The Golden Naginata (37 page)

Tomoe barely heard this said; Imai was not paying attention. Yoshinake looked askance at the pouty, disapproving face of the Mikado's page and companion, then at the dark face of Nenoi, and said, “Please feel free.” Nenoi returned to his side of the room, leaned to Tade Shimataka, and exchanged a joke and laughter. Both of them began to stare at the page upon the raised part of the room, no longer affronted by his unforgiveable hauteur.

Tomoe Gozen whispered to her brother, “Imai, please refrain from drinking.” He registered surprise at her insistence, but obeyed without question. She volunteered an explanation: “Our Lord Kiso is more drunk on his achievement than on saké. If it were otherwise, he would notice that these dancing girls are not soft-looking like these other women of the court. I think they are stragglers. I think they are Ryowa clanswomen.”

At that very moment, the decorative swords proved not to be decorations at all. The women had maneuvered themselves before the chief vassals and Tomoe and Lord Kiso, their maneuvers seeming innocent parts to their dance, until steel licked out toward the faces of the guests. The musicians ceased their performance, sat quietly, and were clearly unsurprised by the event.

When the music and merrymaking became a stillness; when there were straight, old-fashioned swords pointed steadily at eyes and mouths and noses; when even the most honored and heavily titled Yoshinake must hold his head back lest his throat be pricked; there was a loud roaring sound, and it was Lord Kiso shouting,

“The meaning!”

The young woman before him raised her sword a little, until it was between his eyes. His own hand clutched only the iron fan in one hand, the scroll of titles in the other. He had no longsword to match hers, nor did any other of his company. He might draw his shortsword rapidly enough to win … but there was a matter of honor in obeying old traditions. It would cost face to draw the shortsword in the Imperial palace, despite the present treachery. Kiso Yoshinake worshipped the emperor despite the plotted use of him; and thereby, not even a country warlord like Yoshinake, unmannered though he could be, would break the cardinal rule. No matter what provocation, it remained unwarranted to use the sword.

The boy who had this while remained before the Mikado's screen shouted back at the warlord, “State your true intentions, O Knight of Kiso!”

His reply was quick and honest.

“To rule Naipon!”

“It was expected!” said the boy. “Thirteen days ago, a giant favored in Kamakura, by the name of Uchida Ieoshi, was a guest of this palace, under Ryowa scrutiny most of his stay. Before he left he managed to inform us that the Knight of Kiso had been authorized to attack the Ryowa, that in fact there were, at that very moment, warrior-monks and samurai gathering in the hills around Kyoto. We were delighted by the prospects! However, the giant told us that he had personal reason to suspect your capacity for treason if the Ryowa were cast down. Uchida Ieoshi planned to hasten to Kamakura and beseech the true Shogun to prepare a chastisement. Today, we have received advance word from spies that Ieoshi and another of the Shogun's most trusted vassals, Wada Yoshimora, are mere hours from the city! Your treason cannot succeed!”

Yoshinake's boyish excitement drained completely. His grip upon the scroll was so tight that the narrow binding snapped, and the scroll unrolled across the floor, the paper blank. Such a look was on his face that Tomoe Gozen feared her husband's response more greatly than she did the swords pointed at everyone's neck, including her own.

Uchida Ieoshi, the very son of a jealous swordsmith, had long conspired against Lord Kiso and Tomoe Gozen in his desire to destroy the last two Swords of Okio. He had come upon some useful information, it could not be doubted. Tomoe had in that hour seen her husband raised to the height of success, then plunged into the depth of failure. How would he react? Not slowly. Not mutely. Not meekly. Of this, Tomoe Gozen was sure.

His fingers had been digging into one of the tatami mats, which suddenly he raised up, toppling the woman who threatened him with sword. Tomoe Gozen whipped the iron fan from her obi to smack her own doom aside. Imai Kanchira used his tsuzumi drum in a clever way, pushing it on the end of the sword which threatened him, standing as he took his iron fan to fight. The room erupted into violence; and each of Yoshinake's retinue used
tessen
in lieu of swords. Therefore none dishonored themselves drawing shortswords in the Imperial palace.

