Rebels of Gor (84 page)

“Yet,” said Nodachi, “some must follow it.”

I heard the clamoring of men, and the breaking of timber. “The gate is being forced,” I said.

“Mountebank,” said Lord Yamada, “I have an appointment. We must end this. You must pardon me.”

He then addressed a medley of blows to Nodachi so swift and fierce, so varied, and so deftly met that Tajima cried out in awe. Clearly the shogun had launched that onslaught that it might constitute the bloody terminus of this strange, lengthy engagement. Nodachi, in the rhythms of combat, in its tides, in its alternation of offense and defense, had now elected to withstand this storm of steel rather than penetrate it, and seek in it some advantage. One may not slay a hurricane but, rather, strive to survive it. I feared then that Lord Yamada might indeed be the finest sword in the islands. But Nodachi met this attack, and lived! Then Nodachi, commonly so skilled in stance, and ready in response, slipped in the soft sand. Tajima cried out, in misery. I saw the shogun’s blade slash down. “No!” cried Tajima. “I live,” said Nodachi, straightening up, and tearing away the shreds of his jacket from his left side. But Lord Yamada had not pressed the advantage. Rather, startled, shaken, panting, gasping for breath, he regarded his antagonist. “The avenger!” he said. “I am no avenger,” said Nodachi. “The mark, the sign of the lotus, on the left shoulder!” cried Haruki, wildly, tears in his eyes. Lord Yamada backed away. “I have had it since birth,” said Nodachi. “It is only another blemish, one of many.” “The empty grave!” cried Lord Yamada. “Yes,” said Haruki. “I did not strangle him. He lives. This is he! He is the son of my daughter, who died in your palace, of woman’s poisons!”

“She?” said Lord Yamada.

“Yes!” cried Haruki.

“Of what are you speaking?” said Nodachi.

“He,” said Lord Yamada, “this short, gross, squat, malformed beast?”

“He is your son,” said Haruki.

“Such cannot be of my blood,” said the shogun. “I will not have it.”

“He is the avenger!” cried Haruki. “See the sign, the sign of the lotus!”

“I am no avenger,” said Nodachi. “I am Nodachi.”

“He has come back, noble lord!” said Haruki. “He has come back, to avenge a cemetery of brothers, a thousand wrongs, a generation of tyranny!”

“This is not true!” said Nodachi. “I am alone, I am of no family!”

“Lord Yamada is stunned,” said Tajima.

“He cannot defend himself!” said Pertinax.

“Strike!” said Tajima.

“Seize your opportunity,” said Pertinax. “Thrust, now, to the heart!”

“Kill him!” said Haruki.

“But he cares for the garden,” I said to Haruki.

Lord Yamada’s sword was lowered. I sensed he could not raise it, nor employ it now in the work of war. But he regarded Nodachi, unflinchingly, as shogun.

“You?” he asked.

“I know nothing of this,” said Nodachi.

Haruki wildly rushed upon the shaken, inert shogun, and tore down his robe to the waist.

How dared he touch the person of the shogun?

On the shogun’s left shoulder was the odd mark, which so resembled a lotus.

Then Haruki turned about, to face Nodachi. “He is Yamada, tyrant and murderer!” he cried. “Strike! Kill him! Kill him!”

“Do so,” said Lord Yamada.

Nodachi bowed. “Father,” he said.

“Kill him!” said Haruki.

“It is not honorable to kill one’s father,” said Nodachi.

I heard Kameko scream.

“The gate is broken through,” I said. “Men pour in!”

Chapter Sixty-One

Visitors;

A Plan is Formed

It was not the men of Temmu who first burst through the gate, overcoming guards, but some thirty or forty soldiers, mostly officers, many of whom still wore the livery of the shogun.

“Greetings,” said Lord Akio.

“You would be welcome,” said Lord Yamada. “How is it that you have broken the gate?”

“Guards were adamant,” said Lord Akio.

“Word might have been brought to me,” said the shogun.

