Shike, page 56
"Then, in the middle of the night, there was a thunderous noise from behind us, the north end of the pass. Men jumped up in the darkness. Someone shouted, 'It is the army of the Takashi coming to attack us! There are hundreds of thousands of them.' They thought the Takashi had stolen around the mountains in the darkness and were attacking us from the rear. Our samurai, half-armed and half-dressed, ran forward, right into the Takashi camp. The Takashi slaughtered hundreds of them.
"By this time some of us realized that the noise that set off the panic was the whirring of the wings of a flock of water-fowl that had taken off in the middle of the night from a lake at the north end of the valley. We started to retreat up the pass, but the narrowness of the valley slowed us down. The supposedly effeminate Takashi fell upon us like a bear chewing up a deer. Less than half our men got out of the valley alive.
"I fled into the forest beyond the pass. It was every man for himself by now. I was alone. I lay with my face in the mud while enemy troops searched the bushes a few feet away." He looked at Taniko. He could not say that he had been nearly mad with terror, but she could see it in his eyes.
"Eor five days the Takashi scoured those mountains and forests, killing every Muratomo samurai they found. Most of all, though, they were looking for me. Throwing off my armour, keeping only my sword, I fled them and hid from them." His face brightened. "The worst moment of those five days was also the best. I know the kami are protecting me. I hid in a hollow tree. I could hear a band of the Takashi crashing through the underbrush. Then they were all around me. One of them approached the tree. I recognized him. He was a samurai who had served in the palace guard under my father. He looked into the hollow where I was hiding and right into my eyes. I clenched my fist around my sword. I was determined that I would kill him before he killed me, even though I could never escape his comrades. Then he smiled at me. He stepped back from the tree and struck it twice with the flat of his sword. Three doves that had been perched in the upper branches took flight. 'No one over here,' he called and walked away. Do you see? The gods must be watching over me."
Taniko remembered how, long ago, Kiyosi had seen Moko hiding in a tree and spared his life. On that same day Kiyosi had beheaded the father of this man sitting before her.
She said, "Even in time of fiercest strife some men feel kindly impulses."
"Kindly impulses?" Hideyori looked at her, surprised. "No, it was not the warrior who saved me. It was Hachiman. The dove is the messenger of Hachiman, and there were three doves in that tree. Hachiman clouded that man's mind so he would not see me. It was Hachiman who smiled at me through the man's face." Hideyori walked over to the alcove. He knelt and prostrated himself before the statue.
"Are the Takashi coming here?" Taniko asked when he had seated himself with her again and drank some more sake.
"No. After five days they regrouped and withdrew down the Tokaido. Yukio must be threatening the capital." Hideyori glowered at the Hachiman statue. "The thought of that upstart half-brother of mine in the capital before me makes me want to cut my belly open."
He's never been able to trust anyone, Taniko thought. He's spent most of his life knowing that anyone around him might be willing to kill him and take his head to Sogamori. "Your brother Yukio has never spoken of you except in terms of the deepest respect, my lord," said Taniko.
"How well do you know him?"
"I met him at the beginning of this year," Taniko admitted. "I knew his mother at Court long ago."
"I think I know Yukio better than you do, then," Hideyori said with a hard smile. "I watched him grow up. He was a snivelling, ugly little snake whose mother turned my father's head. She enticed him to forget his true family and give all his attention to her and her child. When he grew up he sneaked away from the Rokuhara and drifted about the country, living like a bandit. He never cared how his crimes endangered my life. Twice Sogamori ordered me executed because of things Yukio did. Only my ability to build alliances saved me. Can you wonder why I wanted to be in the capital before him? I wanted it so much, I made the same mistake our family has made for generations, the mistake that has led us into defeat after defeat.
