Lord Oda's Revenge

by Nick Lake

  ‘I should go to them,’ said Taro, his shoulders slumped. ‘I should let Lord Oda have me.’

  ‘No!’ said Hana. ‘Stop it! There must be some other way.’

  Hana turned to Shusaku, an imploring expression on her face, but the ninja seemed to be still deep in thought. Finally he raised his head to the abbot. ‘He didn’t mention the ball,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The ball. The messenger didn’t say anything about it. So Lord Oda doesn’t know whether Taro has it or not. By the time his pirates reached Lord Tokugawa’s ship, the fake ball was gone, and he can’t know anything about Taro’s journey to hell.’

  ‘I don’t see what difference it makes,’ said the abbot.

  ‘It explains their caution,’ said Shusaku. ‘They could have attacked straightaway, but instead they gave us a deadline. It means they’re on edge, and likely to make mistakes.’ He hung his head in thought a moment longer, and this time when he looked up he was facing Taro, though Taro could not, of course, see his face.

  ‘You say that thing can control the weather?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Taro.

  ‘In that case,’ said Shusaku, ‘I think I finally understand what Lord Tokugawa has been planning.’

  CHAPTER 65

  THEY HAD UNTIL dawn.

  Smoke rose into the sky behind them, and it was as if the samurai had burned the mountain again. But it was only the funeral pyres of the dead, disintegrating into their constituent atoms and blowing away in the wind. Hiro had once again supported Taro as the abbot lit the kindling, his hand under his arm, but Taro had not needed it so much this time. He knew better than anyone that his mother had gone on to a better place, and what was burned by the flames was nothing but a husk.

  He was glad, actually, that it was all over. And with Hana by his side, he knew that death was not the end. He had brought her back from the edge, and he had spoken to his mother after she was taken from him. He felt lucky, as the flames grew in heat and fury. Now he had only one more thing to do – rid the world of Lord Oda and Yukiko, before they did any more damage in their insatiable quest for the ball and its power.

  Of course, Taro was meant to remain with the bodies of his mother and the monks as they burned – that would be the respectful thing to do. And it was precisely on this point of etiquette that they were relying. Lord Oda, seeing the smoke from the cremation, would with any luck assume that everyone on the mountain was occupied with the rituals and the chanting.

  So he wouldn’t be watching the steep gorge on the east flank of the mountain, down which Taro, Shusaku, Hiro, and Hana were creeping, keeping their bodies in shadow. Little Kawabata had stayed behind with the monks, to help them fight if the plan failed.

  In conception, the plan was very, very simple. Shusaku had explained that, some time before, he had on Lord Tokugawa’s order smuggled a special new gun to the Ikko-ikki monks of the Hongan-ji – the mountain that lay only a couple of ri away, on the other side of Lord Oda’s army. These guns, he said, came from the land of the barbarians, far away to the west over the sea, and they were designed to work with a spark, not fire, which meant they would work in the rain. Lord Tokugawa had wanted the Ikko-ikki to copy the design.

  ‘I didn’t understand the significance, at the time,’ Shusaku had said. ‘I wondered to myself why it was so important to Lord Tokugawa to have these guns – for the Ikko-ikki had pledged to his side in the battle for the shogunate. I thought it was strange, to go to such lengths to have them copied – what’s the use of a gun that can work in the rain, unless you can control the weather? I remember asking myself that question when I was coming down from the Ikko-ikki’s stronghold.’

  Taro had looked at the Buddha ball. ‘You think. . .’

  ‘I think Lord Tokugawa must have known that the Buddha ball could make it rain. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The Ikko-ikki, armed with guns that work in any weather. . . and a ball that can make the weather do what he wants? That is a plan of the kind Lord Tokugawa likes.’

  ‘But. . . so many things could have gone wrong. And how could he have known about the ball? He would have had to plan everything. . .’

  ‘Lord Tokugawa plans in years,’ said Shusaku. ‘Everyone else plans in months. I say we go to the Ikko-ikki and convince them to attack Lord Oda’s army. If you can make it rain with that ball, Oda’s guns will be useless. Providing we take them by surprise, it could be a rout.’

