“Talk is of no point. I would argue a thousand years and never convince you that our ways are the right ways. It would be like trying to talk to a stone wall.”
Ryan pointed a finger at the Japanese warrior. “Couldn’t agree more.”
“What happens now?” Jak asked. His face was its usual dead-white hue, giving little clue to whether the teenager had been upset by the act of seppuku.
Hideyoshi took a deep breath. “One of the invading band of ronin was slain by your hand, Ryan Cawdor. Now they remove the body of the second. But there are many others. We have known of them for many long months. Finally Lord Mashashige has agreed that we will take arms against”
” ‘The sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them,’ ” Doc said. “As the Bard puts it.”
“I also know of Shakespeare, Doctor,” the samurai said triumphantly. ” ‘Sling and arrow of outrageous fortunes.’ ”
“More or less, my dear fellow.”
“You say that you’re finally moving against this gang?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. And you will all come with us.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ryan kicked his heels into the flanks of the sturdy mountain pony that he had been given for the expedition, moving it on at a canter to bring himself up with the ring of senior samurai who rode around their lord.
“Mashashige!”
The shogun heard him call his name and turned in the high saddle of his own stallion, beckoning the one-eyed man to join him.
“What is it?”
“You insisted that the women ride in those carry-carriage things?”
Mashashige nodded, his face betraying no emotion. “They are called palanquins, Cawdor-san. You understand that it is only to honor you and your comrades that we allow the weak onesthese two strange womenalong with us on this fighting expedition? There are no other women.”
“I know that.”
The column was entirely male, more than eighty armed men, all with pikes, and many with rifles and automatics. Ryan had asked Hideyoshi why, if there was so much heavy, polluting industry on what remained of the country, they hadn’t got more firearms.
“Because we have too many people and too little land. Too much energy goes into keeping alive with processed food. Also, we run out soon of raw materials. Coal and iron in short supply. Ever shorter supply.”
Eight samurai accompanied them, including Hideyoshi and Yashimoto. The fortress was left with a skeleton defensive complement, the drawbridge up and all shutters closed tight against any sneak attack.
Mildred and Krysty had been allowed along under strict tolerance, having to travel in the ornamented palanquins. Each was carried by six servants, the relays changing at regular intervals as they tired under the weight and the difficult terrain and the unbreathable air.
They were like large boxes on wheels, with curtains of embroidered silk, which both Krysty and Mildred had thrown back because of the oppressive heat and stuffiness. They had knotted silken cords to hang on to, trying to keep their balance in an awkward half sitting, half lying position, struggling against the ceaseless jolting.
After a couple of miles both women had called for a halt while they got out and tried to recover from bad bouts of travel sickness. Krysty had actually thrown up in an open ditch at the side of the road, her nausea not improved by seeing a bloated carcass of a dead dog, its legs missing, floating by in several inches of rancid, slime-topped scum.
After another mile Mildred had begged Ryan to go and entreat the shogun to allow them to ride a couple of the spare ponies, or to walk with the foot soldiers.
“Anything rather than travel another yard in these goddamn puke boxes.”
Mashashige looked at Ryan as though he’d asked him to check the sun in its afternoon progress toward the west.
“Ride horses?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s difficult.” Ryan had been long enough in Japan to know that this meant a denial.
“Why not?”
“Women do not ride.”
“Then let them walk. They’re happy to walk. J.B., Doc and Jak and me’ll walk, as well. Doesn’t bother us at all. Been doing it most of our lives.”
The shogun shook his head slowly. “There would be a bad losing of face.”
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