'I'll ask where to buy the permits when he returns,' said Benkei, stepping into their room and dumping their supply bag.

Jack slipped off his pack too and rubbed his shoulders. The journey that day had been long and tiring. He was looking forward to a good night's rest in a soft bed. Laying down his swords, he began to take off his hat, when the shoji shot open.

'Your tea!' announced the innkeeper, walking in and placing the tray on the table.

'Thank you,' acknowledged Benkei. Without giving the innkeeper the chance to linger further, he asked, 'May I have a word?'

The innkeeper nodded and the two of them left the room.

Once the door was closed and he was certain the innkeeper had gone, Jack removed his hat and relaxed. Pouring himself some tea, he sat down and, with nothing else to do, gazed at the screen painting in his room. It portrayed a vibrant theatre scene with men and women dancing upon a stage. One panel was devoted to a lithe woman singing and playing a thirteen-string koto. The figure was almost full-size and exquisitely painted, the work so lifelike the woman's eyes appeared to be staring right at him.

'Jack!'

He almost jumped out of his skin. But it was just Akiko whispering through the thin washi paper wall.

'Benkei's taken some money for the permits,' she said. 'Seems my opinion of your new friend was mistaken. He's proving very useful.'

'If anyone can get them, Benkei will,' Jack reassured her. 'He's got a silver tongue.'

'Good. I'm going to take a bath now. Then I'll arrange for some dinner.'

Jack thought he could do with an ofuro too. Three days had passed since his last wash at Shiryu's house and his skin felt grimy. He smiled to himself; back in England he'd have considered three months still too soon for a bath!

While he waited for Akiko and Benkei to return, Jack passed the time cleaning his swords. He used a cloth to wipe off any dirt, then polished the steel to a high gleam. Once satisfied, he put the blades aside, laying them by his futon, and rummaged in his pack for his father's rutter. Carefully laying the logbook on the table, he unwrapped the protective oilskin covering and flicked through the pages. The sea charts, compass bearings, travel logs and observation notes were like familiar friends. Thanks to his father's instruction, he could decipher the coded passages as easily as if they'd been written in plain English. Jack even remembered his father inserting many of the entries in the logbook during their long voyage to the Japans; the memories were so distinct that, as he turned the pages, Jack could almost imagine his father by his side.

All the while he read, Jack couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched. Yet when he looked around the room, there was no one there ... only the koto woman's eyes upon him. He put this down to nerves from the fraught day and went back to studying the logbook. In a few days he'd be sailing for home perhaps as a pilot like his father and the idea of using this information to help navigate a ship back to England filled him with excitement.

When he heard Akiko return from her bath, Jack closed the rutter and stashed it back in his pack before slipping it under his futon for a pillow. It had become habit for him to sleep on top of his most prized possession. He couldn't be too careful.

Glancing up at the little window to his room, he noticed that dusk was fast approaching. Benkei still wasn't back and Jack began to worry. He was about to call to Akiko, when the corridor floorboards softly creaked. Jack now realized his concerns were unfounded Benkei was returning.

Then Jack registered multiple footsteps. He reached for his swords. But, before he could get to them, the shoji burst open and ten of daimyo Kato's samurai charged in.

34.

The Dohy Bound and gagged, Jack was dragged through a twisting, turning and baffling complex of passageways to reach the inner bailey of Kumamoto Castle. He struggled in his captors' grip across the courtyard, his hobbled feet scoring two lines in the grey gravel behind him. All ten samurai had pounced on him when they'd barged into his room. He'd thrown the first three off and broken the arm of the fourth before they managed to pin him to the floor. With a knife held to his throat, Jack's hands were tied behind his back and his ankles fettered. Powerless to resist, he'd been forced to listen to a violent tussle next door, Akiko screaming then falling silent. For several long seconds, he feared she was dead. Then they'd hauled her in, half-conscious, between the shoulders of two burly soldiers. Her lip was split and there was a vicious red welt across her temple. Jack's blood boiled at seeing Akiko in such a state and, fighting against his bonds, had vowed retribution the first chance he got. The samurai had all laughed in his face before the lead officer had shoved a gag in his mouth. Then, glaring up at Akiko's two attackers, Jack had felt a small surge of satisfaction when he noticed one sported a freshly broken nose and the other walked with an awkward limp. At least Akiko had been able to put up a fight as well, thought Jack.

Now they were both being escorted through the enormous castle for an audience with daimyo Kato. Akiko, having regained consciousness, stumbled along behind. Tied to a short length of rope, she was barefoot and bound like Jack. The two samurai delighted in manhandling her across the gravel. A sharp pull on the tether sent Akiko sprawling.

'Not so feisty now, are you?' said the samurai, his voice muffled by his broken nose. He dragged the grazed Akiko back to her feet.

'And you're not so pretty,' she retorted defiantly, before being yanked onward.

