“Botahara be praised,” Shuyun whispered. “The flower of the Udumbara.”
Twenty-one
SHONTO ROLLED THE scroll with great care as though it were very old and rare. He sat near a screen partially opened to the cool day and, like the others present, Shonto still wore outdoor garb. Preparations for the move south were in motion and Shonto had walked the quay to see some of this firsthand. It was the lord’s way to have his presence known in times of difficulty.
Shonto seemed more grave than usual though one could hardly detect any effects of the burdens he bore or the work he had been doing. It was part of the lord’s persona—his apparent youthfulness was due less to his appearance than to his manner, his exuberance. But today the exuberance was muffled under a layer of seriousness.
“It is beyond question, Shuyun, you have no doubt?”
The monk nodded. “Though this man is a mystery to my Order, there is no doubt that he is a true follower of Botahara. I am convinced that what Hitara has written is true.”
Shonto looked to General Hojo Masakado.
The general did not hesitate. “If this information is not true, I am at a loss to know what purpose such lies would serve. It is my counsel, Sire, that we should act as though Brother Hitara’s information is beyond doubt.”
Shonto nodded, then turned to Kamu.
“I agree, Lord Shonto, though I would feel more at ease if we knew more of this Brother from the desert.” Kamu threw up his hand in resignation. Of all Shonto’s senior staff, Kamu was affected most by the preparations that they engaged in. His age was beginning to tell. Yet he went about his work with customary efficiency and though he seemed to be aging daily, there was never a complaint.
Shonto turned to Komawara next.
“I do not claim to have a truth sense, Sire, but I met Brother Hitara in the desert and I do not believe for a moment that he would lie to us. The guard’s description fit Brother Hitara perfectly and, like General Hojo, I can’t imagine that giving us such information, were it wrong, would benefit anyone. Even the barbarians would rather we stayed in Seh where they could easily defeat us. We have only a few days, Sire, I think we should act immediately.” Komawara bowed.
Shonto looked over at Nishima.
“Certainly we should act, Sire, but I don’t think we can leave Seh before the barbarians have crossed the border. I do not mean to tell you your duties as governor, but we cannot abandon the people of Seh entirely.”
Shonto considered this. “We can begin our move down the canal, though some may stay behind until the true situation is realized in Seh. A small group can still easily outdistance a large army.” Shonto bowed to Nishima, then turned to the Imperial Guardsman. “General Jaku?”
The presence of Jaku Katta at this council was a mystery to everyone but Shonto who had invited him. It was doubly a mystery, for Jaku had not been told of Brother Hitara in the original story of the journey into the desert. Perhaps it was not such a surprise to Jaku that he had not been told everything—he had lived in the Emperor’s palace after all. The Guard Commander bowed formally.
“Lord Shonto, I agree with Lady Nishima. We cannot begin to move our forces south until the barbarian threat is realized by the people of Seh. I am forced to admit that this is a matter of pride as well as prudence. If we leave now, we will be seen as either mad or cowardly. If we leave after the barbarian army has been seen for what it is, our actions will be viewed differently by the lords of this province. As I say, it is a matter of pride—I am a soldier, please excuse me.”
Other men in the room nodded. Pride was at issue here with all but Shuyun and perhaps Lady Nishima, though none had spoken of it.
Shonto nodded thoughtfully. “Lord Komawara, what do you think your countrymen will do when they see the scale of the barbarian army?”
The young lord considered for a moment; he had embarrassed himself in Shonto’s council in the past and was taking some care not to repeat this. “I fear that fewer men than we would hope will follow us south, Lord Shonto. The Taiki prepare as we speak but, as General Jaku has said, pride will dictate the actions of many. Some will stay to fight, though they will understand the futility.”
Shonto pulled his armrest closer. “Kamu-sum, the tract that you distributed—when can we expect to see some response to that?”
Kamu did a mental count of days. “Soon, I would expect, Sire. The lure of gold is great. Armed men from Itsa and Chiba provinces should be making their way toward us as we speak.”
