by Barry Sadler
The other two took off with Muramasa in hot pursuit. He called back to Casca to remain with the women and guard them until he returned, then disappeared through a cluster of pines as he went after the soldiers. Casca did as he was bade and turned to go back to Yoshiko and the maid. Stopping in his tracks, he saw the maid lying on the side of the trail, her throat cut. Looking around quickly for the enemy they had missed, it took him a second to see the knife in Yoshiko's dainty hand. She had cut the throat of her maid.
Seeing Casca's distress, Yoshiko bowed her head in deep sorrow. "Ah so desu, Casca-san. There are many sad duties in life. This has been one of them. I have known Tamiko-chan," she said with the term of endearment, "for many years. However she was a danger to us all and I could not permit the risk of her losing control again. It was most regrettable but most necessary. I am so sorry." A tear gathered at the corner of her eye that she gracefully took away with the tip of a flowered kerchief.
Casca felt a lump in his throat. He was right. The women of these islands were very dangerous butterflies.
CHAPTER TEN
It was nearly half an hour before Muramasa returned, bearing a grisly package of two human heads. He held them by the hair with one hand and Well Drinker clean and shining in the other.
"I brought these back so you would not fear that they had escaped to spread the word of our presence."
It was then he noticed the dead maid, in the bushes off to the side of the road where Casca had dragged her with the other corpses. He planned to move them to where they'd be out of sight and smell for a time.
Casca pointed to Yoshiko in response to Muramasa's unasked question. Grunting, Muramasa nodded his head in approval. "It is well. She will trouble us no further. If the goke'nin of Taira are looking for a young woman with two males and one female companion, it will be that much better for us."
Bowing his head respectfully to Yoshiko, he acknowledged the courage of her act and the difficulty in performing it. She had gained much respect in his eyes. She was what a woman should be. She was samurai. The best of her kind.
He helped Casca drag the bodies farther into the woods and cover them with stones and rubble. It would not be long before someone discovered them, but by then they would be far away. Time was what they needed most, perhaps this would buy them a little more.
Yoshiko joined them as the last of the stones were piled over the dead. She joined Muramasa in saying prayers for the spirits, asking their forgiveness for taking them from this life in order to appease their spirits. It was always wise to do this when time permitted. In violent times such as these, this was done very seldom.
They encountered no more difficulties. Eventually they had to leave the mountain trails and take the more traveled roads leading to Bitchu where they would find, they hoped, the aid that Yoshiko had spoken of.
The temptation to stay at an inn for wayfarers was great but had to be avoided. Instead, they slept under the stars, thankful that the rains had not come.
Several times on their journey, Muramasa had tried to prod Yoshiko into telling him the real purpose of her journey. This was naturally to no avail. She deftly dodged each question and each time turned the game around to him so he was telling her about himself. Then he would forget about his questions for a few minutes until it was too late to pursue them gracefully.
The only one not totally dejected by the descent into the coastal lands was Casca. He kept his attention occupied by observing the people of the islands of the gods. There was a most strange caste system here. Everyone a grade higher had the power of death over those beneath him. One merely had to say the word and the person was immediately killed, or if he was samurai, he had to cut his own belly open in a ritual suicide called seppuku. There were safety factors built into the system, though naturally they were heavily weighted in favor of the noble classes. If a man ordered too many deaths, he could possibly offend his lord, who might then command him to commit seppuku.
That was only one of their strange customs. The other more important one was the universal adoration of their emperor as the living descendent of the gods. Yet he had no actual power. To deal in earthly matters was to degrade himself. Instead, he had counselors and advisors who took over the common chores of administering his empire.
In reality, the emperor was more a captive than anything else, though several, such as the retired Emperor Go-shirikawa, retired before an untimely death claimed them. As retired emperors, they held great prestige and were free from their lofty godlike positions and could, without loss of face, meddle in human affairs. This combined with the Nihonjin samurai code called bushido – the way of the warrior, which exalted noble death above all else made for those in power a formidable force with which to enforce their will.
Casca had the scandalous thought that just maybe the ones who ran the country and fought over control of the emperor did not have quite the same reverence for their god king as the common man and samurai did. To them, he was only an instrument by which power could be obtained and the population controlled.
That was what was occurring now. Yoritomo Minamoto, head of the clan by the same name, had once been the power in the land until overthrown by the Taira. Now the clan was coming back. And as the basis by which to rally forces to them, they had the retired Emperor Go-shirikawa who was in their power. Through him, they made the claim that the boy Emperor Antoku was in actuality being held captive by the heretic lords of the Taira. This was reinforced by Go-shirikawa who acknowledged that that was the case and called for a general uprising against the Taira.
To that effect, the country was in a state of civil war with the barons and great landowners choosing sides or straddling the fence while paying lip service until they could see which way the wind would blow.
Many of them were disillusioned by the rule of the Taira who kept their family members in all positions of great influence and ignored their allies who helped them in their rise to power.
