Shōgun

It was very quiet in the avenue. Grays lined both sides and all the battlements. She could see the Anjin-san on their own battlements, Yabu beside him, and in the courtyard the waiting column with Kiri there, and the Lady Sazuko. All the Browns were in full ceremonials in the forecourt under Yoshinaka, except twenty who stood on the battlements with Blackthorne and two to each window overlooking the forecourt.

Unlike the Grays, none of the Browns had armor or carried bows. Swords were their only weapons.

Many women, samurai women, were also watching, some from the windows of other fortified houses that lined the avenue, and some from battlements. Others stood in the avenue among the Grays, a few gaily dressed children with them. All of the women carried sunshades though some wore samurai swords, as was their right if they wished.

Kiyama was near the gate with half a hundred of his own men, not Grays.

“Good day, Sire,” Mariko said to him, and bowed. He bowed back and she passed through the archway.

“Hello, Kiri-chan, Sazuko-chan. How pretty you both look! Is everything ready?”

“Yes,” they replied with false cheeriness.

“Good.” Mariko got into her open palanquin and sat, stiff-backed. “Yoshinaka-san! Please begin.”

At once the captain limped forward and shouted the orders. Twenty Browns formed up as a vanguard and moved off. Porters picked up Mariko’s curtainless palanquin and followed the Browns through the gate, Kiri’s and Lady Sazuko’s close behind, the young girl holding her infant in her arms.

When Mariko’s palanquin came into the sunlight outside their walls, a captain of Grays stepped forward between the vanguard and the palanquin, and stood directly in her way. The vanguard stopped abruptly. So did the porters.

“Please excuse me,” he said to Yoshinaka, “but may I see your papers?”

“So sorry, Captain, but we require none,” Yoshinaka replied in the great silence.

“So sorry, but the Lord General Ishido, Governor of the Castle, Captain of the Heir’s Bodyguard, with the approval of the Regents, has instituted orders throughout the castle which have to be complied with.”

Mariko said formally, “I am Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro and I have been ordered by my liege Lord, Lord Toranaga, to escort his ladies to meet him. Kindly let us pass.”

“I would be glad to, Lady,” the samurai said proudly, planting his feet, “but without papers our liege Lord says no one may leave Osaka Castle. Please excuse me.”

Mariko said, “Captain, what is your name please?”

“Sumiyori Danzenji, Lady, Captain of the Fourth Legion, and my line is as ancient as your own.”

“So sorry, Captain Sumiyori, but if you do not move out of the way I will order you killed.”

“You will not pass without papers!”

“Please kill him, Yoshinaka-san.”

Yoshinaka leaped forward without hesitation, his sword a whirling arc, and he struck at the off-balanced Gray. His blade bit deep into the man’s side and was jerked out instantly, and the second more vicious blow took off the man’s head, which rolled in the dust a little way before stopping.

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.