The Golden Naginata (39 page)

“Or a wandering shugenza,” she amended. “Since you have avoided the high office of Zasu, it leaves you free to pursue me. Is that so?”

“You misjudge my intentions! Did I not just now save you from the masked vassal?”

“I would hardly think so,” said Tomoe.

“You do not believe my sorcery caused your attacker to continue through the forest with no thought of turning back?”

“I have no idea about that. I only know you bring nothing beyond mischief for me. Such a man have you become.”

“Perhaps so,” Makine Hei admitted, and his strained smile was gone in an instant. “I have practiced my occult kiaijutsu since last we met. May I demonstrate?”

“As you wish.”

Makine Hei turned his great bulk to face a certain tree, in which numerous tiny birds of morning chittered, unaware of danger. Makine Hei's deep voice began to hum a note so low Tomoe Gozen could barely hear it, but she felt its modulation in her chest, and did not like the feel. The birds ceased their songs at once, and fell from the branches of the pine, flapping on the ground, dying in agony. When Makine Hei ceased the barely audible sound, only two of the stricken birds recovered, hopping drunkenly into the underbrush. Then the shugenza turned back to Tomoe Gozen, the depth of his hatred fully realized upon his visage. Tomoe Gozen made her charger walk backward, duly worried about his surprising power.

“I am not yet so good at it that I can kill you with my voice,” said Makine Hei, but he said it with a grim nicety which did not ease her worries. “Soon I will have perfected it. Until then, it is better that you live and suffer more! I have brought news: Your husband has let his hostage go, a virtual confession that holding the Mikado captive was an unjustifiable offense, an admission of defeat. Wada Yoshimora has pursued him to Awazu, where the last battle is taking place at this moment; you will need to hurry or not get there before it's over. Lord Wada looks forward to meeting you, and is doubtlessly disappointed not to find you at Yoshinake's side this morning. Not only has Lord Wada set his heart on having your husband's head, he has also set his heart on you. He has three warrior wives already, and would make it four.”

Tomoe would have cursed, but did not wish to interrupt her informant. He went on. “That masked vassal I turned aside from you is this moment heading to join a force which will cross the river Tai and join Wada Yoshimora at Awazu for the final thrust against Kiso Yoshinake. The end is upon him! Can you reach him in time? Can you turn the tide that has set itself against him? I would like to see you try!”

Tomoe Gozen's sword was yet to hand. She spurred her horse almost without thought, bearing down upon Makine Hei with her weapon raised, leaning from the saddle. But the shugenza stepped backward into the shadow of a tree, and was gone. Tomoe Gozen did not stop to lament her failure to destroy the sorcerous priest; rather, she forced the white charger to the limit of its endurance, speeding to Taigawa Bridge, hoping to stop the legion of the masked vassal from joining Wada Yoshimora on the further side.

At Taigawa Bridge it went like this: Tomoe Gozen built a fire in the middle of the bridge, then waited on the far side, hoping the wooden structure would burn through before the army against Kiso Yoshinake could put the fire out. The army led by the masked vassal was only minutes behind Tomoe. Soon a hundred horses and riders, along with several hundred samurai on foot, had gathered near the torrential river to survey Tomoe's handiwork. The vassal gave orders Tomoe could not hear, but their content was soon evident: Samurai scurried to the riverside with hats or anything which would hold water, then scampered back up the banks, running to the center of the bridge, trying to douse the flames. Without buckets and with only a few leaky straw hats and shallow metal helmets, there was not much effect, and the fire grew larger. The masked vassal made a second command, and ten horsemen galloped wildly through the flames, the horses screaming for the pain of it, but obedient to their riders. Tomoe, astride her white horse, met them. Only two could come at her at one time on the narrow bridge, and so she fell them two by two. The horses continued by without riders.

The masked vassal sent ten more, and twice as many additional men on foot. They came at Tomoe, their lacquered bamboo armor blazing, their horses' fur singed and tails alight, the men themselves badly festering. Tomoe held the bridge's end against them, her longsword flashing one side then the other of her prancing steed. Then an arrow took the horse and it went down, but Tomoe landed on her feet and fought without any loss of momentum. The masked vassal unleashed a second arrow, which Tomoe did not deflect; it stuck into her armor without penetrating as far as her body. A third arrow did the same, but Tomoe busied herself fighting those attacking her on horses and on foot. The end of the long bridge was soon clogged with corpses, atop which stood Tomoe Gozen, waiting for the next onslaught.

