The Emperor shook his head. “They have been of little use and demanded much.” He turned his gaze on the young officer then, and there seemed to be great affection there.
“And did you ever discuss the Lady Nishima with your brother, Tadamoto-sum.”
“I did, Sire.”
“Ah.”
“He felt it was a service to his Emperor to observe the Lady Nishima, Sire.”
“Of course. And does he continue to see the lady?”
“He has not met with her, to the best of my knowledge, Sire.”
“Perhaps he has reconsidered the nature of his duties. That would be wisdom. There is a duty I would ask you to perform, Tadamoto-sum.” The Emperor did not wait for Tadamoto to answer. “Osha is unhappy with her situation, as you could understand—perhaps it would cheer her if you would escort her to the Ceremony of the Gray Horses.”
“I would, gladly, Sire. May I say that I am touched by your concern for those of humble station.”
The Emperor nodded modestly. “We shall speak again soon, Tadamoto-sum. Very soon. There are other matters in which we would value your counsel. We shall see.”
Tadamoto bowed low and backed from the room. Alone, the Emperor reached for the list Tadamoto had left, but he did not read it immediately. “The Shonto never make agreements that do not favor them,” he whispered. “Never.”
* * *
The two men circled each other slowly, each matching the other step for step. They wore the black split pants and white jackets of traditional Shishama fighters, and one, the designated aggressor, wore a red band of silk wrapped above cold gray eyes. A sword flicked right and down in the beginnings of “swallow flight,” but the other countered quickly and the swords went back to the guard position. The aggressor, Jaku Katta, slowed his circling, then stopped, planting his bare feet firmly on the stone floor. His sword went high to the “falcon dive” position, causing the other to step back and parry. Swords flashed in the sunlight, too quick for the eye to follow and then in the clash of metal Jaku’s blade found the other’s sword arm just above the elbow and it was over. The man bowed deeply, his hand moving to massage his arm.
Jaku Katta bowed also. “I hope I have not caused you harm?”
“The stroke was most controlled, General. It has been an honor just to stand against you. I thank you.”
“The honor was mine, Captain.” The two men handed their blunt practice blades to waiting attendants. “Again, perhaps?”
“Certainly, General.” The man bowed again and Jaku nodded turning to a waiting guard. “Yes?”
The guard knelt quickly. “General Katta, your reply from the office of the Emperor.” The guard offered a folded letter to his general.
Jaku took it and continued toward the nearby door that led to his private quarters. The exercise had felt good; it never failed to restore his confidence and now he basked in that warm afterglow poets called “the sun within.” Slowly he unfolded the letter and as he stepped up onto his veranda he began to read. Two steps farther, on he almost stumbled and then stopped. He read the letter again:
General Jaku Katta, Commander, Imperial Guards:
Your request for an audience with the most revered Son of Heaven has been denied. His Majesty trusts he will have the honor of your presence at the Celebration of the Gray Horses.
Lord Bakai Jima,
Secretary.
For His Imperial Majesty,
Akantsu II
Jaku almost sank to his knees but reached out and gripped a post. The letter had taken him like the stroke of a sword—suddenly it was over. One could not take back the mistake, the misplaced foot, the weak parry.
Ever since he had received the report from Itsa early that morning he had known a sense of foreboding. If he could see the Son of Heaven, explain to him—Jaku had no doubt of his influence over his Emperor—then he could redeem himself. But now this. He would not have a chance to give his carefully prepared speech; a speech that could be his salvation.
The explanation he had prepared was clear and simple; just the way Akantsu preferred things to be. Jaku Katta knew it would be foolish to deny his involvement in the attempt on Shonto at Denji Gorge, there were too many ways the Emperor could have found out otherwise. No, Jaku’s plan was simply to take responsibility and claim there were reasons of security that had necessitated his secrecy.
The failure was something else altogether. Shonto had not only escaped the trap, but he had embarrassed the Throne by removing those parasites, the Hajiwara, from the Empire’s main artery—parasites that were there with tacit Imperial approval. And this due to counsel from Jaku himself. The Black Tiger shook his head and proceeded to his bath.
Servants scrubbed him thoroughly before he lowered himself into the steaming water. And now what? He had never received a denial of a request for an audience before. Never. The significance of this action shook him. He felt like a man who had fallen off a ship in the night and now watched it sail away into the darkness. It couldn’t be happening. Yet it was. It had, in fact, already happened.
Somehow, Jaku felt a sense of injustice as though his plans, no matter what they may be or who they might involve, deserved to succeed for no other reason than that they were his.
Was it not he who had contrived the entire plan to rid the Emperor of the constant shadow of Lord Shonto? Had he not performed a thousand deeds for his Emperor, many at great personal risk? Things could not be as they seemed. Jaku would go to the Imperial apartments and demand to see the Emperor on a matter of security. All of the men who surrounded the Emperor were Jaku’s men, they would let him through without question. It could be done. He would yet take back the mistake.
