Thousand Shrine Warrior (19 page)

She wished she could hurry the procession or demand a horse, but her situation was too uncertain. Yet every moment Shinji and Otane remained bound to the cross, they came nearer to death. Could they be strong a little while? By using wit rather than brutality to save them, it would extend their misery by many hours. At least they shared the same cross and, bound back to back, could rely on each other's body warmth. But they had been dealt the added insult of inverted crucifixion, which was harder to endure. If one or the other grew faint or succumbed to drowsiness, neither might last until dawn.

Atop the huge wall of granite blocks sat the castle. There was a gap in the granite wall which, from a distant view, appeared as a black stripe blurred by falling snow. In that gap was a long flight of stairs and a horse-slope. There were two pairs of gates: one at the bottom, one at the top. Presently the nun and her six attendants were on the long stretch of ground leading to that entrance.

The road was no longer flanked by fields of snow, but by the half-iced moat. The soil and rocks from that enormous trough had gone to fill the area between the granite walls, so that the castle was really more like a fortress atop a large, artificial mesa.

Halfway along that portion of the road that bridged the fields with the castle, two of the samurai, then the others, pointed or looked skyward. An umbrella was falling at a sharp angle. Hanging from it was a girl in court costume. What an extraordinary sight it was! In a moment, the girl struck the thin, fresh ice of the moat and vanished beneath the top layer of snowy slush.

All that remained adrift was the open umbrella. It had made the girl's plunge weirdly slow. Now it marked the place of her almost certain death. The umbrella had carried her to shallows near the outer edge of the moat. If it had not broken her fall enough, then she would have died from impact against the stony bottom, not from extreme cold or drowning.

The six samurai had watched the spectacle with a sort of detached wonder, but the bikuni had darted back along the earthen causeway to see if the girl could be saved. When it registered that their ward had fled, the samurai pursued, although they dared not act as though they were guards against her rather than an honor-escort. When the first two stopped alongside her, she gave each an encouraging shove. They went simultaneously into the frigid moat and heard the sharp command, “Save that girl!”

The other four caught up by then. When the nun made as to shove them into the water also, two acted boldly and leapt on their own. The final pair held back, taking charge of the lanterns, against which snowflakes hissed. These two made some excuse about not getting in the way of the others, but the bikuni detected their fear that she might use the emergency to run off without their seeing where.

She climbed part way down the wall of the causeway to receive the unconscious girl. The girl's hand had to be pried loose of the umbrella. The four soaking samurai were shaking fiercely, their hands and faces instantly wrinkled by the shocking cold. The nun climbed onto the causeway, carrying the girl. The two dry samurai helped up the other four.

“Bring her umbrella!” the bikuni insisted, remembering how, even unconscious, the young woman had clung to it. “It may have saved her life. She will want to enshrine it, unless she dies despite your brave efforts.”

Her tone implied praise for the four reluctant rescuers, who could barely walk or breathe. The bikuni was inwardly amused that they should continue after her as though capable of a fight if it were required. Now it was she who led the party at a pace more in keeping with her own eagerness. By the time they reached the bottom of the long stairway, her hair was white with clinging flecks of powdery snow. The gates flung open at the approach. Additional samurai—chattering and flustered—joined the hurried procession upward to the castle. The girl in the bikuni's arms stirred slightly, murmuring, “Snow-flake. Snowflake,” while nuzzling breasts. The moon appeared at their shoulders, just as they reached the upper gate. It peered from heaven as though curious.

More guards appeared at the top of the long stair, where the gates were wide open. Everyone was solicitous rather than threatening, so the advance rider had obviously been assured that the ban on pilgrims was momentarily lifted. The four freezing samurai were wrapped in quilts and led away like invalids. “Reward those men!” the bikuni said hoarsely, as though she had such authority. Three padded kimono were brought for the girl. The numerous dithering vassals and servants averted their eyes as the bikuni swiftly changed the girl's wet garments.

She refused to hand over the maiden to anyone else's care. She demanded the castle physician be roused and some reason for the near-tragedy be sought. “I won't turn her over to you,” said the bikuni, “until I am satisfied nobody tried to kill her.”

