"I had him put to death, but he was already dying. He bit off his own tongue."

Hiroshi's eyes gleamed. I wanted to explain something of my pain at Hajime's death and Jiro's, my revulsion at the endless cycle of bloodshed and revenge, but I did not think this warrior's son would be capable of understanding it, even after the Kikuta sleep, and I wanted to ask something else of him.

"Do many people believe I am a sorcerer?"

"Some whisper about it," he admitted. "Mostly women, and idiots."

"I am afraid of disloyalty in the castle. That's why I want to leave you here. If you think there is any danger that Maruyama will side with Arai when I am gone, send word to me."

Hiroshi stared at me. "No one here would be disloyal to Lord Otori."

"I wish I could be as certain."

"I'll ride and find you myself," he promised.

"Just make sure you take a quiet horse," I told him.

I sent him back to his uncle's house and ordered food to be brought. Makoto returned with a report on the preparations; everything was ready for our early departure. However, after the meal he tried again to dissuade me.

"It's utter madness," he said. "I won't say another word after tonight, and I'll go with you, but to attack a n.o.bleman whose betrothed you stole..."

"We were legally married," I said. "He is the one who has committed an act of madness."

"Didn't I warn you at Terayama how such a marriage would be viewed by the world? It was your own rashness that has led to this, and it will lead to your downfall if you persist in it."

"Can you be sure you weren't motivated by jealousy then as you are now? You've always resented my love for Kaede."

"Only because it will destroy you both," he replied quietly. "Your pa.s.sion blinds you to everything. You were in the wrong. It would be better to submit to that and try to make your peace with Arai. Don't forget, he is probably holding the Miyoshi brothers as hostages. Attacking Lord Fujiwara will only enrage him further..."

"Don't give me such advice.'" I said in fury. "Submit to having my wife taken from me? The whole world would despise me. I would rather die!"

"We probably all will," he replied. "I am sorry I have to say these things to you, Takeo, but it is my duty to. However, I have told you many times that your cause is mine and I will follow you no matter what you choose to do."

I was too angry to continue talking to him. I told him I wanted to be alone and called to Manami. She came in, her eyes red with weeping, and took away the food trays and spread out the bed. I took a bath, thinking it might be the last for some time. I did not want to stop being angry, for when my rage abated, grief and something worse-apprehension- took its place. I wanted to stay in the intense, dark mood of my Kikuta side that made me fearless. One of Matsuda's teachings came into my mind: If one fights desperately, he will survive. If he tries to survive, he will die If one fights desperately, he will survive. If he tries to survive, he will die.

The time had come to fight desperately, for if I lost Kaede, I lost everything.

Manami was even more distressed in the morning, sobbing uncontrollably as she said good-bye and setting off the other maids too. But the mood among the men and in the streets was cheerful, with many townspeople flocking out to shout and wave at us as we rode past. I took only warriors, mamly the Otori and the others who had been with me since Terayama, leaving the farmers to finish bringing in the harvest and to protect their own houses and the town. Most of the Maruyama men stayed to defend the castle, but a few came with us to act as guides and scouts.

I had about five hundred warriors on horseback and perhaps another five hundred bowmen, some mounted and some on foot. The rest were foot soldiers armed with poles and spears. There was a train of packhorses, as well as porters, carrying provisions. I was proud of how quickly my army had been mustered and equipped.

We had not gone far and were about to ford the Asagawa, where we had inflicted such a huge defeat on Iida Nariaki, when I became aware that Jo-An and a handful of outcasts were following us. After the river we took the south road toward Shirakawa. I had never traveled on that road before, but I knew it would take us two days at least to reach Kaede's home, and Makoto had told me Fujiwaras residence lay a short distance farther to the south.

When we stopped for the midday meal, I went to speak to Jo-An, aware as I did so of the glances the men sent in my direction. I set my ears to catch any comments, determined I would punish anyone who muttered anything, but no one dared.

Jo-An prostrated himself at my feet and I told him to sit up. "Why have you come?"

He gave a smile that was more like a grimace, showing his broken teeth. "To bury the dead."

It was a chilling reply, and one I did not want to hear.