The Ryowa dancers were strong, but they were dancers after all, not practiced warriors like those attacked. In ten heartbeats, they lay defeated, their skulls caved in by the iron fans, or else their arms broken by the swift defense. As good measure, the musicians were slain, too; perhaps there was spite in that. Only one among Lord Kiso's group had been slow and therefore slain.

Yoshinake was not placated, of course. He dashed onto the stage and thrashed the pretty boy who cowered and tried to run, but crumpled with skull cracked. Lord Kiso pushed aside the Mikado's screen, bellowing in rage. There was no one behind the screen. No one had been there the whole time.

The ceremony and titling had been a sham designed to make him waste the day while men marched the last miles from Kamakura. Kiso Yoshinake knew that he had been insulted more gravely than any man had ever been, that he had played the fool better than it had been played before. The anger of him was terrible to see. He stood upon the stage and called out to his vassals:

“Already Kyoto may be surrounded by the first troops. They await signal to attack, no doubt, or for the bulk of our enemy's forces to arrive. Clearly, we are unable to take the Shogun by surprise in his own city. Nevertheless, we will destroy his armies! We were outnumbered three to one by the Ryowa, yet we barely suffered. Now, many of our troops pursue the Ryowa westward, and the Shogun will have sent forces six times what we have at present. Therefore you must use cleverness to win! Any trick will do! We will not be overwhelmed!”

The room cleared in a moment, all but Lord Kiso, Imai Kanchira, and Tomoe Gozen, discounting the corpses of the women. Lord Kiso stood yet upon the stage, an actor of the final scene, gazing at the floor between his feet, musing bitterly. In a moment, he cast off the gaudy overcoat, untied the silk hakama and let it drop to the floor, and stood in the somewhat plainer kimono underneath. He crossed the stage, approached a lantern, peered down into the fire of it. The flame, surprisingly, was blue.

“Husband.”

Lord Kiso did not reply, did not move. He gazed down into the flame.

“Lord Kiso!” shouted Imai, his face sad. Still there was no answer.

“Husband,” Tomoe repeated, knowing that he heard. “I have left a gift for you beside your armor in the military palace. It is a spear forged by the sorcerer Jimei fifty years ago. It shines blue to match your armor and your helmet. It is a good weapon for you.”

He looked up at her sharply. “I have the Sword of Okio!”

“That sword has been your ruin. The Shogun's vassal Uchida Ieoshi has replaced your position in the bakufu. He would not have ferreted out information against us but for that sword.”

“I will have no other!”

“I ask only that you inspect the spear before casting it aside. I confess to you that when I was away those few weeks, I visited Okio's spirit, and believe he may have forgiven us; but I cannot be sure. If we had not treated his champions unfairly, no doubt his swords would have helped you and me in our mission to rule Naipon. The Shogun, after all, permitted the giant to hunt down the swords and break them, and to slay Okio's family because he refused to leave this capital for the other. What more fitting vengeance than to replace the offending Shogun with Kiso Yoshinake, Okio's strongest champion? But the strength has bled from the sword. If Okio no longer hinders us, he at least is no help.”

This matter was settled long ago, and Yoshinake would not change now. He refused to reply to his wife again. Instead, he bent to pick up the lantern. He tipped it sideways in his grasp, so that its paper walls caught fire. He descended the stage, moved toward a paper window, used the lantern to set the window, and hence the wall, on fire.

“Lord!” cried Imai Kanchira, running forth in surprise.

“The Mikado's home will burn!” roared Lord Kiso, moving from the heat of the wall. The flames went upward toward the beams. The wooden structure would be easily destroyed. Lord Kiso moved toward the exit, his face that of a madman, flames growing behind him. He said, “His Augustness will be flushed from his hiding place. To escape the blazes, he must use the stone stairway down; the other exits are made of wood and so will be aflame. I will wait for him at the bottom of the stair.”

“You would keep him hostage?” said Tomoe, aghast, barring her husband from the exit. Yoshinake looked at her sternly, insisted,

“No! I will save him from the unfortunate blaze!”

Imai Kanchira stepped backward, out of the room, a look of horror upon his face. His disillusion was sudden and complete. Tomoe Gozen bowed to her husband and replied,

“Please be a good bodyguard for his Augustness.” Then she turned and fled the burning palace, pulling her brother with her.

