the wall. He began to cry.

Jack and Yamato rushed over.

‘Leave him alone,’ Jack ordered, grabbing Goro’s arm.

‘Stay out of it,
gaijin
!’ warned Hiroto, advancing on Jack.

‘No, we won’t,’ answered Yamato, stepping between Hiroto and Jack, ‘and don’t call Jack
gaijin
, unless you want to deal with me too.’

A stalemate occurred and the little boy glanced nervously between them, waiting to see who would make the next move.

‘You’ll be sorry for sticking your big nose into our business,’ threatened Hiroto, stabbing a stick-thin finger into Jack’s chest. Hiroto gestured to Goro and they left.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack, once the two Scorpion Gang members had gone.

The boy snuffled, choking back his sobs and rubbing his bruised head. He looked up at Jack, his eyes red with tears, then blurted, ‘They said I was a traitor, that I was no longer Japanese, that I was unworthy to be called a samurai and that I would be punished if I didn’t renounce my faith.’

‘But why should they object to you being a Buddhist?’ asked Jack.

‘I’m not just a Buddhist. Last year, my family converted to Christianity.’

Jack was taken aback by the boy’s revelation. Although he’d been hearing increasing rumours of Christian persecution and the expulsion of
gaijin
around the country, he’d always assumed that the prejudice was directed at foreign Christians. He didn’t realize it extended to Japanese Christians as well. If such harassment was happening within the
Niten Ichi Ryū
, Jack could only imagine how bad things were in the rest of the country. The idea of travelling on foot to the Iga mountains for the Circle of Three was no longer an inviting prospect – it was a risk to his life.

The rain fell as hard as nails.

The single-track road, churned up by the horses’ hooves and pedestrian traffic, had become a quagmire of mud slowing their progress to that of a snail’s. The tall trees on either side rose up into a sky pregnant with black clouds and blocked out much of the evening’s fading light. There was a growing unease among the travellers as they wound their way through the wooded mountain pass to the town of Iga Ueno, for the dark recesses of the forest concealed any number of dangers, from wild boars to pillaging bandits.

The column of students trudged on wearily, headed by Masamoto and Sensei Hosokawa on horseback. Although only six entrants had been accepted into the Circle of Three, there had been an open invitation for supporters to attend. Around half the school had decided to join the expedition. Many were now regretting that decision.

Suddenly something broke from the undergrowth and flew at Sensei Hosokawa.

The sensei’s sword flashed in the twilight.

But it stopped short as a black-feathered grouse flew overhead. The bird would never know how close it had just come to death.

Masamoto laughed. ‘Scared of an old bird, my friend? Or were you thinking of killing it for your supper?’

Jack noticed that Sensei Yosa had also gone for her weapon and was cautiously releasing the tension on her bow and returning the arrow to her quiver. In fact, out of all the sensei, only Sensei Kano had remained at ease, seemingly aware from the very start that the threat was harmless.

‘Why are the sensei so jumpy?’ asked Jack, quickening his pace to walk beside Akiko. Not that he was any less nervous. Despite being under the direct protection of Masamoto, Jack was concerned that some unwitting samurai loyal to
daimyo
Kamakura might try to expel him from Japan, either respectfully or by the sword.

‘We’re passing through ninja territory,’ whispered Akiko.

In Jack’s mind, every shadow in the forest suddenly grew eyes. He caught a movement on the edge of his vision, but it turned out to be nothing more than the swaying of a branch. Behind him, Yamato, Saburo, Yori and Kiku, who had overheard their conversation, glanced around nervously, little Yori turning white as a sheet.

‘This region is the stronghold of the Iga clans,’ continued Akiko under her breath. ‘In fact, these mountains provided refuge against General Nobunaga’s attempted destruction of the ninja thirty years ago. He brought in over forty thousand troops against some four thousand ninja. The ninja still survived and somewhere in those mountains is Dokugan Ryu’s hiding place.’

‘But how do you know all this?’ asked Jack.

‘From stories, hearsay, the sensei…’ She trailed off and pointed up ahead. ‘Look, we’re nearly there. Hakuhojo, the Castle of the White Phoenix.’

Through the rain and mist, Jack saw that the track had opened out into a small valley basin ringed by mountains. In the distance a three-tiered castle of white wood and grey tiled roofs materialized. However, the mist quickly descended and the castle disappeared as if it were a ghost in a storm.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of Iga Ueno and the castle was now only discernible by the lanterns that burned within.

Jack was relieved to enter the safety of the town. The journey from Kyoto had been tough and, like everyone else, he was soaked through, cold and tired. His back was stiff from carrying his pack and his muscles were aching and sore from dragging his feet through the mud. He would be glad to reach their temple lodgings, get a warm bath, food and a good night’s sleep.

‘Get up!’ ordered Sensei Kyuzo, kicking the sleeping form of Jack with his foot. ‘The Circle of Three begins now.’

Jack struggled to his feet, bleary-eyed. He’d not been asleep more than an hour when the sensei had begun rounding up the entrants. Jack followed his
taijutsu
master along the corridor and entered the main temple, a dark wood-panelled room lit by softly glowing lanterns. The room was dominated by a large wooden Buddha, which emanated such spiritual energy it seemed to have a life all of its own.