"The weather is changing," Jo-An went on, gazing at a ma.s.s of high cloud spreading like horses' tails across the sky from the west. "A typhoon is coming."

"Don't you have any good news for me?"

"G.o.d always has good news for you," he replied. "I am to remind you of that afterward."

"Afterward?"

"After the battle you lose."

"Maybe I won't lose it!" Indeed I could not imagine it, with my men so fresh and eager and my own rage burning so powerfully within me.

Jo-An said no more but his lips moved silently, and I knew he was praying.

Makoto also seemed to be praying as we rode on, or was in that state of meditation that monks achieve. He looked serene and with-drawn, as if he had already cut his ties with this world. I hardly spoke to him, as I was still angry with him, but we rode side by side as we had so often done before. Whatever his doubts about this campaign, I knew he would not leave me, and little by little, soothed by the rhythm of the horses' feet, my rage against him abated.

The sky gradually clouded over with a darker tinge on the horizon. It was unnaturally still. We made camp that night outside a small town; in the early hours of the morning it began to rain. By midday it was a downpour, slowing our progress and dampening our spirits. Still, I kept telling myself, there was no wind. We could cope with a little rain. Makoto was less optimistic, fearing we would be held up at the Shirakawa, which was p.r.o.ne to sudden flooding in this weather.

But we never got to the Shirakawa. As we neared the limits of the Maruyama domain I sent scouts ahead. They returned in the late afternoon to say they had spotted a medium-size force, perhaps twelve or fifteen hundred strong, setting up camp on the plain ahead. The banners were Seishuu, but they had also seen Lord Fujiwara's crest.

"He has come out to meet us," I said to Makoto. "He knew what my reaction would be."

"He almost certainly is not here in person," Makoto replied. "But he would be able to command any number of allies. As I feared, they have set a trap for you. Your reaction would not be hard to guess."

"We will attack them at dawn." I was relieved the army was so small. I was not at all intimidated by Fujiwara; what I feared was a confrontation with Arai and some of the thirty thousand men he had under arms. The last I'd heard of Arai was that he was at Inuyama, far away in the east of the Three Countries. But I'd had no news of his activities all summer; he could be back in k.u.mamoto for all I knew, less than a day's journey from Shirakawa.

I questioned the scouts closely about the terrain. One of them, Sakai, knew the area well, having grown up there. He considered it to be a fair battleground, or would be in better weather. It was a small plain, flanked to the South and East by mountain ranges but open on the other sides. There was a pa.s.s to the South, through which our enemies had presumably come, and a broad valley led away to the North, eventually to the coast road. The road we had traveled on from Maruyama joined this valley a couple of miles before the first rocky outcrops of the plain.

There was little water in these uplands, which was why they were uncultivated. Horses grazed on their wild gra.s.ses and were gathered together once a year in the autumn. In early spring the gra.s.s was burned off. Sakai told me that Lady Maruyama used to come hawking here when she was younger, and we saw several eagles hunting for food before the sun set.

The valley to our rear rea.s.sured me. If we should need it, it was a way of retreat. I did not plan to retreat and I did not want to have to fall back to the castle town. My aim was only to go forward, to crush whoever stood in my way, regain my wife, and wipe out the terrible insult of her abduction. However, I had been taught by Matsuda never to advance without knowing how I would retreat, and for all my rage I was not going to sacrifice my men unnecessarily.

No night ever seemed so long. The rain lessened a little, and by dawn it was no more than a drizzle, raising my spirits. We rose in the dark and began to march as soon as it was light, unfurling the Otori banners but not yet sounding the conches.

Just before the end of the valley I ordered a halt. Taking Sakai with me, I went on foot, under cover of the trees, to the edge of the plain. It stretched away to the Southeast in a series of small rounded hillocks covered in long gra.s.s and wildflowers, broken by outcrops of strangely shaped gray-white rocks, many of them splashed with yellow and orange lichen.

The rain had made the ground beneath our feet muddy and slippery, and mist hung in swaths above the plain. It was hard to see more than a couple of hundred paces; yet I could hear our enemy clearly: the neighing of horses, the shouts of men, the creaking and jingling of harnesses.

