Yabu lowered himself slowly to the mat in the darkened barracks. I'm getting too old for this, he thought wearily.
Exhausted as he was, sleep eluded him. The events of the last few days ran helter-skelter through his mind.
The interview with the hatamoto Genji had gone on for hours as they were grilled on many details of their recent ordeal. Plyed with food and sake, it was all they could do to stay awake, until finally he thanked them and sent them to rest.
They had made it in time, though. In time to warn the garrison of the oncoming force under Kano Jigoro, and the overrunning of their small outpost. In fact, the hatamoto had been openly approving of their actions. Yabu shifted uneasily on his tatami. If Genji-san knew of the details of Yabu's capture, he would have looked on him with less favour. It was only blind luck that he had been able to escape. Much of their information came from what he had been able to glean while imprisoned.
Still, Yabu understood the warrior's rule: lucky often defeats skilful. In this case, luck had been with him, with all of them. They had come out of it with honours. Jiro and Junzo were largely unhurt. The foolish new ashigaru, Kenji, had been badly hurt but would probably live. He wouldn't wear his armour -- said it hurt his mobility. Maybe so, but so did the deep slash in the belly he now wore instead.
Still and all, the hatamoto would be most impressed with results. Even though it was largely luck, they had brought back half of their original compliment of eight ashigaru, and they had brought back nearly two dozen heads of slain opponents. Barracks rumour could not accuse them of falling back too lightly, of not doing their duty or of cowardice.
Yabu wondered about their new companion, the drunken priest. He was a strange one, indeed. Surly and recalcitrant as only a holy man could be. Yabu wasn't very religious, but perhaps this priest was lucky for them, a sign of the favour of the gods. Yabu shook his head ruefully. If so, the gods favoured them with a two-edged sword, for the old man was not easy to get along with.
Drowsing on the brink of sleep, a last thought passed through Yabu's mind. What about the Arai's older brother, and his priest garbed in black like a crow? It was a tense situation. Politics is not an honorable fight.
More castles had been taken by treachery and betrayal than ever by assault or siege, Yabu thought as he drifted off to sleep.