I. Parker: Black Arrow

“Get back, sir. Get outside!” Kaoru shouted to him and jumped for the largest of the suspended stones.

“Where have you been?” demanded Akitada.

Kaoru missed and jumped again. “Not now,” he gasped. This time he grasped the stone and brought it down with him. The wheels spun, ropes creaked-

“Sir!” shouted Tora.

Akitada swung around and looked into another halberd coming at his chest. Uesugi’s people had finally grasped what was happening, and the fight was on. Akitada brought up his sword instinctively and deflected the halberd. Equally instinctively- for nowhere had his past training involved fighting with swords against these vicious long-handled weapons carried by most foot soldiers-he drove forward and was mildly astonished how easily his blade slid into the other man’s belly.

“Sir-watch out!”

Tora again, and Akitada jerked back, bringing the sword with him followed by a gush of blood and his victim’s scream. The gate enclosure had filled with men. There was no time to think, just to fend off the attack and kill. His lessons forgotten, Akitada slashed and swung, two-handed, at wild-eyed shouting men, making a path to the outside, dimly aware of Tora’s curses and Hitomaro’s broad shoulders and flashing blade. They beat them back, one by one, into the courtyard.

Others came running, but a loud clanking and grinding signaled the opening of the gate, and then came the triumphant din of shouting men as Takesuke’s soldiers streamed into Takata manor. They carried the Sugawara insignia of the white plum blossom on their red banners, and Akitada felt a moment’s dizzy pride-until the slaughter began.

The passage was narrow, and as the men emerged in groups of three or four at a time, a hail of arrows from above greeted them. The archers felled every second man. Akitada saw one of the arrows pass through a banner and into the man’s unprotected skull. As he watched the soldier topple forward, another arrow glanced off his own helmet, making his ears ring, and Hitomaro pulled him into the shadow of the wall.

“Stay here, sir. Tora and I are going up.”

Akitada gulped some air and glanced up. Stairs led to the tower platform above him. From there, the Uesugi’s archers were taking out Takesuke’s men as easily as the courtiers back in the capital used to shoot the deer driven into an enclosure by beaters. He cried, “Come on!” and made for the stairs.

“Wait, sir.” Tora caught his sleeve.

Akitada wanted to tear away angrily, but then he remembered his place and stepped aside. A retainer’s duty was to protect his master. Shame attached to him if he failed to do so. Hitomaro was already running up the steps, Tora at his heels, when Akitada followed.

The first steps were of stone but where the tower began, they changed to wood and the space narrowed so that only one man could climb. Akitada could see the gray sky ahead. Then a face appeared against it. Tora flung himself against the wall, and Hitomaro ducked. An arrow hissed past Akitada’s ear, hit the wooden wall behind him with a sharp thwack. The shaft hummed as it vibrated from the impact.

Tora jumped forward. With a roar, he seized the archer’s leg and pulled him down through the opening. As the man fell, Hitomaro ran his sword through him, pulled it out, and pushed the body down toward Akitada.

Akitada ducked aside, then ran up the rest of the steps. The top of the watchtower was becoming a scene of carnage. In the dreary light of the winter day, Tora and Hitomaro slashed right and left at the archers who dropped their bows but had only short swords against their long ones.

He took a deep breath, gagged on the smell of fresh blood in his nostrils, and flung himself into the fray of clashing blades and grunting, screaming men. He lunged and slashed, lunged again, parried, felt his sword bite, and dove under a raised weapon. He partially decapitated one man who was about to stab Tora in the back, then turned and slashed at another who was coming at him. With his longer blade, he caught him across the belly, laying open pale intestines quickly covered with blood. The man dropped his sword and clutched at himself, his eyes wide with pleading. But Akitada was already moving past him, pursuing another man, his mouth opened in terror as he backed away. Before Akitada could kill him, the man screamed and flung himself over the railing to his death below.

It became quiet on the watchtower. Outside the clouds moved slowly in the wind and gusts of sleet blew in. A few of the archers had escaped down the stairs, another had jumped, the rest lay dead or wounded. The wooden boards were slick with blood. Only the three of them were left standing. Tora wiped blood from his face and bellowed a cheer. Then he grinned at Akitada. “We got them, sir.”

Akitada grinned back, feeling an enormous surge of exultation. He had fought and survived. One of the wounded wept noisily. Akitada slipped in a puddle of blood oozing from a dead man. This was war and it was more exciting than anything he had ever done before. He wanted more of it. Leaning over the side of the tower, he looked down into the courtyard. Frightened horses ran among the scattered bodies. Here and there, a wounded man was dragging himself to safety. Takesuke’s soldiers were everywhere, their red banners with the Sugawara crest fluttering where Uesugi’s black and white ones had been before. From the barracks courtyard he could hear more sounds of fierce fighting-screaming men and clashing metal. To the east, the dense cloud of smoke over the kitchen area had doubled in size and flames licked through the blackness.

Time to look for Uesugi. Why had he not joined his men? The main house lay as yet untouched.

Hitomaro was already running down the stairs. Tora checked the wounded and tossed their weapons over the balustrade.

“Have you seen Kaoru?” Akitada asked.

“Who cares about him,” Tora growled. “I couldn’t believe my ears when he started giving the orders.”

Akitada, still filled with joy, chuckled and wiped his bloody blade on the jacket of one of the dead. “It’s in his blood, Tora.”

Tora paused to stare. “What?”

Akitada made for the stairs. “Never mind. Come, there’s more work to be done. You don’t want Takesuke to have all the glory, do you?”

They ran down the stairs and across the entrance courtyard, dodging horses and Takesuke’s men. Tora snatched one of the Sugawara banners from a fallen man and carried it. No point in getting killed by their own. Up the next set of stairs and into the barracks enclosure. They caught up with Hitomaro, and together again they skirted the vicious fighting. More Uesugi archers were shooting arrows from the loopholes of the gallery they had been in earlier, and below foot soldiers slashed and lunged at each other with halberds. Neither Uesugi nor his senior retainers were in sight.

They made for the small door that led to the main house.

“Wait!” Kaoru, bloodied but determined, joined them. They went through the door and into the small garden where the headless corpse still lay across the path.

“What took you so long?” Akitada demanded, stopping just inside and glaring at Kaoru. “We waited in that shed until we were sure you had been captured.”

Kaoru grimaced. “I couldn’t find Koreburo right away. They caught him setting his fire. He was still alive when I found him and … I could not leave him right away. Sorry, sir.”

Akitada was sobered. “Poor old man. Very well, let’s go get Makio and stop this killing.”

There was no more need for caution now. The archers at their loopholes were too intent on the foe outside to turn around. The four of them ran past and into the main house, their boots thumping up stairways and across the glossy boards. They slammed through doorways and flung back sliding doors. The armory had served its purpose. Weapons chests stood open and empty, some of their contents gone or scattered about. Helmets, parts of armor, long swords, discarded halberds, and an upended quiver of short arrows lay abandoned like the toys of giant children.