"We are impetuous. We act rashly, prematurely. That's what got my grandfather and my father killed. It caused the destruction of the Muratomo who followed Prince Mochihito. It nearly got me killed at Ishibashiyama, because I was in such a rush to get to the capital I didn't wait until I had gathered a large army here at Kamakura before setting out to attack the Takashi. Eor that matter, I should not have gone into battle at all. A leader can't plan intelligently in the heat of battle. You don't see Sogamori riding at the head of his troops. He sends his sons and his generals to do his fighting for him. He sits like a spider at the centre of his web, taking advantage of his victims' mistakes, growing fat on their bodies. Ishibashiyama is the last time I'll ride to war at the head of troops. Erom now on I'll stay here, making my plans, organizing my supporters, sending out my generals and troops, praying to Hachiman for victory. I believe I can fight this whole war from right here in Kamakura, better than I could if I were riding about the countryside like some ancient prince."
"Perhaps you're right," said Taniko. "Especially since you have fine generals like Yukio to take the field for you."
Hideyori eyed her coldly. "You keep trying to tell me that Yukio is a help, rather than a danger to me. If you weren't so open about it, I'd suspect you of being a spy for him."
Taniko smiled and shook her head. "I'm not a spy for anyone."
"Of course not. You are staying here, are you not, with your family? You and I will be together throughout this war, then, Lady Taniko." He smiled at her. There was no warmth in the smile, but there was desire. Taniko suddenly felt uneasy. She had put herself in a compromising position, coming here to his chambers, because she hadn't expected him to be interested in her.
"I have never forgotten that day at Daidoji," he said softly. "To save your husband's life, you emerged from behind your screen of state, your pale face modestly turned aside, your ivory fan held up before you. I thought you the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Now there is no screen, and you are still the most beautiful woman I know."
"You're too kind, my lord." She felt her heartbeat quicken. There was something frightening about this brooding man full of cold anger. He lived among memories. He hated Yukio, it seemed, because as a baby Yukio had supplanted him in his father's affection. He nurtured the recollection of that one glimpse he'd had of her nineteen years ago, and he saw her as she was then, not as she was now. She felt no desire to lie with him, certainly not after these past months with Jebu, but she had to be careful how she went about putting him off.
"Excuse me, my lord, but I know I can't be as beautiful as you say. I'm thirty-four years old now, practically middle-aged, and I look it. It would take a girl closer to fifteen, as I was then, to equal the picture of me you carry in your mind."
Hideyori reached for her across the table. "Some women do not age. Or they grow more desirable with age."
Trying to move gracefully and wishing not to offend Hideyori by seeming alarmed, Taniko backed away from the table. "I think I have done all I can for you tonight, my lord. You need rest. I'll bid you good night."
She and Hideyori stood at the same moment. "You have not done all you can for me," he grated. "I have never forgotten you. I have hungered for you for nineteen years. Even while you were giving yourself to Kiyosi, the son of my worst enemy, I longed for you. You came to me tonight of your own choice. You set up no screen between us. You said you wanted to comfort me." He moved around the table and put his arm around her waist. He pushed her towards the sleeping area of his room.
He was far stronger than she, and Taniko knew she would not be able to resist him if he tried to force himself upon her. He knew she had lain with men other than her husband; at least, he knew about Kiyosi. So she could not claim to be a chaste married woman. If she tried to fight him off, she would offend him, with possibly disastrous consequences. She did not want to go to bed with him, though. What a fool she had been to separate from Jebu.
She whispered, "Homage to Amida Buddha."
"What did you say?" said Hideyori in a low voice full of tension.
She remembered that this was a man who seemed convinced he could accomplish more for his cause by praying to Hachiman than by leading an army in the field. She thought quickly.
"I was calling upon the Buddha, my lord. I hope you will not force me to break my vow. It might bring bad karma to both of us." Hideyori's hand fell from her waist. "What vow?"
"As you may have guessed, my marriage to Prince Sasaki no Horigawa was not a happy one. In my resentment of my lot and in the strength of my youthful passions I turned to Kiyosi when Prince Horigawa separated from me. When Kiyosi was killed, I felt with absolute certainty that my lying with him had displeased the gods and caused his death. I promised the Buddha then that I would never again go to bed with a man other than my husband."
