Shonto stared at the map for a moment more without speaking. “If the Emperor will join forces with us, Kamu-sum, we will have two choices. Fight the barbarian army with a force perhaps two-thirds its size, or retreat to the southeast. If we choose to retreat, we will see if you are correct. Will the lure of an undefended Capital be more than the Khan can resist? If so, there is a chance that we can raise an army large enough to be sure of defeating the barbarians. A battle now is a difficult decision. Such a fight is likely to be inconclusive and, at worst, could result in the annihilation of the armies of Wa. It is a great risk, Kamu-sum, a great risk indeed.”
A guard approached, bowing and waiting to be acknowledged. Kamu gestured and the man came forward to speak quietly to the steward. The old man nodded.
“Sire,” he said turning back to his liege-lord, “our forward scouts can see the Emperor’s position.”
Shonto nodded. “I will take a fast boat. Have a horse ready at our forward position. And I will speak with General Hojo and our senior commanders.” The lord rose suddenly. “Well, steward Kamu, the endgame is always the most interesting, is it not?”
* * *
Late in the day Shonto’s army came upon the plain that lay before the Emperor’s army. Patrols reported the barbarians only half a day behind now and the rear of the Shonto columns were under constant observation from barbarian patrols. Due to sheer numbers, the barbarians had taken control of the shifting lands between the two armies and they tracked the Shonto army as silently and relentlessly as a predatory animal.
Shonto was still not in armor as he rode before his army though he wore a sword in his sash—the sword the Emperor had given to him. A group of concerned Shonto guards stayed close by, eyes turned to the earthworks that sheltered the Imperial Army.
“The Emperor will wait,” Shonto said to his senior advisors. “He will not undertake to accomplish with swords what he hopes can be done by words. It is good to remember that he hates the Shonto because he fears us.”
Shonto stood up in his stirrups, looked around the horizon, and then shook his head. “Excuse me for saying so, Prince Wakaro, but the Emperor is not the general your grandfather was. His position is untenable.”
Wakaro gave an almost imperceptible shrug. He was the only man in Shonto’s party who wore full battle armor and he was no doubt suffering some embarrassment at not demonstrating the acceptable bravado in the face of the enemy. Having tied his helmet to his saddle, the Prince’s streak of white hair was at the mercy of the breeze and waved like an ominous flag. The Prince was struggling to maintain his Imperial dignity and this was made more difficult by his lack of skill with horses—appearing far worse than it was by proximity to the men of Seh; riders of the first order.
Shonto nodded to the hill upon which he proposed to establish his own army. “What is our assessment of that position?”
Lord Komawara spurred his horse forward three paces and bowed from the saddle. “Lord Toshaki and I have ridden and walked every section of the hill, Lord Shonto. It is not defendable from all directions due to the small size of our force, but it is a reasonable position in which to weather an attack from the west and north. It is certainly more defensible than the Emperor’s earthworks,” Komawara said with disdain. “The slope is steep at the base and rolls off to a series of benches halfway up the flank. The crest is thickly wooded. Considering this is not a battleground of our choosing, we could do much worse.”
Shonto looked over at Hojo, who nodded agreement.
“We will secure that position and move our forces there in the dark,” Shonto said. “Light fires to guide the way. Tomorrow we will witness the arrival of the barbarian army, and our Emperor shall have the same pleasure.”
Shonto turned his horse to face his advisors. Lord Taiki and Butto Joda had become friends over the past days and sat on horses side by side. Jaku Katta, General Hojo, Lord Komawara, young Toshaki, and Shuyun formed a loose group. Only the Prince and his captain rode apart—outsiders, Yamaku; of questionable loyalty.
“We will move our forces to the hill and then set a pavilion on the plain between the Emperor’s position and our own. I will attempt to establish contact with the Emperor at the earliest possible moment.” Shonto looked into the faces of the men before him. “In the history of Wa no foreign enemy has ever penetrated the inner provinces. It is impossible to separate the clouds that cover the future, but it is beyond doubt that a loss to the army of the desert would mean the loss of the capital, if not the Empire. If the Khan is an intelligent general, he would pursue our army to the southern borders, for our army is the basis of all our hopes for the future. We do not know which action in the days to come will be a deciding action. We must never forget that anything we do could be the single act that changes the course of history. Do not lose courage, not for an instant. History will turn on the events of these next days and it will be shaped by each of us. Do not lose courage.”
* * *
Nishima lay awake long into the night. She had crossed the small plain that men were referring to as the “battlefield” in the dark and found the experience disturbing in the extreme. The fires illuminated rows of armed men who marked the way in the dark and fog—an eerie spectacle of yellow-red light reflecting off armor and weapons and faces distorted by the light and darkness.
As Lady Okara had insisted that she did not want a sedan chair, Nishima and Kitsura had gone on foot when Nishima would rather have ridden. Her experience with horses was limited, for ladies of breeding were not supposed to ride, but in the unsettled years after the Interim Wars Lord Shonto had thought it prudent that she master the basics of riding.
