'Hmmm. That could be a problem. And if it rains, the track will get more slippery, I suppose?' Horace asked.
The Senshi lord nodded. 'It certainly won't help. But if we can, I'd like to get across the river before dark.'
That made sense to Horace. Crossing a river just upstream of a high waterfall could be a difficult and dangerous business. And any waterfall in this mountainous terrain would be a high one, he knew.
'The crossing's tricky, is it?' he asked.
Shukin pushed out his bottom lip and made a so-so gesture with his hand. 'It's not the easiest,' he admitted. 'But I have another reason for wanting to get there before dark. The spot commands a view of the country below us. I'd like the chance to see if there's any sign of Arisaka and his men.'
Travelling as they were, surrounded by high, dense trees on either side of the trail, they could gather little knowledge of what was going on behind them. Horace realised that Shukin was feeling the inevitable uncertainty of any leader conducting a retreat from a superior force. He needed to know where their pursuers were – how close they were, whether they were gaining on the small party that travelled with the Emperor. Running blind, as they were, was a recipe for tension and uncertainty. You never knew when armed warriors might burst out of the trees, yelling their battle cries, swords poised to strike.
Just as they had that morning.
'And if we don't make the river?' Horace asked. It was all very well to plan for the best possible circumstances. But the worst possible had to be considered as well.
Shukin shrugged. 'There's a small village not far from the falls. We'll shelter there for the night.'
The rain, which had been absent for almost an hour, began again as he spoke. It was a light, misting rain, deceptive in its intensity. It seemed harmless enough at first but it was constant and unremitting. After ten to fifteen minutes of this, Horace knew, cloaks and trousers would become saturated, so that the water, no longer being absorbed by the weave, would flow off and run down into boot tops. It didn't take long under these conditions for a person to become sodden and miserable.
'Well, if we don't make the falls,' Horace said philosophically, 'at least we'll have somewhere dry to sleep tonight.'
The rain turned the surface of the trail to a slippery, glue-like consistency. The horses lurched and stumbled upwards, occasionally causing Horace's hair to stand on end as he caught glimpses of the dizzying depths below him, when the screen of trees beside the road thinned from time to time.
Even more serious, the thick, sticky mud built up on the horses' hooves, forcing the riders to stop frequently and clear the mess away.
He saw Shukin glancing more frequently at the pale, watery disc that marked the sun's position. The Senshi lord's face was fixed in a frown now. It was midafternoon and Horace, even though he wasn't sure how far they had travelled, knew it was nothing like the distance they would have to cover if they were to cross the river in daylight. Eventually, with a slumping of his shoulders, Shukin seemed to come to the same opinion. He held up his hand to stop the little column and edged his horse back down the slope to where the Emperor sat patiently. Horace urged his own horse closer to join in the discussion.
'We won't get across the river tonight,' Shukin said.
Shigeru pursed his lips in disappointment. 'You're sure?' he asked, then he waved any possible answer aside as he corrected himself. 'Of course you're sure. You wouldn't have said it, otherwise.'
'I'm sorry, cousin,' Shukin said, but Shigeru repeated the dismissive wave of his hand.
'You've done everything possible,' he said. 'I can't blame you for the rain – or for this mud.'
He glanced meaningfully down at the irregular balls of mud that encased his horse's feet. As he did so, one of his servants slipped from his saddle and hurried forward to clean the sticky mass away. Shigeru looked down at the man as he bent over the horse's left forefoot.
'I should send him away and do that myself,' he said ruefully. 'A man should attend to his own horse.' He paused, then allowed himself a weary grin. 'But I'm just too damned tired.'
Horace smiled in return. 'It's good to be the Emperor,' he said and Shigeru regarded him cynically.
'Oh yes indeed. Look at the excellent time I'm having. Warm, comfortable travelling conditions. Plenty of good food and drink and a soft bed at the end of the trail. What more could I ask?'
He and Horace shared the small joke but Shukin lowered his gaze. 'I'm sorry, cousin,' he said bitterly. 'You don't deserve this.'
Shigeru reached over in the saddle and laid a gentle hand on his cousin's shoulder.
'I'm sorry, Shukin,' he said. 'I'm not complaining. I know you're doing your best to keep me safe. I'll be grateful for a straw bed in a leaky hut in some small village tonight.'
'Unfortunately, that seems to be what's in store for us,' Shukin agreed. 'A little further up this rise, the road levels out and forks. Left leads to the falls and the crossing. Right leads us to a timber cutters' village. We'll turn right.'
'One thing,' Shigeru added doubtfully. 'Will this rain have any effect on the crossing? What if it causes the river to rise? Should we perhaps try to get there even if it is in the dark?'
But Shukin shook his head without any sign of uncertainty. 'It's not heavy enough for that. The water doesn't build up because it escapes so easily at the falls.'
Shigeru smiled at his cousin, understanding how heavily the responsibility for his Emperor's safety and wellbeing was lying on the Senshi's shoulders.
'Well, my friend, there's no sense in bemoaning what we can't achieve today. Let's get on with what we can achieve and find this village. As Or'ss-san mentioned earlier, at least we'll have somewhere dry to sleep tonight.' He included Horace in the smile.
Shukin nodded and turned to issue a command to the small column. As they moved out, Horace noticed that Shukin now had a determined set to his shoulders. Not for the first time, Horace reflected on how the Emperor's good-humoured, unselfish response to setbacks could inspire so much more loyalty and effort from his subordinates than blustering and bullying could ever achieve. It was a valuable lesson in leadership, he thought.
It was another difficult two hours on the trail, riding, slithering, sliding and stumbling before they reached level ground once more. Shukin called a brief halt while horses and men caught their breath for a few minutes. He consulted his map, with one of his troops holding a waterproof cape over him. There was barely enough light to see the details on the sheet, Horace thought, but the Senshi warrior folded the map away and pointed down the trail.
'Ten more minutes,' he said.
A little while after, they saw the glimmer of lights through the trees, flickering intermittently as branches, moving in the wind, interposed themselves between them. Then, abruptly, they were in a clearing, at the beginning of a small group of thatched-roof cabins. Warm yellow light glowed through the waxed-paper window panes of the houses and smoke curled from several chimneys. The smell of woodsmoke spoke to Horace of warm rooms and hot food and tea. Suddenly, he was eager to dismount.
As he had the thought, he became aware of movement in his peripheral vision. He looked to the side and saw doors sliding open as dark forms materialised on the wooden porches that fronted the houses.
The villagers were emerging from their homes to welcome the strangers who had arrived among them.
At least, Horace hoped they were planning a welcome.
Wolfwill had been sailing east for two days, and Toscana was far behind them. The strangely rigged ship, with a curving triangular sail whose boom was set at a steep angle to the vertical mast, was swooping eagerly over the small waves, with the wind on her beam. The sail had been trimmed right round until its curved, swelling length was almost parallel to the line of the ship itself. The rigging hummed with the wind of their passage and the deck vibrated slightly underneath their feet. It was an exhilarating feeling, putting Will in mind of one of the low-flying seabirds that accompanied the ship for hours each day, planing easily just above the surface of the sea, with hardly any perceptible movement of their wings.