Today there were no victims in the party. A distant cousin from Chou rode near the Emperor though they spoke little. The Son of Heaven’s earlier mood had quickly curtailed attempts at conversation.
A dark feathered hawk floated across the road, disappearing into the cloud of white blossoms and when the Emperor turned his eyes back to the road he saw a column of Imperial Guards appear around a bend, led by Jaku Tadamoto. The Emperor’s men made way for their acting commander, who dismounted quickly and bowed before his ruler.
“Colonel.” The Emperor smiled, much to the relief of his party. “Your arrival was foretold. Only seconds ago a hawk I believe was a Choka passed before us.” He turned to his cousin. “Almost an apparition, wouldn’t you agree?”
His cousin, Lord Yamaku, a small man perhaps a dozen years older than the Emperor, most definitely agreed. He nodded his head vigorously. More than anything else, Lord Yamaku resembled a successful merchant. He had that wealthy, ill-bred manner and dress that bad taste damned many with in the Imperial Court. Not that the man’s taste was glaringly awful, but among people whose standards were strict and whose imagination was limited he stood out like a farmer in a Sonsa troupe.
“The Choka hawk has proven to be well chosen, then,” Tadamoto said. The Emperor had given the Jaku House the symbol, raising their status considerably among the new Houses.
The Emperor smiled again. “It is kind of you to ride out to meet us, Colonel. I intend to stop at the shrine for the view. Would you accompany us?”
“I would be more than honored. May I ask, Sire, how went the hunt?”
A cloud drifted across the Emperor’s face, but then a wan smile replaced it. “I believe the tiger we hunted today was mythical. Or a master of subterfuge. We had beaters out for several rih and managed to move nothing. And Lord Yamaku had so wanted to use his new bow.”
“I am sorry to learn this, Sire. Tigers make poor subjects, sometimes—ignoring their duties, leaving without being dismissed, and eating perfectly dutiful subjects. I don’t know what can be done about them.”
The Emperor laughed. “Yes, this one is said to have eaten a loyal woodsman. A beastly thing to do when I have any number of courtiers and officials I could willingly spare. Most inconsiderate.” He laughed again and the others nearby, deeming the Emperor’s mood changed, laughed as well.
Turning off the road they followed a trail out onto a rounded promontory where a small shrine to the plague-dead stood. Knowing the Emperor’s opinions on the matter, no one made signs to Botahara. They passed on to the lookout point where the Emperor and his party dismounted.
“String your new bow, cousin,” the Emperor said pleasantly. “Tadamoto-sum is an appreciator of fine weapons.”
An archery contest was quickly organized among the officers of the guard using Lord Yamaku’s bow. Much laughter accompanied the Emperor’s suggestion that an officer donate his very stylish hat for a target. This was fixed to a nearby tree and the Emperor took up a seat on a rock, flanked by Tadamoto and his cousin as judges.
Lord Yamaku did not join the contest as it would have been very impolite for anyone to best a member of the Imperial family and Tadamoto was the guard Commander, so a similar etiquette applied.
Each contestant shot three arrows and though not every one found its mark, the hat was soon well ventilated indeed. The archers could not be said to be remarkable in their skill, but they were well matched so the contest was close and therefore more enjoyable for all concerned.
Once the contest had drawn everyone’s attention, the Emperor turned to Tadamoto. “I trust you did not ride all this way to view the blossoms, Colonel?” he said quietly.
Tadamoto nodded. “I have received a report from the north.” He searched for the right words. “It is a disturbing report, Emperor.”
The Emperor nodded. He watched a young officer make a shot and applauded the result. Leaning over, he spoke quietly to his cousin who bowed quickly. The Emperor nodded to Tadamoto and the two men rose. All present dropped to their knees until the Emperor was several paces away.
Walking to the lookout, the Emperor leaned against the railing that protected the foolish from the steep drop. Behind him the land stretched off to the Imperial Capital and the Lake of the Lost Dragon. The river wound its way toward the sea and as far as Tadamoto could see the landscape was decorated with flowering trees. Even the distant Mountain of the Pure Spirit seemed to be covered in a haze of white.
“Colonel.” The Emperor nodded for Tadamoto to continue.
“I have a report that Lord Shonto has left Seh and proceeds south on the canal accompanied by an army.”
The Emperor nodded calmly as though he had not just heard an announcement of civil war—civil war with the Shonto.
“A missive has arrived bearing the seal of the Governor of Seh. I broke all protocol and brought it with me, Sire.”
The Emperor nodded again. “There is more?”
Tadamoto nodded. “Reports have been received that a large barbarian army has crossed the border of Seh. I do not consider these substantiated at this time, however.”
“The missive?”
Tadamoto signaled one of his guards, and a small box was brought forward. Opening this, Tadamoto removed the official letter and, to the guardsman’s surprise, the Emperor reached out and took it directly from the Colonel’s hand. Looking at the seal, the Emperor broke it and opened the letter with no show of haste. He read.
Tadamoto pretended to admire the view. It was impolite to look directly at the Emperor for more than a few seconds and, under the circumstances, Tadamoto thought even a few seconds might not be advisable.