A large pavilion had been pitched on a ledge dug into the hillside, just inside the sheltering edge of the wood, and this had been divided with hangings into three rooms for the ladies from the capital. Mats and rugs made it comfortable and lamps and a few other furnishings created an impression of order and security—all seeming a great sham to Nishima.
In an attempt to gain some sense of tranquillity, Nishima had turned to the poetry of Lady Nikko.
Sky
Torn to rags and tatters.
Earth
A ruin of storm shattered trees.
The riches of summer have been scattered
To the four directions.
The first days of Autumn arrive
Like invading armies
Wisdom is more fragile
Than a young girl’s love,
Lost between one generation and the next.
These boys drop stones into the village well
To break each morning’s ice
Never asking, “How long until the well is filled?”
In Itsa peasants work the family fields
Season after season without rest
Until the soil bears nothing
But thistle and scrub
The moon drifts toward winter
Each night colder than the last,
Soon women will sell winter clothing
For a few sticks of firewood
From A Journey to Itsa
by Lady Nikko
Not precisely the reassurance Nishima was looking for. She set the scroll down.
Earlier it had been decided that Lady Okara would be taken south toward the capital by Shonto guards who would shed their blue livery. Skirting the Emperor’s army would be difficult, for he sent patrols out into the countryside, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Lady Okara’s reputation would protect her from all but the barbarians. She was anxious to see her island home again and Lord Shonto was equally anxious to have the great painter out of harm’s way.
Nishima knew the parting in the morning would be difficult. Oka-sum had risked so much for her, for so little return, Nishima felt. Poor Oka-sum, the young aristocrat thought, I tore her from her solitude and cast her into the center of a war that may see the fall of our Empire. May Botahara protect her.
The thin fabric of the tent seemed impossibly fragil
e to a woman who had spent most of her life surrounded by substantial walls, and the reality that pressed against this material was not the wild beauty of the world but the coarse brutality of men. She longed to have Shuyun come and lie beside her. It was not entirely a desire to be protected by someone stronger, for Nishima knew that wars could bring down even the mightiest, but a desire to comfort and be comforted in the face of the utter uncertainty of the world.
It was close to dawn before she managed to fall into a fitful sleep.
Fifty-six
SHONTO WALKED ALONG the path that had been dug into the side of the hill, followed by his guards. The gray light of early morning had become the gray light of a foggy day. Reports from outriders indicated that this propensity for morning fog diminished only a few rih south, indicating that one did not have to stray far from the mountains to rid oneself of this weather.
Leave it to the Emperor to pick a battlefield commonly enshrouded in fog, Shonto thought. He had risen before first light and met with his advisors. After much discussion it had been decided that Prince Wakaro would bear an offer to his father, and though the Prince had gone off showing a brave face, Shonto did not expect him to return. Even if the Emperor answered Shonto’s letter, the lord did not expect the bearer of the response to be Prince Wakaro. It is a sad family that cannibalizes its own, Shonto told himself, but Imperial families seemed to suffer this ill too commonly.
Though the fog muffled sound and played tricks on the ears, there was no doubt that an army moved upon the plain. The sounds of voices, the stamp and whinny of horses, the clanking of weapons and armor filtered up through the layers of mist to the men of Wa perched on their hillsides. This will open the Emperor’s eyes, Shonto thought. I would give much to be standing beside him as the fog clears.
Guards in armor laced in the darkest blue appeared through the mist, bowing to Lord Shonto as he passed. A few paces later he came upon Lord Komawara staring out into the featureless gray.
“Can Komawara eyes part the mists?” Shonto asked.
Komawara turned and bowed low. His face lit with half a smile. “Komawara eyes fail this test as miserably as most others, Lord Shonto. But when I traveled in the desert with Brother Shuyun, he taught me not to rely on my eyes as other men do. I cannot claim to have attained the skill of the Botahist trained in this, but I am learning. It seems to be a matter of focus.”
Shonto stopped at the young lord’s side and looked out into the mist as Komawara did. “What do your other senses tell you, Lord Komawara?”
Komawara listened for a few seconds before answering. “An army gathers on the plain, Sire, I have heard the pounding of mallets on wood indicating that tents have been raised. Horses are being pastured,” he pointed to the north. “I smell fires burning and there is a tang of tar in this odor. They burn the ships now. This close to the capital the barbarians would appear to have no expectation to return north. I hear the sounds of armor being cleaned and weapons being honed. I hear the sounds of men who are not entirely confident. So far from home—if their chieftain has misjudged the strength of this vast Empire they have crossed, they will never return to their lands, to their people.”
Shonto nodded. “You have crossed swords with the men of desert, Lord Komawara, is it possible that we can win a battle against such superior numbers?”
There was a long silence then and Shonto found himself straining to hear the sounds that drifted up from the plain.
“It would depend on the place and the commander, Lord Shonto. When we attacked their supply rafts, we had the advantage of surprise and they thought they had been set upon by an entire army. I do not believe it is foolish pride to say that the men of Wa are stronger warriors. The reports from the battle for Rhojo-ma would indicate this to be true. A confident army with superior position would likely prevail—at great cost—despite smaller numbers. Confidence comes from the men’s faith in their commander, Sire.”