The Taira were arrogant and cruel. They came from an uncultured tribe who, by good fortune, cunning, and incredible cruelty, rose to power. Now they were even marrying their daughters into the royal line to further secure their claims of control over the emperor.
Other factors included several cults, which were even more confusing to Casca, of so called warrior monks who did not hesitate to wage war on the samurai or competing cults. They even had occasionally attacked the capital of Heian-Kyo when their wishes or demands were not met by whomever controlled the emperor at that time. These monks were said to be every bit as vicious as samurai without having to deal with the samurai version of morality, which made them very sneaky bastards and very difficult to deal with.
Assassins, warrior monks, religious cults, private armies, warlords and god kings. This country had it all. Casca wondered if they would ever get together with so many different factors pulling them apart. If they did, they would be hell on wheels and very hard to stop, for their energy and concentration were incredible. Once they decided on something, there was no stopping them short of death.
Trying to put it all into some kind of order made Casca's head swim, so he took the easy way out and just accepted whatever it was until he found out differently. Even though for Casca this was all very confusing. It seemed to make sense to everyone else around him so he didn't ask any embarrassing questions. He didn't even know which questions they might find embarrassing. Therefore, he just kept his mouth shut and listened when Muramasa and Yoshiko spoke of the world as they knew it.
The most he could make out of it was that now was the critical time for the Minamoto clan. If they were ever to reclaim their power, they would have to do it now. There would be no second chance. If they failed, they would be exterminated to the last of their line. This had almost happened once before, but the Taira overlord had fallen in love with a Minamoto woman and permitted her son to live. It was from this act that the Minamoto had resurrected their power and now threatened the Taira.
Though he'd had no say in
the matter, it looked as if Casca were aligned with the Minamoto whether he liked it or not. Ever since the first day when Muramasa had found him on the beach, his course had been determined.
Now he would have to go with the sword maker and the strange, beautiful Lady Yoshiko, who could kill with such dispatch, to see what the future held. He had no doubt that it would be extremely violent, for that seemed to be the final argument for everything in this land of shining swords and cherry blossom women. Beauty and death walked hand in hand, touching everything about them equally, at least until the end, when death always reigned supreme. Even then they tried to make that into something of beauty with ritual and ceremony.
This night they found sanctuary beside the gardens of a monastery where saffron robed monks with shaved, oiled heads tolled huge bronze bells by striking them with tree logs hung from ropes.
Their presence was ignored, but Casca did see that several of the monks carried very workmanlike swords and spears with them. And the monastery had walls which were guarded at night by armed men. He shook his head. Over the years he'd found that when religion takes up arms, the world is in a lot of shit. There should always be a law separating them. He was in the midst of this contemplation when Yoshiko came to stand beside him as he watched the walls.
"Do I disturb your thoughts, gaijin-san? If so, I shall retire and leave you to your solitude."
"No, Yoshiko-san; you do not disturb me. I was merely speculating on life."
She moved closer. The scent of jasmine was in her hair, which she had let down to fall nearly to the back of her knees in midnight clouds. "Ah so desu. It is good to think of life. This sad land of mine is filled with too much death."
He thought that strange coming from a whisp of a girl who could drive a chisel tipped knife into the eye socket of a man, then less than five minutes later cut the throat of her maid.
Sensing his distress, she bowed her head in the moonlight. "I know that you are very disturbed over what happened in the mountains, Casca-san. I shall try to explain as best I can, for it is not easy to understand, even for one such as I who have been raised in these beliefs. So please do me the kindness of listening to me." She paused to await his answer.
When none came she took it for acceptance. It was true that over the last days she had noticed a difference in his attitude toward her, not hostility, but something else, which bothered her. She told herself she needed this gaijin with his strong arms to help her reach Kamakura. She could not let him alienate himself from her at this critical stage of their journey.
"Very well then, Casca-san. I do not ask you to feel as I and my kind do. But if you are to survive in these lands, you must know certain things. We are samurai, men and women, and for us there is no greater duty than honor and service to our family and liege lords. Only the emperor is above them, and he is too far away for us to touch, and we will not even attempt to bother him with our petty problems. He is a god; without him, there would be no Sun Rise Empire. He is the weaver's thread that holds the fabric of our culture together. Whether he is truly a god does not matter. He is the symbol of everything for us. He represents all our hopes. Without him, we lose our dreams and the things which make us know we are a special people."
Casca interrupted her a bit tersely. He'd known others who'd claimed to be gods before. As a rule they stunk to the high heavens. "What of the killing, Yoshiko-san?"
"Ah yes, Casca-san. That is the most terrible part. For it is sad to see a life cut down before it can blossom fully into true enlightenment. But in death we find solace. When one loses the fear of death, one is more open and honest with oneself. Fear leaves and the soul is free to find its true karma. And this loss of fear can only be possible when one has devotion to the gods and honor. Without this, the fear of death returns and makes of us a small people in heart and soul. For me to take the life of my maid was, as I said, and I said truly, a most terrible thing. But my duty comes first even before myself. I would not hesitate to take my life as quickly as I did hers. And there is this. She lived long years always in fear of the inevitable. Now her fears are gone. She will come again into this world reborn. I hope as a stronger person, for she was good of heart."
