Cloud of Sparrows (48 page)

Genji bowed to the box and unwrapped it. As he did so, he noticed Heiko speaking softly to Emily, who immediately dropped her gaze to the ground in front of her. He felt gratitude for Heiko’s kindness, and shame at his own persisting inability to perceive her in other than the most distressing light.

There was another gasp when he opened the box. Several of the men began to sob. Soon all were weeping. The eleven samurai who had survived Sohaku’s charge and Kawakami’s ambush, some of them badly wounded, were all men Shigeru had trained. Harsh, exacting, relentless, and merciless, he had been the last of the old-style masters of the arts of war. No member of the clan had been more feared, hated, and revered. His loss tore at the warrior essence he had helped to forge deep within each man’s heart.

Emily, unable to contain her emotions, said to Heiko in a choked voice, “Must war be waged so cruelly? Is not death terrible enough?”

“Death is not terrible at all,” Heiko said. “Only dishonor is terrible. For Lord Kawakami to present Lord Shigeru’s head to his own clan is an insult of the worst kind. That is what these men mourn. Their failure to defend Lord Shigeru from such shame. It is their own dishonor they feel most keenly.”

Stark had pulled his saddlebags during the lull. He had two loaded six-shooters, forty bullets for the .44, and eighteen for the .32. When nightfall came, he would break for the walls of the monastery. With luck, he’d survive to reach it, and inside he’d find Ethan Cruz and kill him. He hoped the explosion hadn’t already done it.

“Hidé, tell Lady Heiko and Lady Emily that they must leave us now,” Genji said. “Lord Kawakami has guaranteed their safety. Mr. Stark is also free to go if he chooses.”

“Yes, lord.” Hidé went to tell Heiko.

Heiko had heard Genji’s words quite clearly, since their makeshift fortress was not large and she was no more than ten paces from him. She wondered why he didn’t speak directly to her. Since his return, he had not looked her way once. Had Kawakami said something to shake his trust in her? Surely, no matter what it was, Genji would not believe him. If there was any certainty in an uncertain world, he must know her love for him was true.

Before Hidé could speak, Heiko said, “I will not go.”

“My lady, there is no choice in the matter,” Hidé said. “Lord Genji has commanded it.”

Heiko swiftly drew her dagger and held the edge against her throat. One swift stroke would open her jugular vein. She said again, “I will not go.”

Emily, aghast, said, “Heiko,” but Heiko ignored her.

Stark, who was directly behind her, thought of seizing her arm. As soon as he thought it, her head shifted in a way that made him give up the idea. She was ready for it and he wouldn’t be in time.

Hidé looked at Genji. “My lord.”

Genji knew Kawakami would not kill Heiko if he could help it. She would be displayed along with her relatives as final proof of his greatest triumph. Her humiliation would be more grievous than Genji’s death. He could spare her that agony simply by insisting that she leave. He had no doubt she would slit her throat without a heartbeat’s hesitation. But he couldn’t do it. Whatever else he felt about her, he also loved her. He could not be the instrument of her death. There was still hope. His vision promised life. Perhaps in securing it, Heiko could be protected.

Genji finally looked at her. He bowed deeply to her. “I hope I prove worthy of such loyal attachment.”

Heiko lowered the dagger. She returned his bow and said, “The attachment does not depend on worth or loyalty, my lord.”

Despite himself, Genji laughed. “So unconditional? Then my debt to you is great indeed.”

“Yes,” Heiko said, in a very geisha-like way, “how will you ever repay it?”

Now the men laughed, too. Lord and lady behaved in an utterly unworried manner. How could they themselves act otherwise? Tears were wiped away.

Emily said, “Heiko, what were you doing?”

“Making a demonstration,” Heiko said. “Sometimes, words are not effective with samurai.”

Genji said, “Emily, Matthew, you are free to go. My adversary will not harm you.”

“Free to go where?” Stark said.

“No doubt, he will conduct you safely to the American consul’s residence in Edo. You will be able to board the next ship for America.”

