Brilliance of the Moon (6 page)

I’d thought he was alone, but then a sound came from the hovel
and I turned to see a much smaller man scuttling from the door. He shouted
something incoherent, bounded across the dike behind the hut, and disappeared
into the forest.

I shifted the barrier myself, gazing on the skulls and wondering
whose they were. Two of the older ones fell while I was moving the wood, and
insects crawled out from their eye sockets. I placed them in the grass and went
back to my horse, chilled and nauseated. Aoi’s leg was bruised and bleeding
from where the chain had caught it, although it did not appear to be broken. He
could walk, but he was very lame. I led him back to the river.

The encounter seemed like a bad dream, yet the more I pondered
it, the better I felt. Jin-emon should have killed me—my severed head should
now be on the barrier along with the others—but my Tribe powers had delivered
me from him. It seemed to confirm the prophecy completely. If such an ogre
could not kill me, who could? By the time I got back to the river, new energy
was flowing through me. However, what I saw there transformed it into rage.

The bridge was in place, but only the outcasts were on the nearer
side. The rest of my army were still on the other bank. The outcasts were
huddled in that sullen way of theirs that I was beginning to understand as
their reaction to the irrationality of the world’s contempt for them. Jo-An was
sitting on his haunches, gazing gloomily at the swirling water. He stood when
he saw me.

“They won’t cross, lord. You’ll have to go and order them.”

“I will,” I said,
my anger mounting. “Take the horse, wash the wound, and walk him round so he
doesn’t chill.” Jo-An took the reins. “What happened?”

“I had an
encounter with a demon,” I replied shortly, and stepped
onto
the bridge.

The men waiting on the opposite side gave a shout when they saw
me, but not one of them ventured onto the other end of the bridge.

It was not easy to walk on—a swaying mass, partly submerged at
times, pulled and rocked by the river. I half-ran, thinking as I did so of the
nightingale floor that I had run across so lightly in Hagi. I prayed to
Shigeru’s spirit to be with me.

On the other side, Makoto dismounted and grasped my arm. “Where
were you? We feared you were dead.”

“I might well have been,” I said in fury. “Where were you?”
Before he could answer, Kahei rode up to us.

“What’s the delay for?” I demanded. “Get the men moving.”

Kahei hesitated. “They fear pollution from the outcasts.”

“Get down,” I said, and as he slid from his horse’s back I let
them both feel the full force of my rage. “Because of your stupidity I nearly
died. If I give an order, it must be obeyed at once, no matter what you think
of it. If that doesn’t suit you, then ride back now, to Hagi, to the temple, to
wherever, but out of my sight.” I spoke in a low voice, not wanting the whole
army to hear me, but I saw how my words shamed them. “Now send those with
horses who want to swim into the water first. Move the packhorses onto the
bridge while the rear is guarded, then the foot soldiers, no more than thirty
at a time.”

“Lord Otori,” Kahei said. He leaped back in the saddle and
galloped off down the line.

“Forgive me, Takeo,” Makoto said quietly.

“Next time I’ll kill you,” I said. “Give me your horse.”

I rode along the lines of waiting soldiers, repeating the
command. “Don’t be afraid of pollution,” I told them. “I have already crossed
the bridge. If there is any pollution, let it fall on me.” I had moved into a
state that was almost exalted. I did not think anything in heaven or on earth
could harm me.

With a mighty shout, the first warrior rode into the water, and
others streamed after him. The first horses were led onto the bridge, and to my
relief it held them safely. Once the crossing was under way, I rode back along
the line, issuing commands and reassuring the foot soldiers, until I came to
where Kaede was waiting with Manami and the other women who accompanied us.
Manami had brought rain umbrellas and they stood huddled beneath them. Amano
held the horses alongside them. Kaede’s face lit up when she saw me. Her hair
was glistening with rain, and drops clung to her eyelashes. I dismounted and
gave the reins to Amano. “What happened to Aoi?” he asked, recognizing this
horse as Makoto’s.

