“Hey! Are you Tomoe Gozen?” the samurai shouted over the small body of water. “I want to talk to you! Come over here!”
The bikuni did not move. She knew the woman had to be one of Lord Wada’s warrior-wives, three of whom had been snooping around White Beast Shrine and elsewhere in Kanno asking about Tomoe. She had no desire to admit to being the one they sought. It appeared as though this woman had come upriver, negotiating the ledge during the misty morning and waiting near the bottleneck, where it would be impossible to miss the bikuni.
“I am Neroyume!” she called back. “It isn’t me you want!”
A sound of slipping gravel caused the bikuni to turn. A second woman, armed with axe, swords, and weighted chain, stood with her arms folded under her breasts. Axe handle and sword sheaths were lacquered red. Her hakama trousers were patterned with large white flowers on a black field. Her overcoat was blue-black with a moon and mist embroidered on one sleeve.
“Perhaps you’re Neroyume,” she said, “but you are the one we want.”
She unfolded her arms and patted the axe handle dangling from her obi. The coiled, weighted chain rattled with meaning of its own.
The nagamaki-wielder was hurrying around the miniature bay. In a moment, the bikuni realized, she would be caught between these two women. Still, she did not move.
There was a third woman. She came into view along the lower bank, carrying some of the same kind of edible roots the bikuni had found earlier. She was lean and quick, but did not come as close as the others. She stopped in front of a rotted-out stump, dropped the tubers as though they had lost her interest; and she rested her left arm upon the hilt of her long-sword in a relaxed pose. She came no closer, but observed.
“You are Yoshimora’s harlots,” said the bikuni.
“We are his wives,” said Kosame, grinning and not affronted. “My name is ‘little shark.’ Across from you stands ‘sharp-edged moonflower.’ We’re nice if you get to know us.”
“Why does Lord Wada still seek me after all these years?” asked the bikuni. “I am retired and no nuisance to him.”
Kosame strode nearer, the pole of her halberd tucked casually under one arm. She said, “You were the prize he missed. He is too stubborn to give up. You could come out of retirement and be famous as you were before. It is a matter of pride for us, too. Would you refuse to be our sister?”
“I am Buddha’s woman only.”
“How so?” asked Kosame, her eyes flashing with wicked humor. “We know your true sentiment. You could not recite one sutra to its end. Just a matter of taking off that vest and letting your hair grow longer. Then you have returned to the world. It’s very simple.”
The bikuni had to watch two fields, for Ha-yugao was also tightening the distance and had removed the chain from her obi. Tomoe said, “You think to threaten me, but I am harder to impress. If you intend to say it is to save face that you attack me for refusing to be added to your husband’s collection of wives, please reconsider, and think of my position. Lord Wada defeated Lord Kiso a few years ago. How could I submit to my husband’s foe? If I return to the samurai world, then I would also be bound to avenge Yoshinake Kiso. Hard on Lord Wada if I do.”
“We can take you by force,” said Ha-yugao. “I can tie you in my chain. It has been arranged for you to receive orders direct from the Shogun before submitting to our lord. You owe allegiance to the Shogun and must accept his decision.”
“A nun is unallied,” said the bikuni. “I adhere only to the dictates of Heaven.”
Kosame did not look convinced of the nun’s piety. Ha-yugao continued to speak. “Your solitary Thousand Shrine Sect could be outlawed if you refuse. It would annoy a lot of innocent travelers.”
“I don’t mind,” said Tomoe.
“No?” said Kosame, lifting her nagamaki and seizing upon the bikuni’s words. “Then you cherish your solitude and it has nothing to do with devotion to your sect. It is neither a matter of a grudge against Lord Wada, nor a matter of religion. This being so, aren’t we justified in thinking it a matter of our own pride?”
Kosame took a stance with nagamaki. Ha-yugao’s chain began to whirl and whirr, a sound like a cicada. Tomoe said, “Your Lord Wada may want one more wife, but he may end up with two less.”
She drew her Sword of Okio.
She immediately ran off at an angle, forcing her two opponents to keep in motion, keeping them from reaching her at the same moment. She came to a sudden stop, raised her blade, and caught the weighted chain, which would have wrapped around her throat. Caught by Ha-yugao, the women were locked in a tug-of-war. Neither gave up ground to the other; but Tomoe was in the touchiest situation, with Kosame hurrying forth with her nagamaki turning like a swift waterwheel.