By now the maiden was half-conscious and looked into the stern bikuni's face like a baby gazing at its mother. The bikuni was not in a good mood, but could not refrain from smiling at the confused young woman. “Echiko,” said the maiden. “Princess. Echi … ko.” Then she closed her eyes and slept. The bikuni called after a cluster of departing samurai, adding to their errands, “If this is Echiko's lady-in-waiting, she will want to know about this!”

Finding herself in a position to issue indignant mandates, the bikuni insisted she be led before Lord Sato at once, going so far as to refuse to leave her swords with anyone “in a hostile house.” This caused the castle men to stride the halls equally armed and leery.

She took the sleeping girl in the wake of those vassals who were leading the way. The physician arrived simultaneously, his hakama trousers hastily tied, and things were quickly arranged in one open partition of the meeting-rooms. Quilts were laid out for the maiden's repose; pots of charcoal were set near to keep her warm; water was heated for herbal remedies. The bikuni sat upon her knees nearby, refusing to let the patient be removed from her view. “I will stay in this adjoining room,” she said, and the door was left wide.

The adjacent room was the main part of the meeting-chamber, in which there was something of a panic in progress as a result of the emergency. Lord Sato was not there; but the bikuni was introduced to Chamberlain Norifune. The chamberlain had evidentally prepared the room for a midnight feast, and done so at moment's notice, thinking himself prepared for all events. Warm saké, mugwort rice cakes, bean jellies, dried persimmons, pickled fish and other foods were arranged on small, beautifully carved and lacquered trays. Pages and maids, gorgeously clad, were lined up near the food and drink, awaiting a signal to begin serving. But instead of an instant celebration, they were made witness to the aftermath of near-tragedy; and a stern-looking nun implied by her manner and few words that someone must have pushed the hapless girl off the walls of the castle. Also, the nun insisted Lord Sato appear at once. Such impudence! But it must be suffered if she served the Mikado.

Clearly it was not going to be much of a party after all; and Norifune's preparations were meaningless.

“Lord Sato intends to greet you,” promised a befuddled Norifune. “Like myself, he was awake in any case, so it is no trouble to have a late visitor. But he wanted to get dressed especially well to receive you, and is still getting ready. Tell me, how is His Augustness the young Emperor?”

“I wouldn't know,” the bikuni said curtly.

“Oh?” Norifune was taken aback. “Then you serve His Augustness-in-Retirement? It makes sense, as you have become a nun yourself. How is His Grace?”

“I wouldn't know that either.”

Norifune was trying to be pleasant even in the face of someone rude; but her disinterest in the Mikado's health suggested that she might have contrived this whole business in order to gain access to the castle in spite of Lord Sato's ban.

“Pardon me,” said Norifune, “but may I ask to see some credential or other? A letter with the Emperor's seal or signature perhaps?”

The bikuni had previously set her sword on the floor near her right side, which was not the side of readiness; and now she picked it up in her right hand as she stood, which was not a threatening motion since a sheathed sword was useless in the right hand unless the bearer was left-handed. All the same, several vassals' hands eased toward the hilts of their own sheathed swords.

“My credentials,” said the nun, drawing steel left-handed and offering it to Norifune, blade pointing upward and away from the chamberlain. He took the sword from her and, kneeling before a bright lamp, inspected the temper. His brows raised suddenly when he recognized the famous design, and he said with surprise and alarm,

“The Sword of Okio!”

“One of only two remaining in Naipon,” she affirmed. “The other has been retired to the same temple His Augustness Go-Temmu now makes His home.”

As Norifune handed the sword back to its owner, Lord Ikida Sato appeared with two bodyguards at his personal entrance to the greeting-chamber. All heads went down except that of the nun and the two bodyguards. Lord Sato crossed the narrow stage at the head of the room and knelt beside an arm-table, striking an exaggerated and theatrical pose of self-importance.

