The perimeter of the barbarian camp lay not far to his right and stretched back up the valley in the direction of the border. Rohku’s initial shock at the size of the Khan’s forces had been replaced by a growing sense of despair. One hundred thousand men. Since the plague had swept through the north, the entire population of Seh numbered barely more than that. Once Rhojo-ma alone had contained one hundred and forty thousand people, but now it boasted only half that number.
How can they be so many? the guard asked himself again. It was a question without answers: the question that had led the lords of Seh to ignore all warnings about barbarian invasions.
Rohku wasn’t sure which was more disturbing—the barbarian army by day or by night. The fires in the barbarian camp had been beyond counting. The fires in their camp! How could they be so many?
Patrols had left the encampment before dawn. Rohku had not been able to see them, but he had heard them pass. The Khan sent out both large and small parties. Perhaps thirty men to a small patrol and more than two hundred to a larger group. It was a conservative strategy; the small groups would travel farther afield but would be able to retreat back to the larger patrols should they encounter Seh’s warriors in any number. And Rohku found this, too, unsettling: such a vast army willing to risk so little. It was not the bravado he had been led to expect from barbarian warriors.
The army of the desert had come awake like a dragon, a slow ripple passing from head to distant tail. The head aware and moving before the extremities had even quivered. The dragon was on the hunt, now, snaking slowly across the landscape like a great worm.
The van passed below Rohku, riders on fine horses, well armored in the style of the Empire and carrying swords and short lances. Rohku could see bronze helmet ornaments flashing in the sunlight, but he could not distinguish their shapes.
Banners waved their colors in the breeze, displaying characters and symbols that Rohku did not recognize. Banners bearing the shapes of animals; a running horse, a winged tiger, the blue desert hawk, a coiled viper. Prominent among them were standards of gold silk bearing the shape of a strangely twisted dragon.
Behind these warriors came a vast cavalry mounted on the ponies of the steppe though among these men rode captains or chieftains on horses.
This sight forced Rohku to control his anger: where did the barbarians find horses except among the men of Seh and he knew that the raids could hardly have brought the tribes so many fine animals.
The cavalry were not outfitted with the consistency of the vanguard. They had not the well matched armor and elaborate helmets, but that hardly mattered. Their arms were more than adequate and appeared to have seen use. By the time the Khan’s cavalry had passed, the sun was at its zenith.
The faces of the tribesmen were far enough off that they were hard to distinguish, but Rohku could see that this army was made up of men of all ages—from boy-men to seasoned fighters of the age of Lord Shonto and older. None looked frail; life in the wastes saw to that. It was a hard testing ground, and the tribes had their own rites of passage. The weak, no matter what age, found no place at the fireside.
After the passing of the cavalry came bowmen and foot soldiers, marching so close they ceased to appear human, as though a nest of ants had spewed its contents onto the valley floor. A great moving mass bristling with pikes and spears—and even these men were armored and wore helmets.
A sea of banners followed the foot soldiers and behind these rode turbaned men dressed in gray. There were rumors of these men in gray—it was said Lord Komawara and Brother Shuyun had seen them on their journey to the desert and that they guarded the skeleton of an ancient dragon. The Shonto guard caught himself straining forward for a better view and pulled back. The gray men were few in number and passed quickly, followed by what looked like an honor guard wearing armor laced in black with crimson and gold. Rohku could see the backs of these riders now. Imperial Crimson, he realized suddenly— they wore the colors of the Emperor of Wa.
A chieftain rode among them, a man upon a great bay horse—a horse that would have been the envy of a lord of Seh. His armor was crafted in the style of the Empire but worn with the high boots favored among the tribes. Even from a distance, Rohku’s practiced eye told him that an artist of the armorer’s art had created this suit—armor worthy of an Emperor. Rohku shook his head as he watched the man pass, armor laced in Imperial Crimson with trim and sash of gold. This barbarian chieftain wore a helmet crested with high plumes of deep red which bobbed and swayed as he rode. Rohku leaned forward again, a sudden realization shaking him: the Golden Khan rode before him dressed as an Emperor of Wa. Rohku pressed his eyes closed for a second. The men of Seh believe they are about to fight for control of their province, yet Seh is the smallest of this barbarian’s concerns, he thought.
