Shōgun

by James Clavell

  A captain raced up to him. “What’s going on?”

  “Ninja—outside and among the servants. Where’s Sumiyori?”

  “I don’t know—in his room.”

  Yabu leapt for the stairs as other men poured down. At that moment the first of the ninja from the cellars dashed past the servants to the attack. Barbed shuriken disposed of the lone defender, spears killed the servants. Then this force of raiders was in the main corridor, creating a violent shouting diversion, the milling frantic Browns not knowing where the next attack would spring from.

  On the top floor the waiting ninja had ripped open their doors at the first alarm and rushed the last of the Browns who were hurrying below, killing them. With poison darts and shuriken, the ninja pressed their onslaught. The Browns were quickly overwhelmed, and the attackers jumped over the corpses to reach the main corridor on the floor below. A furious charge of Brown reinforcements was repulsed by the ninja, who whirled their weighted chains and cast them at the samurai, either strangling them or entangling their swords to make it easier to impale them with the double-edged knife. Shuriken flashed through the air and the Browns here were decimated. A few ninja were cut down but they crawled on like rabid animals and stopped attacking only when death took them completely.

  In the garden the first rush of the defending reinforcements was easily thwarted as Browns poured from the main doorway. But another wave of Browns courageously mounted a second charge and swept the invaders back by sheer force of numbers. At a shouted order the raiders retreated, their jet-black clothes making them difficult targets. Exultantly the Browns rushed after them, into ambush, and were slaughtered.

  The red-spot attackers were still lying in wait outside the audience room, their leader’s eye to the spyhole. He could see the anxious Browns and Blackthorne’s Grays, who were guarding the fortified door to the corridor, listening anxiously to the mounting holocaust below. The door opened and other guards, Browns and Grays, crowded the opening and then, no longer able to stand the waiting, officers of both groups ordered all their men out of the audience room to take up defensive positions at the far end of the corridor. Now the way was clear, the door of the inner corridor open, only the captain of Grays beside it, and he also was leaving. The red-spot leader saw a woman hurry up to the threshold, the tall barbarian with her, and he recognized his prey, other women collecting behind them.

  Impatient to complete the mission and so relieve the pressure on his clansmen below, and whipped by his killing lust, the red-spot leader gave the signal and burst through his door an instant too soon.

  Blackthorne saw him coming and automatically drew his pistol from under his kimono and fired. The back of the leader’s head disappeared, momentarily stopping the charge. Simultaneously, the captain of Grays rushed back and attacked with a mindless ferocity and cut down one ninja. Then the pack fell on the Gray and he died but these few seconds gave Blackthorne enough time to pull Mariko to safety and slam the door. Frantically he grabbed the iron bar and slid it into place just as ninja hurled themselves against it and others fanned out to hold the main doorway.

  “Christ Jesus! What’s go—”

  “Ninjaaaaaa!” Mariko shouted as Kiri and Lady Sazuko and Lady Etsu and Chimmoko and Achiko and the other maids poured hysterically from their rooms, blows hammering on the door.

  “Quick, this way!” Kiri screamed over the uproar and fled into the interior.

  The women followed, helter-skelter, two of them helping old Lady Etsu. Blackthorne saw the door rocking under the furious blows of the assault jimmies. Now the wood was splintering. Blackthorne ran back into his room for his powder horn and swords.

  In the audience room the ninja had already disposed of the six Browns and Grays at the main outer door and had overwhelmed the rest in the corridor beyond. But they had lost two dead, and two were wounded before the fight was complete, the outer doors closed and barred, and this whole section secure.

  “Hurry up,” the new red-spot leader snarled. The men with the crowbars needed no urging as they ripped at the door. For a moment the leader stood over the corpse of his brother, then kicked it furiously, knowing his brother’s impatience had destroyed their surprise attack. He rejoined his men, who circled the door.

  In the corridor Blackthorne was reloading rapidly, the door shrieking under the blows. First the powder, tamp it carefully … one of the door panels cracked … next the paper plug to hold the charge tight and next the lead ball and another plug … one of the door hinges snapped and the tip of the jimmy came through … next, blow the dust carefully away from the flint….