She paused, took a breath, and then sighed, looking at the walls of the ancient monastery looming above them in the night shadows. "I do hope you understand us better, Casca-san. Duty is that which binds us together. Without it, we would fall apart."
Yoshiko turned from him, gave a graceful bow, and faded back into the darkness leaving him with, "Duty, Casca-san. You will have yours to do also. And you will know it when it comes to you. Oyasumi nasai, Casca san."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was the eighth day since they'd landed on Honshu that Yoshiko at last pointed into the distance.
"There is the castle of Kujo Yoshimitsu, a kinsman by marriage. It is here that I pray we will find succor and news."
It was with great relief that they started down the trail leading to the castle, which by any standards was impressive. To Casca's practiced eye, it was well laid out with deep moats on three sides and cliffs on the other. At the top of the walls were parapets and protected positions for archers and arbalesters. When they reached a checkpoint two kilometers from the castle, Casca tensed up as did Muramasa. There were at least a hundred fully armed and armored guards.
Yoshiko calmed them with soothing words. "It is well, these are samurai of my kinsman. Though he pays lip service to Taira, he is his own man and rules this province as his own. The Taira would like very much to destroy him, but he has too many friends and relations among the other great families for them to do so with ease. As long as he does not cause trouble, they are content to look the other way and leave him alone."
Kicking her animal ahead of them, she commanded, "Wait. It will be best if I go alone. There are more guards here than when I last came to visit. Perhaps something is amiss. Therefore, I shall go to them first and smooth the passage to my kinsman."
They did as she said but kept close to their weapons in case things had changed more than she thought. Both felt much better when they saw the samurai guards at the checkpoint bow deeply to her and point to the castle. One of them immediately took off at a run, obviously carrying word that the Lady Yoshiko no Hirimoto had arrived.
With an imperious wave of her hand, she signaled for Muramasa and Casca to join her. Still playing the part of simple porters, they advanced with heads lowered, careful not to look in the eyes of the curious guards. Though once they were up close, Casca did as usual attract more than one very curious stare.
Yoshiko cast this off with, "Pay no attention to the ugly one. He is as stupid as he looks, being a great hairy Ainu. However, he is very strong and ofttimes one has need of the service of an ox rather than a nightingale. Especially when intelligence is not required."
The sentries laughed at the small joke and waved them through with an escort of twenty samurai to take her to her kinsman's portal.
As they neared the castle, Casca saw that it had been well prepared for attack. The cobbled road they were on was wide enough for ten horsemen. When they passed the checkpoint, he knew they were under observation every step of the way. After leaving the checkpoint, the road began to narrow as it became flanked on two sides by twenty foot high walls of sheer, polished rock without handgrips, so that the enemy could not climb them for a counterattack. The road had been cut from the native stone, narrowing to where only two horsemen could ride abreast. The others would be bunched up behind them making it impossible to maneuver. This was the length of about fifty meters, a perfect place to ambush and tie up cavalry on the trail from protected positions above.
After they passed through the small gorge, they entered an area where the brush and trees had been cut back, leaving open ground on both sides of the trail, which Casca felt sure was used by archers and spearmen to attack anyone on the road.
Here was another surprise, though not completely. There before them were at least five hundred men we
aring colors he had not seen before. A gold dragon on a white standard rose above their camp. All were very alert. At least half of them stood to with weapons at the ready.
He noticed that Yoshiko was becoming somewhat agitated by the increased pulse rate of the vein in her throat. She said nothing. He and Muramasa began to get ready in the event that trouble was going to start, though they would have no chance against these numbers.
He felt tremendous relief when the samurai officer who was obviously in charge of the detachment came forward to greet Yoshiko. He spoke a few rapid, words which Casca couldn't make out, then added twenty more of his men to her escort. They and those of her kinsman, Kujo Yoshimitsu, seemed to get on well enough. There were no signs that Kujo's men resented the presence of the other samurai.
Yoshiko was obviously very excited in spite of her efforts to control herself. Casca wished he knew what was going down, but understood that it would have to wait until they were alone.
The escort of men under the white dragon banner went with them as far as the mitsuki, the guardhouse at the castle drawbridge. On either side of the mitsuki were two massive corner towers, called yagura, which overlooked the road and the drawbridge. Armed men bristled from the towers and the walls. And he knew there were others out of sight in the woods and lowlands around the castle.
There was definitely something going on. The men in the castle were on a war footing, and this close to the castle walls he could see recent improvements had been made for its defense. Sharpened stakes designed to impale either infantry or horses had just been planted. Their tips were still fresh and oozing sap.
Yoshiko was greeted again at the portal leading to the inner gate, this time by a woman. She was most certainly a fine lady of great import. That was clear by her manner and those of the samurai around her.