Tomoe took the offensive, running straight toward Ha-yugao. Ha-yugao started the slack of the chain rising and falling like a wave. A deft twist sent a loop of chain at the bikuni. The Sword of Okio caught the loop, so that once again Tomoe’s neck was safe, though her sword was badly unbalanced by Ha-yugao’s continuing manipulation of the chain. Holding her sword one-handed, Tomoe grabbed the chain in her other hand and gave a terrific pull. Ha-yugao slipped on an oval stone, equilibrium askew, affording Tomoe the moment she required to untangle the Sword of Okio.
Ha-yugao dropped the chain. Her axe came up with a swiftness that would have deflected the Sword of Okio if Tomoe had continued the assault; but, seeing her assault would be wasted, the bikuni veered aside to see about Kosame.
The nagamaki reached further than a sword. Tomoe ducked beneath a potentially decapitating sweep and jumped back from two excellent thrusts. Kosame was made confident as the nun was forced to give more and more ground. An overhead cut might have carved the nun from head to crotch, but the Sword of Okio blocked, and the nun lifted her foot and landed a solid kick to Kosame’s fingers.
Kosame grimaced, but did not drop the nagamaki. She scuttled backward, abandoning the fight, and squatted to one knee. She placed the nagamaki on the ground with loving care. Then, drawing a cloth from her kimono, she began to wrap the broken fingers of her right hand, offering no vocal complaint.
When Ha-yugao closed in with the terrible broad-axe, the third woman, who had watched from the stump near the river’s edge, shouted with authority, “Ha-yugao! She’s too strong for you!” Ha-yugao could barely break momentum. By the look in her eyes, it was difficult to obey, to check herself from avenging Kosame’s injury. The lean woman approached Ha-yugao and said, “Help Kosame bind her hand. I alone am match for Neroyume.”
The rawboned woman was dressed in browns more somber than the bikuni’s black and cream and gray. A pattern of clouds was burnished into the thread of her kimono, umber on umber. She removed a dark scarf from her sleeve, twisted it into a rope, and tied it around her hair, drawing her white-streaked ponytail into the headband so that hair would not fly about in what promised to be a difficult encounter. She pulled one arm out of her sleeve so that her arm and right breast were exposed, a breast too small to require a binding linen. Drawing her longsword, she took an excellent posture with hilt held close to her face. She said, “I am Shi-u Morita, first wife of Yoshimora Wada, and have never known defeat. If you have never heard of me before, it is only that I shed useless pride long ago, committing myself more fully to my husband’s causes. As you won’t give in to his wish, I am resigned to cutting off your head. It will be my trophy.”
Tomoe removed her deep hat so that her field of vision would not be hampered. She said, “Now you can get at my neck better.” She untied the travel-quilt at her back and let it fall beside the hat, then took her alms-bag over her head and set it down. She had not taken Shi-u’s lecture as a boast. By the woman’s relaxed bearing, the bikuni knew Shi-u was a woman of uncommon talent. Tomoe removed an extra underobi and used it to tie back her sleeves. Then she redrew her sword and took a stance proper to counter that of Shi-u Morita.
Shi-u measured the bikuni’s stance in turn, and changed her own posture
, inducing a new stance from Tomoe. They stood a long way apart, appraising one another’s approach to each implied attack. Any stance one chose, the other knew one suitable to counter, and there was no weakness in either one’s defense.
Kosame yet knelt, with broken hand clutched to her stomach. Ha-yugao wandered to the right of Kosame for a different perspective on the duel, which seemed scarcely to be engaged, yet was profoundly interesting.
Tomoe tried a posture rarely seen, but the other knew its answer. The bikuni said, “Shi-u. I often feel that it is my karma to live a long life and walk the longer road to Hell. It would be a shame for a peerless fighter to die. Can Lord Wada spare such as you?”
“I don’t believe he need worry about that,” said Shi-u with a calm self-assurance to match Tomoe’s. But she added, “However, if it comes to such an event, he would not miss me much.”
“I thought it might be so,” said Tomoe. “You have been in bondage longer than these others. Very well, we fight in earnest.”