The black keep of Kumamoto Castle loomed closer. Its seven arched roofs with its golden eaves soared into the sky like a colossal multi-winged beast, its entrance a gated mouth that seemed to swallow all who entered. And, in the deepening twilight, its barred windows flickered orange with burning oil lamps, transforming the fortress into a mythical dragon with a hundred fiery eyes.

But the samurai patrol took them past the forbidding tower and over to a grand hall on the other side of the courtyard. Two massive wooden doors peeled back on their approach, and Jack and Akiko were led inside. A highly polished woodblock floor stretched out before them like a glassy sea. Stout oak pillars, stained black, stood to attention in a regimented line down either side and supported an ornate panelled ceiling high above. Around the walls a vast collection of weapons was on display katana, bokken, spears, b staffs, spiked chains, studded clubs and a host of other lethal implements.

The hall was the largest and best-equipped dojo Jack had ever laid eyes on. Similar to the Butokuden at the Niten Ichi Ry, there was a ceremonial throne set within a curving alcove midway down the hall. Two carved eagles, their wings gilded and their eyes blazing with emeralds, perched atop the alcove's entrance and stared down with the keen watchfulness of vengeful guardians. Beneath their protective gaze sat a slim man in a dark green kimono and black kataginu jacket.

Daimyo Kato, Jack presumed, as they were escorted in his direction.

The samurai lord was seated upon a tiger-skin rug, the animal's head still attached and fixed in a snarling growl. He held an iron-edged fan, which he tapped upon the palm of his hand. His face was young yet severe, his eyes sharp and intense, and his posture straight as an arrow. With his pate neatly shaven and the remaining hair tied into the traditional topknot, the daimyo looked every inch the samurai warrior and gave the impression he could spring into action at a moment's notice.

Yet daimyo Kato paid them no attention as they approached. His entire focus was on the sumo wrestling ring a dohy that took prominence in the centre of the dojo. The dohy consisted of a raised square platform of hard-packed clay, its surface covered with a thin layer of brushed sand. A circle of rice-straw bales were partly buried in the clay and two white lines scored, parallel to one another, in the middle. Above the ring, suspended from the hall's rafters, was the pitched roof of a Shinto shrine with coloured tassels blue, red, white and black hanging from each of the corners.

Standing at the edge of the ring was a small man in a purple silk outfit. He wore a peaked hat and carried a wooden oval war-fan. The man was dwarfed by two gargantuan warriors, whose chests were bare, their lower halves wrapped in loincloths. They were each the size of elephants, their bodies a combination of blubbery fat and bulging muscle. At the command of the purple-clad referee, the two combatants mounted the dohy. Facing out, they clapped their hands loudly, then turned to each other and stomped the ground in a ritual to drive the evil spirits from the ring.

Jack watched all this as the patrol dumped him and Akiko unceremoniously opposite the razor-toothed tiger's head. The samurai soldiers forced them both into a kneeling bow and waited patiently for their lord to acknowledge them. But daimyo Kato's eyes remained firmly fixed on the sumo bout.

The two wrestlers, having stepped from the dohy to rinse their mouths with water, now returned and squatted, hands on knees, either side of the white lines. They glared at one another, clapped their hands for a second time, then spread them wide to show neither of them carried weapons. Still they did not fight. Rising back up, they strode over to their respective corners and grabbed a handful of salt from a wooden box. In the manner of a farmer scattering seed, each of them tossed the salt on to the ring to purify it. Once this sacred rite was concluded, they crouched beside the white lines again and stared each other down.

Jack waited for the attack but it never came.

Instead, after glaring at one another, the two warriors returned to their corners. They repeated the salt rite and the staring contest twice more, before both wrestlers placed their fists on the ground. Then all chaos broke loose.

The two juggernauts sprang up, colliding mid-ring with the force of charging bulls. The smack of flesh against flesh echoed through the dojo, as they slapped, pushed and grappled one another for dominance. One seized his opponent's loincloth, trying to topple him sideways, but the other sidestepped the attack, spun and tripped his rival up. The sumo wrestler crashed heavily to the sand, tumbling out of the designated ring. The referee brought the match to a halt and held up his fan to declare the champion.

Following the slow drawn-out ritual of preparation, the bout itself lasted a matter of seconds.

The winner bowed his respects to daimyo Kato, who applauded the man's victory. Then the samurai lord at last turned his attention to Jack and Akiko.

'Good work,' said daimyo Kato, addressing the officer of the samurai unit. 'Ensure the informant is handsomely rewarded. Such loyalty to the Shogun is deserving of special consideration.'

'As you command, daimyo Kato,' said the samurai officer, bowing.

Akiko glanced at Jack, her eyes telling him all: Benkei had betrayed them.

