Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [513]
Yoshinaka wiped his blade clean and sheathed it. “Lead on!” he ordered the vanguard. “Hurry up!” The vanguard formed up again and, their footsteps echoing, they marched off. Then, out of nowhere, an arrow thwanged into Yoshinaka’s chest. The cortege lurched to a stop. Yoshinaka tore at the shaft silently for a moment, then his eyes glazed and he toppled.
A small moan broke from Kiri’s lips. A puff of air tugged at the ends of Mariko’s gossamer scarf. Somewhere in the avenue a child’s cries were hushed. Everyone waited breathlessly.
“Miyai Kazuko-san,” Mariko called out. “Please take charge.”
Kazuko was young and tall and very proud, clean-shaven, with deep-set cheeks, and he came from the grouped Browns near Kiyama who stood beside the gateway. He strode past Kiri’s and Sazuko’s litters to stand beside Mariko’s and bowed formally. “Yes, Lady. Thank you.”
“You!” He shouted to the men ahead. “Move off!” Taut, some fearful, all frantic, they obeyed and once again the procession began, Kazuko walking beside Mariko’s litter. Then, a hundred paces in front of them, twenty Grays moved out of the massed ranks of samurai and stood silently across the roadway. The twenty Browns closed the gap. Then someone faltered and the vanguard trickled to a stop.
“Clear them out of the way!” Kazuko shouted.
Immediately one Brown leaped forward, and the others followed and the killing became swift and cruel. Each time a Gray fell, another would calmly walk out of the waiting pack to join his comrades in the killing. It was always fair, always evenly matched, man to man, now fifteen against fifteen, now eight against eight, a few wounded Grays thrashing in the dirt, now three Browns against two Grays and another Gray strode out, and soon it was one to one, the last Brown, blood-stained and wounded, already victor of four duels. The last Gray dispatched him easily and stood alone among the bodies and looked at Miyai Kazuko.
All the Browns were dead. Four Grays lay wounded, eighteen dead.
Kazuko went forward, unsheathing his sword in the enormous hush.
“Wait,” Mariko said. “Please wait, Kazuko-san.”
He stopped but kept his eyes on the Gray, spoiling for the fight. Mariko stepped out of the palanquin and went back to Kiyama. “Lord Kiyama, I formally ask you please to order those men out of the way.”
“So sorry, Toda-sama, the castle orders must be obeyed. The orders are legal. But if you wish, I will call a meeting of the Regents and ask for a ruling.”
“I am samurai. My orders are clear, in keeping with bushido and sanctified by our code. They must be obeyed and overrule legally any man-made ordinance. The law may upset reason, but reason may not overthrow the law. If I am not permitted to obey, I will not be able to live with that shame.”
“I will call an immediate meeting.”
“Please excuse me, Sire, what you do is your own business. I am concerned only with my Lord’s orders and my own shame.” She turned and went quietly back to the head of the column. “Kazuko-san! I order you please to lead us out of the castle!”
He walked forward. “I am Miyai Kazuko, Captain, from the line Serata, of Lord Toranaga’s Third Army. Please get out of the way.”
“I am Biwa Jiro, Captain, of Lord General Ishido’s garrison. My life is worthless, even so you will not pass,” the Gray said.
With the sudden roaring battle cry of “Toranagaaaaaa!” Kazuko rushed to the fray. Their swords shrieked as the blows and counter-blows were parried. The two men circled. The Gray was good, very good, and so was Kazuko. Their swords rang out in the clash. No one else moved.
Kazuko conquered but he was very badly wounded and he stood over his enemy, swaying on his feet, and with his good arm he shook his sword at the sky, bellowing his war cry, gloating in his victory, “Toranagaaaaa!” There was no cheering at his conquest. All knew it would be unseemly in the ritual that enveloped them now.
Kazuko forced one foot forward, then another, and, stumbling, he ordered, “Follow me!” his voice crumbling.
No one saw where the