Before Jack could ask any more, Toge hurried them on. ‘The head of the village is waiting to welcome you.’

Striding up a muddy slope to the largest house, the three farmers took off their boots and stepped on to the veranda. Jack slipped off his sandals and joined them, but Neko was waved away by Toge to return the cooking pots to Sora’s wife.

‘One moment please,’ said Toge, bowing to Jack.

Knocking on the farmhouse door, he then entered with Sora, leaving Jack and Kunio to wait outside.

‘What do you think?’ asked Kunio, gesturing with pride at his village.

‘Very … peaceful,’ replied Jack. Though in truth, the depressing silence unnerved him.

Compared to the ninja village, Tamagashi was clearly a lot poorer and far less organized. The farmers’ homes were dotted haphazardly around, most needed re-thatching and some even looked to be on the verge of collapse. Although the head farmer’s house was the grandest in the village, it was still no palace. The wooden decking was rough and warped, its walls uneven and gapped.

‘My family’s house is that one by the pond,’ said Kunio, pointing to a small lopsided building.

As he went on explaining who lived in each of the houses, Jack was more drawn to what was occurring within the farmhouse.

‘You’ve been gone three weeks and come back with just one samurai!’ exclaimed a man’s voice in outrage.

‘No other samurai agreed to our request,’ replied Toge.

‘So where’s all the rice we gave you?’

‘Any ronin we did attract simply ate our food and left,’ he explained bitterly. ‘As soon as we told them about the job and what it paid, they scorned us for wasting their time. Or else were too scared.’

‘But you took enough rice to feed a small army!’

‘Okayama isn’t a safe place,’ a grieved Sora admitted. ‘Much of our rice was stolen. That deaf Neko makes a useless guard.’

‘You idiots! What are we going to do now?’

The rasping voice of an old man cut in. ‘We have one. That is a start.’

‘Yoshi, with all due respect, what use is one samurai?’

‘Let’s meet the man and we shall find out.’

The door creaked open and Sora’s hangdog face appeared.

‘Come in!’ he said with forced cheerfulness. ‘Our village head and elder are pleased you’re here.’

Wondering what he’d got himself into, Jack stepped through the doorway. The room was dim, the tang of woodsmoke heavy in the air. There was no furniture, just a few clay pots for storage and a water butt in one corner. Hanging from a chain, a pot of rice boiled over an open-hearth fire in the centre of the room. Although the place was austere, the warmth of the hearth was welcoming, and Jack was invited to take prime position next to it.