“America’s not my destination,” Stark said. He gestured toward Mushindo Monastery with his .44. “That is.”

Emily said, “I believe I have already told you, Lord Genji, my mission is here in Japan.”

“We are surrounded by several hundred men,” Genji said, “who will try their best to kill us with guns and swords in a very few minutes. Do you really want to be here then?”

“I will be where God chooses,” Emily said.

Stark smiled and cocked the hammers of both revolvers.

Genji bowed and turned his attention to his men. “Lord Kawakami intends to retrieve my uncle’s head when he comes for mine. I do not plan to oblige him in either case.”

“We will take his instead,” Hidé said. “We will leave it to rot outside the walls of his own burning castle.”

“Yes!” many voices exclaimed together.

“Why wait? Let us take it now!”

“Stop,” Genji said, just in time to prevent half of his handful of men from making an immediate suicide charge into Kawakami’s guns. “Sometime past, I received a vision which clarifies the present. This is not the end.” He did not add that his vision did not necessarily indicate the survival of anyone other than himself. His statement had the desired effect. He could see confidence returning in the men’s eyes and posture. “Of course, anyone eager to commit suicide anyway has my permission to attack.”

Whether a coincidence of timing or brought on by Kawakami’s anger at hearing such good cheer among the doomed, the surrounding guns opened fire. Volley followed volley without pause. Musket balls tore into their animal-flesh walls in such profusion, the worst-hit parts began to disintegrate. Waves of bullets whistled through the air over them.

Were what he had seen truly visions? Genji began to doubt it. It seemed far more likely now that his head and his uncle’s would soon be hanging from the pommel of Kawakami’s saddle—or perhaps, since the Sticky Eye seemed to be rather excessively fastidious, from his adjutant’s. But he recalled a rule his grandfather had once told him.

The foreseen can be depended upon to occur in an unforeseen manner.

Hidé saw the smile on Genji’s face and felt his confidence soar even as the situation appeared to deteriorate at an accelerated pace. Most of the horses, ripped by musket balls, began to fall apart and liquefy. A foreleg bounced off Hidé’s shoulder and splashed into the bloody mud. Within the circle of shredded animal flesh, everyone was soaked in horse blood. A hell realm was materializing around them. Yet Genji smiled. Hidé tightened his grip on his sword. More than ever, he was certain of their victory. How it would occur, however, was still a great mystery.

“If possible,” Kawakami told his adjutant, “take Genji and Heiko alive. In any case, do not damage the lady’s face.”

“Yes, lord. But they may both be dead already, and their faces destroyed as well. We have fired many hundreds of bullets at them.”

“All we have done is kill the same horses over and over again,” Kawakami said. “They’re waiting for us to go and get them. Then they’ll fight. Put down the guns and go in with swords.”

“Yes, lord.”

“Wait. Have your ten best shots retain their guns. Assign them to shoot the outsider with the guns as soon as he shows himself.”

“Yes, lord.”

Kawakami watched from a safe distance, as always. His men stacked muskets and drew swords. Once they would have been eager to do it. No longer. Now they believed in the superiority of guns. So did Kawakami. Not because his six hundred guns had prevailed against the ten or twenty swords on Genji’s side. That proved nothing. But because guns had killed the invincible Shigeru with ease. A single farm boy with a musket could have done it. With two weeks of training, a peasant with a gun could defeat a samurai who had spent years honing his skill with a sword. There was no argument against it except historical inertia.

New tactics still remained to be developed. Or learned from the outsiders. It took no great insight to use guns in defense of a position or in ambush. Attack was still problematic, especially against an opponent similarly armed. The need to stop and reload seemed an insurmountable obstacle to a sustained offense. How did the outsiders do it? Kawakami was determined to learn. When he was finished with Genji, he would turn his full attention to gunnery and its strategies. Perhaps there was a master among the outsiders akin to Sun Tzu. If so, Kawakami would study his version of
The Art of War
. The Tokugawa grip on the Shogunate was weakening. It would be wrested from them soon, but not in the ancient manner, by samurai with swords. The new Shogun would take power with guns. He could be the one. Why not? If the old rules no longer applied to war, they would not long apply to hierarchical precedents. Lineage would matter far less than firepower.

