*
Richard stopped at Tsuba’s urgent whisper,
“We are almost there.” Tsuba had stopped walking, and turning his head from right to left and back again, he studied the forest. Richard wanted to ask him “How do you know that?” but he thought better of it, instead he also stared at the forest in the hope of getting some idea of what Tsuba was doing, he saw nothing.
“We should circle around that way.” Tsuba pointed towards higher ground barely visible through the gaps between the trees and away to their left.
“And now my friend...” He stopped Richard with a palm on his chest, “...We need to be very quiet and remain unseen! Yes?” Richard understood, he was being gently chastised, he realised that it was no time to be petty or churlish.
“Yes...” He replied simply, “…I’ll do my best… lead on MacDuff!” Tsuba smiled at Richard's reply, he was relieved,
“Good! Then let us enter the fray!” He turned and vanished into the thicker undergrowth.
“Don't wait for me…” Richard whispered as he dived in behind him, “…I’ll keep up.”
A short while later they got their first glimpse of the house, in the distance half-way down the gently sloping fields dropping down to the river in the distance.
“That must be the Thames.” Richard mused, Tsuba nodded, he was busily scanning in all different directions, looking for a better spot to view the house and a safe way to approach it, after a few minutes careful scrutiny he pointed out a direction,
“Follow me, and stay very low.” They moved downwards from the higher ground taking care to always have trees and bushes between themselves and the house, at last Tsuba held up his hand again and they stopped,
“I think that this is about the best we will get.” He said, handing the binoculars over to Richard. He immediately put them up and was surprised by the excellent view they had of the house. He was looking at the front and one side of it, the sun was behind them lighting up the house in excellent relief. They surveyed the house, drawing sketches, until late afternoon, seeing no one, but hearing the sounds of shotgun fire and dogs barking.
On the way back to camp Richard was edgy,
“Correct me if I'm wrong, and no doubt you will, but wasn't that a complete waste of time?” Tsuba stopped and looked at Richard, he was clearly exasperated, he replied in a crisp sharp manner,
“Quite the contrary, we have learned a great deal.”
“Huh? Like what for instance?” Richard was incredulous while Tsuba related in infuriated tones,
“The house has few occupants and even fewer daily visitors. There are dogs; I counted two, did you? They have a shotgun and very likely other weapons besides. We know where to approach the house without being seen, and we know approximately how many rooms are on each floor. In my opinion we should watch for one more day and then plan our attack for the following dawn…” Tsuba released a sigh and regained his normal placid veneer, “…Can I take it that you agree?”
Richard felt stupid and useless, angry with himself he wanted to say something sarcastic, he desperately tried to think of some clever riposte,
“Yeah sure.” He managed to say.
Later that evening after their evening meal, the odd threesome sat around the camp fire, conversation was limited.
“So how come you know so much about Shakespeare and stuff if you grew up in the Cambodian war, I thought Pol Pot was against that sort of thing?” Tsuba had been whittling with his knife, he stopped for a moment and thought, then began again before answering Richard,
“I was born in Japan. As I told you before...” He turned his face to the sky, “...and I was, erm , dissatisfied with the comfortable life I had. I...” He laughed, “...ran away to sea. Spent a couple of years drifting the South China Seas until I ended up in Cambodia...” His face darkened, “...So much happened there. And I have travelled far since then...” He made a visible effort to lighten the mood, “...But to answer your question...” He waved towards the miserable old woman, “...Francesca here…” she was oblivious, “...used to be a trouper, she has performed much of his work, the plays are on the bus. They make good reading.” Richard was a little interested,
“So she's a failed actress.” He pointed out unkindly.
“That depends on your definition of failure. In Francesca's case she had throat cancer, she was lucky they said, they managed to save her life, unfortunately they couldn't save her voice. I'm sure even you understand that a Shakespearean actress needs a powerful voice.” Tsuba fell quiet and continued his whittling.
The old woman spat on the ground and staggered over to the bus. Richard felt very small in a very big world, he rose,
“I'll go and see if I can find enough wood to last through the night.” Tsuba simply nodded in reply, his eyes fixed on the small dancing flames, his mind half a world away as he remembered the time Eve had saved his life. The oath that he'd made to protect her, and the way she had left him. And the years he had spent at first trying to forget her, and then trying to find her, “And now I have a man in my camp who wants to kill you. That will not happen, I will help him to find you, yes, but I will not let harm come to you...” Tsuba pondered the impossible situation he found himself in and as usual found a little Shakespeare to help him, “...Our wills and fates do so contrary run.”