“A thousand men of the holding of Temmu are less than an Ahn away,” said Lord Akio.

It was as I thought. Lord Temmu would be thrifty in his commitment of troops. Still, a thousand men would be a sufficient force when opposed to empty roads and abandoned fields.

Lord Akio, I conjectured, had no more than forty men with him.

“You have come to die with me?” asked the shogun.

“We have come to live,” said Lord Akio.

“Excellent,” said Lord Yamada. “You bring news of the rallying of troops, of resistance to invaders!”

“Disarm yourself, surrender the shogunate,” said Lord Akio.

“It was you who slew the would-be assassin!” said Lord Yamada.

“Certainly,” said Lord Akio. “Few men can resist torture.”

“It was I,” said Haruki, “who admitted the assailant into the garden, by a secret way.”

“I had supposed so,” said Lord Yamada.

“And you permitted me to remain with the garden?” said Haruki.

“Of course,” he said.

“The straw jacket?” said Haruki.

“You were apprehended,” said the shogun. “One must respond to expectations, one must maintain order.”

“Many are content with oppression,” said Haruki.

“It seems not all,” said Lord Yamada.

“No,” said Haruki.

“Tyrants could not exist,” said Lord Yamada, “were they not welcome.”

“Can it be?” asked Haruki.

“A tyrant may be replaced,” said Lord Yamada. “But the mask of the savior, removed, reveals merely the face of the new tyrant.”

“Men do not wish to rule themselves,” said Pertinax, “but only to be well ruled.”

“The choice, dear Haruki, gardener
san
,” said Lord Yamada, “is always, and only, one amongst masks and tyrants, he who wears the mask and he who disdains doing so.”

“And the great and noble lord disdains doing so,” said Haruki.

“I am as I am seen,” said the shogun.

Lord Yamada then turned to Lord Akio.

“You have not come to succor the shogunate,” said Lord Yamada to Lord Akio.

“No,” said Lord Akio, “but to seize it.”

“If troops of Temmu are at hand, as you say,” said Lord Yamada, “it would be a prize but briefly held.”

“Perhaps longer than you surmise,” said Lord Akio.

“You have an arrangement with the house of Temmu,” said Lord Yamada.

“Of course,” said Lord Akio, lifting his war fan, spreading its wings, and locking them in place.

Such a device is difficult to evade.

“You have come for my head,” said Lord Yamada.

“A gift for Lord Temmu,” said Lord Akio.

“Come and take it,” said Lord Yamada.

“Do not resist,” said Lord Akio. “The iron dragon has flown.”

“It flies no more,” I said.

Lord Akio gestured toward us, impatiently. “Kill them!” he said.

The first two men who reached us, fell before the whipping, almost invisible, sword of Nodachi.

The forty some who were still with Lord Akio paused, startled, disconcerted. They had seen little but two of their fellows fall. It was though the wind itself, unseen, had drawn blood.

“Those with glaives, forward,” said Lord Akio.

The glaive, of course, outreaches even the field sword.

“Swordsmen, surround them!” called Lord Akio.

“Back,” I called. “To the bridge!”

The bridge, entwined with the blue climbers, arched in a lovely manner, for a length of some thirty-five or forty feet over a narrow, decorative pond, on the surface of which bloomed white and yellow water flowers, rising from flat, green pads; below, in the pond, which was shallow, one could see the slow movements of colorful fish. No more than two men could stride that bridge, abreast. Either ascent could thus be well defended. The highest point of the bridge was some five to seven feet above the water.

In the pause which followed Nodachi’s swift, almost casual, felling of Lord Akio’s two men, that small, eager, ill-fated vanguard unwisely addressing themselves, woefully unsupported, to their foray, both he and Lord Yamada had replaced their companion swords in their sashes and drawn up their field swords from the sand where they had deposited them, following the election of the companion sword as the instrument for resolving the matter which lay between them. The blow of the field sword can fell a small tree, or cut away the head of a glaive.

We fenced away sporadic, tentative attacks about us, drawing back to the bridge.