"How far did you go last night?" I whispered to Sakai.

"Just over the first ridge; not much farther than this. Their scouts were also about."

"They must know we're here. Why haven't they attacked already?" I would have expected them to ambush us at the head of the valley; the sounds I heard were those of an army in readiness but not on the move.

"Perhaps they don't want to give up the advantage of the slope," he suggested.

It was true that the slope was in their favor, but it was not particularly steep and gave no huge advantage. The mist bothered me more, as it was impossible to see exactly how many men we faced. I crouched in silence for a few moments, listening. Beyond the drip of the rain and the sighing of the trees I could hear both armies equally... or could I? From the enemy the noise seemed to grow in volume like the surge of the sea.

"You saw fifteen hundred at the most?"

"Closer to twelve hundred," Sakai replied. "I'd bet on it."

I shook my head. Maybe the weather, sleeplessness, apprehension, were causing me unnecessary alarm. Maybe my hearing was playing tricks on me. However, when we returned to the main force, I called Makoto and the captains and told them I feared we might be hopelessly outnumbered, in which case we would immediately retreat on the signal from the conch sh.e.l.l.

"Do we pull back to Maruyama?" Makoto asked.

This had been one of my plans, but I needed an alternative. It was what my enemies would expect me to do, and for all I knew they might have already attacked the castle town, in which case I would find myself truly trapped. I took Makoto aside and said, "If Arai has come out against us, too, we cannot stand and fight. Our only hope is to retreat to the coast and get the Terada to transport us to Oshima. If we start to retreat, I want you to ride ahead and find Ryoma. He must arrange it with Terada Fumio."

"They'll say I was the first to flee," he protested. "I would prefer to stay by your side."

"There is no one else I can send. You know Ryoma and you know the way. Anyway, we will probably all be in flight."

He looked at me curiously then. "Do you have a premonition about this encounter? Is this the battle we lose?"

"Just in case it is, I want to preserve my men," I replied. "I've lost so much, I can't afford to lose them too. After all, there are still two to win.'" He smiled; we clasped hands briefly. I rode back to the head of the troops and gave the signal to advance.

The mounted bowmen rode forward, followed by the foot soldiers, with warriors on horseback on either flank. As we came out from the valley, at my signal, the bowmen split into two groups and moved to either side. I ordered the foot soldiers to halt before they came into range of the opposing archers.

Their forces loomed out of the mist. I sent one of the Otori warriors forward. He bellowed in a huge voice, "Lord Otori Takeo is moving through this country! Allow him to pa.s.s or be prepared to die!"

One of their men shouted back, "We are commanded by Lord Fujiwara to punish the so-called Otori! We'll have his head and yours before noon!"

We must have seemed a pitiful force to them. Their foot soldiers, overconfident, began to stream down the slope with their spears held ready. At once our bowmen let fly and the enemy ran into a hail of arrows. Their bowmen retaliated but we were still beyond their range, and our hors.e.m.e.n swept up through the foot soldiers and against the archers before they could set arrow to cord again.

Then our foot soldiers surged forward and drove them back up the slope. I knew my men were well trained, but their ferocity surprised even me. They seemed unstoppable as they rushed forward. The enemy began to pull back, faster than I'd expected, and we raced after them, swords drawn, slashing and cutting at the retreating men.

Makoto was on my right side, the conch sh.e.l.l blower on my left as we crested the hill. The plain continued its undulating roll toward the distant range in the East. But instead of a small army in retreat, we were faced with a far more daunting sight. In the dip between the small hills was another army, a huge one, Arai's western army, its banners flying, its men prepared.

"Blow the conch!" I shouted to the man alongside me. I should have believed my own ears all along. He placed the sh.e.l.l to his lips and the mournful sound rang across the plain, echoing back from the hills.

"Go!" I yelled to Makoto, and he turned his horse with difficulty and urged it into a gallop. It fought the bit, not wanting to leave its fellows, and Shun whinnied to it. But in a few moments we had all turned and were racing after Makoto back to the valley.