  Taro had looked at the ball in his hands. ‘It’s worth a try,’ he’d said. ‘It’s the only plan we have.’

  The simple idea, then, was this: they would go to the Ikkoikki, who had their own forges, and who had been tasked by Lord Tokugawa with copying the new barbarian gun. Then they would recruit the monks to their cause, Taro would make it rain, and all together they would attack Lord Oda’s army from behind, using the advantage not only of surprise, but also of weapons that actually worked in the wet.

  There were just a couple of minor problems in the execution.

  First problem: to get to the Ikko-ikki’s fortress, they had to get past Lord Oda’s army.

  Second problem: they also had to get past Lord Tokugawa’s army.

  Shusaku had explained that the surface alliance between the two daimyo was still in effect, and nowhere was it more apparent than in the fact that they had joined together to destroy the Ikko-ikki. And even though Lord Tokugawa was secretly supplying the monks with these improved guns for them to copy in their forges, the generals of his army didn’t know that.

  If it came to battle with the monks, Lord Tokugawa’s army would almost certainly join the fray alongside Lord Oda’s. Lord Tokugawa’s force occupied the left-hand side of the valley below them, camped on one side of the stream that served as the border between the two armies. Hundreds of tents filled the valley floor, all flying the Tokugawa mon. On the other side of the river the scene was reflected – only there the tents flew the Oda mon. Samurai milled around in both camps, while smiths honed blades, and cooks prepared food at great fires. Smoke and the hubbub of voices filled the air. Taro counted at least five hundred horses still on the Oda side, despite the losses on Mount Hiei, and countless guns leaning on racks.

  And that was just Oda’s army. Lord Tokugawa’s was just as big, and just as likely to crush them like ants beneath a rolling buffalo’s back if they were caught.

  The friends’ only hope was that the pigeon Shusaku had sent would reach Lord Tokugawa in time. Attached to the pigeon was a brief message. It didn’t explain the plan, because that would give too much away, about Taro and the ball, but it did ask one thing: if Lord Oda attacked, then Lord Tokugawa’s army was to leave the field of battle, instead of joining the assault.

  And that was without even mentioning the other problems – like whether or not they would even be able to convince the Ikko-ikki to fight by their side. Though Taro did think that the possibility of ridding themselves of Lord Oda forever would swing the decision.

  Nevertheless, the plan was clearly madness, and no one knew it better than Hiro. As they skirted a boulder, giving them a wide vista over the plain in which both armies were laid out before them, in gleaming, serried ranks, Taro’s oldest friend stopped and whistled. ‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to get past them, climb the cliffs that lead to the Hongan-ji temple, convince the Ikko-ikki to join us, create a thunderstorm, and then win a battle against Lord Oda’s undefeated army. Does that about cover it? Oh, and we’ve also got to hope that the pigeon message we just sent is going to reach Lord Tokugawa and persuade him to remove his army from the field of battle.’

  Shusaku shrugged. ‘That’s about it, yes. As for Lord Tokugawa – I’m hopeful. He knows I would not ask such a thing lightly. And he has reason to trust the abbot, too.’

  Taro sensed that there was something they were not being told, but he held his tongue, knowing from experience that Shusaku would answer no questions he didn’t want to.

  ‘What abou
t the other parts?’ Hiro said. ‘Sneaking past Oda’s army, climbing the unclimbable mountain?’

  ‘I’ve climbed it once,’ said Shusaku. ‘And I’m blind. It’s not so unclimbable as all that. Anyway, do you have any better ideas?’

  Hiro fell silent.

  Hiro was trying to lighten their moods, Taro knew, but he was also scared. Taro didn’t blame him. He, too, could see the sea of men that was Lord Oda’s army, the rows and rows of horses, and the moonshine on the barrels of thousands of guns – and that wasn’t counting Lord Tokugawa’s army, just as big, on the other side of the river.

  ‘What if the Ikko-ikki just kill us?’ he said to Shusaku.