“Send recruiting officers and staff down the canal,” Shonto said, “as soon as you can—tomorrow if it is possible. Have them begin work in a station south of Seh’s border. Then have them move in seven days. We will keep them ahead of us. Put a responsible man in charge of this, we do not want a stream of soldiers joining our flotilla and slowing us as we move. Camps must be created in strategic places for these men. It will mean thinning our ranks, but we’ll have to assign officers to the recruits—we need to have them ready and useful. General Hojo, it will mean promotions for many junior officers—see to it.”
Kamu and Hojo bowed.
Shonto stared out the open shoji for a moment.
“There is other news.” Shonto reached out and moved Hitara’s scroll as though its angle to the light was not quite correct. “I have received word from the Emperor,” Shonto said quietly. He looked up at the others. “The Son of Heaven writes that an army is being raised for the defense of Seh.”
Shonto seemed to enjoy the response of the people present or perhaps he made some secret assessment of those present by observing how they responded to the unexpected.
Lady Nishima stared openly and with some degree of contempt at Jaku Katta, thinking to herself that he had again proven himself incapable of telling the truth.
Kamu was not the first to recover, but he spoke first. “Si-Sire, did the Emperor not receive his empty tax box?”
“The Son of Heaven has asked that I look into this matter. The governor’s staff, the Son of Heaven suggested, have acted in a most foolish manner. Certainly Seh must retain some of her revenue for defense, but….” Shonto shrugged. “We are asked to prepare a document describing our exact needs. Our failure to remit our taxes has been overlooked. So, as requested, we will prepare a report for the Emperor explaining our military needs.”
“What will we tell him?” Hojo asked.
“The truth.” Shonto smiled. “Does that shock you, General?”
Everyone, including Hojo, laughed.
“General Jaku, perhaps you can explain the significance of the Emperor’s decision.”
Jaku bowed. “I had begun to lose hope myself, Sire. My friends at court could not prevail in the council to have an army raised to defend Seh. You can imagine why. This army the Emperor writes of is intended to defend the capital from the army that Lord Shonto raises—the tract offering to pay gold to armed men must have caused a great deal of discussion. The Son of Heaven fears other Houses joining with us.
“The Imperial force is not being prepared to fight the Khan, but it is an army nonetheless: who will control this army once the true threat is apparent, that is the issue.”
Shonto’s staff bowed toward Jaku.
“It is some sign of hope, General Jaku. At least the Empire will not be entirely unprepared. How large a force does the Emperor gather?”
Jaku opened his hands. “This is not yet clear. I hope to know soon.”
Shuyun bowed to his liege-lord. “Undoubtedly the Emperor’s force will be large enough to counter Lord Shonto’s army—that is the threat the Throne perceives. If it is to our advantage that the Emperor raise a large force, we could assist our cause by exaggerating the number of our own soldiers.”
Komawara almost grinned. “Brother Shuyun, you surprise me. Is this what one learns from the writings of Botahara?”
Shuyun responded as though no one present smiled. “I have recently tried to broaden my education, Lord Komawara. I have heard it said that the lie no
one doubts is spoken by an honorable man. We may tell a great lie and be believed.”
“We will begin to move our people south the day the barbarian army crosses the border,” Shonto said. “We are a laughing stock for gathering so many river craft…but that will change soon enough. Boats will transport what forces we have faster than the barbarians will ever ride. And rafts handled by men who have lived their lives on the desert will be slow—especially when they find the canal locks impassable. Plans must be complete to burn all other craft in Seh and also to keep the canal open ahead of us. Once the news of the barbarian army passes us on the way south, we will be dealing with thousands fleeing toward the inner provinces. We cannot have our progress impeded.”
Jaku Katta bowed quickly and not as low as he had previously. “I have left garrisons of Imperial Guard along the canal, Lord Shonto. We can use them to open the waterway before us.”