As Jack lined up with the others facing the shrine, he was greeted by several rows of shaven-headed monks in brilliant white robes chanting a mantra that sounded as if it had been sung since the beginning of time.

bq.

bq.

‘...om amogha vairocana mahamudra manipadma jvala pravarttaya hum…’

‘It’s the Mantra of Light,’ whispered Yori reverentially. He stood next to Jack, nervously tugging at a paper crane concealed in his hand. ‘The phrase contains the Buddha’s wisdom which helps guide these monks to
satori
.’

Jack nodded and gave his friend what he hoped was a confident smile. In reality, he was a bundle of nerves and excitement. After four trials and several months of training, the Circle of Three and its three challenges of Mind, Body and Spirit would be revealed to them.

A sudden stab of doubt struck his heart. Had his impatience to learn the Two Heavens clouded his judgement? Was he ready for such a test? He was so tired from the journey and he now realized their sleep had been disrupted as a trick to unsettle the entrants at the first stage. The challenge of the Circle of Three had already begun.

He glanced down the line in Akiko’s direction. Despite the determined look in her eyes, the dark shadows that ringed them showed she too was exhausted from the long journey. Next to her was Harumi, the other girl contender, who appeared equally tired. At the end stood Tadashi. He nodded to Jack and held up a clenched fist as a sign of encouragement. Kazuki then filed in and stood next to Jack, but ignored him completely.

Led by Masamoto, the teachers entered and seated themselves to one side. Then the student supporters filed in and knelt behind them in four neat rows. The monks’ chant rolled to an end, receding like the sound of a wave, and the High Priest stood to greet the congregation. The priest’s face was old and wrinkled, but his body appeared as resilient as stone and, like the Buddha statue, radiated a powerful inner energy.

‘Welcome, Masamoto-sama, to the Tendai Temple,’ he said in the serene voice of a man at peace with himself.

‘Thank you for allowing us to stay as your humble guests,’ Masamoto replied, bowing low to the priest. ‘May I present to you our entrants for the Circle of Three? May they prove worthy in Mind, Body and Spirit.’

He gestured towards Jack and the others with a wide sweep of his hand. The priest surveyed the six young samurai, his eyes falling upon Jack last. Jack was hypnotized by the intensity of the old monk’s gaze. As deep as a well and as infinite as the sky, it was as if the monk was aware of everything. Jack felt he was staring into the eyes of a living god.

‘We shall begin with the Body challenge,’ announced the priest.

Stepping forward, he blessed each of the entrants with words that Jack didn’t understand, but sensed had great power. Once the priest had finished, six novice monks stepped forward with a cup of water, a bowl of thin miso soup and a small ball of rice. They handed each in turn to the entrants. Realizing how hungry he was, Jack drained his soup and water and devoured the rice ball in a matter of moments.

Next they were presented with three pairs of straw sandals, a white vestment, a sheathed knife, a rope, a book, a paper lantern and a long straw hat shaped like the upturned hull of a boat. The monks helped the entrants into the white robe, tied the hat to their heads and slipped a pair of the sandals on to their bare feet.

Throughout all this, no explanation was given.

‘What’s all this for?’ whispered Jack to the monk who was helping him to dress in the strange assortment of clothing and equipment.

The monk, busy with wrapping the rope round Jack’s waist, looked up.

‘You’re wearing a robe of white, the Buddhist colour of death, to remind you of how close you will come to the limits of life itself,’ he whispered. ‘The rope is known as “the cord of death”. This, together with the knife, serves to remind all novice monks of their duty to take their life if they do not complete their pilgrimage, either by hanging or self-disembowelment.’

Not being a monk, Jack was glad this rule didn’t apply to him.

The preparations complete, their lanterns were lit and the six entrants were led outside into the darkened temple courtyard. The rain had eased, but there was a chill wind blowing and Jack gave an involuntary shudder.

The priest, sheltering beneath an umbrella held by one of his monks, beckoned them into the centre of the courtyard. The six of them gathered round, each shivering in their own pool of lantern light, their faces drawn and anxious.

‘You are to complete just one day of the Thousand Day Pilgrimage my Tendai monks have to accomplish as part of their spiritual training,’ he announced. ‘Our temple believes challenge is a mountain with enlightenment at its peak. Climb the mountain and
satori
is yours.’

The priest pointed into the darkness. Against the thunderous sky, Jack could just make out the shadowy outline of a mountain backlit by sheet lightning.

‘You will go to the top of the first Circle of Three and back, praying at each of the twenty shrines marked in your books,’ explained the priest. ‘You will undertake this challenge alone. You cannot stop to sleep. You are not allowed to eat. And you must return to this temple before the first light of dawn strikes the eyes of the wooden Buddha.’

The priest looked at each of them in turn, his gaze seeming to penetrate their very souls.

‘If you hear my monks complete the Mantra of Light, then you are too late.’

Jack had hit his limit.

He couldn’t go on. His body was rebelling and a lonesome desperation descended upon him as he listened to the sound of his straw sandals squelching in the mud.

The rain, which had slackened at the start of the challenge, was now cascading in a torrential downpour and Jack was soaked to the skin. His feet were aching blocks of ice, his second pair of straw sandals were already disintegrating, and his muscles burned with a sickening pain.

But he couldn’t stop.