  ‘They won’t. They know me already. They may not have met you, but once they learn what that ball can do, they’ll welcome you with open arms. They want nothing more than to be rid of the army besieging them.’

  ‘Then what if they just kill me and take the ball?’

  Shusaku paused. ‘I’ll tell them you’re under Lord Tokugawa’s protection. They won’t dare to touch you then.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Shusaku hesitated again. ‘No.’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  Shusaku stopped, as a cloud passed away from the moon, revealing even more clearly the layout of the camp below, showing the group of friends the little avenues that led between the tents. It was late at night, and if fortune was on their side, all but the watchmen would be asleep.

  Of course, it was the watchmen they were worried about.

  The scale of it was breathtaking – a veritable sea of tents and men and horses, filling the entire flat valley between the two mountains.

  ‘It’s impossible,’ said Taro.

  Shusaku protested weakly. ‘No, it’s just. . . difficult.’ But Taro could tell by the tone of his voice that he was afraid.

  Just then, though, there was a scraping noise behind them, as of someone clambering along the rocks, and a samurai appeared on the path.

  ‘Hayao!’ said Taro. The man looked so much healthier now. He was hale and rosy, even slightly overweight, but still immediately recognizable. He wore the armour of a samurai, his epaulettes bearing the Oda mon. All that was missing was the helmet.

  ‘I said I would repay what you did for me if I could,’ said the man. ‘And now I think I can. The abbot told me what you’re planning – to get past Lord Oda’s army and climb up the Hongan-ji.’

  Taro nodded.

  ‘The problem is, it’s nigh-on impossible,’ said Hayao.

  Shusaku visibly slumped, as if the strings holding him up had been cut. Hayao grinned. ‘It’s nigh-on impossible,’ he said. ‘But not completely. You see, I was stationed down there, before I had my. . . troubles.’ He pointed to the west side of the encampment, and Taro saw a line of trees. ‘Those trees run alongside a river. In places they are thick, and the undergrowth is heavy with thorns. Also, it’s said that Shinto spirits live in the river and on its banks. The watchmen don’t venture too far into the thicket.’ He looked at the friends. ‘But I don’t suppose thorns and spirits hold much fear for you, eh?’

  Taro stepped forward and clapped Hayao on the back. ‘Thank you!’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Shusaku. ‘This gives us a chance. A small chance – but a chance nonetheless.’

  Hiro glared at him. ‘You mean we didn’t have one before?’

  ‘Not really, no,’ said Shusaku. ‘But better to die hopefully than to die in despair, don’t you think?’

  Hiro raised his eyebrows, but offered no other answer.

  Hayao edged past Taro to take the head of the procession. ‘You’re coming?’ said Taro.

  ‘Of course,’ said the samurai, turning his head. ‘I owe you my life, don’t I? I’ll see you as far as the other mountain.’

  Taro flushed. ‘I’m sorry for what I thought. . . I mean, about you and Hana. . . I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have been so childish.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Hayao.

  Taro smiled.

  Shusaku spread his hand in the general direction of the valley, indicating the army. ‘If this works,’ he said, ‘Lord Oda will be neutralized. Lord Tokugawa would be free to take up the shogunate.’

  Taro shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You wouldn’t rather be shogun yourself?’ asked Shusaku. ‘With the ball, you could—’

  ‘No,’ said Taro. He’d seen enough of the way the daimyo operated to know that he was not interested in that kind of power.

  ‘But the prophetess said it would be you,’ said Shusaku. ‘And the things she says have a way of coming about.’

  ‘I’m not interested in being shogun,’ said Taro. ‘I just want to be left alone.’

  Shusaku laughed. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is why you would be so good at it.’

  CHAPTER 66

  THE WATCHMAN FROZE.

  Taro cursed silently. He and Shusaku could move without noise, almost without disturbing the leaves of the trees, or the air that stirred them. But the others were not vampires – they broke twigs, and they twisted their ankles in holes, and gasped, and bumped into trees.

  Just now, even worse, Hana had cried out when a thorn tore her cheek.

