The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Twenty-Two

The boys were about an hour out from the inn when Masato noticed the pursuers.

They’d ridden from the woods into a patch of rice paddies and were halfway across when Masato looked back and saw the other riders exit the forest behind them. There were about ten men, all of them dressed in dark colors, which made them look even more ominous in the fading light.

They could have been hunters, or other travelers, but Masato knew the moment he laid eyes on them that they were after he and Taro. He let his horse drop back to ride next to the other boy, and motioned behind them.

“We’ve got to ride faster!” Masato yelled, and Taro nodded after a quick backward glance.

Soon, they were under cover again, riding the twisting gray-white patch of road through the blackened forest. Sweat was pouring from Masato now- who were these men? Why were they chasing the pair? Were there others ahead of them? He kept glancing back and wondering how close they were.

Then they came to another clearing on the side of a hill, and Masato saw the riders were not only still there, but indeed gaining on the pair. They had closed half the distance, and Masato could now hear them cursing and yelling at their horses to move faster.

At the same time, Masato could feel that his own horse was breathing hard, and knew that at this rate there wasn’t much of a chance they’d be able to reach their destination over the mountain before the others caught them. They were in a trap, and it was slowly closing around them.

What could he do? They still had a little distance between them, so maybe if a fork came in the road they could take one of the side roads. Then, if they let the hunters pass, they could try and find another way to get to the meeting place, while still letting their horses rest a bit. The problem was there were enough of the other riders that he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t just break off into two groups. He didn’t even know if they’d been doing that already.

Still, he had to do something before they were caught, and now was the time for risks.

That’s what his master would have done.

So, he edged his horse out ahead, and when the next fork in the road came, he took the sideroad instead of staying to the main route. The sideroad was partially grown over, so now the road was a dark collection of black and white spots under them, but there was still enough moonlight to see their way. After a time, they came to another clearing with a farm in it, and he led Taro off the road and behind a stand of trees near the farm.

Stopping the horses, they waited.

The moments passed slowly, and Masato thought that the whole forest must have been able to hear his heart beating, but as time passed and nothing happened his heart slowed and he began to relax. No dark riders came bursting from the forest, and the only sounds were the horses breathing and the crickets.

Then Masato noticed something- the crickets had stopped.

He was about to turn and look around when the blow hit him.

His last memories were of Taro yelling, and a feeling of falling.

Then the ground came up at him, and everything went black.

*     *     *

Masato’s first sensation was the smell of venison stew cooking, and he became aware of warmth on his face and the cool feeling of a rice mat underneath him. He could also hear the sounds of people- men talking and laughter. It made him think of life in the castle dojo, and for a moment he almost felt like he might be home again, like someone had come and gotten him and it was all over. Then the pain at the back of his head and his aching left arm reminded him that this was all too real, and whoever had struck him was likely not a friend.

He opened his eyes slowly and peered around without moving. In the middle of the room was a typical cooking fire, with a pot on it and smoke spiraling up to the holes in the roof above. Tending the soup pot was an older woman dressed in simple farmer’s clothes, and another younger woman huddled next to her. Around the room, the orange firelight flickered a sinister glow on the faces of men who sat drinking and talking- big, rough looking men wearing dark furs and carrying weapons.

Bandits, thought Masato.

Then he heard a rustling near him and looked up, finding Taro sitting against the wall with a gag in his mouth. Further inspection showed Taro’s hands and feet had been tied, and in fact, so had Masato’s! Both of them were tied up like a couple of pigs, and pigs who were tied as they were rarely had a long future ahead of them.

Trying not to panic, Masato laid there and tried to ignore the pain and his growing sense of hunger enough to think their situation through. They were in a farmhouse, likely the one they’d stopped near as he probably hadn’t been out that long, and the bandits were here, so that meant the bandits had carried them here and probably had plans to stay for the night. He counted five bandits in the room in addition to the two farm women, which was half the number of pursuers he’d seen when the chase first began. Half the bandits meant twice the chances, so that was something good at least.

At last, the stew smelled ready, and the bandits had the old woman begin to ladle it out into wooden bowls, with the younger woman passing them out to the men. Masato could see now that the younger woman was a girl of about fourteen or fifteen with a face that he felt might be pretty if she didn’t have those thick black eyebrows. Masato was used to court women, who plucked their eyebrows at the time.

A few of the men treated the girl a bit roughly, which made Masato feel angry as he watched, but she didn’t seem to mind and playfully smacked their hands away, making jokes at their expense. This made them laugh even harder, and bewildered Masato somewhat, as he wondered if all peasant women were so rough hewn by nature.

After all the men were fed, the girl looked over at Masato and Taro and asked- “Hey, what about them?”

The leader of the bandits, a man who Masato recognized from the raid at the Inn, shrugged. “Let ’em starve.”

“Hold on, Genma.” Said one of the other bandits, a bald man a bit larger than the rest. “The boss said we were supposed to treat ’em careful. Maybe we should feed them.”

Genma thought about it a minute, and then motioned to one of his fellows. “Take off the gags,” he ordered. “And untie their hands, but leave their feet alone.” Then he went back to his stew.

After the man had roughly sat Masato up and partly untied both he and Taro, the man returned to his meal, leaving them alone in the corner with the peasant girl.

“Here,” she said, sticking a bowl in Masato’s hand, and another in Taro’s. “Eat up if you don’t want to starve.” She also gave them wooden spoons she pulled from her sash- the one Masato got had a long handle carved to look like the body and head of a fox.

“Careful with that one,” she told Masato as she looked right into his eyes. “The top part has a crack in it.”

Masato, who suddenly felt like his insides were meltingly hot before he’d even touched the stew, couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just nodded and quickly lowered his eyes.

Taro actually thanked her, and then started to ask, “Could you…” Before one of the bandits shouted “No talking! Just eat!” and put an end to it. The girl gave one last look at Masato, and said “be careful” as she nodded toward the spoon, then she returned to the cooking fire.

Masato watched her go, but then the roar of his stomach overwhelmed him and he quickly set to the stew- it was hot, but he was too hungry to care as he barely blew on each spoonful before shoveling it down.

Art by Brushmen

He was about halfway through when the thought came to him that the spoon didn’t feel loose in his hand at all, in fact, for a wooden spoon a little shorter than the distance from his fingertips to his wrist it had quite the heft to it. He paused and examined it more carefully, and it was then he noticed that halfway along the handle’s wooden shaft there was a thin line. Testing to see what would happen, he put two fingers above the line, and two fingers below, and pulled gently.

A gap appeared between the two halves, and between them the silver blade of a knife shone.

Instantly, he covered the blade again, and looked up to see if any of the bandits had noticed.

It seemed none had, for the only person who was watching him was the farmgirl.

Their eyes met, and understanding passed between them.

Now Masato had a way out, the only question was- when to use it.

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The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Twenty-One

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The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Twenty-Three


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