Inside the circle of the Khan’s guard, Rohku saw other chieftains riding and though none wore the crimson, they were finely outfitted in laced and lacquered armor with surcoats of wolf and tiger skins. These men talked among themselves and laughed as though they were on a hunt or riding for pleasure. Down the length of the great column riders passed and reported occasionally to a chieftain near the Khan.
A pebble bounced on the ledge before the Shonto guard, and he pulled back against the cold stone. He stopped breathing. A trickle of dirt scattered across the moss. Something or someone, was on the cliff above. Had he just been muttering to himself?
Voices came down to Rohku now. Despite being raised in the south it was a tongue the guard recognized—he had heard Shuyun speak it to his barbarian servant several times. Horses now and more men. May Botahara protect me. Rohku tried to push himself into the rock, hoping no part of him could be seen. With great care but little expertise the captain had studied his ledge—hiding a footprint in the moss, being sure he snapped none of the bush’s branches. He hoped that a barbarian tracker would not be able to see signs of his passing from so high above, but he was not convinced this would be the case.
The reputation of the barbarian trackers was legend among the men Rohku had met in Seh, and this made the young captain slowly unsheathe his dagger. The ledge would be too small for a sword. The Shonto guard’s left leg was asleep and he knew that it would not respond if needed quickly. He offered a prayer to Botahara.
Another pebble bounced on the ledge and more talk drifted down to him. If only, he had taken the time to learn some of this language from Kalam!
The sound of hoofs seemed to echo through the stone and then grew fainter. There were no more voices. Rohku lay without daring to move for some time, realizing that he would do exactly this if he wanted to take a man hidden on a ledge: ride away and let the man believe he was safe, taking him when he was unprepared.
Something in the long line of barbarians drew the guard’s attention. Within another circle of the Khan’s guard Rohku was amazed to see women. They rode like the men of the desert, though Rohku could see hints of fine silk being worn under robes of rougher material. There were perhaps a hundred women, their heads wrapped in bright scarves that covered all but their eyes and foreheads.
And thus they go to war, Rohku thought, how amazing.
Late afternoon came, the clouds scattered across the sky grouped for an assault on the expanse of blue and the day turned gray. Rohku began to shiver. He ate some food and drank water from his skin, but not having room to move was making him very cold. It would be at least another day before he could leave his ledge and he began to wonder if he would be able to manage the climb up.
Following another group of armed riders came the supply train. The barbarians did not seem to have carts or wagons, so everything came on the backs of ponies and mules. Darkness came before the train had passed and the man of Wa spent the first part of the night listening to the sound of the barbarian flutes wafting up from innumerable campfires.
A soft rain fell, but Rohku’s prayers for a downpour were not answered.
* * *
Shonto sat on the railing of the balcony
outside the governor’s personal apartments. The day was fine, hinting at warmth to come. Billowing white clouds scattered themselves against the great expanse of spring blue sky. It would be a day to lift the heart—if the heart were not burdened with other matters.
Shonto could see the long line of people being forced to leave the city, so many of them only newly arrived. There were no boats to carry the population of Rhojo-ma and animals of burden were being taken for the war, so the refugees were forced to flee on foot. They crossed the long bridge to the shore and then made their way up a low hill to the crest where the road divided. About half the people chose to go south toward the inner provinces while the rest turned east toward the sea. One could almost see them hesitating at the top—suddenly unsure of their decision.
It is a gamble either way, Shonto thought. His own course was already set—to leave as he’d come, along the Grand Canal. And that was a gamble, too.
Shonto read Lord Toshaki’s letter for the second time.