By then the bridge had burnt through enough that to send ten more horses would only cause it to collapse. The masked vassal made a sweeping gesture which sent the troops scattering east and west along the river's banks, searching for another place to cross. Those who had been uselessly trying to douse the blaze were directed to empty their last helmetfuls of water on the masked vassal and horse. Tomoe saw her drenched foe spur the horse onto the bridge, leap into the flames and come out steaming, just as the bridge began its plunge into the Tai.

Tomoe went backward, for the pile of corpses she had been standing on were sliding down the tilting length of the collapsing bridge. The masked vassal was determined, as was the horse. The sliding bodies were leapt; the incline was scaled by four sharp thundering hooves; and the fiery bridge was left tumbling behind.

As the masked vassal bore down on Tomoe Gozen, she threw herself onto the ground to avoid the edge of the hoko spear. She rolled to cut through both front legs of the rusthued horse. It went down, the vassal tumbling over the horse's head, but rolling to a stance. Tomoe stood waiting with sword upraised.

“I am Tomoe Gozen, wife and vassal of Kiso Yoshinake,” she announced, for such formalities were often performed between warriors of equal stature.

“I know,” said the masked vassal, insulting Tomoe by not returning an introduction. But the vassal's hand moved toward the mask, unhooked it from the helmet's brim, and let the mask fall away. Beneath: the youthful, smiling face of Azo Hono-o. She said, “The head you bore away from battle, which has fallen with your horse into the Tai, was the head of my paramour. I must have revenge!”

“So it was you!” said Tomoe. “You who provided Uchida Ieoshi with the information he required to topple my Lord Kiso! Only you knew about the revenge-raid for the Imperial swordsmith Okio. Only you could have given the giant what he needed to sway the Shogun from favoring my husband!”

“So you must have vengeance also,” said Azo Hono-o lightly. “There is no evading it now. You and I must fight.”

Azo did not look the least unhappy about events. She had lost her hoko in tumbling from the horse, but presently she unstrapped the axe from her armor, and said,

“This will crack your helmet! You will die!”

Tomoe's sword blocked the downward blow of the axe before it struck her helmet; but she had not anticipated Azo Hono-o's fist striking her jaw. Tomoe was dizzied by the expert blow, yet blocked the second swing of the axe well enough, and countered with a swift cut toward the midrift of the other woman, failing the mark as the axe swept down to avert the sword.

“I am unmatched at
onojutsu,
” said Azo Hono-o, holding the axe aloft in a boastful way. She backed away to see Tomoe shake her shaggy, dizzy head. “But I am better still with
this.
” She drew her longsword and attacked with axe and blade. Tomoe blocked the sword, felt the axe smash upon her helmet and glance off.

“You make a lot of noise fighting,” said Tomoe, trying to sound unimpressed by Azo's style; but with two blows to her head, Tomoe Gozen could not see very well. Azo Hono-o swung both weapons simultaneously: two overhead attacks which left her belly unprotected. Tomoe turned her longsword sideways and up to block both of Azo's weapons, at the same time raising a swift kick into the woman's stomach. Azo stumbled. Tomoe pursued, slashed toward Azo's shoulder. The blow was blocked with the axe's handle, but Tomoe's sword cut through that, and Azo went to her knees, dropping axe-handle and sword. She clutched her bloody left arm. Tomoe could have killed her then, but held back.

“I've won,” said Tomoe quietly.

“It is only a scratch!” said Azo, but when she let go of her left arm to reach for her longsword, the left arm came loose from its armor and dropped onto the ground. Seeing the depth of her scratch, Azo Hono-o demanded,

“Kill me!”

“I won't,” said Tomoe. “You are too much like me.”

“Cruel to let me live!” Azo shouted, snatching up her sword and standing erect. Tomoe sidestepped a feeble assault and said to Azo,

“You must live. Grow strong. Try for me again.” As Tomoe strode away toward Awazu, Azo Hono-o watched, pondering this last advice.

Tomoe Gozen went across a field where none but she was standing. It was a garden of twisted arms and raised knees blossoming red. Arrows and swords were the weeds of this garden.

