Shike, Robert J. Shea [ebook reader that looks like a book TXT] 📗
- Author: Robert J. Shea
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“Because of the Great Khan’s designs?”
Hideyori bowed his head in agreement. “Immediately after the death of Yukio, Arghun and his troops rode in haste out of Oshu. They are now somewhere’ in the mountains of Echizen province, only a few days’ ride from the capital. Prince Horigawa, your husband”- he made a wry face-“hurried on ahead to Heian Kyo by the Hokurikudo Road. Shortly after his arrival in the capital, the Imperial Court invited the Mongol ambassadors at Dazaifu to come to Heian Kyo and present their Great Khan’s letter to our Emperor. I had expressly ordered that they not be allowed to come to the capital. This would not have happened if GoShirakawa were still alive. There are no wise heads in Heian Kyo now.” The wily old Retired Emperor had left the world late last year, in the same month as Lord Hidehira of Oshu.
“What does the Great Khan’s letter say?” Taniko asked.
“I have not seen a copy yet.”
It was good to have something to think about besides her grief. “It must be a demand that we submit to the Great Khan.”
Hideyori eyed her narrowly. “And if it is, how do you think we should reply?”
“That may be the most difficult decision you will ever have to make in your life, my lord. As I have warned you before, those nations who have resisted the Mongols have been destroyed utterly.”
“Then you think we should yield?”
“There is no salvation in that course, either. I have seen what Mongol rule does to nations. If we give in to them without a struggle, they will end by plundering these islands from end to end and taking all our men to fight in their wars. They will impose their laws on us in everything from religion to the way we dress. We who called ourselves the children of the gods will cease to exist as a people.”
“But if we do decide to resist, how should we answer this letter from Kublai Khan? Should we be conciliatory and try to gain time?”
“I think not, my lord. That would only create conflict and confusion in our own ranks. If you intend to fight the Mongols, send for their ambassadors. Have them come to Kamakura and present their letter to you. Then have them publicly beheaded. There will be no turning back after that. To the Mongols, the killing of an ambassador is unforgivable. The whole country will have to unite behind you to fight the invaders, because the only alternative will be our total annihilation.”
Hideyori took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That is very drastic advice, Tanikosan.”
“My lord, we are threatened by the greatest power the world has ever known. The Great Khan has hundreds of thousands of troops and hundreds of huge oceangoing ships. The whole country must be united as one man, or we are surely doomed.”
“I shall offer up many prayers to Hachiman, asking his help in making this decision,” Hideyori murmured.
“Prince Horigawa is obviously in league with the Mongols, my lord,” Taniko went on. “He always has been. He will intrigue on their behalf with the Imperial Court. You must kill him.”
“And rid you of an ardently undesired husband?” said Hideyori with a small smile. “Well, I do not wish him to remain your husband, either.” His eyes darkened. “I have promised myself and you that you will be my wife. I need you at my side. I must make decisions that will determine the future of the Sunrise Land for all time. You can help me.”
“I only tell you what must be obvious to any person of sense, my lord.”
“This talk has been a great relief to me, Tanikosan.” Hideyori stood up. “I have dreaded seeing you ever since I learned that Yukio and Jebu were dead. I am happy to see that you bear your grief with wisdom and patience.”
After he was gone she shed more tears for Jebu. That was a wound she would carry with her to the grave, one that no one would know about. Yet, how puzzling that Hideyori had not only permitted her to grieve, but had even mourned for Yukio himself. How odd that his need for her seemed to override every other consideration.
She was hungry. She called a maid and asked for food. She was coming back to life. She still had Sametono. She had to see him through to manhood. Then, as she had decided, she would commit seppuku. There was one other thing, the Mongol threat. She would not leave this world of her own volition until she had done what little she could to help defend the Sunrise Land.
Sametono came to her later that day, and she tried to explain to him, in part, the cause of her sorrow.
“Do you mean that the big warrior monk who saved me from the Rokuhara was killed?” Sametono’s small face was stricken. Tears streamed down his round cheeks. “I have often dreamed of him. I want to grow up to be just like him.”
To comfort the child and herself, Taniko went to the cedar chest that held her most precious belongings. Sametono’s eyes widened as she brought out a sword wrapped in silk. She removed the covering and slowly drew the gleaming, ancient blade partway from its scabbard.
“This sword is called Kogarasu,” Taniko said. She told him its history. “Some day when you are grown you will be able to wear it. Eor now you may come to me and secretly visit Kogarasu from time to time. But you must never let Lord Hideyori know about this. If he ever sees you carrying Kogarasu, that will be your last day on earth.” She held the hilt out to him and he drew the two-edged sword all the way from its scabbard. Even though it was as long as he was tall, he held it up with the ease he had already acquired through kenjutsu
Two days later, Taniko was well enough to visit Eisen. Eor once she went without Sametono. This time she wanted to unburden herself of a private grief. She told the monk of Jebu’s death, and he listened, unsmiling.