Guns. He needed more guns. Better guns. Bigger ones. Cannons. Warships.

Wait. It wouldn’t do to get ahead of himself. First, Genji.

Kawakami moved forward, but with caution. Genji’s men, few as they were, also had muskets. How tragic if he were shot dead at the moment of his greatest triumph. He was careful to keep a protective screen of trees between himself and the enemy.

“Why have they stopped shooting?” Hidé asked.

“My head,” Genji said. “To take it, they must use swords.”

Taro cautiously peered past the protective carcass in front of him. “Here they come.”

Genji looked at his men. Every one of them held a sword. Discarded muskets lay in the bloody mud. It would be more efficient to meet the attack with a volley of gunfire before engaging with swords. But efficiency was not on their minds. They were samurai. At the decisive moment of life and death, only a sword would do.

Genji drew his own sword. Perhaps he was the last Okumichi, and as the last, he was the one with completely false visions. There was no assassination awaiting him in the future. There was no Lady Shizuka, no heir waiting to be born, no third vision. Everything had been delusion. He looked at Heiko and saw her looking at him. Their smiles were simultaneous. No, not everything had been delusion.

“Prepare yourselves,” Genji said to his men. “We will attack.” That was the way for samurai to die. In the attack. Like a boulder plummeting from an infinite height into the endless void. “Ready . . .”

A volley of musket fire from the walls of Mushindo Monastery drowned out the rest of his command. Half the front rank of Kawakami’s samurai went down. The advance immediately became a disorderly retreat, with panicked men running in every direction away from Mushindo. A second volley followed, and more of Kawakami’s men fell.

Genji saw the barrels of about forty muskets on the wall. Who were they? He didn’t have time to speculate. A new disturbance broke out in the rear of Kawakami’s position. The ground beneath him reverberated with the impact of horses’ hooves.

“Cavalry!” Hidé said. “Someone is attacking Kawakami!”

“Reinforcements!” Taro said.

“How?” Hidé said. “Our domain is three days away for a man on a swift horse.”

“Look out,” Taro said, “they’re coming back.”

Kawakami’s battalion, now desperately trying to escape the cavalry charge, ran back toward Mushindo. Devastating musket fire greeted them again. But as the musketeers reloaded, the deluge of frightened men resumed. Genji and his few samurai had to fight desperately to keep from being overrun. Blades flashed in every direction. The blood of dying men and dead horses mingled in the mud. Genji heard Stark’s guns fire twelve times, then no more.

There was no time to reload. Stark picked up a sword, held it with both hands, and swung it like an ax, gouging bodies, shattering skulls, and chopping off limbs.

Heiko and Hanako stood at the center with Emily between them, slashing and stabbing at whoever came close.

One of Kawakami’s men got behind Hidé, who was already engaged with several others, and cut at him.

“Hidé!” Shouting his name in warning, Hanako threw herself in the way. The falling blade severed her left arm above the elbow.

Horsemen burst from the woods. Makeshift sparrow-and-arrows pennants flew from their banner staffs. They hacked and trampled their way through the retreating mass toward Genji, shouting his name as a war cry.

“Genji!”

“Genji!”

“Genji!”

Heiko said in an astonished voice, “Do you see who it is, my lord?”

“Yes, I see,” Genji said. “But can I trust my eyes?”

“I ordered an end to the shooting,” Kawakami said angrily.

“Those were not our guns, my lord. The shots came from within the monastery.”

“Impossible. Anyone there would have been killed in the explosion.”

“Perhaps more of Lord Genji’s men have since arrived.” The adjutant looked fearfully over his shoulder. “From the start, it seemed unlikely he would travel with so light an escort. Could this have been a trap, my lord?”

“That is also impossible,” Kawakami said. “If it were so, Genji would never have met with me. He would not risk himself unless he had no choice.”