Tale of the Warrior Geisha (17 page)

—

In the morning,
before dawn, Yoshinaka had another surprise. He sent several squads, each with seven soldiers, to stay behind. He sent ten more squads to make a wide swath to the west. The rest of the squads proceeded forward, toward the pass and the Taira.

“What now?” Tomoe said.

“Now we ride into the pass,” Yoshinaka answered with a glint in his eye. “It's often been said that samurai are full of foolish pride. We are about to put that to the test.”

The
other
samurai are full of pride?
Tomoe laughed aloud. No one laughed with her.

The sky was cloudy. Yoshinaka looked up. “It smells like rain to me,” he said.

“I think you're right, Yoshinaka,” Kanehira said, holding his palm to the sky. “Things are in our favor.”

It did not smell like rain to Tomoe, but she said nothing. All she could smell were the burned-out campfires, the loamy smell of the horses, the musky scent of the troops. Her own particular sweet and sharp scent. She thought about Yamabuki, hoped her family was doing well. She touched the good-luck amulet near her heart. She should have given one to Yamabuki, she realized with a pang. Any little bit to help her.

They began ascending the pass, the Taira waiting for them. Tomoe wondered if the Taira general would look at Yoshinaka's troops and guess the truth of the numbers. But Yoshinaka had left the white flags up to continue the illusion. Tomoe tightened her grip on Cherry Blossom's reins, her mouth going dry, waiting to see what would happen. Yoshinaka cantered along on Demon, seemingly calm. She concluded that he did not want to battle. Not yet.

“Whatever happens,” Yoshinaka told everyone, “be prepared for battle when I give the signal. Understood?”

Tomoe did not answer as the men all shouted,
“Hai!”
Why would he not tell her his plan? She supposed she was a figurehead captain, not a real one who would make plans with him. With the realization, she let Cherry Blossom move to the side, allowing a few dozen men between her and Yoshinaka. He did not notice.

Kanehira was the one who rode ahead of the rest, declaring, “Taira warriors! I am Kanehira Imai, the best archer Yoshinaka's army has! Who there will challenge me? Who can bear the shame of losing to a Minamoto?”

Tomoe relaxed. An archery battle? Of course. This would take hours. The samurai really were foolishly proud. They loved to see who had the best swordsman, the best archer. The winner was a source of great pride to the rest of the army. The loser would be humiliated, taunted forevermore by the rest. When the men were old with missing teeth, they would take pleasure in telling a new generation which of them had lost a competition. Nobody wanted to lose.

“Who?” Kanehira demanded again. Tomoe frowned. Kanehira was not really the best archer, but he was certainly better than most Taira.

The best archer was she.

The Taira broke into an excited murmur. They probably forgot to notice how few men Yoshinaka had, or perhaps they imagined Yoshinaka had sent only his archers forward.

Tomoe recognized the Taira general, Koremori, sitting atop his brown stallion. He was a stout man.
Too stout for a famine,
Tomoe thought.
Too stout for a soldier.
He had the stoutness of nobility. Despite this, he appeared none the worse for wear, his red kimono still immaculate, his hands clean.

One Taira volunteered, riding forward on a black mare. “I accept your challenge, Kanehira!” he shouted. The men were to shoot at each other from the horses as they raced by each other. Tomoe tensed. This would be one way to cut down the other side's numbers, should they win decisively.

The two horses got in their starting positions, the Taira farther up the pass, the Minamoto farther down. Tomoe watched in trepidation. At its widest, the pass was only about as big as a dozen horses end to end. At one point, the pass had no walls of mountain but narrowed into a sort of bridge over a steep, very tall ravine. One misstep would send a rider to his death.

“Be careful, Kanehira,” she whispered. Nobody heard her.

She went off to the side as much as she could, going up a grassy embankment of brown grass, standing out of the way. She held Cherry Blossom firmly, her hands shaking.

Kanehira won his first easily, his arrow bouncing off the chest of the opposing samurai, who was knocked nearly off his horse by the force. More battles were drawn up. Tomoe sat down on the embankment and ate her ration of rice cake as Cherry Blossom plucked the sole remaining green leaves from a nearby bush. Would this never end?