Jaku shifted in the water, laying his head back and closing his eyes. Yes that was what he would do. Once he was before the Emperor, he would hold sway. Whoever conspired against him, and he had no doubt that someone did, could not know the key to Akantsu II as Jaku did. The Emperor was, at heart, a soldier and he respected only those whose spirit was as his. And Jaku was the essence of the fighter, the raw matter distilled down until it was as pure as the spirit of the wind. Jaku was the warrior of all warriors and the Emperor knew it.
Jaku’s thoughts shifted inexplicably to Lady Nishima, to the poem he had received from her only an hour before. Her reticence was only an act, he knew. Jaku had seen it before in other well born young women. But her eyes told him the truth, and the truth was she was smitten with him. There was no question of it; this was one campaign Jaku had won. It had not even been difficult. Jaku laughed bitterly.
Everything had fit into his design until Shonto had reached Itsa. What had really happened there? Jaku stretched his muscular arms above him, letting the water splash back onto his face. The plan had been without flaw—but then Hajiwara was a fool, there was no doubt of that. Jaku laughed again. All was not lost. He would recover as a fighter did, turning his enemies’ thrust to his own advantage. He was still strong. The Lady Nishima would come into his plans soon enough and the Emperor, the Emperor who refused his audience, would understand that Jaku Katta was something more than he had ever realized.
Jaku rose and stepped, dripping, from his bath. Servants entered with towels to dry him.
“Bring my duty armor and helmet,” he ordered an attendant. It was time to see this reticent Emperor. Time for a bold stroke. Jaku dressed slowly, enjoying the feel of his light armor, admiring the artistry of its maker.
“General Jaku,” the attendant began. “General, there are servants and guards outside awaiting your orders.”
“What?” Jaku picked up his helmet and started for the door.
The man bobbed in a quick succession of bows as he rushed along beside his master. “They do not understand, General. They have been sent. You must see for yourself.”
Jaku preceded the attendant to the door and as it opened he was greeted by a gathering of faces, all of which he recognized. The servants of the Emperor. Jaku stood without speaking, the eyes of this des
perate gathering turned to him, the faces registering a depth of fear that unsettled him so that he found himself taking a step, unbidden, back into the protection of his rooms.
* * *
The Ceremony of the Gray Horses was performed in the central courtyard of the Island Palace, a place well known for its view of the setting sun. Garlands of autumn flowers graced the columns of the nearby porticoes and autumn leaves and petals had been scattered on the ponds and streams. The many trees in their autumn colors needed no artistic assistance, and it was from their autumn palette that other colors were drawn, including the robes of the courtiers and officials gathered for this ancient ceremony.
Directly across from the gate of the inner spirit the dais and Throne of the Emperor had been situated, and there the most revered Son of Heaven sat with the members of the Imperial family arrayed about him, including a sullen Empress. The Major Chancellor and the Ministers of both the Right and the Left sat in their appointed places, while to each side of these the ranks descended from the First to the Third, the lowest rank allowed to attend such an important ceremony. Even so, the numbers reached to several thousand men and women, all dressed with an acute awareness of the appropriate colors and degree of formality so that the overall effect was without a single point of disharmony in the entire composition.
Seated among those of the Third Rank of the Left, Jaku Katta assumed the attitude of the other courtiers—respectful anticipation—but he watched the Emperor’s every move, searching for a sign of his intentions. Yet he saw nothing, and there among the many, Jaku did not draw a nod from his Emperor.
It is as though I have ceased to exist, Jaku thought, as though I am already dead. He caught the eye of a young woman who smiled demurely and then hid her face with a fan, yet this hardly registered in his mind at all. What shall I do? Jaku asked himself. Everything I have planned falls around me.
The subdued excitement of the crowd was almost tangible and seemed to flow like chi along all the meridian of the whole. A love of ceremony that was almost an obsession had long been a prominent feature of Waian court life. All waited for the signal from the Emperor.
Being semi-divine, the Emperor was expected to intercede for the people of Wa with his ancestors and the gods. Even the advent of Botahara a thousand years earlier had affected these rites in only the smallest ways—a thin veneer of Botahist doctrine layered over the rites of the ancient pantheism.
The story of the Gray Horses originated at the time of the establishment of the Seven Kingdoms which later became the central provinces of the Empire of Wa. It was said that Po Wu, the father of the gods, gave the Gray Horses to his sons, the Seven Princes, who then drove the barbarians out of the lands of Cho-Wa and planted the seeds of civilization.
The gray steeds were imbued with magical powers by Po Wu and could not be injured or die in battle. From their running hooves came a thunder which shook the earth and split the hills, scattering their enemies before them like gulls before a storm.
The Gray Horses of the ceremony were said to be descendants of Po Wu’s steeds, bred generation after generation and carefully guarded by the Emperor’s staff.
At a nod from the Emperor, the ceremony began with the beating of drums like the sound of thunder and then the airy voice of a thirteen pipe flute. From the Gate of the Inner Spirit the clatter of unshod hooves striking stone seemed to blend with the rhythm of the music and then the horses appeared—seven pale gray mounts, groomed until they glinted in the sunlight.
The riders were the best in the province; two Imperial Guards, the sons of three lords, a Minor Counselor and a hunt master—all dressed in Imperial crimson and seated on saddles of gold and deep green. The horses were arrayed in headdresses of gold and black and the contrast of these strong colors with the pale tones of the audience had an almost startling effect.
