Cloud of Sparrows (29 page)

Shigeru frowned. “Is it wise to be so casual?”

“Casually is the only way we will manage this escape from Edo,” Genji said. “If we show any concern at all, suspicions will arise. We have already successfully viewed winter cranes and entered the foothills unmolested. The casual strategy is sound.”

Shigeru didn’t see why that made it necessary to ride into the midst of two dozen unidentified and concealed samurai, as they were now doing, without any preparation for battle. He knew better than to argue with Genji, however. His young nephew’s apparent softness and malleability were exactly that—apparent, not real. Genji was at least as stubborn and inflexible, in his own way, as the late Lord Kiyori had been. Shigeru moved to the rear of the party. That was the most vulnerable position. He hoped an attack, if it occurred, would begin there.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Hidé said, “but I must agree with Lord Shigeru. I saw two dozen men, but there could be more behind them, perhaps many more. They could easily be assassins sent specifically to intercept you.”

“They could just as easily be an innocent group of friends on an afternoon stroll. Let us proceed. And please, do not take any action without a direct order from me.”

“Yes, lord.” Hidé, unable to keep the worried expression from his face, spurred his horse forward into the lead position. If they were indeed assassins, perhaps they would attack him first, giving his lord a better opportunity to escape.

Emily looked questioningly at Lord Genji. He smiled and said, “There are some men on the trail ahead. There is no reason to expect any trouble.” He gently urged his horse forward.

“I am sure you are right, my lord,” Emily said, moving forward alongside him, “for we travel in peace, without ill intentions, and will surely attract none.”

“Is that a Christian belief?” Genji asked. “Such a balance of intentions?”

“‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’ Yes, I think so.”

“Do you share that view?” Heiko asked Stark.

“Experience has taught me otherwise,” Stark said. He discreetly felt for the pocket pistol concealed under his jacket.

When they reached a point where the trail widened slightly, samurai suddenly appeared on all sides of them. Though their swords were not drawn, they were clearly ready for immediate deployment.

“Outsiders are not permitted here.” The one who spoke stood slightly in front of the others. “This is yet a part of Japan unruined by their infectious presence.”

“Clear the way,” Hidé said. “A Great Lord honors you with his passage.”

“We would be honored,” said a second man who now also stood apart from the rest, “if the lord in question were truly great. I see, however, that the one of whom you speak is infamous for his groveling at the feet of outsiders. I will not yield to such a one.”

Hidé’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. As fast as he was, Genji spoke before he could unsheath his blade.

“We need not stand on ceremony,” Genji said. “The day grows late. All of us have a wish to be elsewhere, do we not? Then let us proceed. There is no need for anyone to yield. Choose one side of the path, and we will use the other.”

“Spoken like the weakling you are,” said the first man. “Your grandfather was a warrior worthy of respect. You are but the degenerate leavings of a dying line.”

“Hidé.” His lord’s warning voice was the only reason the man’s head was still on his shoulders. Hidé relaxed his grip on his sword and took a deep breath, attempting, though not quite succeeding, in calming himself.

“If that is the case,” Genji said, “then I am certainly beneath the notice of such virtuous men as yourselves. Let us leave it at that and part company now.”

“Perhaps we should do as he says,” the first man said to the second. “It would be cruel of us to deny him the pleasures to which he has become accustomed.”

“Yes, that is so,” said the second man. He turned an arrogant sneer on Genji. “We have heard that you squeal with delight nightly as barbarian ogres stretch your bleeding asshole with their stinking animal penises.”

“And that you gurgle like a contented baby during the day as you suck the foul emissions from those very same diseased organs.”

“You are sadly misinformed,” Genji said. “The only outsider with whom I have shared intimacies is this one beside me.”

Several of the samurai laughed derisively.

“She is a treasury of delights you cannot begin to imagine,” Genji said.

The first man said, “You are a fool, or mad, or both. Or perhaps blind. Look at her. Your mount is more like a human woman than she. Granted, they are about the same size, with noses of the same length. The coloration of your horse, however, is vastly more beautiful than the ghostly shades of your companion.”

“And her odor. Rank beyond description.”

Genji smiled benignly. “You are obviously not close enough to inhale her true scent. When excited, she emits a perfume from her private regions akin to opium fumes, and then, a kind of sexual ecstasy overcomes her. Consider the fine bones of her hands. How nearly transparent her skin. Excited, she generates a force akin to lightning, and when she touches you, small shocks travel from her body to yours. That is why her color is so strange. The very matter of her being has been transformed.”

While Genji distracted their adversaries, Hidé and Shigeru subtly shifted their positions. If a charge became necessary, they would be able to attack with maximum effect. With swords and hooves, they would take out half the opposing group in the first moments of combat. Those who were left would be entirely manageable. Hidé recalled an often-repeated axiom of their clan—one Okumichi cavalryman was the equal of any ten samurai on foot. That being the case, and he did not doubt that it was, the advantage was actually with them, and not with these so-called Men of Virtue. Hidé and Shigeru exchanged a quick glance, acknowledging their readiness.

“Notice her breasts?” Genji continued. “So unnaturally full, so protuberant.” Under the pretext of talking about Emily, he moved forward two paces, putting more of himself and his horse between her and the belligerent samurai. He thought he would be able to cut down the closest men quickly before they could do any harm. “Her breasts ripen monthly. Indeed, they are ripe as we speak. They are filled, not with milk, but with a fiery ambrosial dew. To touch most of her is to touch ice, because all her bodily heat is in but three places—her breasts, her mouth, her vagina.”

Emily wondered what Genji was saying to his new acquaintances. Whatever it was, it must be fascinating, for many of them stood openmouthed, and not a few of them stared in her direction. She smiled at them in response, trusting her friendliness was in harmony with Genji’s.