Below her, the men had no such reservations or boredom. They cheered enthusiastically at each new match. Tomoe dozed. Perhaps she would have been better off staying home, playing with Aoi, helping Yamabuki and her mother. She was too old for this.

The process continued until the sun was directly overhead, the shadows dim due to the gray sky. The Minamoto were ahead. No one had fallen into the ravine yet. Two men from the Taira had been killed, and one Minamoto. Their bodies were placed off to the side, the Minamoto directly below Tomoe, who averted her gaze from the arrow protruding from the chest. One of the farmer-soldiers came over and pulled the arrow free.

It was all entirely pointless.

Tomoe stood and stretched her limbs. She checked her armor to make sure it was ready. She gave up listening for Yoshinaka's battle charge. Obviously it was going to happen sometime later. These men. Why wouldn't they just fight the war and quit all these stupid games?

She blew into her stiff hands to warm them. She briefly considered mounting Cherry Blossom, riding into the distance, never to be seen again. Going across the sea to find little Yoshitaka, sending for Yamabuki and Chizuru and Aoi. Yoshinaka wouldn't notice during these games. But she thought of the farmers who had joined their army, of helping the Minamoto overthrow the Taira rule. The Taira putting the child puppet-emperor into place, controlling the people in the worst way.

She remembered her father Kaneto's voice. “You must watch over Yoshinaka,” he had said. She had to stay.

Besides, she could not simply go to Kantō alone and begin a new life. They would be beggars or prostitutes without a male family member to protect them. She exhaled.

Another Taira man stepped forward. He wore armor covered with bits of metal that shone in the sun. Tomoe had never seen armor like it. She wished she could step forward and inspect it. “I challenge. But I want your best archer. Not Kanehira. His sister.” His bold eyes met Tomoe's.

Men on both sides tittered.

She stared back at him. Did he think she would lower her head as if she were not an
onnamusha
? The sounds of the cheering men faded. Her vision went black around the edges. She would not avert her gaze.

“You dishonor yourself!” Kanehira called. “No real samurai would duel with a woman.”

The other samurai curled back his lip, at last looking away for the excuse of directing his eyes toward Kanehira. “I merely want to see if she's as good as they say she is. A
yabusame
match, of course. Since she is a woman.”

Ha. For
yabusame
matches, you shot at targets as you rode by. Tomoe said nothing. Her face remained still, though she wanted to grin. She mounted Cherry Blossom and sent her in a gallop through the crowd, as lightly as a rabbit.

A strident, pleased roar went up from the Minamoto. The Taira grumbled but would not directly challenge this samurai's decision.

The samurai's round face went red. He mounted his own horse, a brown and white mare. “I only hope your mother remains alive so she can feel my pleasure when we take over your pitiful fortress.”

The Minamoto side gasped. Tomoe felt her brother's and Yoshinaka's fury. His words were hollow.

She took an arrow out of her quiver, examining its perfect straight line, and placed it near her bow. “I accept your challenge. I only pray that your mother is dead, so she won't hear of her son's shameful defeat by a woman.”

The Minamoto cheered. Yoshinaka spoke up. “I know the perfect place for this battle,” he said with a smile. “To test your courage,” the general added softly.

Quickly, the two factions set up targets on both sides of the narrowest part of the pass, over the ravine. If Cherry Blossom made one false step, or if the other horse ran into them, they would all tumble over. They would run their horses past each other, Tomoe shooting arrows to the right, the other man to the left. Whoever got to the finish line first, having struck the most bull's-eyes, would win.

Yoshinaka would not meet her gaze.

She would not ask them to move the venue. It would show her as weak. But she got some satisfaction from the way the color drained out of her opponent's face when he saw what they were doing. Because no one had brought along practice targets, the men volunteered or found various objects: logs, folded banners, knapsacks, all set in increments along the pass.

Cherry Blossom neighed and stomped her feet in reaction to Tomoe's energy. They were downhill, the other challenger uphill. The blood pounded in Tomoe's ears, and she touched her
omamori
again for luck. She glanced toward Yoshinaka and Kanehira, standing next to each other. Kanehira gave her a sharp nod and her nervousness dissipated.

“Go!” someone yelled.