Jack couldn't ... wouldn't believe it. The informant had to be the innkeeper. But the suspicious old man hadn't managed to see his face, so how could he have known Jack was the gaijin samurai? A tiny seed of doubt was sown. Maybe twenty koban was too much for any person to resist?

Daimyo Kato's gaze raked appreciatively over Akiko and he tutted at her injuries.

'That's no way to treat a lady,' he remarked. 'Untie her.'

'I wouldn't advise it,' said the officer. 'She's a wildcat.'

The daimyo laughed. 'Like this tiger?' he said, tapping the skin of the dead animal with his fan. He caught Akiko's eye. 'I killed this tiger in Korea ... with just a tant. If you try anything, I'll snap your neck in two. Do you understand?'

Chilled by his murderous tone, Akiko offered a submissive nod.

Confident he'd broken her will, the daimyo smiled and indicated for her bonds to be cut.

'And the ... gaijin?' queried the officer with hesitation.

'Is he as dangerous as they say?'

The officer nodded his head. 'It took all ten of us to subdue him. He broke the arm of one of my men and threw others around like they were toys.'

Daimyo Kato rested his chin upon the end of his fan, his expression one of marked interest rather than concern.

'A spirited fighter!' he said, regarding Jack with a hint of admiration. 'Let's put that warrior spirit of yours to the test.'

35.

Sumo 'Sumo is combat at its purest,' declared daimyo Kato, gesturing towards the dohy with his fan. 'Two mighty forces confronting one another. Yet the battle is rarely won on strength alone. The true conflict takes place in the mind. The conqueror and conquered decided in the blink of an eye.'

He clapped his hands. 'Gyji! Summon Riku.'

The sumo referee bowed and turned to one of the many armed retainers, who stood unnoticed at the edge of the hall. The retainer hurried out and returned a few moments later accompanied by a hulking young man. With the body of an ox and legs like tree trunks, the wrestler clomped across the dojo floor to the central ring.

'Riku is our youngest champion,' explained the daimyo. 'What he lacks in girth compared to his opponents, he more than makes up for in skill and mettle.'

In Jack's eyes, Riku looked as huge and intimidating as the other two wrestlers, but he wasn't going to argue with the daimyo. In fact, he couldn't even if he'd wanted to the gag was still in his mouth.

'I wonder,' mused the daimyo, a playful grin on his lips, 'can a gaijin survive a sumo bout?'

With a wave of his fan, he commanded the officer to unbind Jack.

Glad to be free, Jack swallowed the dryness from his throat and rubbed his raw wrists. He glanced over at the man-mountain that was Riku. The young wrestler was pounding a fist into a fleshy palm, the message clear: he would beat Jack into a pulp.

'I'm not here to entertain your whims,' said Jack. 'What reason do I have to fight your champion?'

Daimyo Kato considered this a moment then glanced at Akiko. 'For her life.'

Jack felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of him. He knew their situation was desperate, but the daimyo's statement brought home the grim truth. As prisoners of a loyal supporter of the Shogun, they were destined to die. Yet a chance, however slim and uncertain, had been offered to save Akiko's life.

'He's just playing a cruel game with us,' whispered Akiko.

'You're right. But what a prize to win,' said daimyo Kato, his hearing keen as a hawk's. 'While all traitors must be punished by death, clemency is possible in certain circumstances. I've considerable influence with the Shogun. Defeat my champion, gaijin, and, I assure you, your lady will live.'

Although Akiko urged him to refuse, Jack nodded his acceptance of the challenge. Akiko's welfare was all that mattered now. And he would fight till his last breath to save her.

The officer led Jack at sword point over to the dohy. Two attendants stripped him to the waist, then shoved him into the ring. The samurai patrol eagerly crowded round the edge to watch the spectacle. Akiko remained kneeling with one of the samurai guarding her closely. She offered Jack an encouraging smile, but her eyes couldn't disguise her concern. The inevitable result of the forthcoming bout was impossible to ignore as Riku stood on his slab-like feet, an immovable mound of flesh and muscle, waiting to destroy him.

Nonetheless, Jack took up position behind his white start line. The referee in the purple robes turned to him. Although he was a great deal shorter, the man somehow managed to look down his nose in distaste at Jack when he spoke. 'The winner of the bout is the first wrestler to force his opponent out of the ring, or make him touch the ground with any part of his body other than his feet,' explained the referee. 'It is against the rules to use fists, pull hair, or choke your opponent. Is that clear?'

Jack nodded. Despite never having fought sumo-style before, he had trained in taijutsu and was familiar with a number of wrestling techniques. Almost every day at the Niten Ichi Ry, Sensei Kyuzo had tested their throwing and grappling skills.

Break their balance, break the opponent! That was what Sensei Kyuzo had drilled into them.