“He’s hurt, I don’t know how badly. He’s on the other side of the
river. We swam across.” I wanted to tell Amano how brave the horse had been,
but there was no time now.

“We are going to cross the river,” I told the women. “The
outcasts built a bridge.“

Kaede said nothing, watching me, but Manami immediately opened her
mouth to complain.

I put up my hand to silence her. “There is no alternative. You
are to do what I say.” I repeated what I had told the men: that any pollution
would fall on me alone.

“Lord Otori,” she muttered, giving the minimum bob of her head and
glancing out of the corner of her eye. I resisted the urge to strike her,
though I felt she deserved it. “Am I to ride?” Kaede said.

“No, it’s very unstable. Better to walk. I’ll swim your horse
across.” Amano would not hear of it. “There are plenty of grooms to do that,”
he said, looking at my soaked, muddy armor.

“Let one of them come with me now,” I said. “He can take Raku and
bring an extra horse for me. I must get back to the other side.” I had not
forgotten the man I’d seen scuttling away. If he had gone to alert others of
our arrival, I wanted to be there to confront them.

“Bring Shun for Lord Otori,” Amano shouted to one of the grooms.
The man came up to us on a small bay horse and took Raku’s reins. I said a
brief farewell to Kaede, asking her to make sure the packhorse carrying the
chest of records made the crossing safely, and mounted Makoto’s horse again. We
cantered back along the line of soldiers, which was now moving quite quickly
onto the bridge. About two hundred were already across, and Kahei was
organizing them into small groups, each with its own leader.

Makoto was waiting for me by the water’s edge. I gave him his
horse back and held Raku while he and the groom rode into the river. I watched
the bay horse, Shun. He went fearlessly into the water, swimming strongly and
calmly as if it were the sort of thing he did every day. The groom returned
over the bridge and took Raku from me.

While they swam across, I joined the men on the floating bridge.

They scrambled across like the rats in Hagi Harbor, spending as
little time on the soggy mass as possible. I imagined few of them knew how to
swim. Some of them greeted me, and one or two touched me on the shoulder as if
I would ward off evil and bring good luck. I encouraged them as much as I could,
joking about the hot baths and excellent food we’d get in Maruyama. They seemed
in good spirits, though we all knew that Maruyama lay a long way ahead.

On the other side I told the groom to wait with Raku for Kaede. I
mounted Shun. He was on the small side, and not a handsome horse, but there was
something about him I liked. Telling the warriors to follow, I rode ahead with
Makoto. I particularly wanted bowmen with us, and two groups of thirty were
ready. I told them to conceal themselves behind the dike and wait for my
signal.

Jin-emon’s body still lay by the barrier, and the whole place was
silent, apparently deserted.

“Was this something to do with you?” Makoto said, looking with
disgust at the huge body and the display of heads.

“I’ll tell you later. He had a companion who got away. I suspect
he’ll be back with more men. Kahei said this area was full of bandits. The dead
man must have been making people pay to use the bridge; if they refused, he
took their heads.”

Makoto dismounted to take a closer look. “Some of these are
warriors,” he said, “and young men too. We should take his head in payment.” He
drew his sword.

“Don’t,” I warned. “He has bones of granite. You’ll damage the blade.“

He gave me an incredulous look and did not say anything, but in one
swift movement slashed across the neck. His sword snapped with an almost human
sound. There were gasps of astonishment and dread from the men around us.
Makoto gazed at the broken blade in dismay, then looked shamefaced at me.

“Forgive me,” he said again. “I should have listened to you.” My
rage ignited. I drew my own sword, my vision turning red in the old, familiar
way. How could I protect my men if they did not obey me? Makoto had ignored my
advice in front of these soldiers. He deserved to die for it. I almost lost
control and cut him down where he stood, but at that moment I heard the sound
of horses’ hooves in the distance, reminding me I had other, real enemies.

“He was a demon, less than human,” I said to Makoto. “You had no
way of knowing. You’ll have to fight using your bow.”

I made a sign to the men around us to be silent. They stood as if
turned to stone; not even the horses moved. The rain had lessened to a fine
drizzle. In the fading misty light we looked like an army of ghosts.