“And the Emperor? Can he meld the two armies into a force that will bear the blow this Khan will deliver?”
Komawara shrugged. “The Emperor is unknown to me, Sire. If he abandoned his position on the west side of the canal, burned the bridge, and concentrated his force and our own on the eastern hillside, the Emperor’s position would be improved. But I cannot say that he could inspire the confidence required to beat a foe who is stronger in numbers. It is impossible to know.”
Shonto turned and looked back toward his own position, hidden in the fog. Noises similar to those heard emanating from the enemy position echoed here.
“We will see,” Shonto said quietly.
The sound of armored men approaching caused both lords to turn around. A moment later Kamu materialized out of the fog followed by guards.
He bowed low. “A rider has arrived from the north bearing news, Sire.” Kamu paused for a second to catch his breath. “Lord Shonto Shokan has come down from the mountains with a small force. He hurries to join you, Sire.”
Shonto remained calm at this, compared to the obvious excitement that his steward barely contained. “We must get word to him. He must not risk capture. There is no reason for him to hurry. His presence here with a small force will hardly be the deciding factor. We must warn him to stay well clear and approach from the southeast. He must take no risk of capture, Kamu-sum, absolutely none. Send messengers immediately.”
The steward bowed quickly and was gone.
* * *
Prince Wakaro did not know whether to feel relief or not. The ride through the fog toward the perimeter of his father’s defenses was a terrifying endeavor. Even his guard wearing the armor of the Imperial Guard was little comfort. The men of the Imperial Army knew that Jaku Katta and his rebel followers still wore their black uniforms and all the insignias of rank.
They had found a guard in the fog and finally been escorted through the lines. The feared arrow did not find him and the Prince was relieved to the point of developing a small tremor. He was not sure if Shonto or his followers would have condescended to wear armor in such situations, but the Prince had decided he did not care. To die of an arrow shot by some nervous, unknown archer did not seem like a dignified death.
He and his men stood surrounded by Imperial Guards, and though they had not been shown the courtesy due an Imperial Prince they had been treated well enough and even allowed to retain their swords. The Prince realized he had stopped trying to predict his father’s reaction to this embassy from Lord Shonto—an embassy led by his own son.
Perhaps he should have refused Shonto’s request that he approach the Emperor, but the Prince felt that what Shonto had said was true. This was a decisive moment in history, and he did not want to be known for all time as the prince who contributed to the fall of the Empire. So he tried to swallow his fear.
Lord Komawara had told Wakaro that he had been frightened before the attack on the barbarian supply rafts and there was something about Komawara that made the Prince believe the young lord would never stoop to lies.
A guard officer appeared then and it took a moment for the Prince to realize it was Jaku Tadamoto. The young guardsman seemed to have aged many years in the past few months.
“If it is convenient, Prince Wakaro, could you accompany me?” Tadamoto asked in the refined tones of a scholar. How did the men of the Imperial Guard respond to a commander who sounded and looked like a historian or a poet? A few weeks earlier the thought would never have occurred to him and it surprised him.
Nodding, the Prince fell into step beside the young colonel who deferred to the Imperial Prince in voice only. It was no time to demand that proper etiquette be followed, Wakaro decided.
They made their way along a deep trench behind one level of the earthworks. Bundles of arrows stood against the trench wall and, on a dirt shelf, archers stood looking out onto the fogbound plain. Prince Wakaro had become more intimate with fear recently and this had increased his sensitivity to it. He could feel the fear among these men.
They mounted a woode
n stairway that brought them up a level. The effort was causing the Prince to sweat under his heavy armor, and he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he often saw guards do, for there was no one on his staff to reach out and take this burden from him.
They progressed through various rings of guards until the sound of banners rustling in the frail breeze told Wakaro that the Emperor would be near at hand. Indeed, only a few paces farther along and they were stopped by guards. Wakaro stood trying to hold together the shreds of his failing courage. I have seen the barbarian army, the Prince reminded himself. Any death I find here will be more charitable than the death I would find on the battlefield. Stories of what the barbarians did to captured enemies had reached Wakaro through his guards. His dreams had not been the same since.
A guard appeared out of the fog and gave a hand signal. Tadamoto motioned the Prince forward. A few paces along and a small pavilion took shape before the Prince. He knelt and bowed to his father who did not offer even a nod in response.
“I am told you are a messenger for the Shonto?” the Emperor said, his voice betraying tight control—a sign of anger that the Prince dreaded.
“Despite all appearances, Sire,” Wakaro said, ashamed at the quaver in his voice, “I remain the Emperor’s loyal servant. The truth of this will be revealed as the fog lifts. An army of unprecedented size is before us. If the Imperial Army does not join with the forces of Lord Shonto, the Empire will be lost.”
The Emperor stared at his son until the young man looked down. “You have a message from your master?” the Emperor said at last.
Wakaro reached into his sash and removed the carefully folded letter. He passed this to Tadamoto who set it on the edge of the small dais.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 89