The Emperor lowered the scroll. He looked off at some unseen distance for a moment and then handed the paper to Tadamoto. “Read this,” he said, his tone mild.
Sire:
A barbarian army has crossed the northern border of Seh, an army of one hundred thousand armed men. Their immediate objective appears to be Rhojo-ma, but I do not believe this army plans to finish its campaign in the provincial capital. As the entire force available in the Province of Seh is less than a quarter the number in the invading army, I do not feel we can stop the barbarians from advancing into Itsa Province and then further south.
Our decision, therefore, has been to leave Seh and move our army down the canal, resisting the invaders as we go. If all goes well, I believe this will give the Empire until midsummer to raise the force necessary to combat the barbarian army.
Five thousand men of Seh stayed to defend the city of Rhojo-ma, hoping to give the main force time to cross the border and begin the recruitment. This we will do.
I regret to say that I do not think this barbarian force can be countered successfully without assistance from the Imperial Government. I do not expect to be able to raise enough men to meet the threat to the Empire even by the time we reach Chiba Province.
We can say little yet of the skills of this barbarian army and its commanders and will report as soon as more is known. Certainly, the tribes are led by the Golden Khan who flies a banner of gold bearing a dragon of crimson. I believe, Sire, that this chieftain has designs upon the Throne of Wa.
Those who have followed me in this move south are brave and industrious men and I have faith that we can slow the invaders’ advance, but an army must be raised to meet this threat, preferably in Chiba Province. We destroy all crops as we go, but once the barbarians have reached Chiba, this will become more difficult and if they cross the border into Dentou it will be impossible. They will also be within striking distance of the Imperial Capital.
I remain your Majesty’s servant,
Shonto Motoru
The Emperor had no compunctions about watching Tadamoto’s face as he read and the young man found as he finished the letter that he was being stared at.
“He makes no mention that it was his sworn duty to protect the borders of the Province of Seh.”
Tadamoto nodded, not needing to ask who “he” referred to.
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br /> The Emperor turned and looked out at the view, his hands resting lightly on the rail. For some moments he stood like that in silence and when he spoke he did not turn his head.
“We did not think he would be able to find the support for a civil war—not in Seh. He fails to mention how large a force accompanies him south?”
“That is true, Emperor.”
“A significant oversight in the former governor’s report. It is not possible that Motoru has raised the force he needs in Seh.” This did not seem to be a question, so Tadamoto said nothing. The “thunk” of arrows striking wood punctuated the silence. “How goes the raising of our army, Colonel?”
“Well, Sire, but I will redouble our efforts now.”
The Emperor nodded. “We will do more. We must prepare a plan to meet Shonto’s army—somewhere beyond the capital. There is no telling who will flock to his banner once he enters Dentou Province.” The Emperor fell silent again. “Where on the canal is my useless son?”
“He has not yet crossed the border into Chiba Province, Sire.” Tadamoto brushed white petals from the small dragons embroidered over the breast on his uniform.
The Emperor’s shoulders went stiff. “Not yet in Chiba?”
“Yes, Sire.”
The Emperor snorted. “I will send a letter to the Prince in my own hand: an Imperial directive to proceed north with all haste and relieve Shonto of the command of the army. He is then to stop any barbarian invasion he is able to find and send Shonto to the capital under guard. How do you think the former governor will react to that?”
“To do anything but obey the son of the Emperor, Sire…would be a foolish mistake.”
“Yes, but it would do away with this pose of protector of the Empire. He will be a rebel and called one.”
Tadamoto nodded even though the Emperor looked out toward the capital.
“Have you heard from your brother, Colonel?”
“I have not, Emperor.”
The Emperor rubbed his hands slowly along the railing. “We might hope that he stayed in Seh to defend Rhojo-ma. All who accompany Shonto support a rebel.”
“He shames the Jaku House, Sire. We will turn our back to him.”
The Emperor nodded slowly. “I believe this matter should be discussed immediately in the Great Council. We will have the Empire know that Shonto has abandoned his duties in the north and comes south with an armed force. It is not this ragged Khan who has designs on the Throne. If we had only kept that Fanisan daughter in the capital!” It was the closest thing to an expression of anger the Emperor had made, but when he spoke again his voice was calm. “She will not sit upon my throne, Colonel, nor will Motoru stand behind it.” He turned now and looked directly at Tadamoto. “So we must raise a great army, Colonel. My father fought the Shonto and won—I intend to do the same. But I will not be so generous after my victory.”
Thirty-seven
SHOKAN LAY STILL in the darkness wondering what one felt when overcome by the cold. Did a person simply sleep and not wake? Or was it painful or frightening? If one still felt the cold, was that a sign that one was closer to life than death? Cold was what the young lord felt: deep, pervasive cold. The bones of his legs ached with cold and in his feet there was no feeling at all.
With some effort the lord pulled his mind away from this avenue of thought and tried to consider the coming day. He had held a brief council with his staff that night, huddled in a circle in the dark, no fire to offer warmth or even cheer. Hard choices had been discussed and decisions made. Destroying the horses had weighed heavily on everyone; unfortunately, no one had offered an alternative that would allow the group to continue. It had been a fool’s hope that the snows would not be deep in the pass so early in the season, but then there had been few paths open to them. Bringing the horses was a risk perhaps not everyone had understood.
