The Disfavored Hero (34 page)

Heimin to one side, aristocrats to the other, Tomoe at his back, and an important Lord before—Ugo Mohri's pleasure was highly visible. Everyone watched him attentively, wondering what sort of display he had in mind to impress them. Thus far, they were more curious than impressed, for sword defeating paper would scarcely entail amazing feats.

The four men raised their respective colored papers. They tossed these sheets toward Ugo Mohri, then leapt backward.

The
iai
draw required total concentration and intense determination focused toward a particular action, performed with acute rapidity and exceeding accuracy. As the papers came toward him, Ugo raised one knee. His sword came from its sheath, slashed in four directions as he twirled halfway around. The sword re-entered its scabbard as he returned to both knees, now facing Tomoe rather than Lord Horota.

Eight pieces of paper, not four, fell to the ground.

The four men stepped forward and reclaimed the eight pieces of paper, and held these pieces in upraised hands. They threw them once more, and Ugo Mohri's sword moved forth with even more blinding speed, singing through the air as he turned to face the castle's Lord as before, and fell back into the sitting posture. Every piece of paper had been cut in half again, so that sixteen pieces fell to the ground. What few spectators had blinked their eyes saw nothing more than Ugo Mohri's mystifying ability to face west then east without having apparently flinched a muscle or altered a pose.

The four aides hurried forward one last time, and gathered up the sixteen bits of paper. They came together in a group and began to fold the colored pieces into a whole. They made a patterned paper lantern and presented it to Lord Hidemi Horota's forward samurai, who took it to the Lord himself.

Ugo Mohri had not merely cut the papers, but had cut them into specific shapes and sizes so that the lantern could be made. Heimin stood with mouths agape. Aristocratic warriors nodded to one another appreciatively. Ugo Mohri stood, bowed once more to the Lord of Heiji Castle, then returned to his seat in the partitioned enclosure, arms folded over his chest.

He had looked slightly disappointed that Tomoe Gozen's expression never altered.

Tomoe stood. She walked toward the castle's Lord, looking bow-legged and strong in her crisp hakama trousers. There was something terrible in her walk, and it was not like Ugo's swagger; it was more offensive than conceited. It said:
I will participate in your circus. But it is still a circus
. She bowed curtly, and the samurai to either side of the Lord returned her bow uncomfortably. The one seated on the step raised himself up a little, as though he had seen something dangerous in her manner, as though he feared she might rush the platform and kill his master.

She turned. Already, a target had been wheeled to the center of the yard and propped up, facing her and Lord Horota. She bowed north, then south, lastly to Ugo Mohri. Their eyes met as before, without message. She drew her sword, confronting the target.

Again, the onlookers were puzzled. The target was for archery, but Tomoe Gozen bore a daito blade. It was more confusing than Ugo's paper.

The young boy who had wheeled the target forward ducked behind it, rather than leaving the field. Tomoe glowered at the target somewhat inappropriately, as though it were a hated enemy several paces away from her. She held her sword outward to one side, and crossed one leg over the other to approach this presumed foe. She was not near enough to strike, and it seemed pointless to do so anyway. Her audience, however, was only the more attentive due to the apparent valuelessness of her maneuver.

Atop roofs, there appeared three cloaked figures: ninja! Lord Hidemi Horota's samurai moved in front of him immediately, concerned that ninja should appear on the castle's roofs. Half the audience looked to where the ninja stood, darkly clad, only their eyes visible. Those eyes glared into the yard at Tomoe Gozen.

Tomoe continued to focus on the target, oblivious to the ninja.

Ugo Mohri leaned forward from the three-sided tent, his expression tense and intense, trying to gain a view of the three ninja and Tomoe.

The ninja crouched, flung three overlarge shurikens at Tomoe Gozen, one after the other.

There were three melodic chimes:
Brring. Chring. Clant
, followed by three dull sounds:
Tunt-tunt-tunt
. The large shurikens were deflected by her sword, and into the target.