She took off, pressing her heels and leaning forward for Cherry Blossom to understand she had to run full-out. Cherry Blossom's hooves barely grazed the ground. The targets whizzed by her eyes faster than she could blink. Banner. Log. Knapsack. Her hands moved of their own accord, so quick she was no more aware of them than she was of her breathing. They climbed uphill. The brown and white horse galloped past her downhill, close enough for her to feel its warmth, to be hit by its foaming spit. Past the edge she saw the long fall into nothingness that awaited her. Do not falter.

Up the pass hill, she slowed just past the finish line, in among the Taira soldiers. The other man was still moving downhill.

The crowd cheered. Kanehira shouted. “She got all of them!” She looked. Every one of her objects had an arrow sticking in it, dead center.

“I guess I am as good as you heard.” She took off her helmet, shaking her hair free of her perspiring scalp. The defeated samurai looked up at her in awe, shame rushing over his face. His soldiers jeered at him as he slunk into the midst, swallowed up.

The Minamoto horn sounded.

A roar went up far ahead of her. The ten squads had arrived at the Taira's rear, from the other side of the pass. Yoshinaka had sent them around and up the pass to surprise the Taira from behind. Now the Minamoto were cutting down the soldiers as easily as one would chop wood.

The Taira scrambled to battle-readiness, but they were so taken off guard, so involved in the archery tournament, that it was useless. One on a horse galloped at her, his sword whipping viciously through the air. Tomoe had just enough time to unsheathe her sword and block him with a clang that nearly knocked her off Cherry Blossom. She swung, aiming for the vulnerable part of his armor, where the helmet connected to the neck, up and under. She made contact and he fell off his horse.

More attacked. She fought them off, making her way to join the Minamoto forces. Most of these farmer-soldiers had only rudimentary armor; it sliced effortlessly. A head, freed of its body, thumped against her thigh, a long hot trail of blood soaking through her pants. She gritted her teeth, breathing through her nose. It smelled of sour sake and blood, of fear.

She closed her mind to the horror and concentrated on navigating Cherry Blossom past the ravine. A man came at her and she shoved him with her foot, sending him screaming over the edge, down onto the sharp rocks. Despite their advantage from the surprise, there were still far too many Taira for them to defeat. Yoshinaka and the men who had been in the archery tournament would be crushed in the middle.

Different yelling sounded from the front, down the pass. She glanced behind her. She saw the Minamoto banners waving above the Taira, from the three units that had been at the foot of the pass. Good. They had come.

But something else was happening below her. The ground shook. The battle paused, watching.

A herd of oxen charged in from the valley, flaming torches tied to their horns. The Taira, surprised on the narrowest part of the path, automatically leaped out of the way, to their deaths. A few tried stabbing at the oxen, but the oxen were maddened from the torches and stampeding blindly. One Taira caught on fire entirely, his hair and clothing bursting aflame, and, panicked, ran down the hill past Tomoe. Bits of charred skin whipped past her face. Cherry Blossom shied away. It smelled like rotting eggs, like sweet and foul, spoiled sewage. Tomoe would have retched if there was time.

Before she knew it, Tomoe was back in the valley, only a hundred or so Taira left, and suddenly Tomoe was fighting no one. She breathed heavily, her armor covered in red and black and brown muck. Cherry Blossom stumbled. She looked around at the bodies dotting the landscape like so many rocks. At last, across the field, she spotted Yoshinaka and the Minamoto banner and began toward him.

Yoshinaka shouted. He, too, was covered in muck, but had a manic energy Tomoe lacked. “Surrender and come to my side, or be killed.”

Tomoe watched. Her brother repeated Yoshinaka's words.

The Taira threw down their weapons and slowly, one by one, sank to their knees.

Then, a heavy silence.

They had won.

Tomoe waited to feel victorious. She felt only a heavy sadness, the feeling that she was in a long, hazy dream. Tomoe took off her helmet and got off Cherry Blossom. The sun went low behind the mountains. Softness touched her cheeks. Raindrops. She lifted her face to the sky. A low rumble greeted her. Rain!

“Rain!” Kanehira shouted, a wide grin stretching his face. “This is truly a sign from the gods we are the righteous victors.”

Tomoe looked at Yoshinaka. He had been right, and she had been wrong. He laughed, the sound deep as thunder itself.