Hideyori stared at her. "Thousands of woman have lain with men who are not their husbands, and the men usually don't die." He laughed. "Unless the husband kills them. Why should your favours be so dangerous?"
Taniko cast her eyes down. "You may joke if you like, my lord. I realize that Kiyosi was your enemy. But his death was one of the great sorrows of my life." That is the simple truth, she thought, even if it is not the reason I don't want to lie with Hideyori. That reason is a living man, and his name is Jebu.
It was as she had hoped. She was beginning to accept Jebu as Kiyosi's killer. When she saw him again it would be as it had been between them in the best times.
Hideyori's eyes smouldered with frustrated yearning. "At least tell me that you would couple with me if this vow did not stand in the way. Do you find me desirable?"
"It has been so long since I went to bed with a man that I've almost forgotten what it is like," Taniko said. Now that was not the truth. "Even so, my lord, I do find you a very attractive man, and if I were to lie with any man in Kamakura it would be you." That was true enough. She felt stirred by his desire. He was the sort of man who moved her, a man like Kiyosi or Kublai. He even reminded her of Jebu a bit. He had the same sort of haunted quality.
"Good. I want no one near you, then, but myself, while you are in Kamakura. Perhaps the day will come when we will find a way to release you from your vow."
As she lay alone, her head resting on the worn wooden pillow that had been her companion throughout her life, Taniko could not sleep. Hideyori frightened her. She seemed to feel his desire surrounding her as solidly as the bars of a cage. She had stepped into that cage tonight, not knowing the danger she was in. She wondered whether it would be as easy to escape from it.
Chapter Nine
At the top of the hill called Tonamiyama, Atsue reined in his horse to admire the view. To the east rose row upon row of snow-streaked mountains, glowing gold in the setting sun. To the west was the sea that lay between the Sunrise Land and Korea. Somewhere beyond that sea was the strange country from which Muratomo no Yukio had brought the barbarians who made up most of the army.
Atsue felt a twinge of fear. No one knew what Yukio's barbarians were like, or even how many there were, but everyone had heard frightening stories about them. They were twice the height of a normal man. They lived on raw meat and smelled like tigers. Their skin was black. The Takashi leaders like Uncle Notaro had ridiculed the notion that ignorant savages could pose any threat to forty thousand superbly trained, well-armed samurai. The stories were nonsense, they said, but they did show that the barbarians were subhuman.
Not far away, Takashi no Notaro, commander of the army, astride a black horse and wearing the red brocade robe of a general under his armour, was conferring with a semi-circle of mounted officers. They were gesturing to a distant ridge where a line of white Muratomo banners rippled in the purpling sky. Between Tonamiyama hill and that distant peak was a pass called Kurikara. The valley and the mountains around it were thickly covered with pine trees. Behind Atsue, spread over the hills to the south, forty thousand samurai were labouring up the slopes. The pines made it hard to see the men. Once in a while Atsue caught a glimpse of a man or a group of men struggling through a clearing.
Isoroku, a young samurai from Hyogo, whom Atsue had befriended because they were the same age, rode up beside him. "Looks like more of them than there were at Ishibashiyama," Isoroku said, pointing to the banners.
"Well, we can't go into the pass while they occupy that hill," said Atsue.
Little information had come to the Takashi from the country through which Yukio's army had passed. They knew it was a large army and that it threatened the capital. So, after their autumn victory at Ishibashiyama they crossed the narrow neck of Honshu to Heian Kyo, where they spent the winter and collected' reinforcements. Apparently Yukio had gone into winter quarters as well. Then, in the Eifth Month of the Year of the Tiger, the huge Takashi army moved away from the capital and started marching northwards to find Yukio and destroy him.
They had paused for a day to admire Lake Biwa, the largest lake in the Sacred Islands. The entire army had waited while Notaro took a boat to a pine-covered island called Chikubushima, where he sang and played the lute at the shrine of the kami of the island. He even composed a poem in her honour. Later a rumour went around the army that the goddess had appeared to him in the shape of a Red Dragon and had promised him victory over the insurgents.