Birds fed. Tomoe's longsword scattered the evil black crows. Now and then she succeeded in carving one or two of them out of the air as she passed by. The rest of these grim scavengers merely settled back to pecking at bloody wounds and tearing out eyes, as soon as Tomoe had gone by. She found a man still living, if barely, and he was of Yoshinake's army. She knelt to the man. He looked at her without much recognition, without the least strength, so drained of blood and pale was he.

“Where is Lord Kiso?” she asked softly, then, “Where are the shi-tenno?”

The man coughed, smiled (no, it was a grimace), and said, “Lost. All. Lost.” Something caught in Tomoe's heart. For a second the world ceased to exist. Then she found herself and managed to ask,

“They were killed?”

The fellow rocked his head from side to side, a negative reply. He moved his crimson fist to one side of his stomach and made the ceremonial motion of belly-slitting. Tomoe grabbed that empty hand, as though the man had really tried to kill himself, and she would delay the act. Her eyes looked up, then down. There was panic in her. If Lord Kiso had repaired somewhere to perform seppuku, it would not do that she was not with him. She must commit junshi or “attending suicide” at his side.

She held the dying man's fist tight and there was no softness left in her voice when she demanded, “Where have they gone for the ceremony! I must be there! I must die with them!” The mortally wounded samurai understood this well. He pulled his hand loose from hers and pointed toward a stand of pines which guarded an area of leafless maples low on a hillside. Tomoe Gozen stood, but the dying samurai groaned in a pleading way. He had placed his hand to his belly again, his eyes holding those of Tomoe. She said,

“I understand.”

She unsheathed the man's shortsword and helped him hold it in his weak, shaking hands. She helped him sit up. She knelt behind him, intending to help him guide the blade into his stomach. But sitting up drained him entirely, and the man died, a rush of blood at his mouth and nostrils. Belatedly, she gave him the aid he wanted, pulled his blade inward. Then she left him with hands frozen to the hilt of a shortsword buried in his flesh, lying on his side.

From the stand of pines, she could see Kiso Yoshinake sitting on his knees in the maples further down. No battles had been fought here. The ground was padded with crisp, brown, uncrumbled leaves … the autumn colors had mostly faded to browns and greys. On Yoshinake's left side sat pale Tade Shimataka and dark Nenoi Yukika. To his right: Higuchi Mitsu, whose humor did not show, and Imai Kanchira, whose youthfulness was undisguised by the first downy hint of beard. None of them wore armor. They were in white under-kimonos, the closest thing to ceremonial suicide garments they could expect on such short notice.

In their laps were lengths of white paper, on which they would write their death-poems. Each had his own brush, but would share an inks tone, wetted with their joined spittle.

They turned to see Tomoe Gozen loping down the hillside, waited for her in silence. She virtually plowed onto her knees amidst them, and she was ready to die with them, it was sure. The shi-tenno bowed to her as she sat there panting, but Kiso Yoshinake did not bow, scarcely looked at her as he said,

“Wada Yoshimora has withdrawn to allow us these few moments. I do not think it is necessary that you be here.”

These were harsh words, though perhaps he thought mostly to spare her. Tomoe could not believe what he said; he would never have said it to the others with him. She could not reply. Her shock was evident, so her husband added more gently,

“Death is shared between men, life between a man and a woman. What would people say if the Knight of Kiso died with a woman?”

To Tomoe Gozen, these words were not kind, but outrageous. She said, “You can say this, after we have shared more than a year of death together?”

“It was a different matter then,” her husband replied. The shi-tenno were silent. By their downcast appearance, Tomoe Gozen knew they would be glad to die with her. Kiso Yoshinake alone was unreasonable. Yet he alone could make the decision.

Never before had Tomoe Gozen been disobedient. Now, however, she began to strip off her armor, casting it away from the circle of these men, until she sat in only black hakama and white kosode blouse, her longsword behind herself, her shortsword on the ground before her knees. She said, “We must be swift!” She withdrew a piece of paper from her undergarment's sleeve. In other circumstances, such paper was used to clean blood from ones sword. In this case, it was for writing her death-poem. “I burned Taigawa Bridge, but enemy troops will find their way across the river soon. They will join Wada Yoshimora, find us, and take our heads. We have only a little time!”