Shonto nodded. “Good.” He considered for a moment. “The Emperor sends his useless son north with what will no doubt be a small guard. The Prince will be a nuisance, I’m sure, but we will treat him with proper respect. Who knows what part he may yet play.”
“Certainly he will never make a hostage,” Hojo offered. “The Prince is not dear to his Imperial father. The Emperor may be hoping we will send him to his end fighting barbarians.” The general considered this. “And perhaps we should.”
Shonto nodded. “Too many will find such an end, Masakado-sum, and I will wish it on no one.”
Twenty-two
Beacon fires flare
From hill to tower
To hill
Like sparks escaping the brazier
In a tinder dry house
LORD KOMAWARA STOOD at the window in the top of West Tower, watching. At intervals around the horizon he could see beacon fires blazing with a distant urgency. By morning the news would have spread to the remotest corner of the province.
It was a cold evening with a harsh wind, but the lord did not seem to notice. He had been standing in the same place for more than an hour, and though he felt numb to the center of his soul it was not from the night.
They come, he thought, they come.
His mind seemed to have no focus, starting down one path to veer suddenly into another. Thoughts of his retainers making their way up into a stronghold in the mountains were lost to images of riders, relaying from the northern border, racing to Rhojo-ma with news of the barbarian army. Could it be as large as Brother Hitara wrote?
A fire blazed to life on an eastern hill, and then, far off, another.
* * *
Lord Toshaki sat upon his horse outside a small inn. In the background a narrow river flowed and the light from the almost full moon wavered on its surface—liquid moonlight rushing off into the night. Toshaki’s son, Yoshihira, sat nearby on the stump of a pine tree, his horse cropping some poor, winter grass beside him. Neither man spoke. Their guards sat upon horses or stood at intervals around the clearing without sign of either impatience or intent. Warm light from the inn reflected off lacquered armor here, a helmet there. A cold wind jostled among the pines, making them sway and creak.
The moon drifted west. The innkeeper came out with cups and a cauldron of steaming rice wine, but his suggestions that the lords would find the night less forbidding inside were politely rebuffed. The horsemen waiting in the dark felt that the wildness of the night gave their vigil a certain purity.
The sound of horses at the gallop. A guard stationed up the narrow road came into sight and whistled. Toshaki’s son vaulted into the saddle and joined his father.
Men burst out of the inn and disappeared toward the stable. These were men Toshaki had spoken with earlier—retainers of Lord Taiki Kiyorama, though they bore the flying horse emblem of the Governor of Seh on their surcoats. They reappeared almost immediately with three saddled horses and spent a moment checking girths and bridles in the light from the inn.
Three men on horseback broke out of the trees and pulled their mounts up before the inn, horses in a lather, driven to their limits. A crowd appeared on the porch, talking among themselves. The riders were off their exhausted mounts, taking a moment only for drink before setting off on fresh horses.
Lord Toshaki and his men rode up then, half surrounding the messengers.
“What news?” Lord Toshaki’s son called. “How large is this army?”
The three riders looked up to see who questioned them, and at a whisper from one of the Taiki handlers the men went back to their drinks, handing bowls to servants to be filled a second and third time.
Young Toshaki rode closer now, blocking their path. “The Lord of the Toshaki asks the size of the barbarian army,” he said with some anger.
One rider, a young captain, swung into the saddle, his horse stepping sideways, catching the excitement of the men. “Does your lord wish to measure the size of the force he has spent the winter raising against the size of the barbarian army?” he asked with little show of respect. “Go back to your gii board, young Sire, we do the governor’s bidding.”
Toshaki spoke now, riding up beside his son, the wind whipping his long hair out of its ring. “We will all fight together now, despite the past. We are men of Seh, tell us what it is we face.”
The captain rode forward, working to control his mount as it tossed its head, ready to run. His voice was pitched low and taut with anger. “You will bow at Lord Komawara’s feet and ask for forgiveness, lord,” he said to Toshaki’s son. “That is the size of the barbarian army.”