Lord Shonto,
Imperial Governor of the Province of Seh:
It was your own ancestor who said; “The way a man dies is as important as the way he lives.” I honor his memory.
Having realized how poorly I have lived, I will take more care with my death. When this is delivered to you I will have returned to the wheel. I have chosen this course to erase my shame and because I am not worthy enough to die beside my comrades fighting the barbarians.
You see, Lord Governor, I have conspired with my Emperor to end the life of one Shonto Motoru. No doubt the design is known to you, though perhaps my part is not clear. Send Lord Shonto north with express instructions to end the barbarian raids—an impossibility of course—especially when the barbarians are being paid to raid across the border by the Emperor. You would have failed, Sire, it was inevitable. I would even surmise that the situation could have become worse.
You would be removed from your appointment and ordered back to the capital—or so it would be said. In truth I was to remove you from your position by force. The Emperor would claim that you had refused to return to the capital to face the consequences of your failure. In your desperation you tried to establish yourself in Seh. The Emperors loyal subject, Lord Toshaki, however, would not allow this—saving the Empire from civil war. Among other rewards I would become the Governor of Seh, as would my son after me.
I have betrayed Seh, the people of Wa, and neither of these I intended. I admit to my part in the plot against the Shonto House: I did not intend to assist the barbarians in their invasion. Like the rest of the lords of Seh I did not imagine the barbarians could mount such a force—can still hardly believe it. Even as you struggled to save my province, I worked against you.
I give my oath that my son, Yoshihira, knew nothing of this, and so I have commanded him south with your army so that our House might continue or that he might find an honorable end. It is my hope that you will allow this. My countrymen will believe that I have chosen this course to pay for my errors: I would not allow an army to be raised in Seh nor would I listen to reason. It is my hope that you will let them continue to believe this. In return I will give you information. The man who devised and guided this plot against you is in your midst: Jaku Katta planned every detail of your fall, Lord Shonto. Why he is here now I am not sure—you have heard the same rumors as I.
At the gii board
It is not possible to sacrifice
Honor for position.
I take my place on the battlements.
The plunge as cold as steel
As soft as ashes.
Lord Toshaki Hirikawa
Shonto looked off at the long straggling line of humanity that wandered up the side of the hill. So sad.
Was it true that Toshaki’s fool of a son was innocent? Perhaps. Certainly Toshaki Shinga was party to this plot—there could be little doubt of that. But Toshaki Shinga had chosen to stay in Rhojo-ma—where he commanded the garrison. That was a life put to better use than his lord’s! The fool should have stayed alive long enough to die slowing the barbarians’ advance.
Shonto rose from his position and returned inside. He had shed the official robes of the Governor of Seh that morning and was dressed more comfortably now—ready to travel. Prodding the coals of a charcoal burner to life, the lord went to toss Toshaki’s letter in but stopped himself. No, he would save this—it might be of interest one day—historically at least.
* * *
The last inhabitants of Rhojo-ma trickled out of the gate and set out across the bridge. Bells rang from many towers throughout the empty city—the gates were about to be shut for the last time. Shonto stood on a quay that would soon be on the lake bottom—such was it designed. Far off he could see men beginning to work on the single bridge that spanned the distance to shore. It, too, would be under water within the hour.
Toward the north end of the quay, Shonto could see Lord Toshaki’s son surrounded by his retainers. Word had spread about the old Toshaki’s suicide—a plunge off the battlement into the depths of the lake. The lord had worn full armor. It was an odd suicide—one that indicated great shame. Nonetheless, Lord Toshaki had been a man respected in Seh and there was obvious concern for his son among those present, though, as northerners, they were equally concerned with his pride. All expressions of concern were therefore kept within bounds strictly defined by an unwritten code which said: young Toshaki is a warrior and lord of Seh, therefore he is strong. All expressions of regret will be offered formally—the Toshaki do not require comfort. This is a matter of respect only.