She turned the dull edge of her sword outward, for she did not wish to kill Shi-u. Taking the offensive, she was impressed by the ease with which Shi-u slipped aside. Shi-u said, “If you have a chance against me, it is not by striking with your sword’s dull backside. I won’t hesitate. Nor should you.”
“I’ll break your fingers, as with Kosame,” said the nun, without a trace of a boast. “Or your arm.”
“It wouldn’t be enough to stop me,” Shi-u warned. Then her attention was drawn elsewhere and she shouted angrily, “Ha-yugao!” An axe flew through the air with deadly accuracy. Tomoe leapt away, but a lock of hair fell from her scalp. Ha-yugao followed up her attack with a headlong rush, longsword drawn. Tomoe lunged beneath Ha-yugao’s bold cut. The Sword of Okio sank full length into Ha-yugao’s stomach. Ha-yugao threw her own sword in the river, a startling act, then grabbed the hilt of Tomoe’s weapon, refusing to let go.
“Kill her now!” shouted Ha-yugao. “I have her sword!”
Tomoe let go of the Sword of Okio and lurched aside from Shi-u’s fierce and vengeful slice. Tomoe rolled across hard stones, bruising her shoulders badly, coming to a squatting position near a startled Kosame. She grabbed Kosame’s nagamaki. Ha-yugao continued to stumble about the gravel, clinging to the longsword in her stomach; and she made horrible little animal noises. Kosame cried out in a mournful anguish. As the nun was standing with Kosame’s halberd to hand, Kosame managed, with broken fingers, to dig into Tomoe’s arm and leave long scratches.
Tomoe leapt again and rolled, coming to her feet in a perfect upright stance with the nagamaki above her head, blade tipped downward and sharp edge up. She faced Shi-u, whose dark complexion had paled and whose dark eyes revealed a pain of spirit. It was a look worth fearing.
“I had no intention of killing any of you!” Tomoe shouted angrily. “You and I were to duel fairly, but Ha-yugao interfered from behind! How can you save face after her dishonorable actions? Leave me alone at once! Leave me!”
The nun panted and glowered, excruciatingly annoyed by events.
Shi-u, stricken by the nun’s words, backed away and slowly let her sword slide into its scabbard. She said, “I cannot justify Ha-yugao, but you have already punished her.”
Shi-u strode to Ha-yugao, who was still standing despite the mortal wound of a sword sticking through her body. Her face was bloodless, her white lips open. Shi-u took the hilt of the Sword of Okio and drew the blade out. Then, angrily, she reprimanded Ha-yugao with one word: “Fool!” and stuck the Sword of Okio into the woman’s throat. It looked cruel, but was only the coup de grace; Ha-yugao could by no means have recovered.
As Ha-yugao fell onto the gravel, Shi-u approached Tomoe and held the Sword of Okio forth, saying, “I won’t fight you today. I know your intention to continue through this gorge until it comes out in the next province. Once I’ve reclaimed my horse from the village near Sato Castle, I will race ahead and wait for you where the gorge ends. Kosame will take Ha-yugao’s body back to Yoshimora, so there will be no one to interfere with us a second time. We’ll continue our duel two or three days from now. The word of a samurai!”
Tomoe let the nagamaki drop. She took her Sword of Okio, shook the blood from it, sheathed it. She did not speak as Kosame snatched the halberd from the ground and, with Shi-u’s help, tied it across her back, along with Ha-yugao’s fine axe. Kosame, despite broken fingers, lifted Ha-yugao’s body onto Shi-u’s back. Shi-u would carry their dead sister from the gorge, in the fashion of a sick old nanny, strapped with an obi. Ha-yugao’s arms hung limp in front of Shi-u’s shoulders. Her head bobbed sadly.
The two women started up a steep incline, managing despite their handicaps to reach the narrow ledge. Apparently they knew an easier way out of the gorge further on, and would double back to Kanno once they had reached easier ground. Tomoe Gozen watched them go, not providing them with the least clue of her changing plans. She would by no means meet Shi-u where the gorge ended. The woman was too special to fight. It wasn’t that Tomoe feared losing, though in fact she was not convinced that her strength was greater. It was rather too distressing to think of Shi-u’s dying; and with such an attitude, Tomoe would lose equal footing. Win or lose, the proposed duel was unappealing.
