Clearly deaf, the old tea merchant had not heard the warning and was so involved in preparing another brew that he didn’t notice the approaching convoy. Everyone was bowing except him. He was completely unaware of his disrespect.

Jack raised himself up and tried to get the attention of the old man, but Kuma-san yanked Jack’s head back down just as the leading samurai swept past on his horse, his sword passing within a hair’s breadth of Jack’s head.

The mounted samurai glared at Jack; then, without breaking pace, raised his sword again and chopped the old merchant’s head off.

The contingent of mounted samurai powered past, heralding a procession of ceremonial samurai, uniformed marching men and attendants holding colourful blue, yellow and gold banners aloft. In the midst of this convoy was a brilliantly lacquered palanquin, borne by four sweating men in loincloths.

As it passed by, Jack caught a glimpse of a man ensconced inside, his haughty face ignoring the old tea merchant’s body flopped in the dirt.

‘Who was that?’ whispered Jack, breathless with shock.

‘The daimyo Lord Kamakura Katsuro returning to Edo,’ said Kuma-san, with venom in his voice. ‘He insists on utmost respect.’

The procession ploughed on down the Tokaido Road, scattering pedestrians like human autumn leaves.

23: BUTOKUDEN

23

BUTOKUDEN

‘Jack-kun! Kyoto!’ said Kuma-san the following afternoon, nudging Jack from the doze that the gentle rocking of the horse had lulled him into. ‘The Heart of Japan, where the great Emperor himself resides!’

Jack opened his eyes. The Tokaido Road had ended in a magnificent wooden bridge that spanned a wide, lazily flowing river. The bridge streamed with people coming and going, an exotic flood of colour and noise. But as soon as they saw Masamoto and his samurai approaching, the crowd parted like a wave breaking upon a rock and a uniform bow rippled along as the troop passed through.

Beyond the bridge, Jack could see the broad expanse of Kyoto.

A vast city of villas, temples, houses, gardens, shops and inns filled the valley floor. Bound by mountains on three sides, the rising slopes were swathed in cedar trees and dotted with shrines. Soaring up to the north-east of the city was the most magnificent of these peaks, upon which the desecrated remains of a massive temple complex perched.

‘Mount Hiei,’ said Akiko, as she and Yamato joined him on the bridge. ‘It was the site of Enryakuji, the most powerful Buddhist monastery in Japan.’

‘What happened to it?’ asked Jack, surprised at the hundreds of burnt-out buildings, temples and structures littering its slopes.

‘The Great General Nobunaga invaded the monastery forty years ago,’ said Kuma-san. ‘Burnt every temple to the ground. Executed every monk.’

‘But why?’

‘When Kyoto was first built,’ replied Akiko, ‘Emperor Kammu established a monastery on Mount Hiei to protect the city from evil spirits. It was the monks’ responsibility to guard Kyoto.’

‘They even had their own army of sohei,’ added Yamato.

‘Sohei?’