  “Anjin-san!” Mariko cried out from somewhere in the inner rooms. “Hurry!”

  But Blackthorne paid no attention. He walked up to the door and put the nozzle to a splintered crack, stomach high, and pulled the trigger. From the other side of the door there was a scream and the assault on the door ceased. He retreated and began to reload. First powder, tamp it carefully … again the whole door shook as men tore at it with shoulders and raging fists and feet and weapons… next the holding paper and next the ball and next another paper … the door bellowed and shuddered and one of the bolts sprang away and clattered to the floor….

  Kiri was hurrying down an inner passageway, gasping for breath, the others half-dragging Lady Etsu with them, Sazuko crying, “What’s the point, there’s nowhere to go….” but Kiri ran on, stumbling into another room and across it and she pulled a section of the shoji wall aside. A hidden iron-fortified door was set into the stone wall beyond. She pulled it open. The hinges were well oiled.

  “This … this is my Master’s sec—secret haven,” she panted and started to go inside but stopped. “Where’s Mariko?”

  Chimmoko turned and rushed back.

  In the first corridor Blackthorne blew the dust carefully away from the flint and walked forward again. The door was near collapsing but still offered cover. Again he pulled the trigger. Again a scream and a moment’s respite, then the blows commenced, another bolt flew off and the whole door teetered. He began to reload.

  “Anjin-san!” Mariko was there at the far end beckoning him frantically so he snatched up his weapons and rushed toward her. She turned and fled, guiding him. The door shattered and the ninja tore after them.

  Mariko was running fast, Blackthorne on her heels. She sped across a room, tripped over her skirts and fell. He grabbed her up and together they bolted across another room. Chimmoko ran up to them. “Hurry!” she shrieked, waiting for them to pass. She followed for a moment, then, unnoticed, she turned back and stood in the path, her knife out.

  Ninja came rushing into the room. Chimmoko hurled herself, knife outstretched, at the first man. He parried the blow and flung her aside like a toy, charging after Blackthorne and Mariko. The last man broke Chimmoko’s neck with his foot and rushed on.

  Mariko was running fast but not fast enough, her skirts inhibiting her, Blackthorne trying to help. They crossed a room, then turned right, into another, and he saw the doorway, Kiri and Sazuko waiting there terrified, Achiko and maids succoring the old women in the room behind them. He shoved Mariko to safety. Then he turned at bay, his uncharged pistol in one hand, sword in the other, expecting Chimmoko. When she didn’t appear at once, he began to go back but heard the approaching charge of the ninja. He stopped and leaped backward into the room as the first ninja appeared. He slammed the door, and spears and shuriken screeched off the iron. Again he barely had time to shove the bolts home before the attackers hurtled against it.

  Numbly he thanked God for their escape and then, when he saw the strength of the door and knew that jimmies could not break it easily and that they were safe for the moment, he thanked God again. Trying to catch his breath, he looked around. Mariko was on her knees gulping for air. There were six maids, Achiko, Kiri and Sazuko, and the old lady, who lay gray-faced, almost unconscious. The room was small and stone-walled and another side door let out onto a small battlement veranda. He groped over to a window and l
ooked out. This corner abutment overhung the avenue and forecourt, and he could hear sounds of the battle wafting up from below, screams and shouts and a few hysterical battle cries. Several Grays and unattached samurai were already beginning to collect in the avenue and on the opposite battlements. The gates below were locked against them and held by the ninja.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Blackthorne said, his chest aching.

  No one answered him and he went back and knelt beside Mariko and shook her gently. “What’s going on?” But she could not answer yet.

  Yabu was running down a wide corridor in the west wing toward his sleeping quarters. He turned a corner and skidded to a stop. Ahead a large number of samurai were being pressed back by a ferocious counterattack of raiders who had rushed down from the top floor.

  “What’s going on?” Yabu shouted over the din, for no raiders were supposed to be here, only below.

  “They’re all over us,” a samurai panted. “These came from above….”