Tomoe Gozen and one thousand yamabushi were responsible for the defense of the northern highway. They marched along this route, a few of them on horses. There is a point along this highway which rises up sharply. It is known as “City Viewing Spot.” Here, Tomoe Gozen in black armor and moon-crowned helmet reined her white charger about to gaze upon Kyoto. The yamabushi turned also, although they would never have yielded to the temptation without their general's example.

Already it was night. A moon hung low upon the city. The streets were filled with frantic people, mere ants from this far view. The Imperial palace was an inferno. The ants uselessly cast buckets of water at the base of the burning structure. Sparks ignited surrounding woods, hence to the small dwellings scattered among the trees. The moon's silver and the fire's gold shone across the whole of the city, making Kyoto grander than its norm. Such beauty could destruction be! In that moment of her life, Tomoe Gozen was moved to rare tears, and the yamabushi to fervent prayer. They fell upon their knees at City Viewing Spot and chanted a sutra for each bead of their rosaries; and Tomoe recognized the chant as the same used for stilling Kiji-san, the mountain which the yamabushi believed would erupt without their attention. Did they think the city would stop burning if their prayers were good enough?

Tomoe's sorrow was twofold. In her mind's eye, she saw her husband standing with his back to flame, his eyes the same bright fire. Her passionate gaze met his and they were silent for a moment, devoid of challenge or condemnation. How odd that she should think in that moment of their having failed to sleep together even once since her return with the yamabushi! There had been no opportunity. Their respective duties kept them here and there and never in the same place for a night. She wondered if his thoughts matched hers in that moment, remembering the night prior to her trip to the Karuga Mountains. That night, his obi fell away like a flaccid snake; his kimono unfolded like a screen. She had smelled of camphor, he of camelia oil, and the odors mixed as their bodies clung. Now, at City Viewing Spot, she fancied she could smell that combination; and the nostalgia of it filled her with longing. It was not exactly a sexual longing, despite the thing she remembered; it was less definite than physical desire. She longed for something they had never truly captured. There had almost been something between them on that night which seemed so long ago, something more than duty, honor, battle. Today, Kyoto burned, and Tomoe's heart was ashes. The thing that she and Yoshinake nearly found together would never be pursued. Win or lose the current fight, the intensity of their lives would never again be focused on that frailest part of human interaction, that inconsequent emotion, love. They had let the moment pass; it could never be regained. She had been a cynic before; she had thought such a thing as love could not exist in such a world as hers. Now she thought it did exist, but for her and Yoshinake, it had been put aside too long. Forever after there must be only duty and fate between them. It should be enough. Yet, whatever the reason, and despite the fact that she would never let it be known why, Tomoe Gozen was very sad.

The yamabushi finished their prayers; the march went on, beyond view of the flaming capital. A scout, or spy, met them along the way, informed them that but one mile on, a troop of six thousand shogunate warriors had raised a camp off the highway, planning a dawn attack. “They wait for other troops to find their positions on all sides of Kyoto,” said the spy. “They are well-hidden because of a hill between them and the road; but the hill could be your advantage, rushing down on them.” Tomoe gave orders to the scout: slip into the camp, set fire to tents at the proper moment, create diversions and confusion among the enemy.

There were scouts of the enemy along the way also. The yamabushi proceeded slowly, sniffing the air, listening for a place that was, perhaps,
too
quiet. Not one enemy spy must pass their knowing! Seven were ferreted and slain. An eighth was captured alive, but killed himself before speaking.

Tomoe informed her men that they would be outnumbered six to one; and Priest Kakumei replied, “Well met! It will make the fight more even!” But Tomoe Gozen would not be impressed by such blind valor. She told them Lord Kiso's order was to be clever. She said,

“You have seen my Inazuma-hime in action many times. Unfortunately, I cannot use her in tonight's battle, for reasons you will know soon enough. But there is yet a value to the Golden Naginata, if you will heed closely my advice. Our horses must be blindfolded and left this side of the hill we are about to approach. When a whistling-arrow is launched, you will charge down into the enemy camp with all ferocity.
Under no circumstances look behind yourselves even for the quickest glance!
There will be a light upon the hill which the enemy must face. It will render them blind. Even so, they will fight well; but if each of you slays six, we will win. If curiosity causes you to disobey and look back, it will be your last sight, live or die. I hope you understand.”