the WAY of the DRAGON
PUFFIN
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17
Punishment
A musty smell of rotting straw filled Jack’s nostrils. His head
pounded, his neck was stiff and a large bruise throbbed below
his right ear. Licking his lips, a wave of nausea rose in his
throat. He opened his eyes, only to discover it was dark. How
long had he been out for?
Then he realized his captors hadn’t removed the bag from
his head. His kimono was still damp, though, so he couldn’t
have been unconscious for long. He tried to remove the bag,
but his hands were tied. In fact, he couldn’t move at all. He
was lying on his side upon a hard wooden floor, his feet and
hands bound tightly behind his back.
‘I say we kill the gaijin,’ said a man to Jack’s right. ‘Far less
hassle than delivering him alive.’
‘True . . .’ said the man with the gruff voice, standing
behind Jack. ‘But he’s worth more alive.’
Jack tried to clear his head. He had to think his way out of
this predicament. Who were his captors? They had to be ninja.
Dragon Eye must have sent them to kidnap him. This was
good news. It must mean the rutter was still not deciphered.
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But he’d planned to face Dragon Eye on equal terms, both
swords in hand – not as a prisoner.
‘The only good gaijin is a dead gaijin,’ spat a third man to
Jack’s left.
The wooden floorboards creaked as someone stepped closer.
A cold steel blade was pressed against his throat. Bound and
helpless, Jack couldn’t avoid his fate.
Snatching a last breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed
to God. In those final moments, his mind filled with all the
memories of his life, his mother and father, of little Jess, the
voyage around the world, his time in Japan, of the Niten Ichi
Ryu- and Masamoto, of Akiko and his friends. He realized he’d
be leaving them all behind and desperately wanted to live.
‘Stop!’ shouted the gruff-voiced man.
The blade hesitated on Jack’s skin.
‘But daimyo Kamakura’s ruling clearly stated that any gaijin
found in his domain are to face punishment,’ said the man
with the knife.
‘Yes. But we’re not in his province – yet. Kyoto belongs to
that soft-headed, Christian-loving daimyo Takatomi. Besides,
this gaijin is no ordinary foreigner. He’s pretending to be samurai! How perverse is that? If we deliver him alive to daimyo
Kamakura in Edo, our reward would be tenfold. We wouldn’t
be masterless ashigaru any more. He’d make us samurai!’
The blade was withdrawn and Jack let out an unsteady sigh
of relief. Though it was only a short reprieve, he’d live to see
another day.
Jack reassessed his situation. His captors weren’t ninja.
They were foot soldiers looking to better themselves. They
were seeking the reward Kazuki had talked about during the
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opening ceremony of the Hall of the Hawk. He also knew
he was still in Kyoto, so there was a slim chance he’d be able
to escape before they moved him to Edo.
‘A good point,’ agreed the man to Jack’s right. ‘We can’t
kill him. Not yet, anyway.’
‘Fine, but the daimyo’s decree allows us to punish gaijin in
other ways besides death.’
The man with the knife wrenched Jack to his knees. Jack
groaned under the strain, his bonds tightening painfully round
his wrists.
‘He’s coming to. That’s good. He can hear his choices,’ the
man said with glee.
He whipped the bag off Jack’s head. Jack squinted against
the sudden brightness. Once his eyes grew accustomed to the
light, he saw he was being held in a featureless room with a
single high slit for a window. There was dirt and straw on the
floor and the roof had a hole in it. The surrounding walls were
made out of rough planks of wood and the only door he could
see was the one straight in front of him.
The man with the knife crouched before him, grinning
maliciously while turning the blade before Jack’s eyes. He had
a flat ugly face with pockmarked skin. Both eyes were ringed
black and blue and his nose was flattened like a trampled mushroom, the nostrils caked with dry blood. Jack had obviously
executed a perfect stamping kick in his attempt to escape, since
both the man’s front teeth were missing too.
Glad to see I improved your looks, thought Jack, allowing
himself a little smile of satisfaction.
‘You won’t be smiling when I’ve finished with you, gaijin,’
gloated Broken Nose. ‘Maybe I can’t kill you. But you have a
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choice of punishment – branding, nose-slitting, amputation
of the feet or castration. What will it be?’
‘You can’t brand him,’ said the man to Jack’s right. He was
heavy-set with a bald head and thick muscular arms.
‘Why not?’
‘We haven’t got a hot iron or fire, stupid.’
‘Then perhaps I should cut off his feet?’ Broken Nose
allowed the knife to wander down Jack’s body.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ said Jack, trying not to tremble.
‘I’m Masamoto-sama’s adopted son.’
‘So what? I’ve no idea who Masamoto is.’
‘He’s the greatest swordsman in Japan and he’ll slice you
into eight pieces if you harm me.’
‘I’ve heard of him,’ said the leader with the gruff voice,
who still stood behind Jack unseen. ‘He’s that samurai who
uses two swords, isn’t he?’
Jack nodded furiously. Masamoto’s reputation had saved
him once before with some local drunks and he hoped to God
it would again.
‘I doubt his story’s true. No respected samurai would
dishonour their family name by adopting a gaijin. Slit his big
nose,’ he ordered the man with the knife. ‘A nose for a nose.
The daimyo would surely consider that just punishment.’
Broken Nose excitedly raised his tanto-. Jack tried to turn
his head away, but was grabbed by the hair from behind and
forced to face the blade.
‘Hold still, gaijin. This won’t take long.’
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JACK FLETcHER’S ADVENTURE
IS NOW A RACE FOR SURVIVAL
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AUGUST 2010
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