I listened to the bandits approach, splashing through the wet
landscape, and then they appeared out of the mist, over thirty horsemen and as
many on foot. They were a motley, ragged band, some obviously masterless
warriors with good horses and what had once been fine armor, others the
riffraff left behind after ten years of war: escapees from harsh masters on
estates or in silver mines; thieves; lunatics; murderers. I recognized the man
who’d fled from the hovel; he was running at the stirrup of the leading horse.
As the band came to a halt, throwing up mud and spray, he pointed to me and
screamed, again something unintelligible.

The rider called, “Who is it who murdered our friend and
companion, Jin-emon?”

I answered, “I am OtoriTakeo. I am leading my men to Maruyama. Jin-emon
attacked me for no reason. He paid for it. Let us through or you will pay the
same price.”

“Go back to where you came from,” he replied with a snarl. “We
hate the Otori here.”

The men around him jeered. He spat on the ground and swung his
sword above his head. I raised my hand in signal to the bowmen.

Immediately the sound of arrows filled the air; it is a fearful
noise, the hiss and clack of the shafts, the dull thunk as they hit living
flesh, the screams of the wounded. But I had no time to reflect on it then, for
the leader urged his horse forward and galloped toward me, his sword arm
stretched above his head.

His horse was bigger than Shun, and his reach longer than mine.
Shuns ears were forward, his eyes calm. Just before the bandit struck, my horse
made a leap to the side and turned almost in midair so I could slash my
adversary from behind, opening up his neck and shoulder as he hit out vainly at
where I had been.

He was no demon or ogre but all too human. His human blood spurted
red. His horse galloped on while he swayed in the saddle, and then he fell
suddenly sideways to the ground.

Shun, meanwhile, still completely calm, had spun back to meet the
next attacker. This man had no helmet and }ato split his head in two,
spattering blood, brains, and bone. The smell of blood was all around us, mixed
with rain and mud. As more and more of our warriors came up to join the fray,
the bandits were completely overwhelmed. Those who still lived tried to flee,
but we rode after them and cut them down. Rage had been rising steadily in me
all day and had been set alight by Makoto’s disobedience; it found its release
in this brief, bloody skirmish. I was furious at the delay that these lawless,
foolish men had caused us, and I was deeply satisfied that they had all paid
for it. It was not much of a battle, but we won it decisively, giving ourselves
a taste of blood and victory.

We had three men dead and two others wounded. Later, four deaths
by drowning were reported to me. One of Kahei’s companions, Shibata from the
Otori clan, knew a little about herbs and healing, and he cleaned and treated
the wounds. Kahei rode ahead to the town to see what he could find in the way
of shelter, at least for the women, and Makoto and I organized the rest of the
force to move on more slowly. He took over command while I went back to the
river where the last of the men were crossing the floating bridge.

Jo-An and his companions were still huddled by the water’s edge.
Jo-An stood and came to me. I had a moment’s impulse to dismount and embrace
him, but I did not act on it and the moment passed.

I said, “Thank you, and thanks to all your men. You saved us from
disaster.“

“Not one of them thanked us,” he remarked, gesturing at the men filing
past. “Lucky we work for God, not for them.”

“You’re coming with us, Jo-An?” I said. I did not want them to
return across the river, facing who knew what penalties for crossing the
border, cutting down trees, helping an outlaw.

He nodded. He seemed exhausted, and I was filled with
compunction. I did not want the outcasts with me—I feared the reaction of my
warriors and knew the friction and grumbling their presence would cause—but I
could not abandon them here.

“We must destroy the bridge,” I said, “lest the Otori follow us over
it.“

He nodded again and called to the others. Wearily they got to
their feet and began to dismantle the cords that held the rafts in place. I
stopped some of the foot soldiers, farmers who had sickles and pruning knives,
and ordered them to help the outcasts. Once the ropes were slashed, the rafts
gave way. The current immediately swept them into the midstream, where the
river set about completing their destruction.