Stark didn’t know what Genji was saying, either, but he knew what he was doing. All three of the Okumichi samurai had maneuvered themselves into better fighting positions. A battle was imminent.

Stark counted twenty-five swordsmen on the other side. None of them had firearms, at least not in the open. Twenty-five against Genji, Hidé, and Shigeru. Not good odds, even though they were mounted and their opponents were not. Stark had only the small .32 caliber pocket pistol ready to deploy. Six bullets and no reloads handy. If he had his bowie, he could account for another one or maybe two, but he didn’t. At best, they could take out half. The other half would kill them for sure. Or worse. He looked toward where Emily was, next to Genji. Heiko was beside him. He would kill Emily with his first shot and Heiko with his second, to save them the agonies these men surely had in store for them before they died. Then he’d shoot the closest four and trample as many more of the others as he could before he went down himself. He was ready. His shoulders relaxed. He had no more thoughts.

Momentarily stunned into silence by Genji’s wild discourse, the first man now recovered his voice, and spat out his words. “Keep your polluted fantasies to yourself. It is trouble enough for us to deal with that stench.”

The second man said, “We cannot say with certainty whether that foul odor comes from those unwashed horses, your bestial bedmate, or your own decaying and degenerate self.”

“Enough!” Shigeru could take no more. He spurred his horse forward as the Men of Virtue drew their swords. “Apologize to your ancestors now, for when we are done with you, we will cast down their altars, disinter their remains, and discard them in the offal pits of the outcasts.”

The leading ring of samurai moved forward to meet him, then fell back as they recognized him.

“Shigeru!”

“Impossible! He’s dead!”

After momentarily freezing in place, the samurai turned and fled in every direction. All except the two who had been doing the talking. They both fell to their knees and pressed their heads against the ground.

“Please accept my apologies,” the first man said, “and spare my aged parents.”

The second man said, “My children are still innocent infants. Let my blood wash them clean.”

The two men moved at the same time. The first one gripped the blade of his katana with both hands and, with blood pouring from his mutilated palms and fingers, thrust it deep into his throat. He pitched sideways, his life gurgling away through the wound, his mouth, his nostrils. The second man placed his blade in his mouth and slammed his head forward. The hilt hit the ground, driving half the length of the weapon through the back of his skull. Somehow, the sword balanced him. Held up by a gruesome tripod of sword and knees, he died spasm by spasm.

Emily fainted dead away. She would have fallen had not Genji caught her in his arms. He half expected her heft to knock him from his steed. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as heavy as she appeared to be. Nor as large, close up this way. Her exaggerated bodily shape and her bizarre features had distorted his awareness of her actual proportions.

Shigeru began to dismount.

“Not necessary,” Genji said.

“I should identify them,” Shigeru said. His face burned. Only blood would cool his rage.

“Let it pass,” Genji said. “These are trying times for us all. They were misguided, but their sincerity was unquestionable. Let us honor their sincerity and forget the rest.”

Shigeru bowed. But when Genji moved on, he dismounted anyway. He examined the crests on their kimonos and memorized their faces. Genji was too compassionate. Certain words could never be recalled. They were beyond forgiveness.

One man had mentioned parents, the other children. Later, when the present crisis was past, he would find them and do what needed to be done.

Shigeru remounted and urged his horse forward.

“I don’t understand,” Emily said. “Everyone was just talking. Lord Genji even seemed jovial. Then, suddenly . . .” Her body trembled uncontrollably. She tightened her grip on Stark, hoping he would hold her more tightly, too. He did. It didn’t help. She still trembled. She had never imagined she would see anything so terrible, such senseless violence, all the worse for being self-inflicted. One moment those two men were talking. The next, they had consigned their immortal souls to everlasting damnation by taking their own lives. And for what? The sight of their awful wounds, the sound of the blood in their throats, would she ever be able to forget these things? She didn’t think she would, and trembled more.

“Their way of thinking is very different from ours,” Stark said, which explained nothing. The hostile samurai had a seemingly insurmountable advantage in numbers. Yet a few words spoken by Shigeru and they melted fearfully away. Why? He didn’t know. Two of them had killed themselves in particularly painful ways. If they were so willing to die in agony, they certainly didn’t lack courage. Why hadn’t they attacked instead? He didn’t know.

The warlord and his uncle sat conferring a short distance away. Heiko, showing not the least sign of distress, busied herself with Hidé, building shelters from the bamboo he cut down. As delicate as she appeared to be, the recent violence had apparently not affected her at all.

Stark didn’t understand what had happened any more than Emily. “I wonder if we are as much of a mystery to them.”

“That cannot be,” Emily said. “Our actions follow reason, as God intended.”

“It would be wise to continue to travel through the night,” Shigeru said. “It is doubtful those who fled will return. Other pursuers, however, may be close behind us.”

“It would be wise,” Genji said, “but it is also impossible. Emily cannot travel. The shock has been too much for her.”

“Shock?” Shigeru glanced in the outsider woman’s direction. “Why is she shocked? She should be relieved. Thus far, combat has been unnecessary.”

“She is not accustomed to seeing men immolate themselves,” Genji said. “At least, not with swords. Death by gunshot may not be quite so disturbing to her sensibilities.”

Shigeru had no patience for such a discussion. He broached another, more important subject. “Several of our recent adversaries wore the crest of the Great Lord of Yoshino. This means he will soon know of our location and probable direction. Shortly thereafter, the Shogun will know as well, since Yoshino is an ally of the Tokugawas.”

“Not necessarily,” Genji said. “I doubt their meeting was sanctioned by any of their lords. They were acting on their own. Therefore, they were technically, and perhaps in fact, committing treason. They will not reveal our location if it means they must also confess to a crime that will ruin themselves and their families. We are safe.”