The ninja slunk away, vanished.

The boy hiding behind the target stood, and turned it to the four sides of the yard so all would see how the shurikens formed a careful triangle in the center of the target.

Upon Tomoe's face, no hint of pride. She sheathed the sword of Okio. She faced the Lord once more, bowed, then returned to her section of the fabric enclosure.

Whispered commentary rose about the periphery of the yard, but quieted when the Lord of Heiji Castle stood. He scanned the crowd he hosted. A servant brought a scroll, and from it Lord Horota read a series of partially subjective and overly elaborated crimes accredited to Tomoe Gozen, none of them quite invented, but only one of them important by most measures: the death of eight thousand samurai, slaughtered by a ghoulish legion under Tomoe's auspices, and she in the auspices of a foreign sorcerer. It was this collusion which caused her to become a disfavored hero in the first place, and the criminality of that association would be decided by the outcome of today's confrontation.

Lord Horota ended the statements of accusation with a formalized phrase: “To these items, are any opposed?”

There followed a moment of silence, in which the charges, or even Tomoe's right to “vindication by combat,” could be challenged.

In that moment, Lady Toshima stepped through the squared gateway behind the platform. Though once courtly in her appearance, she was presently without cosmetics, without costly garments. There had been much talk in Kamakura about the famous author, who was once a famous beauty as well, but made herself look so plain. If challenges to her beauty ever tempted her to return to her previous nature, she overcame the temptation. Doubtlessly, there were some who considered the notorious Lady more beautiful than before, but if the majority shared this opinion, they were reluctant to suggest it.

Toshima ascended to Lord Horota's side from the rear. It was unprecedented. The Lord himself was clearly surprised. But his samurai made way for the woman who was kin to the Mikado, master of Tomoe Gozen and, a few maintained, heir to Shojiro Shigeno.

She carried a scroll similar to that read by Lord Horota, but sealed with the Mikado's emblem: a chrysanthemum. She broke the seal, stretched out the scroll, and did not merely reply to the charges against Tomoe Gozen, but leveled charges of her own at Ugo Mohri.

“Once,” she began, “Ugo Mohri served the august son of Amaterasu. Today he serves the Shogun. Is it possible the Shogun's champion was fonder of his glamorous wealth than of fealty to the Mikado? That is what is tested here today. But there is another matter, too. We are told by high officials that the Mikado is held from his beloved Naipon to his own benefit, and ours; and we may believe this is true, because the Shogun never lies, and serves the Mikado in all things.” She looked up from the scroll a moment, smiling feigned innocence, old innocence. She unrolled the scroll a little further, continued, “Yet it is also true that circumstances are ever changing, and that we have always known the Mortal Flesh of the Eternal Isles must one day return to us. Today we test not only the faith or treason of a disfavored hero against the fealty or criminality of a champion, but also the readiness of the Mikado's return from exile.”

Upon hearing these statements, Tomoe Gozen's expression finally changed. She was proud of Toshima's wording—an author's genius. Whatever the outcome, the Shogun would retain face. But any questioning of the proposal or the match at this stage would have an adverse effect on the Shogun and his position. Effectively, Toshima had insured this: If the Mikado's own samurai defeated the unfaithful executioner, the emperor would return to Kyoto, and Tomoe Gozen would be favored. If Ugo Mohri bested Tomoe, she would be ill-mentioned on the Tablets of the Samurai, and the people of Naipon would await the Shogun's next arrangement (for all believed this day
was
arranged by him) to discover the time of the Mikado's homecoming.

Lady Toshima ended formally: “To these items, are any opposed?”

Since opposition would compromise the Shogun, there was none. Toshima had gambled everything on the fact that the Shogun legitimized his regency through the Mikado, and could reveal no lack of faith in Amaterasu's godchild. A Shogun could be disfavored too, though it usually meant revolution; therefore no shogunate official would indicate any weakness of fealty where the Mikado was concerned, despite the hypocrisy of their methods of faith.