Jack rapidly assessed his opponent. There was no way he could match Riku's brute strength or sheer weight, but he did have the advantage of agility and a longer reach. If he timed his movements so that Riku overcommitted to an attack, he might be able to use the wrestler's immense power against himself. He would only have one chance at this, so he had to make it count. Adjusting his feet for the best stability, Jack felt the coarse sand between his toes and the hard unyielding clay beneath. He dropped into a crouch, his knuckles on the line, and readied himself for the charge.

Glaring at Jack, Riku raised his left leg high and stomped the ground. Then he lifted his right leg and brought this crashing down. Each time his foot pounded the clay, Jack felt the whole dohy shudder. The wrestler was like an earthquake about to happen and Jack was directly in its path. Then Riku broke away and stepped out of the ring. He drank a ladleful of water from a bucket before drying his lips with a piece of rice paper. Returning to his white line, Riku squatted, clapped his hands and spread them wide ...

In his determination to win, Jack had forgotten about the sumo rituals that preceded the actual bout. He now mirrored Riku's gesture, opening out his arms to show he held no weapons. Satisfied, Riku returned to his corner and scattered a handful of salt. With the ring purified, he crouched once more in front of Jack and locked eyes with him. To Jack, it was like staring into a fathomless pit Riku's stony gaze giving nothing away.

Daimyo Kato had spoken the truth when he said sumo was a battle of the minds.

Riku's glare continued to bore into him and Jack shifted uncomfortably. At that tiny lapse in concentration, Riku charged. The speed of his attack was inconceivable for his size. Jack barely had time to raise his arms before Riku almost pulverized him. Meaty forearms slammed into Jack's chest. Hands like rocks slapped at his face. As the avalanche of muscle and flesh bowled into him, all Jack's tactics crumbled like a castle made of sand.

He numbly felt the edge of the ring with his back foot and in a last-ditch effort tried to stall Riku's charge. But the wrestler, rather than going for a final push, grabbed Jack by an arm and a leg and lifted him high above his head. Flailing helplessly in Riku's grip, Jack was then slammed into the clay ring. The impact was bone-shattering; Jack's skeleton rattled like a child's toy, even his brain seeming to shake inside his skull. Yet through the pain all Jack could think of was that he'd failed to save Akiko's life.

'Disappointing,' remarked the daimyo, as Jack gave an agonized groan and curled up in the foetal position on the dohy. 'I expected more from the infamous gaijin samurai.'

Although Jack's body throbbed as if a stampeding bull had thundered over him, he wasn't defeated. With an immense effort of will, he pulled himself back to his feet and gasped, 'I demand ... a rematch ... now I understand the rules. Best out of three!'

The daimyo raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'I do admire your fighting spirit, gaijin. On your head be it.'

Splashing water in his face with the ladle, Jack revived himself and took up position at the white marker. Daimyo Kato dipped his fan to indicate to the official to commence the match. Riku re-entered the ring and faced off against Jack.

'I'll break every bone in your body, gaijin,' warned Riku, loosening his neck with a crack.

'I'll do the same to you,' replied Jack, 'if I can find any!'

Riled by the insult, Riku began stomping the ring.

This time Jack followed all the rituals of sumo: clapping his hands, stamping his feet and tossing the salt. If Riku was offended or thought Jack was ridiculing him, he didn't show it. He remained as stone-faced as before. As they crouched opposite each other, his hard and glassy stare focused on Jack, Riku gave no ground on their mental battlefield. Yet neither did Jack. This resulted in a second round of staring. On this occasion, Jack played to Riku's overconfidence and feigned a flash of doubt. Riku registered it but broke away without charging, trying to hide the smug grin of certain victory on his face.

They both returned to the ring, Riku tossing salt. Taking up their fighting positions, the battle of wills reached its peak. The moment both fists touched the sand, Riku exploded into a charge. But, like a spitting cobra, Jack flicked the salt he still held into the eyes of his opponent. Riku was momentarily blinded, allowing Jack to neatly sidestep him. Sweeping his right foot across, Jack knocked Riku's legs from under him. His balance taken, the wrestler tumbled head first into the sand. His own momentum drove him forward and over the edge of the raised dohy. Riku landed like a beached whale on the woodblock floor below. A muffled crack and cries of pain filled the hall: not just from Riku, who rolled around like a defective Daruma Doll, the force of the drop having broken several ribs, but also from the two samurai who'd captured Akiko. They lay pinned beneath the mammoth wrestler, Riku's immense weight crushing the breath from them.

Payback for Akiko!

Dusting his hands of the salt, Jack locked eyes with Riku. 'Seems I did find a bone or two to break!'

36.

Bid for Freedom With Riku struggling to rise for a third bout, even with the help of two attendants, Jack turned to daimyo Kato and declared, 'Final match is forfeit. I win.'

'No!' said daimyo Kato firmly. 'You cheated.'

'I used tactics,' corrected Jack. 'You said the conqueror and conquered are decided in the blink of an eye. Riku blinked.'