  They were close enough to the river that they could hear it, babbling its incomprehensible song. The watchman before them was deep into the undergrowth, farther than he should be, his bearing that of a young man anxious to please his superiors. He began to pick his way towards them, suspicion darkening his features, looking from left to right, trying to identify the source of the sound.

  Taro looked behind him, but they had inched through thick vegetation, and they would not be able to retreat quickly enough. To their left, the river formed a fast, cold, treacherous barrier.

  To their right lay the vast army of their greatest enemy.

  Taro saw the others crouching low, as the watchman came inevitably, unstoppably towards them. He held his breath.

  That was when Hayao pushed loudly forward through the brush, putting a hand over his mouth as he yawned deep and long. He hailed the watchman heartily. ‘Gods, I hate this camp,’ he said. ‘Get the call of nature and you have to force your way through thorns to relieve yourself!’

  The watchman laughed. ‘True,’ he said. ‘Still, could be worse. You almost got a bullet in the gut for your trouble!’

  ‘Now that,’ said Hayao, ‘would not pass so easily.’

  The watchman frowned – he was close enough that Taro could see the wrinkles on his forehead, through the leaves. Then, after a moment, he guffawed. ‘Ha!’ he said. ‘That was a good one.’

  Taro still hadn’t breathed out. He couldn’t believe that Hayao had done this – put himself in danger to save them. Nevertheless, the samurai did still wear Lord Oda’s mon. The army might just assume he belonged there – as he had, until his lover’s ghost began to kill him. He would have to hope that no one recognized him from the battle of Mount Hiei.

  There had been no time to say goodbye – it had all happened so quickly. Taro sent a farewell with his mind, and at that moment Hayao turned and winked at him, and he was sure his message had got through. He smiled, as he listened to the two samurai chuckling and sharing anecdotes about camp life, their voices getting quieter as Hayao led the watchman skilfully away from the friends.

  ‘Some day,’ said Shusaku, under his breath, ‘you’ll have to explain exactly what you did for that man. It must have been pretty special.’

  CHAPTER 67

  WHEN YUKIKO COULD no longer ignore the fullness of her bladder, she rolled off her sleeping mat and picked up her sword. She never went anywhere without her sword. There would always come times when you needed a sword, and if you didn’t have one at one of those times – well, you only got to make that mistake once.

  She went outside, then threaded her way through the tents to get to the river, and the clump of trees that stood beside it.

  As she entered the copse, she heard a rustle of leaves – and as the air wa
s completely still, she ducked behind a bush, holding her breath. Deeper into the trees, a wood pigeon flew from its branch in a sudden clatter of wings.

  Someone is here, she thought.

  Very slowly, no longer conscious of her bladder but only the steady pounding of her heart, she leaned forward and craned her neck to peer through the leaves.

  She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  Creeping through the undergrowth, their footsteps almost silent, were Taro, Shusaku, Hiro, and Hana. She was stunned that they had made it this far, without alerting one of the watchmen – they had already crossed half the encampment! Where were they going? she wondered.

  But then she remembered Lord Oda’s insistence on sleeping in humble quarters, far from the grand tent that bore his flag. The daimyo feared assassination more than anything, and it seemed he was right to do so. Wouldn’t it be simplest for Taro if Lord Oda was dead? She had to admire his courage, really. Rather than waiting on the mountaintop for the battle to begin, he had decided to come down into the very embrace of the army, a nest of serpents, and kill the big snake in its middle.

  As they passed, Yukiko eased herself up and followed at a safe distance. What she needed to do was warn Lord Oda, but how could she manage it? If she lost sight of her prey, they might get away from her – she had been lucky to stumble upon them, and might not have the same luck again. They made no noise now at all, after their mistake with those loose leaves.

  It seemed impossible. It was all she could do to keep them in her sights, while following far enough behind that they couldn’t hear her. How could she warn her lord?

  Then, suddenly, she came face-to-face with a watchman in light armour. He was relieving himself into the bushes – for a moment she was uncomfortably reminded of her original purpose in coming out here, and felt a twinge in her belly – and he opened his mouth in surprise when he saw her.