Shōgun

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 counterblows 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 arrows came from but they slaughtered him. And the mood of the Browns changed from fatalism to ferocity at this insult to Kazuko’s manhood. He was already dying fast, and would have fallen soon, alone, still doing his duty, still leading them out of the castle. Another officer of the Browns ran forward with twenty men to form a new vanguard and the rest swarmed around Mariko, Kiri, and Lady Sazuko.

“Forward!” the officer snarled.

He stepped off and the twenty silent samurai came after him. Like somnambulists, the porters picked up their burdens and stumbled around the bodies. Then ahead, a hundred paces, twenty more Grays with an officer moved silently from the hundreds that waited. The porters stopped. The vanguard quickened their pace.

“Halt!” The officers bowed curtly to each other and said their lineage.

“Please get out of the way.”

“Please show me your papers.”

This time the Browns hurtled forward at once with cries of “Toranagaaaaaa!” to be answered by “Yaemooooonn!” and the carnage began. And each time a Gray fell, another would walk out coolly until all the Browns were dead.

The last Gray wiped his blade clean and sheathed it and stood alone barring the path. Another officer came forward with twenty Browns from the company behind the litters.

“Wait,” Mariko ordered. Ashen, she stepped out of her palanquin and put her sunshade aside and picked up Yoshinaka’s sword, unsheathed it, and walked forward alone.

“You know who I am. Please get out of my way.”

“I am Kojima Harutomo, Sixth Legion, Captain. Please excuse me, you may not pass, Lady,” the Gray said with pride.

She darted forward but her blow was contained. The Gray backed and stayed on the defensive though he could have killed her without effort. He retreated slowly down the avenue, she following, but he made her work for every foot. Hesitantly the column started after her. Again she tried to bring the Gray to battle, cutting, thrusting, always attacking fiercely, but the samurai slid away, avoiding her blows, holding her off, not attacking, allowing her to exhaust herself. But he did this gravely, with dignity, giving her every courtesy, giving her the honor that was her due. She attacked again but he parried the onslaught that would have overcome a lesser swordsman, and backed another pace. The perspiration streamed from her. A Brown started forward to help but his officer quietly ordered him to stop, knowing that no one could interefere. Samurai on both sides waited for the signal, craving the release to kill.

In the crowd, a child was hiding his eyes in his mother’s skirts. Gently she pried him away and knelt. “Please watch, my son,” she murmured. “You are samurai.”