  Yabu cursed, realizing he had been duped and not told the whole of the attack plan. “Where’s Sumiyori?”

  “He must be dead. They’ve overwhelmed that section, Sire. You were lucky to escape yourself. They must have struck shortly after you left. What are ninja attacking for?”

  A flurry of shouts distracted them. At the far end, Browns launched another counterattack around a corner, covering samurai who fought with spears. The spearmen drove the ninja back, and the Browns charged in pursuit. But a cloud of shuriken enveloped this wave and soon they were screaming and dying, blocking the passageway, the poison convulsing them. Momentarily the rest of the Browns retreated out of range to regroup.

  Yabu, unendangered, shouted, “Get bowmen!” Men rushed off to obey.

  “What’s the attack all about? Why are they in force?” the samurai asked again, blood streaking his face from a cheek wound. Normally the detested ninja attacked singly or in small groups, to vanish as quickly as they appeared once their mission was accomplished.

  “I don’t know,” Yabu said, this whole section of the castle now in uproar, the Browns still uncoordinated, still off-balance from the terrifying swiftness of the onslaught.

  “If—if Toranaga-sama were here I could understand Ishido ordering a sudden attack but—but why now?” the samurai said. “There’s no one or noth—” He stopped as the realization struck him. “Lady Toda!”

  Yabu tried to override him, but the man bellowed, “They’re after her, Yabu-san! They must be after Lady Toda!” He led a rush for the east wing. Yabu hesitated, then followed.

  To get to the east wing they had to cross the central landing that the ninja now held in strength. Samurai dead were everywhere. Goaded by the knowledge that their revered leader was in danger, the first impetuous charge broke through the cordon. But these men were cut down swiftly. Now more of their comrades had taken up the shouts and the news spread rapidly and the Browns redoubled their efforts. Yabu rushed up to direct the fight, staying in safety as much as he dared. A ninja ripped open his haversack and lit a fused gourd from a wall flare and hurled it over the Browns. It shattered against a wall and exploded, scattering fire and smoke, and at once this ninja led a counterattack that threw the Browns into a burning, disordered rout. Under cover of the smoke ninja reinforcements poured up from the floor below.

  “Retreat and regroup!” Yabu shouted in one of the corridors leading off the main landing, wanting to delay as much as he dared, presuming that Mariko was already captured and being carried to the cellar escape below, expecting at any moment the overdue clarion call that signaled success and ordered all ninja to break off the attack and retreat. Then a force of Browns from above hurtled in a suicidal attack from a staircase and broke the cordon. They died but others also disobeyed Yabu and charged. More bombs were thrown, setting fire to the wall hangings. Flames began to lick the walls, sparks ignited the tatamis. A sudden gush of fire trapped one of the ninja, turning him into a screaming human torch. Then a samurai’s kimono caught and he threw himself onto another ninja and they burned together. A blazing samurai was using his sword like a battle-ax to cut a way through the ambushers. Ten samurai followed and, though two died in their tracks and three fell mortally wounded, the rest broke out and tore for the east wing. Soon another ten followed. Yabu led the next charge safely as the remaining ninja made an orderly retreat to the ground floor and their escape route below. The battle for possession of the cul-de-sac in the east wing began.

  In the small room they were staring at the door. They could hear the attackers scraping at the hinges and at the floor. Then there was a sudden hammering and a harsh, muffled voice from outside.

  Two of the maids began to sob.

  “What did he say?” Blackthorne asked.

  Mariko licked her dry lips. “He—he said, to open the door and surrender or he’d—he’d blow it up.”

  “Can they do that, Mariko-san?”

  “I don’t know. They … they can use gunpowder, of course, and—” Mariko’s hand went to her sash but came out empty. “Where’s my knife?”

  All the women went for their daggers. Kiri had none. Sazuko none. Nor Achiko or Lady Etsu. Blackthorne had armed his pistol and had his long sword. The short sword had fallen during his frantic dash for safety.

  The muffled voice became angrier and more demanding, and all eyes in the room looked at Blackthorne. But Mariko knew she was betrayed and her time had come.