The riders moved their horses through carefully coordinated exercises of great intricacy, and all with commands so subtle that none could see them. A story grew out of these exercises, the story of the Seven Princes and their magical horses. Dancers joined in dressed as foot soldiers and barbarians, yet there was never a confusion nor loss of focus to the movement.
After sweeping the barbarians from the field, the seven equestrians wheeled and paraded slowly before the Emperor, and as the living descendant of Po Wu he rewarded them for their valor with generous gifts.
The riders all bowed their thanks and led their horses from the courtyard to the buzzing of the courtiers’ praise. A silence settled over the audience then as they waited for the Emperor and the Imperial Family to rise and depart—but instead a Senior Assistant to the Minister of the Left struck a small gong to gain everyone’s attention. Moving with a grace surprising for his age the assistant took up a position in front of the dais, bowed twice, and removed a scroll from his sleeve. His voice was soft, yet it carried well to all of his audience.
“On behalf of the Minister of the Left, I have been charged to read these, the words of the most revered Son of Heaven.
“Today we have witnessed not only an ancient ceremony of lasting significance but also a metaphor which is descriptive of our own time. The northern border of Wa is again pressed by the barbarians and we have, as is our duty, turned our eyes there. Yet this is not the only place where the spirit of the primitive peoples has been manifested. Within the borders of our own provinces those who are barbarians in spirit make many of our roads and waterways unsafe and, to our lasting disappointment, the lords of the provinces have been unable to curtail this activity. It is our pledge that we will not allow barbarism to threaten our Empire, either from within or without.
“Therefore, it is the will of the Throne that this situation shall end. To accomplish this, forces of Imperial Guards and Functionaries of the judiciary shall be sent throughout the Empire for the purpose of making all our routes of travel and commerce safe for even the most humble citizen of our Empire.
“Due to recent circumstances on the Grand Canal we realize that this, the cord that binds our great Empire together, is in peril and therefore will be our first concern. To deal with this situation we have chosen to send the Commander of the Imperial Guard, General Jaku Katta, as representative of the Throne and Sole Arbiter on the Grand Canal. He will be charged with returning the waterway to its former state of peace and efficiency.
“Others will be sent out with the same orders to effect the same changes on all the arteries of our Empire.
“By order of Akantsu II, Emperor, and the Great Council of the Empire.”
The bureaucrat bowed as he finished his reading and the assembled guests bowed in turn to the Emperor and his family. A sound went through the crowd, an indescribable sound that everyone recognized as the sound of mass approval. The Emperor smiled as he rose and stepped into his waiting sedan chair.
Among those bowing as the Emperor made his exit was one general in Imperial Guard uniform who did not share this sense of approval. Jaku Katta sat waiting for those of higher rank to leave, accepting congratulations and good wishes with what appeared to be a stoic nod but was, in fact, perfectly contained fury.
What had been done to Shonto at Jaku’s urging had now been done to Jaku. The Black Tiger took long slow breaths and tried to calm his mind, but his anger seemed to dart everywhere, now aimed at the Son of Heaven, now aimed at Lord Shonto, now at the foolish courtiers who congratulated him while having no notion of what was happening. He was like a bow drawn near its breaking point with an arrow notched and ready—and he looked everywhere in his mind for the appropriate target.
The members of the First and Second Ranks had risen and made their way leisurely from the square. Jaku rose with the people remaining, those of the Third Rank, and began to make his way through the crowd. Around him people laughed and commented on the beauty of the ceremony and the perfection of the equestrians, but Jaku walked under a cloud as dark as his black uniform. It was all he could do not to push these fools out of his way, but he held himself in check—i
t was important to know when to release an arrow.
Coming finally to the edge of the square, he mounted a set of steps that few others would use and there he broke free of the crowds and the foolish prattle. On the top step he turned to survey the square out of habit; he was, after all, in charge of security in the palace. And there among the throng that passed the foot of his steps he saw his brother, Tadamoto, walking in the company of Osha, the Emperor’s Sonsa—and they were laughing. Jaku could almost hear them. They laughed a shared laugh and their faces glowed as only lovers could.
My own blood, Jaku thought.
Twenty-eight
Whispers behind the sleeve,
Words cooler than winter rain
Touch me where I stand,
Here, in the Governor’s shadow.
No one has named me a traitor
To my province.
It is gratifying to know that
My sword retains its respect.
Komawara Samyamu
THE AFTERNOON SUN broke through the storm clouds here and there, sending long shafts of light down to the earth; shafts that moved as the clouds moved, in swift, erratic formations.
The crests of waves tumbled into foam which was blown into white streaks across the dark waters. Crests mounted again, rushed on, and dashed themselves against the base of the stone wall.
Standing at the parapet, Lord Shonto looked down at the chaos below. Five days had passed since his arrival in Seh and Shonto had only that morning been able to free himself from the formal demands made upon a new governor. He had been frustrated by all the ceremony and was more than ready to begin the work that had brought him to Seh: the military work. He began with what was close at hand and launched an inspection of the capital’s fortifications followed by an assessment of the state of the garrison.
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