I'd been proud of my men's attack, but I was even prouder of them at that moment in the misty autumn dawn when they obeyed the orders instantly and began to retreat.

The swiftness of our turnaround took our enemy by surprise. They had counted on us tearing down the slope after them, where they and Arai's men would cut us to pieces. In the first encounter we had inflicted greater casualties, and for a while their advance was hampered by the fallen dead and by the confusion surrounding both armies. About this time the rain began to fall more heavily again, turning the ground underfoot to slippery mud, which favored us, as we were nearly into the valley with its rockier floor.

I was in the rear, urging the men forward and from time to time turning to fight off our closest pursuers. Where the valley narrowed I left two hundred of my best warriors with orders to hold out as long as they could, buying time for the main force to get away.

We rode all that day, and by the time night fell we had outstripped our pursuers, but with casualties and the rear guard we had left behind, we were barely half the number we had been. I let the men rest for a couple of hours, but the weather was worsening, and as I'd feared, the wind was picking up. So we continued through the night and the next day, hardly eating, hardly resting, occasionally fighting off small bands of hors.e.m.e.n who caught up with us, pushing desperately on toward the coast.

That night we were in striking distance of Maruyama, and I sent Sakai on ahead to see what the situation was in the town. Because of the worsening weather he was of the opinion that we should retreat there, but I was still reluctant to commit myself to a long siege, and still uncertain as to whom the town would side with. We halted for a while, ate a little, and rested the horses. I was beyond exhaustion, and my memories of that time are cloudy. I knew I was facing total defeat-had already been defeated. Part of me regretted not dying in battle in my desperate attempt to rescue Kaede; part of me clung to the prophecy, believing it would still be fulfilled; and part of me simply wondered what I was doing, sitting like a ghost in the temple where we had taken shelter, my eyelids aching and my whole body craving sleep.

Gusts of wind howled round the pillars, and every now and then the roof shook and lifted as if about to fly away. No one spoke much; an air of resigned defiance hung over everyone: We had not quite crossed over to the land of the dead, but we were on our way there. The men slept, apart from the guards, but I did not. I would not sleep until I had brought them to safety. I knew we should be moving on soon-should march again most of the night-but I was reluctant to rouse them before they were rested.

I kept saying to myself, "Just a few more minutes, just until Sakai returns," and then finally I heard the sound of hooves through the wind and the downpour: not one horse, I thought, but two.

I went to the veranda to peer out into the dark and the rain and saw Sakai, and behind him Hiroshi sliding from the back of an old, bony horse.

Sakai called, "I met him on the road just outside the town. He was riding out to find you! In this weather!" They were cousins of some sort, and I could hear the note of pride in his voice.

"Hiroshi!" I said, and he ran to the veranda, undoing his sopping sandals and dropping to his knees.

"Lord Otori."

I pulled him inside out of the rain, gazing at him in astonishment.

"My uncle is dead, and the town has surrendered to Aral's men," he said in fury. "I can't believe it! Almost as soon as you'd left, the elders decided. My uncle took his own life rather than agree. Arai's men arrived early this morning, and the elders caved in at once."

Even though I'd half expected this news, the blow was still bitter, and made worse by the death of Sugita, who had supported Kaede so loyally. Yet I was relieved I had followed my instincts and still had my retreat route to the coast. But now we had to move at once. I called to the guards to rouse the men.

"Did you ride all this way to tell me?" I said to Hiroshi.

"Even if all Maruyama desert you, I will not," he said. "I promised you I'd come; I even chose the oldest horse in the stable!"

"You would have done better to stay at home. My future is looking dark now."

Sakai said in a low voice, "I am ashamed too. I thought they would stand by you."

"I can't blame them," I said. "Arai is vastly more powerful, and we have always known Maruyama cannot sustain a long siege. Better to surrender right away, spare the people, and save the harvest."

"They expect you to retreat to the town," Hiroshi said. "Most of Arai's men are waiting for you at the Asagawa."