When she was finished he asked, “What has this taught you?”
“Taught me? It has left me with a question, sensei. I have been studying with you for years. I expected my work in Zen to make me stronger to bear sorrow. When I heard the news of Jebu’s death I screamed and collapsed. I have made up my mind, once my last duties are fulfilled, to put an end to my miserable life. Why doesn’t Zen help me?”
Eisen smiled. “There was an abbott who saw deeper into realization than any person of his day. He was a living Buddha. One day this holy man was travelling on a pilgrimage and robbers set upon him. His screams as they stabbed him to death could be heard six provinces away.” Eisen looked piercingly at her. “Do you understand?”
“No, sensei.”
“When you understand, my child, you will see the face you had before you were born.”
Standing on the parapet of the outer wall of the mighty castle Hideyori had built for himself, Taniko watched the approach of the procession bringing the Mongol embassy from the Tokaido Road into Kamakura. A row of samurai stood on the wall a respectful distance behind her. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered how she and Jebu, when she was a young girl, had ridden out of Kamakura to the Tokaido. Beside her, just barely able to see over the stone ramparts, Sametono squeezed her hand excitedly.
“Are those Mongol soldiers, Mother?”
“No, Sametono-chan. Ambassadors do not travel with their own troops. Those are our samurai, sent to escort the emissaries.”
Messengers riding ahead of the diplomatic party had brought disturbing news from Heian Kyo. The Imperial Court Council of State had met with the Mongols. The councillors were deeply grieved by the barbarous, contemptuous, well-nigh sacrilegious letter from Kublai Khan, which had claimed divine right to the title Son of Heaven, but, as Kublai had doubtless foreseen, its threat of annihilation should they fail to submit had thrown them into a panic, and they had decided to yield to the Great Khan’s demands. A letter would be sent by the seven-year-old Emperor Kamayama acknowledging Kublai Khan’s authority over him. The Emperor would send the tribute required. And the Imperial Court would permit a Mongol army to enter the country and set up a garrison near Heian Kyo.
Undoubtedly, Taniko thought, Arghun and his veterans of five years of warfare in the Sacred Islands would form the nucleus of that occupying army. The courtiers neither knew, nor would they have cared, that the samurai and the common people who had got wind of the capitulation were furious. One reason Hideyori had sent five hundred horsemen and two thousand foot soldiers to escort the ambassadors and the Court officials accompanying them was to protect them from the outraged populace. Only Hideyori himself knew what he would do when he met the ambassadors. He had asked Taniko’s advice, but had not confided his plans to her. He might elect to do nothing at all. Officially, this visit by the ambassadors was just a courtesy call on the Supreme Commander of the Emperor’s armed forces. Instead of speaking for the Sunrise Land, as Taniko had hoped he could, Hideyori was expected merely to ratify the decision of Heian Kyo. The Imperial Court had chosen to give in to the Mongols without consulting him.
Erom the height on which Hideyori’s castle was built, Taniko could see the entire procession winding its way in from the Tokaido. The din of drums, gongs and flutes grew even louder. Now the first foot soldiers, running rhythmically, were crossing the bridge over the wide moat, passing through the heavily fortified main gate of the castle, which was only opened for ceremonial occasions like this. Rows of white Muratomo banners on the walls waved at similar banners strapped to the backs of officers in the escort. Many of the people lining the streets of Kamakura held smaller white flags. They cheered for the samurai as they passed, but watched in sullen silence the heavily curtained, gilded palanquins bobbing along in the midst of the parade.
When the palanquins had passed through the main gate, Taniko and Sametono went down the steps from the walls. Inside the wall there was a succession of lovely gardens meant to resemble those on the grounds of the Imperial Palace at Heian Kyo. These gardens, however, had a second purpose. They were cleverly arranged to form a maze in which any attacker would get lost and could easily be trapped. As Hideyori’s officers led the embassy through this circuitous route, Taniko, Sametono and the samurai escorting her hurried through a secret shortcut to the central hall. Taniko was anxious to see the Mongol ambassadors; she wondered if she would recognize any of them from her days at Kublai Khan’s court.
Through a narrow gate she entered the courtyard before the Shogun’s central hall. She did not expect that the first dignitary she would see descending from a palanquin, stepping on the back of a prostrate servant, would be Prince Sasaki no Horigawa. Surrounded by a ring of samurai in armour, they stared at each other across an expanse of white gravel. The little eyes in the wrinkled face sparkled with malice as Horigawa gave her a mocking bow.
“How many years has it been since I had the pleasure of meeting my esteemed wife? You have aged gracefully, lady.”
A few years ago, had she encountered Horigawa, she might have tried to kill him with the handiest weapon. Now the fire of that hatred only smouldered,
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