He was wearing garments more suited to an aristocrat than a warlord. He had powdered his face, darkened his teeth, reddened his lips, and made large round brow-smudges high on his forehead. His real eyebrows had been shaved. On his head sat an eboshi hat, tipped forward. He might be cousin to the Mikado dressed thus! It was quite audacious, though he might have learned such dress from his late wife of the royal line, or felt it was a good way to appear when His Augustness' agent was present.

It was customary not to speak until after a Lord gave permission, but even before all the heads in the room were raised, the bikuni had remarked,

“A crow plays the cormorant,” an adage which could be interpreted as, “A scruffy fellow thinks he's elegant.” Lord Sato's pose was spoiled by a pouty look and his cheeks puffed out; but Chamberlain Norifune went immediately to intervene.

“That poor girl in the adjoining room fell from the castle walls. The nun suspects some evil goings-on and is upset about it. She serves Go-Temmu and it is a great honor for us to greet her, don't you think so?”

The bikuni saw how easily Lord Sato was placated. He seemed a bit of a clown to her and she bit her tongue sharply to keep from saying anything unnecessary. Rather, she changed her seated posture so that one knee was up, one hand upon the floor, and her gaze fixed boldly on Lord Sato. She got right to her point.

“I am here with a peremptory request!” she exclaimed.

“Ho?” said Lord Sato. It had been long since anyone had been peremptory with him. He appeared to like it more than patronizing attitudes and conciliations. As long as it did not turn out to be too difficult, he was interested.

“There is one of Lady Echiko's ladies-in-waiting, who is the only daughter of vassal Todawa. I wish her placed in my service.”

“It is not a bold request,” replied Lord Sato, before Chamberlain Norifune could stop him. Norifune hurried atop the short stage and knelt before Sato to whisper something to him. The bikuni was at the same time saying,

“The problem is that she is presently bound to a cross in the punishment-enclosure near the village. I would be grateful for the loan of a horse so that I may hurry to pull her down, along with a farmboy by the name of Shinji.”

As Norifune withdrew from Lord Sato's side, the bikuni saw that the powdered face appeared twisted and perturbed. But Sato's annoyance passed in a moment. He leaned forward to match the hard gaze of the bikuni. He smiled pleasantly and asked,

“Do you play
shogi?
”

“I would respectfully decline.”

Lord Sato looked to his left-hand bodyguard and said, “Hey, go fix a nice room for this lady! Tomorrow she will go on a hunt with me!”

“Lord Ikida Sato!” the nun said sharply. “As you can see, I have taken vows as a nun. I cannot go on a hunt with you, for I no longer eat meat other than fish.”

“I see,” said Lord Sato with a pensive but lost look. “Well, then, hey, you!” He addressed his right-hand bodyguard. “Get us a
go
board quickly!”

The bodyguard did not move from his Lord's side, which suggested to the bikuni that Lord Sato's private guards were actually under someone else's orders; otherwise, even a stupid request would be seen to immediately. The nun, appalled but not quite frustrated, turned to where Chamberlain Norifune sat. His face was awash with sweat, despite the fact that the room was chilly. The nun said,

“Chamberlain, your Lord appears to be insane. If word of it gets out of Kanno province, it means the clan's downfall. Rest assured, I am not here to spy on you. My itinerary does not include any stops at Heian-kyo or Kamakura in the foreseeable future.”

She implied her silence could be purchased after all. Chamberlain Norifune began to fumble in his sleeve-pocket, where he had already prepared funds. The bikuni was about to point out that she had no interest in Lord Sato's gold, but at that moment the heads in the room again began to bow. The skeletal Lady Echiko came into the room, dragging her long sleeves and long train of her court kimono. She had been listening, along with a couple of her servants, from outside in the hall. The bikuni had heard someone there for quite some while.

Though Echiko looked as wild and mad as her father, she was entirely lucid when she said to the chamberlain, “Fool! Don't give her money! Give her Otane as she requested! Why have you punished one of my maids without telling me? I wanted her returned, not executed!”

Echiko's awkward gait brought her within reach of Chamberlain Norifune, whom she struck soundly in the face with her closed fan. He turned his cheek aside and bore it. “She ran off with some peasant, my lady!” he said, trying to justify himself. “How many sins could be overlooked? Even Priest Kuro felt …”