Few seemed willing to cast themselves recklessly upon us.

The lesson of Nodachi, it seems, had been well noted.

“Kill them! Kill them!” shouted Lord Akio.

I had no doubt that the Ashigaru, some ten or so, with Lord Akio would enter the pond, but the obstacle of the floor of the bridge, and its height, would, I hoped, neutralize to some extent the effect of the glaives wielded from below, by wading men with uncertain footing.

Kameko, kneeling, her neck tied closely to a stanchion near the height of the bridge, her hands tied behind her, squirmed.

“Be still,” snapped Pertinax, his jacket soaked with blood at the right shoulder. He grasped his companion sword in his left hand.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.

“Do not be afraid,” said Pertinax. “You are a domestic animal. Unless you are cut by a diverted blade, you will simply belong to another.”

“I do not wish to belong to another, Master,” she said.

“You are a slave,” he said. “Your wishes are unimportant. They are of no more interest than those of a verr or tarsk.”

“Yes, Master,” she sobbed.

The portion of the bridge nearest the gate, and the raked sand, where contest had been done, was held by Nodachi, and, at his side, Lord Yamada. I sent Tajima and Yasushi to hold the farther portion of the bridge, that nearest the far wall, and the supper pavilion. I surmounted the center of the bridge. I could see both sides, and judge the pond below. In this way I might apprise my fellows of new dangers, direct a defense, and, in the case of need, on either portion of the bridge, supply it, immediately. A commander has obligations which take precedence over his personal preferences. He must not succumb to the dark hunger, covet the zest of battle as he may. His priorities are elsewhere. Mostly I feared bows, but none were carried that I had seen amongst the followers of Lord Akio. With me were wounded Pertinax, sword in his left hand, and Katsutoshi, his right hand in a reddened sleeve. “I may throw myself on glaives,” said Katsutoshi, “and thus discomfit or disarm two or three, clearing the road for our steel.” “Do not,” I told him. “I am useless,” he said. “There is no line to be opened.” “Watch!” I said. “Lord Akio has spread his war fan and locked its blades in place,” he said. “He is dangerous,” I said. “He looks for his opportunity. His own men obscure his targets of choice.” I assumed these would be Lord Yamada, and Nodachi, in that order. The spinning war fan is a terrible weapon, but once discharged, it is not easily recovered. “Watch,” I encouraged him. “I shall,” he said. “Momentarily,” said Pertinax, “Ashigaru will enter the water.” “It would be well,” I said, “were you not wounded, had you retained your glaive.” “
Ela
,” said Pertinax. “It is true.” “Even so,” I said, “even as you are, it might be well to have one in hand.” “I think so,” said Pertinax. I thought him strong enough to handle one in his left hand, at least for the purposes of fending and jabbing. He would have the advantage of height, striking down, with the uplifted faces of the enemy almost within reach. Normally the glaive is held in both hands, the left hand before the right. The left hand guides the blade, the right hand, and body, supplying the driving force behind the thrust. “It is awkward to use the glaive from below, from the pond, thrusting upward,” I said. “Perhaps one of those good fellows will loan you his.” “I shall see to it,” said Pertinax, placing his companion sword in his sash, “seizing it, tearing it away, with one hand, even if I have to lift him over the bridge.” I feared that Pertinax, in his zeal, might worsen his wound. I looked about. “Where is Haruki?” I asked. “I do not know,” said Pertinax, looking about.

The leadership, it seemed by default, had fallen to me. I would have chosen Lord Yamada as the commander of our small force, but he had ranked himself at the side of Nodachi.

They would await the foe, side by side.

Who was I to dispute his decision?

He was shogun.

“Storm them!” cried Lord Akio. “Like wind and rain, like lightning! Carry all before you!”

Lord Akio’s men, from two sides, rushed onto the bridge.

Thickets of clashing steel sparkled.

Ten or more Ashigaru, bearing glaives, splashed into the water, five at least to each side of the bridge. I saw the fish dart away, and then the pond was muddied.