The messengers spurred their horses then and pushed through Toshaki’s guards. The riders disappeared into the darkness where the trees tossed like confused seas driven before a great storm.
* * *
The morning after beacon fires appeared, the first riders bearing the reports from the frontier officers arrived in Rhojo-ma. By first light a great human stream was flowing into the provincial capital from the nearby countryside and villages. It was inconceivable to these people that Rhojo-ma could fall, and so they came, bearing everything they could load into carts or carry on their backs or drag.
It was late winter and still cool, but the skies were a clear northern blue during the days and filled with stars at night. Those who had experience with the movement of troops prayed for the rains that would be common at this time of year. Rains would slow the invasion, could even bring it to a halt for some time. The horizon was studied with an intensity that was unprecedented, but there was no sign of cloud.
The reports from the frontier officers came to Governor Shonto and he shut himself up with his staff for most of a day. They waited for the major lords of Seh who would arrive late that evening. For the first time in two generations a Council of War had been called by the Governor of Seh.
* * *
The fisherman stood with his family on the muddy edge of the River Chousa and watched the flames change his life forever. Smoke and steam from wet planking plumed up in great clouds, racing toward the heavens, an offense to the purity of the sky. Tugging at the flaming hull, the river lapped the shore and passed on, bearing a slick of oily soot. The fisherman’s wife sobbed and shed bitter tears, holding their two small children close, but the fisherman stood looking on without a sound, a deep sadness in his eyes.
Downstream, toward the bend in the river, he could see another boat pulled up on the bank and put to the torch. The governor’s soldiers rowed on. The fisherman could see them searching the mouth of a tributary overhung with willows, a guard standing up in the boat parting the curtain of branches with his sword.
The fisherman’s burning boat heaved now, as though some part of it was alive and in agony. This drew his attention and for a second he looked as though he would join his wife in tears. But this passed and the sadness returned. The flaming pole of a mast toppled slowly to the bank, hissing where it touched the wet mud. More ribs buckled and the boat settled even farther onto its side.
Turning away, the fisherman went to the pile of goods tossed up
on the bank and half covered by a patched sail—everything he now owned in this world. He pulled aside the sail and dragged a net out from under a chest. There were wooden floats somewhere. War or no war, people would need to eat.
* * *
Shonto sat in his own apartments, writing by the light of two lamps. His brushwork was deliberate, though not slow. The silk and brocade robes of the Imperial Governor were a bother to him, especially now when his armor laced in Shonto blue had been readied. He dipped his brush in ink and wrote:
Shokan-sum:
I pray this reaches you. I will send men down the river and along the coast, hoping they will find a boat to carry them through the straits. With all of Seh running before barbarian armies, it will be a miracle if they find a way.
The barbarians have crossed the border and will arrive at Rhojo-ma within six days. I will retreat down the Grand Canal, hoping to slow the barbarian advance long enough that Akantsu can raise an army. Of course the Emperor will remove me from my command if he can. Look to yourself. I will control the army as long as I am able, but there is no way to know what will occur—the Yamaku will have time to consider their course of action with some care.
Look to yourself. If this war is lost, our lands will mean nothing. Do not waste time or men defending them.
Nishi-sum stays with me and is a great comfort and help. Often she speaks of her concern for you.
I have sent word to the capital and to Yankura. It would be best if Tanaka were with you, but if this is not possible do not be concerned—our merchant is ever resourceful.
May Botahara protect you.
Shonto signed this, folded it carefully, and sealed the letter with his stamp. It was very late, the middle of the night had passed. He rose and walked to the door. The Council of War awaited him.
* * *
The Great Hall of the Governor’s Palace held perhaps a hundred men in all and though they were men used to the uncertainties of life in the north most of them showed some signs of the deep shock they felt. Shonto had seen the look before in swordsmen—the split second when they realized they had made a mistake from which there was no recovery, and so waited for the inevitable touch of steel.
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