As her father's only heir, Toshima would secure Shigeno Valley by her bold maneuver. And she would have gained the base of support on which to rebuild the valley's wealth.

Unless Tomoe fell.

If Toshima's samurai fell to Ugo Mohri's blade, Lady Toshima might well vanish into some dungeon, and none would send queries after her.

Lady Toshima handed her scroll to one of Lord Horota's servants. Then she stepped down the front steps of the platform and crossed the yard, taking not her rightful position among the nobility, but joining Tomoe Gozen's retinue.

Lord Hidemi Horota waited an appropriate space of time, but knew there could be no opposing voice. His own “neutral” role had become neutral after all, and he was visibly shaken by it, since his personal wealth in huge measure required the Shogun's favor.

Horota stepped to the front of the platform, and held a yellow scarf at arm's length over the edge. It was a signal to begin.

Tomoe Gozen and Ugo Mohri stood, walked to the center of the yard, bowed as one to the Lord, to the aristocracy, to the heimin, and lastly to Death, in the west. They sat upon their knees facing one another two paces apart. Their swords were scabbarded. Ugo's sleeves were already tied back; Tomoe withdrew her own
sage-o
and tied the fullness of her kosode's sleeves. She pulled the
sage-o
so that the fine bow moved to the center of her back, beneath her flowing ponytail. While she did this, Ugo tied a cloth around his head to indicate, as had Tomoe, his willingness to strive. His queue of hair was not touched by the cloth.

They bowed to each other, hands flat upon the ground, foreheads resting before their knees. When they looked up again, their eyes bore into one another and did not waver.

The two samurai were positioned for a mutual iai draw. Iaijutsu commanded an unequivocal level of coordinated, instantaneous action or reaction. Swords would be bared and, without any alteration of the sudden, deadly, sweeping motion, the swordfighters would return swords to scabbards. When warriors of equal skill fought in this manner, there was rarely cause for more than a single mutual draw, and simultaneous death was common. Tomoe's skill at iai was an unknown factor in the match. Although Ugo Mohri had proven by his exhibition that he excelled in iaijutsu, Tomoe had shown something more clever and less revealing.

The eyes of the opponents did not veer from one another. At the periphery of their vision, they waited for the yellow cloth to drop from Lord Horota's hand.

The cloth fell.

Tomoe raised one knee, as did Ugo Mohri, and each took one step forward as they stood. Before the cloth had fallen a third of the distance to the ground, two swords had been drawn, two duelists had come to their feet, one clangor had resounded. The two swords carved similar figure-eights in different directions, then returned smoothly to their sheaths. It had been so swift, the most carefully trained eye among the attendant witnesses could not guess whose performance was better.

Tomoe and Ugo faced away from each other. Upon his face: that indefatigable serenity. On Tomoe's face: pain.

Blood oozed down her front and back. Her body shook. She rocked from the stress of the single draw. The effort of the iai draw had ripped the half-healed wound acquired on Keiko's island, and it was that piercing wound which brought the rush of blood to stain her white kosode.

Behind her (she did not turn to see) Ugo Mohri fell to his knees, his visage yet unchanged. Slowly, he leaned backward, and moved his arm enough to reveal the terrible rent in his side. Blood and organs spilled. Tomoe turned, her look of pain meeting his of serenity.

She knelt at his side, and whispered something no one else would hear: “I am sorry to have killed you, and with the sword you gave to me.”

Ugo Mohri replied happily, “It is a samurai's death.”

She had thought she would be pleased. She had thought she would tell him he earned death by his unfaith with the Mikado; that if he had served better, this duel would never have come to pass, and he would live. But now she felt no antipathy, and could not believe, despite all, that the remarkable Ugo Mohri had been as unfaithful as circumstance made him appear.