Yesterday they had started climbing the mountains that formed a rampart between the Home Provinces around the capital and the wild country to the north. At midday Atsue had found himself on a peak from which he could look back and see Lake Biwa, a silvery sheet of water, and look ahead to the rolling sea on the long north-western coastline and rank upon jagged rank of mountains. He felt a pang of longing for Heian Kyo. Any day now Kazuko would be giving birth to their child, conceived after his return from the great victory at Ishibashiyama. As they descended the peak and Lake Biwa disappeared, he felt he was leaving home and safety behind and venturing into unknown and dangerous territory.
Atsue hated to admit it to himself, but he did not like war. The actual fighting was never what he expected. There might be hours of waiting or riding about. Then suddenly someone was at your throat, and just as suddenly it was over. Most of war seemed to consist of looting, raping and massacre. Atsue was particularly upset by the memory of the destruction of the temples around Nara. Even the women and children who lived in the temples had been burned to death or cut down with swords. The great Todaiji, five hundred years old, had been burned to the ground on Notaro's orders. A huge statue of the Buddha had been melted down to a heap of slag.
Atsue tried not to notice when a group of his men were abusing peasants or torturing captured enemy samurai to death. It was hard to ignore such things, though, when they shocked him so. Some incidents he had witnessed would burn in his mind forever. Only his flute playing took his mind off such horrors.
Now the order came to set up camp on the crest of Tonamiyama hill. "Didn't we get enough rest the other day at Lake Biwa?" said Isoroku impatiently.
"Would you rather cross the valley and charge uphill at that enemy army?" Atsue asked. "Look at all those Muratomo flags. There could be fifty or a hundred thousand of them over there. That's why we're stopping."
Atsue's servant got his tent up, and Atsue lent the man to Isoroku to set up Isoroku's tent beside his.
As night fell, Atsue and Isoroku sat in a circle with the armed retainers who followed Atsue into battle. They enjoyed a dinner of coarse rice and broiled lake trout. Atsue's men were skilled at finding provisions, which was a blessing, since the army's food supply had run out shortly after they left the capital. They had been living on the land like locusts ever since, stripping bare every farm in their line of march. It was a shame, because the country through which they passed had always been loyal to the Takashi. Atsue wondered why these things couldn't be better organized. He liked to think that if his father, great Kiyosi, had been leading the army, enough food would have been provided to get at least as far as the unfriendly northern provinces. Now they were in the mountains, and farms were few and far between. The shortage of supplies was becoming a real hardship.
After they had eaten, Atsue took his flute out of his belt, where he now carried it all the time, and played the melody called "Peach Blossoms." Those nearby remained respectfully silent for a long time after he had finished.
"You play so well, I think you will bring us good fortune," said
Isoroku. "The kami will notice us, and they will give us victory." "Then victory goes to the best musicians?" Atsue said with a smile. "Are not the Takashi more cultured than the Muratomo?" Isoroku asked earnestly. "And have we not always defeated them?"
"We've always outnumbered them," said Atsue. "In my father's day, we often outsmarted them as well. We do not know what is waiting for us beyond the ridge now." He gestured to the hill where the Muratomo banners had flown, now invisible in the darkness.
"Would you like to die in battle, Atsue?" Isoroku asked.
Atsue shook his head. "I would like to live. Of course, it would be better to die in battle than be taken prisoner and treated shamefully. But why else would anyone want to die?"
"I sometimes feel that I would rather die when I am young and handsome and strong, doing something brave, then grow old and ugly," said Isoroku. "One cuts a flower when it is most beautiful, not when it has withered. Your father died a hero's death, and all remember him that way. If he had lived he would be greatly respected, I'm sure, but he would not be worshipped almost as a kami by the Takashi."
"I'm old enough to know that I'm very young, Isoroku-san. I know very little of life. I want to know and do much more before I die. I don't care whether people think of me as a hero or not. As for my father, I would much prefer him to be alive and respected than dead and worshipped. I miss him terribly."
