Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

Yanagisawa called to his personal bodyguards, “Take him.”

The bodyguards advanced on their horses toward Yoshisato. Yoshisato drew his sword, his movement swift and expert. “I’ll fight them. They’ll have to kill me to keep me here.”

“All right, never mind!” Yanagisawa said. “You can go. Just stay by me.” He would put himself between Yoshisato and danger.

“No.” Yoshisato sheathed his sword. “I’m not hanging back with you and the other old men. I’m going with the squadron that invades the castle. I want a crack at Lord Ienobu.”

* * *

Accompanied by Masahiro and Marume, Sano burst into the courtyard where the troops were gathered. Yanagisawa, on horseback amid the commanders, raked a disapproving gaze over him. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“Call off the attack!” Sano shouted. “My wife and daughter are inside the castle!”

“So what?” Exasperated, Yanagisawa said, “You should have kept them on a tighter leash.”

“We can’t invade the castle. They could be killed!”

“They should have thought of that before they went there.” Yanagisawa spoke with the indifference of a man who cared nothing for his own wife and daughter except as political pawns. “I’m not delaying the invasion for their sake.”

“You heartless bastard!” Marume said. Masahiro began shouting at Yanagisawa.

Much as Sano hated to beg Yanagisawa, he fell on his knees. “Just give me a little time to rescue them!” He knew he couldn’t expect Yanagisawa to wait on account of Reiko and Akiko, but he was desperate.

Yanagisawa looked sorry he hadn’t the time to enjoy Sano groveling to him. “How would you manage to get inside the castle by yourself, let alone get them out?”

Sano didn’t know. He would think of something. “Please!”

“Forget it,” Yanagisawa said. “We march at noon.”

For twenty years Yanagisawa had delivered him blow after blow. Yanagisawa had forced Masahiro to marry Kikuko. And now Yanagisawa would sacrifice Reiko and Akiko to his own impatient lust for power. Never had Sano hated Yanagisawa so much. He grabbed Yanagisawa and dragged him off his horse. “I’ll kill you first!”

Yanagisawa’s bodyguards hauled Sano away from Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa got to his feet, awkward in his heavy armor. “It’s almost noon. The temple bells will ring soon. You have until they stop ringing to get ready. And then we’re storming the castle whether you come or not.”

Sano was gasping, near tears. As he made a futile lunge at Yanagisawa, Marume restrained him, saying, “We have to go with them. It’s our only hope of getting inside the castle and saving Reiko and Akiko.”

The temple bells rang noon in a cacophony of peals and bongs that called across river and hills, echoed through empty neighborhoods, and faded. A vacuum stilled the atmosphere, as if the city had drawn a huge breath. A moment later the breath was released in the loud, sonorous bellow of a conch trumpet blown inside the Mori estate.

The Tokugawa army troops outside the estate lifted their heads, startled. More trumpets blared from estates owned by Yanagisawa’s allies. Archers on the roofs fired down at the street. The Tokugawa troops yelled and scattered. Arrows pierced chinks in armor and faces under helmet visors. Men dropped in their tracks or fell off horses. Commanders shouted orders. Their archers shot back. Arrows struck buildings, trees. Gunners on the roofs began firing arquebuses. Shots boomed; gunpowder smoke hazed the air; more soldiers in the streets fell dead. Out from the gates stampeded legions of mounted samurai wearing the crests of their daimyo lords on banners on poles attached to their backs, brandishing swords and spears.

Inside the Mori estate, behind squadrons of frontline troops waiting their turn to exit, Sano, Marume, and Masahiro sat astride their horses. Sano leaned forward in the saddle, willing the army to move forward so he could go to Reiko and Akiko in the castle. He was so worried about them, and so angry at Reiko, that he couldn’t think about the battle ahead. He had to rescue his wife and daughter. They mattered more to him than the code of honor that required him to fight this war and not care about anything else.

Was it too late to atone for all the times he’d put them second to honor?

Marume tapped his shoulder guard. “Stop it! Pull yourself together!”

The ranks ahead of them moved. Urging his horse forward, Sano relegated Reiko and Akiko to the periphery of his mind. If he was distracted during battle, he would be killed before he could reach them. Conditioned by years of martial arts practice, his nerves calmed; his heartbeats became even, steady, and strong. He was a samurai riding into battle, a part of a force greater than himself. The past was erased, like a story written in sand and blown by the wind. His sole purpose in the present was victory. His future depended on his fighting skills, on the whim of fate.

Gunfire boomed, echoing off buildings. Swords clanged and men yelled in the streets as fighting broke out. As Sano, Marume, and Masahiro advanced, they exchanged glances, silently wishing one another good luck. Sano noticed Yoshisato and Yanagisawa nearby.

“What are you doing here?” He’d thought Yoshisato was supposed to stay at the estate and Yanagisawa in the rear.

“Change of plans,” Yanagisawa said.

Sano had only a moment to be amazed by how wrong everything was. He was going to war to put Yoshisato-the fraud-at the head of the regime. He was about to risk his life to help Yanagisawa-his enemy-gain control over Japan. Then he was through the gate.

In the street, Yanagisawa’s troops fought the Tokugawa army. Horsemen against horsemen, foot soldiers against foot soldiers, one on one or in gangs, they plied swords and spears amid yells and collisions. This wasn’t like the Battle of Sekigahara, when rival warlords had met on an empty field and their armies had advanced in orderly ranks while the generals directed them from opposite ends. This was like every samurai street brawl, but on a grander scale. Bodies already littered the ground. Most wore the Tokugawa crest. The attacks on Lord Ienobu’s army had thinned its ranks.

Sano forged up the street with his squadron, following the advance troops that plowed through the forces ranged between him and Lord Ienobu. Other troops guarded Sano’s rear and flanked his squadron. Outside this cordon, men fought at half the speed as during an ordinary brawl. Stiff, heavy armor hampered their movements, weighed down their horses. Sano, too, was as much handicapped as protected by his armor. Arrows glanced off it, but his helmet obstructed his peripheral vision and distorted sounds. His tunic dug into his waist and armpits; he or it had changed shape since he’d last worn it. His horse, encased in its own armor, labored under him. The charge toward the castle was as slow as if through sludge instead of air. More soldiers disgorged from other daimyo estates joined the charge. A huge, growing military procession filled the wide avenues. But the Tokugawa army rallied, its soldiers cut down daimyo troops, and Sano saw that casualties on his side were heavy, too heavy. The mist turned to rain. In the distance, cannons boomed.

The storming of Edo Castle had begun.

At last Sano and his regiment reached the avenue outside the castle. It was a churning mass of fighters. Ranks had disintegrated as the Tokugawa forces outnumbered and overwhelmed Yanagisawa’s. The brawl had turned into a riot. Fighters ignored the trumpets, yells, and waving fans of the officers. Many had lost track of their mission-they’d reverted to young men caught up in an exciting free-for-all. Sano realized that he himself had lost track of something more vital-his duty. He was about to invade the castle where his lord lived. It was another line crossed. If the shogun were killed during the invasion, that would be blood which Sano could never cleanse off his honor.