By the time the wives of Yoshimora Wada had reclaimed their horses and ridden away from Kanno, Tomoe Gozen would have returned to the heart of that very province, ready to test her theory of the goryo’s source of power.
A gust whipped through the gorge, tangling the bikuni’s short hair before her eyes. She watched the wives of Yoshimora Wada, small and distant, climbing along the ledge. Then they vanished beyond the hump on the cliff’s face; and Tomoe Gozen would have been just as pleased never to see them again.
Tomoe’s plan to turn back was far more firmly rooted than had been her intended and reluctant flight. Still, she must linger for the time being, lest Shi-u and Kosame detect her altered determination or hear of her return. She must not be seen in Kanno before the women samurai had left for good.
This dallying gave her the opportunity to truly ponder the fateful manner in which she came to be standing midway along the fabulous gorge. Danger awaited at either extremity. In one direction there was the promise of the duel with Shi-u, for whom Tomoe felt extraordinary empathy and whom she would hate to fight. As for the return route, it meant renewed confrontation with Kuro. All paths led to jeopardy. Her choice was not necessarily the safest.
The most fearful element had been the infeasibility of rebelling against a spirit from among her own ancestors. The fear of sacrilege had begun to ebb; for her theory regarding Kuro’s power had occasioned a chink through which she might escape the dilemma. And she might do so by nobler means than running away.
She was convinced that the goryo was possessed by the fiend called Green Fire Devil, the cause of the fiery sheen that passed from time to time through Kuro’s eyes. Judging by the story Heinosuke told, the whole affair could be said to have started well before Nichiroku was buried alive. Every anguishing event had actually grown from the insufficient or ill-advised exorcisms that had separated Green Fire Devil from Yuki-onna the Snow Woman. A temple should never have been built on land admired by supernatural agents. Once the wrong path was chosen, every additional step compounded the error.
The unreasonable death of Nichiroku had rendered him the hundred-year guardian, buried atop Green Fire Devil’s doorway out of Emma’s Hell. Who could say what agreement they had reached while locked in their obscure, other-world battle? Nichiroku’s indentureship expired and he escaped from the pit, a foul corpse disguised as an angelic priest. Hell’s crack was left unguarded. Yet who had seen Green Fire Devil adrift in fields or forests or swamps and up the sides of hills? Where was that demon if not held within Kuro himself, bestowing upon the resurged corpse its excessive power! Kuro the Darkness had formed an extraordinary league with Hell’s fiery minion.
Thus it was Green Fire Devil who feared Buddhist exorcism. It was the Buddhists who had
divided him from the object of his demonic lusts. A Shinto priest like Bundori was left relatively unmolested, since no such priest had ever interfered with the site of the Temple of the Gorge. Green Fire Devil worked within Kuro to rid the region of Buddhists. Kuro the Darkness in turn made use of his demonic attachment to pursue revenge against seven clans. Their aims were intertwined. Their manifestation was more perfectly unified than was the amalgamation of Shinji and Otane into a love-suicide ghost.
The bikuni reasoned thus: If she managed to free the vengeful ghost from its possession, this could be construed, if only in a semantic sense, as a service to her ancestral spirits. As a side-effect, Kuro the Darkness would become figuratively emasculated, a common goryo bound to the place of his death, capable of achieving his revenge only against those who disbelieved the curse and wandered close. This, however, need not be the bikuni’s consideration. It was not her intent to harm the vengeful spirit. Indeed, with straightforward aplomb, her intent was to honor and defend that spirit. She would visit him when he was restricted to the Temple of the Gorge. She would light incense for him. She would pray for his peaceful repose.
If this meant dancing along a precipice of impiety, then she would have to take extra pains to avoid profaning the goryo. In devotional prayers she would never address him as dark Kuro but only as shining Nichiroku, the monk from Heida! Until then, she must set her mind upon the task of destroying the demon that possessed the ghost.
She had gathered her gear and fit her hat on snugly and was ready to head back; for surely she had dawdled enough to avoid Shi-u and Kosame. The sun peered into the gorge. The last of the mists had burned from the ground. Until she regained the snow-level, her route ought to be easy and pleasant. But as the bikuni was prepared to set off, she heard a lonesome, weird sound that was so high-pitched it hurt her ears.
Thousand Shrine Warrior Page 25