  “He said, if we open the door and surrender, everyone will go free except you.” Mariko brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “He said they want you as a hostage, Anjin-san. That’s all they want….”

  Blackthorne walked forward to open the door, but Mariko stood pathetically in his way.

  “No, Anjin-san, it’s a trick,” she said. “So sorry, they don’t want you, they want me! Don’t believe them, I don’t believe them.”

  He smiled at her and touched her briefly and reached for one of the bolts.

  “It’s not you, it’s me—it’s a trick! I swear it! Don’t believe them, please,” she said, and grabbed his sword. It was half out of its scabbard before he realized what she was doing and had caught her hand.

  “No!” he ordered. “Stop it!”

  “Don’t give me into their hands! I’ve no knife! Please, Anjin-san!” She tried to fight out of his grasp but he lifted her out of the way and put his hand on the top bolt. “Dozo,” he said to the others as Mariko desperately tried to stop him. Achiko came forward, pleading with her, and Mariko tried to push her away and cried out, “Please, Anjin-san, it’s a trick—for the love of God!”

  His hand jerked the top bolt open.

  “They want me alive,” Mariko shouted wildly. “Don’t you see? To capture me, don’t you see? They want me alive and then it’s all for nothing—tomorrow Toranaga’s got to cross the border—I beg you, it’s a trick, before God….”

  Achiko had her arms around Mariko pleading with her, pulling her away, and she motioned him to open the door. “Isogi, isogi, Anjin-san….”

  Blackthorne opened the central bolt.

  “For the love of God, don’t make all the dying useless! Help me! Remember your vow!”

  Now the reality of what she was saying reached him, and in panic he shoved home the bolts. “Why should—”

  A ferocious pounding on the door interrupted him, iron clanging on iron, then the voice began, a short violent crescendo. All sound outside ceased. The women fled for the far wall and cowered against it.

  “Get away from the door,” Mariko shouted, rushing after them. “He’s going to explode the door!”

  “Delay him, Mariko-san,” Blackthorne said and leaped for the side door that led to the battlements. “Our men’ll be here soon. Work the bolts, say they’re stuck—anything.” He strained at the top bolt on the side door but it was rusted tight. Obediently Mariko ran to the door and pretended feeble attempts to shift the central bolt, pleading with the ninja outside. Then she began to rattle the lower bolt.
Again the voice, more insistent, and Mariko redoubled her weeping pleas.

  Blackthorne smashed the butt of his hand against the top catch again and again but it would not shift. The women watched helplessly. Finally this bolt clanged open noisily. Mariko tried to cover the sound and Blackthorne attacked the final bolt. His hands were raw and bloody now. The ninja leader outside renewed his fiery warning. In desperation Blackthorne grabbed his sword and used the haft as a cudgel, careless of the noise now. Mariko drowned the sounds as best she could. The bolt seemed welded shut.

  Outside the door, the red-spot leader was almost mad with rage. This secret refuge was totally unexpected. His orders from the clan leader were to capture Toda Mariko alive, make sure she was weaponless, and hand her over to Grays who were waiting at the end of the tunnel from the cellars. He knew that time was running out. He could hear the raging battle in the corridor, outside the audience room, and knew disgustedly that they would have been safe below, their mission accomplished, but for this secret rat hole and his overanxious fool of a brother who had begun the rush prematurely.

  Karma to have such a brother!

  He held a lighted candle in his hand and he had laid a trail of powder to the small kegs they had brought in their haversacks to blow up the secret entrance to the cellars to secure their retreat. But he was in a dilemma. To blow the door was the only way to get through. But the Toda woman was just on the other side of the door and the explosion would surely kill everyone inside and spoil his mission, making all their losses futile.

  Footsteps raced toward him. It was one of his own men. “Be quick!” the man whispered. “We can’t hold them off much longer!” He raced away.

  The red-spot leader decided. He waved his men to cover and shouted a warning through the door. “Get away! I’m blowing the door!” He put the candle to the trail and jumped to safety. The powder spluttered, caught, and snaked for the kegs.