Shonto’s senior staff continued to work nearby, attending to the thousand details that would allow an army of thirteen thousand, plus a few thousand others, to move south at speed. The barbarian army could travel five rih in a day, but the canal would carry Shonto much faster than that.
Men cut away the branches of an ancient lintel vine that clung to the stone around the city’s gate. This seemed like a sign of things to come to Shonto, and he looked away.
A delegation appeared at the gate. Guards pushed through, heavily armed and bearing banners. The lords of Seh had arrived—the lords who would remain behind. Most of the older generation had chosen to pay their penance by defending Rhojo-ma—an endeavor whose outcome was as certain as the night following day. Five thousand warriors stayed with these men, chosen for this great honor: to die with their lords in a battle that could not be won.
A crier preceded the fated warriors.
“Make way! Make way! Make way for the lords of Seh. Make way!”
The fools of Seh, Shonto thought, brave fools.
As the senior member of the most important House, Lord Ranan led the delegation. He bowed as he approached Lord Shonto and the lord returned this with a deep bow of respect rather than the nod his position allowed.
“Our preparations go as planned, Lord Shonto,” Ranan said with an air of importance. “We will be ready before the Khan’s outriders appear.”
Fool, Shonto thought, arrogant fool!
“You are to be honored, Lord Ranan, as are all who prepare for Rhojo-ma’s…defense.”
Ranan bowed again. “It is our intention to slow the barbarian force by as many days as our strength will allow. May those days be well used, Sire.”
Everyone on the quay bowed to those who would remain.
Shonto was about to step back toward his boat when a tunnel opened up in the crowd and the young lord of the Toshaki stepped forward. Bowing quickly to Shonto and Lord Ranan, the young lord turned to Komawara whom Shonto had not seen arrive. Members of Komawara’s guard stepped closer to their lord—the Hajiwara men, Shonto realized. Though they wore the Komawara colors, deep blue and black trimmed in gold, the former residents of Itsa retained a length of shoulder trim in Hajiwara green. “Lord Komawara,” Toshaki began with great formality, as though he repeated a speech carefully rehearsed, “I once suggested that you would need a proper weapon to fight barbarian hordes.” He reached his hand back to a retaine
r who laid a sword in a scabbard across the lord’s palm. Bringing this around, he held it in both hands as though it were a treasure. “This blade belonged to my father, Toshaki Hirikawa. It was made by Toyotomi the Younger and gained great renown in the Ona War. This blade has been in the Toshaki family for seven generations and has proven its worth in many battles against the barbarians. It is my hope that you will accept this as a mark of my respect. Among the lords of Seh you were the first to realize our position though so many of us argued against you.” He offered the sword now with a slight bow.
Komawara seemed frozen in place and for a second Shonto thought he would refuse it. But then Komawara bowed and reached out, taking the blade from Toshaki in a gesture almost equally reverent.
When he spoke, Lord Komawara’s voice was tight as though he choked back emotion with difficulty. “This is a great honor, Lord Toshaki. I hope that the hands of the Komawara will wield this with even half the skill of your ancestors. If so, it shall be a blade of great fame indeed.”
Toshaki bowed again, and at a gesture from Shonto his senior staff began retreating to their appointed boats. We are at war, Shonto thought, there is no time to sit and drink wine and fabricate lies about the great esteem our ancestors felt for each other.
As the boats pushed away, Shonto walked back to the quarterdeck. Sails were raised, luffing and snapping, until the helmsmen fell off the wind and the sails were sheeted home. Shonto saw Nishima wave from a nearby boat as did Lady Okara and Lady Kitsura. A sailor pointed, and Shonto looked up in time to see the Shinta blossom at Rhojo-ma’s high tower quiver and then come down. Seconds later it was replaced by the Flying Horse of Seh.
A line of boats tacked into the breeze, heading toward the mouth of the Grand Canal and the first set of locks. Shonto’s boat found a place near the end of this line, for in the campaign to come the command would need to be in close contact with the retreating rear. A strange thought.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 68