I. Parker - Black Arrow

When it finally came, that cry of the snow goose, once, and quickly again, they exchanged glances, then tossed off their straw wraps and gripped their swords more tightly. Kaoru and Tora together pushed the stone aside. A dark and narrow stone stairway ascended inside.

Suddenly, before Kaoru could take the lead, Hitomaro pushed past Akitada and disappeared into the darkness. Tora muttered a curse, and Akitada drew his sword and went after Hitomaro into the murky shaft leading upward. Hitomaro’s rapid steps sounded ahead, but it was too dark to see. What was the fool doing? At any moment he might run into danger and give them away. More steps shuffled behind, but Akitada was bent on catching up with Hitomaro.

The climb through a tight black space, only occasionally lit by air holes in the outer walls, seemed to last forever. The steps twisted, turned, and switched back. Akitada’s sword once clattered against the wall and he caught it. Someone behind him slipped and cursed softly. Sweat trickled down Akitada’s temples, and his fingers cramped around the sword hilt. He tried to listen, but his breathing and the blood pounding in his ears muffled all other sounds. If Hitomaro had encountered a guard, he was already a dead man. And so were they all.

Then he caught a faint whiff of burning oil. Wood scraped on wood and, as he turned a corner, faint light came through a grate just large enough for a man to get through. Hitomaro cowered there, a hulking black shadow, until Akitada saw his face flushed by the light as he removed the grate and slipped through the opening.

“Come, sir,” he said softly, holding out a hand to Akitada. “It’s safe.”

“That was a very foolish trick,” Akitada hissed angrily. “You might have ruined everything by rushing ahead when Kaoru knows the way.”

Hitomaro’s face was expressionless. “Sorry, sir.”

Akitada climbed out into an empty enclosed gallery. The corridor was a little over a hundred feet long, its narrow shutters closed tight against the weather, and the dim space lit at each end by large metal oil lamps attached to beams. It was silent and deserted, but they could hear men shouting outside. No doubt Uesugi’s warriors were getting ready for Takesuke’s attack.

The other two joined them. Akitada said, “Very well. Let’s see about finding Uesugi and opening that gate.” It sounded ridiculously simple to his ears and, standing there in the enemy’s stronghold, he half believed it would be.

“Come and see,” Kaoru grunted and opened one of the shutters a crack.

When Akitada joined him, he looked through a loophole from which an archer could shoot arrows into the lower entrance courtyard. Armed soldiers sat about in small groups. Black-and-white Uesugi banners were everywhere. One man carried equipment to the tower above the gate. Akitada’s heart sank. They could not reach the gate without being cut down in the attempt. Even if the men in the courtyard could be distracted long enough, the watchtower above bristled with archers.

Kaoru closed the shutter and went to put the grate back into place. “We cannot stay here,” he said softly. “Someone might come any moment. Follow me, but remember the place in case you have to run for your life.” They ran down the corridor away from the main house. Akitada chafed at this and at the fact that Kaoru had taken over and was giving the orders, but he submitted. He felt badly out of his depth.

The gallery adjoined another, equally empty, and this led to one of the service areas. Kaoru peered out cautiously. It was the kitchen yard, and deserted. No smoke came from the kitchen hearth. The cooking fires had been extinguished prior to battle. Kaoru crossed the yard, headed for a storage shed. They followed, slipped in behind him, and he closed the door.

“You’ll be safe here for the moment,” he said.

They stood in a small space filled with baskets and brooms, kettles and pails, faggots and oil jars, all the paraphernalia to keep a large household stocked. Akitada’s heart was pounding. He said, “The gate. We must reach that gate. How many men does it take to open it?”

“One, at the most two.”

Kaoru still sounded confident, but Akitada had become all too aware of his own lack of planning. “You’re sure?” he persisted, wondering if two of them could engage the soldiers he had seen, some fifteen or twenty, long enough to let the other two slip past to the gate. With the archers above, it wasn’t likely.

“There’s a counterweight. I can do it by myself.”

“We need to draw some of the soldiers away. What about that fire Koreburo was to start?”

Kaoru opened the shed door and peered out. He closed it again. “No sign of it. He should have done so already. If you’ll wait here, I’ll try to find him.” Before Akitada could protest, Kaoru had slipped out.

Akitada suppressed a sudden panic and motioned to the other two to sit down. They sat, each caught in his own thoughts, and waited in the murky semidarkness of the small shed. The smell of wood and dried grasses hung in the chill air.

Tora’s eyes were wide open and his hands twitched occasionally with suppressed excitement. Hitomaro leaned back against the wall, perfectly still, his eyes closed, his chin on his chest. Looking at them, Akitada reflected how close these two men were to him, and how danger affected them all differently. He remembered Takesuke’s fervent wish that Uesugi would attack the tribunal, while he himself had been weighed down with fears for his family and his people. Takesuke’s high spirits had struck him as irresponsible and bloodthirsty then. Now he wondered if he was the one who was inadequate to his duty. Takesuke, Tora, and Hitomaro were all trained soldiers, while he was an official. What did he know of war? Yet, by accepting this appointment, he had also accepted the possibility of having to fight.

Here he was, in unaccustomed armor and uncomfortable, feeling ambivalent about the violence he was about to face and-worse-to commit. They had gained entrance to the stronghold without being discovered, but the real test still lay ahead, and Akitada doubted that he could pass it.

If Kaoru was caught, he would be questioned under torture. Whether he revealed their presence or not, a subsequent search would find them, and then they would die ignobly here, slaughtered among brooms and braziers. There was no defense against the odds, even if it were possible to swing a sword in these cramped quarters.

It wasn’t going to be easy at all.

Akitada did not want to wait for death.

Neither did the others. Tora broke into his thoughts impatiently. “Where in hell is Kaoru? He has nerve, telling us to sit here and wait for him. Who does he think he is? I don’t like it. We’re stuck here like rats in a box.” He stood up and walked to the door, opening it a crack.

Hitomaro went to join him. “It’s too quiet,” he said.

Tora asked, “What if it’s a trap, sir? To my mind the fellow’s just too well informed about this place for a mere woodsman.”

Akitada hated the inactivity, but he shook his head. “No, we must trust Kaoru. He’ll be back any moment.”

Hitomaro closed the door and paced. Tora grunted and sat down.

Akitada thought he could find the way to the gate from what he remembered of his earlier visits. They had been taken from the gate to an inner courtyard. From there, Akitada had gone into the main house. The trouble was, he was not sure where they were now. He closed his eyes and pictured Kaoru’s sketch of the secret entrance. He must somehow get back to the main house. The gallery from which he had seen the north pavilion had been on the west side, but they had gone there through another gallery that served as an armory.