Shonto Shokan had made the decision to destroy his stallion himself, though certainly it was not a task a lord of a Great House should even consider. Still, he felt this situation was of his own making and could not ask another to perform the duties his poor decision had made necessary. This kind of thinking was a trait of the young lord’s that drove his father mad. The senior Shonto even went so far as to blame their former Spiritual Advisor, Brother Satake, for encouraging this trait, saying it was good education for children but the worst foolishness for the lord of a major House. Shokan almost laughed aloud at the memory. It was his impression that Brother Satake had quietly defied everyone; may Botahara protect him.
There had been no wood for fires that night and the sky had remained perfectly clear, allowing the bitter cold of the mountains free rein. The eastern sky was barely gray behind the white peaks that loomed above, but that was enough to have men up and moving, trying to restore circulation, praying the sun would not tarry and the sea wind would bring them warmth. It was a great irony that by night they huddled together in teeth-chattering cold while by day the sun burned their faces and had them stripped down to their lightest robes.
Shokan pushed his cover aside and turned onto his back. He had been rolling over at regular intervals all night trying not to expose one side for too long to the bitter chill that seeped up from the snow—not a restful night. He was hungry and worried about their food supplies. Horse meat would take them some distance, no doubt, but they were still many days away from the western end of the pass. In a purely foolish act they had, to a man, fed some of their precious grain to the horses the night before—a last meal—but the lack of fires to melt snow had meant no water. There was no doubt that the horses would soon be dead without any assistance from their reluctant riders.
Forcing himself to sit up, Shokan felt the chill wind that still swept down from the peaks. He stayed sitting for a moment, beating his hands on his arms and shoulders. The snow would be frozen into a steel-hard crust now, a surface that would support a man’s weight with ease, but it was also steep, treacherous ice and had led to the loss of many of their party.
From up the gulley Shokan heard the measured rhythm of footsteps as the guides moved higher. The previous day they had made a stairway while the snow was soft and now they climbed up to its top where they would continue by cutting more steps in the hard snow. It was a slow, laborious process.
Shokan thought again of their limited food supplies, wondering if he led his retainers to a futile end in some frozen pass. My father needs every armed man he can find, he reminded himself. Every risk is acceptable.
Looking up at the mountains, Shokan thought of the vast valley that lay on their opposite side down which ran the delicate ribbon of the Grand Canal. It seemed very far away, almost unreachable.
A single peak above caught the light of the rising sun and the young lord felt a great relief. Around him he could make out the shapes of men and horses. Shades of gray began to take on color and shapes definition.
“Sire?” a voice whispered.
Shokan turned to his guard who pointed up the slope. Not far away, half a dozen bearded men crouched down on their heels and watched, their faces impassive. Mountain people….
Shokan turned to his guard who stared openly, unaware that his lord regarded him. Moving with great care, Shokan found the small platform he had stamped out before the snow froze and got unsteadily to his unfeeling feet.
Though he half expected them to start like deer and bound off, the crouching men made no move. It was the worst manners, but Shokan found himself staring like his guard. Mountain people! He could not hide his surprise.
The men crouching before him were dressed so completely in furs and skins that nothing showed but weathered faces. At their belts they carried long knives, almost swords, and, on their backs, bows of an almost pure white wood. As he had read, these men had deep blue eyes, like one sometimes saw among the southern barbarians.
Slowly, Shokan extended his hands, palms out, all the while searching his memory for words he had heard Brother Satake speak in the mountain tongue—but none came. His father ha
d said that Shuyun spoke their language, and Shokan wondered if this was not uncommon for a Botahist scholar.
Turning to his guard Shokan said, “The Botahist monks often know the mountain tongue—pass the word down the line to anyone educated by the Brothers.”
The mountain people looked on as Shokan extended his hands, but there was no reaction visible—it might have been his private morning ritual for all the response it received. He tried gesturing to the snow nearby and smiling in invitation, but the men crouching in the snow did not move. Both parties were soon reduced to staring at each other in silence.
After this had gone on for some time, Shokan noticed a movement higher up on the guides’ stairway. Another group made its way down toward the snowbound lowlanders.
As this second party arrived, the first group turned and bowed stiffly. The object of this show of respect seemed to be an old, leather-faced man in a worn hooded robe gathered at the waist by a silk sash of faded purple. What animal had contributed its coat to this old man’s warmth Shokan could not say, for the fur was unknown to him— deep gray with tips of silver.
The old man continued right past the bowing mountain people and stopped about three paces beyond Lord Shonto’s guard who had been unable to move quickly enough on the treacherous footing to stop him. Shokan gave them a signal to stand ready but do nothing for now.
The old man stood, arms crossed, hands buried in the sleeves of his robe. His face was as impassive as his companions’ though his eyes were the color of a sky washed with a high mist. The mountain race seemed to be smaller than the people of Wa though Shokan suspected they were broad of shoulder under their layers of fur.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 76