"Then maybe there will be fewer in pursuit of us," I said. "They won't expect me to move toward the coast. If we ride day and night, we we can get there in a couple of days." I turned to Sakai. "There's no point in a child like Hiroshi disobeying his own clan and throwing his life away on a lost cause. Take him back to Maruyama. I release him and you from any obligation to me." can get there in a couple of days." I turned to Sakai. "There's no point in a child like Hiroshi disobeying his own clan and throwing his life away on a lost cause. Take him back to Maruyama. I release him and you from any obligation to me."

They both refused adamantly to leave me, and there was no time to argue. The men were awake and ready. It was still raining heavily, but the wind had dropped a little, renewing my hope that the worst of the storm was over. It was too dark to go at more than an ox's pace. The men in front carried torches that showed the road, but often the rain dimmed them to smoke. We followed blindly.

There are many tales of the Otori, many ballads and chronicles about their exploits, but none has captured the imagination more than this desperate and doomed flight across the country. We were all young, with the energy and madness of young men. We moved faster than anybody could have believed, but it was not fast enough. I rode always at the rear, urging my men forward, not letting anyone fall behind. The first day we fought off two attacks from our rear, gaining precious time for our main force to go forward. Then the pursuit seemed to die away. I imagine no one thought we would keep going, for it was clear by now that we were riding into the whirling heart of the storm. The storm was covering our flight, but I knew that if it grew any worse, all hope of escaping by boat was gone. On the second night Shun was so tired he could hardly lift one foot after the other. As he plodded along I dozed on his back, sometimes dreaming that the dead rode alongside me. I heard Amano call to Jiro and heard the boy reply, laughing cheerfully. Then it seemed to me that Shigeru rode next to me and I was on Raku. We were going to the castle in Hagi, as we had on the day of my adoption. I saw Shigeru's enemy, the one-armed man, Ando, in the crowd and heard the treacherous voices of the Otori lords. I turned my head to cry out to Shigeru to warn him and saw him as I had last seen him alive on the riverbank at Inuyama. His eyes were dark with pain, and blood ran from his mouth. "Do you have Jato?" he said, as he had said then. I snapped awake. I was so wet, I felt I had become a river spirit that breathed water instead of air. In front of me my army moved like ghosts. But I could hear the crash of the surf, and when dawn came it showed us the windswept coast.

All the offsh.o.r.e islands were obliterated by heavy sheets of rain, and with every moment the wind grew stronger. It was howling like a tormented demon when we came to the cliffs where Hajime had lain in wait for me. Two pines had been uprooted and lay across the road. We had to lift them out of the way before we could get the horses through. I went to the front then and led the way to the shrine of Katte Jinja. One of the buildings had lost its roof, and thatch was blowing around the garden. But Makoto's horse was tethered in what remained of the building, back turned to the wind, head bowed, alongside another stallion that I did not recognize. Makoto himself was inside the main hall with Ryoma.

I knew it was hopeless before they said anything. In fact, I was amazed that Makoto had made it here at all. That he had found Ryoma seemed like a miracle. I embraced them both, enormously grateful for their loyalty. I discovered later that Ryoma had been told by Fumio to come and wait for me with the message that they would meet me as soon as the weather cleared.

We had not failed through any lack of foresight, courage, or endurance. We had been defeated in the end by the weather, by the great forces of nature, by fate itself.

"Jo-An also is here," Makoto said. "He took one of the loose horses and followed me."

I had hardly thought of Jo-An during our flight to the coast, but I was not surprised to find him here. It was as if I had expected him to appear again in the almost supernatural way he turned up in my life. But at that moment I did not want to talk to him. I was too tired to think of anything beyond gathering the men inside the shrine buildings, protecting the horses as much as possible, and salvaging what remained of our soaked provisions. After that, there was nothing any of us could do but wait for the typhoon to blow itself out.

It took two days. I woke on the night of the second day and realized I'd been dragged out of sleep by silence. The wind had dropped, and though the eaves still dripped, it was no longer raining. All around me men slept like the dead. I got up and went outside. The stars were as bright as lamps and the air clean and cold. I went to look at the horses. The guards greeted me in low voices.

"Weathers cleared up," one said cheerfully, but I knew it was too late for us.

I walked on into the old graveyard. Jo-An appeared like a ghost in the ruined garden. He peered up into my face.