"So sorry, Yabu-san, not words enough," he said.
Yabu hardly heard him. There was quiet on the battlements and in the avenue, everyone as motionless as statues. Then the avenue began to come alive, voices hushed, movements subdued, the sun beating down, as each came out of his trance.
Yabu sighed, filled with melancholia. "It was a poem, Anjin-san," he said again, and left the battlements.
When Mariko had picked up the sword and gone forward alone, Blackthorne had wanted to leap down into the arena and rush at her assailant to protect her, to blow the Gray's head off before she was slain. But, with everyone, he had done nothing. Not because he was afraid. He was no longer afraid to die. Her courage had shown him the uselessness of that fear and he had come to terms with himself long ago, on that night in the village with the knife.
I meant to drive the knife into my heart that night.
Since then my fear of death's been obliterated, just as she said it would be. 'Only by living at the edge of death can you understand the indescribable joy of life.' I don't remember Omi stopping the thrust, only feeling reborn when I awoke the next dawn.
His eyes watched the dead, there in the avenue. I could have killed that Gray for her, he thought, and perhaps another and perhaps several, but there would always have been another and my death would not have tipped the scale a fraction. I'm not afraid to die, he told himself. I'm only appalled there's nothing I can do to protect her.
Grays were picking up bodies now, Browns and Grays treated with equal dignity. Other Grays were streaming away, Kiyama and his men among them, women and children and maids all leaving; dust in the avenue rising under their feet. He smelled the acrid, slightly fetid death-smell mixed with the salt breeze, his mind eclipsed by her, the courage of her, the indefinable warmth that her fearless courage had given him. He looked up at the sun and measured it. Six hours to sunset.
He headed for the steps that led below.
"Anjin-san? Where go please?"
He turned back, his own Grays forgotten. The captain was staring at him. "Ah, so sorry. Go there!" He pointed to the forecourt.
The captain of Grays thought a moment, then reluctantly agreed. "All right. Please you follow me."
In the forecourt Blackthorne felt the Browns' hostility towards his Grays. Yabu was standing beside the gates watching the men come back. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko were fanning themselves, a wet nurse feeding the infant. They were sitting on hastily laid out coverlets and cushions that had been placed in the shade on a veranda. Porters were huddled to one side, squatting in a tight, frightened group around the baggage and pack horses. He headed for the garden but the guards shook their heads. "So sorry, this is out of bounds for the moment, Anjin-san. "
"Yes, of course," he said, turning away. The avenue was clearing now, though five-hundred-odd Grays still stayed, settling themselves, squatting or sitting cross-legged in a wide semicircle, facing the gates. The last of the Browns stalked back under the arch.
Yabu called out, "Close the gates and bar them."
"Please excuse me, Yabu-san," the officer said, "but the Lady Toda said they were to be left open. We are to guard them against all men but the gates are to be left open."
"You're sure?"
The officer bridled. He was a neat, bent-faced man in his thirties with a jutting chin, mustached and bearded. "Please excuse me - of course I am sure."
"Thank you. I meant no offense, neh? Are you the senior officer here?"
"The Lady Toda honored me with her confidence, yes. Of course, you are senior to me."
"I am in command but you are in charge."
"Thank you, Yabu-san, but the Lady Toda commands here. You are senior officer. I would be honored to be second to you. If you will permit it."
Yabu said balefully, "It's permitted, Captain. I know very well who commands us here. Your name, please?"
"Sumiyori Tabito."
"Wasn't the first Gray 'Sumiyori' also?"
"Yes, Yabu-san. He was my cousin."
"When you are ready, Captain Sumiyori, please call a meeting of all officers."
"Certainly, Sire. With her permission."
Both men looked away as a lady hobbled into the forecourt. She was elderly and samurai and leaned painfully on a cane. Her hair was white but her back was straight and she went over to Kiritsubo, her maid holding a sunshade over her.
"Ah, Kiritsubo-san," she said formally. "I am Maeda Etsu, Lord Maeda's mother, and I share the Lady Toda's views. With her permission I would like to have the honor of waiting with her."
"Please sit down, you're welcome," Kiri said. A maid brought another cushion and both maids helped the old lady to sit.
"Ah, that's better - so much better," Lady Etsu said, biting back a groan of pain. "It's my joints, they get worse every day. Ah, that's a relief. Thank you."
"Would you like cha?"
"First cha, then sake, Kiritsubo-san. Lots of sake. Such excitement's thirsty work, neh?"
Other samurai women were detaching themselves from the crowds that were leaving and they came back through the ranks of the Grays into the pleasing shade. A few hesitated and three changed their minds, but soon there were fourteen ladies on the veranda and two had brought children with them.
"Please excuse me, but I am Achiko, Kiyama Nagamasa's wife, and I want to go home too," a young girl was saying timidly, holding her little son's hand. "I want to go home to my husband. May I beg permission to wait too, please?"
"But Lord Kiyama will be furious with you, Lady, if you stay here. "
"Oh, so sorry, Kiritsubo-san, but Grandfather hardly knows me. I'm only wife to a very minor grandson. I'm sure he won't care and I haven't seen my husband for months and I don't care either what they say. Our Lady's right, neh?"
"Quite right, Achiko-san," old Lady Etsu said, firmly taking charge. "Of course you're welcome, child. Come and sit by me. What's your son's name? What a fine boy you've got."
The ladies chorused their agreement and another boy who was four piped up plaintively, "Please, I'm a fine boy too, neh?" Someone laughed and all the ladies joined in.
"You are indeed," Lady Etsu said and laughed again.
Kiri wiped away a tear. "There, that's better, I was getting far too serious, neh?" She chuckled. "Ah, Ladies, I'm so honored to be allowed to greet you in her name. You must all be starving, and you're so right, Lady Etsu, this is all thirsty work!" She sent maids for food and drink and introduced those ladies who needed introducing, admiring a fine kimono here or a special parasol there. Soon they were all chattering and happy and fluttering like so many parakeets.
"How can a man understand women?" Sumiyori said blankly.
"Impossible!" Yabu agreed.
"One moment they're frightened and in tears and the next .... When I saw the Lady Mariko pick up Yoshinaka's sword, I thought I'd die with pride."
"Yes. Pity that last Gray was so good. I'd like to have seen her kill. She'd have killed a lesser man."
Sumiyori rubbed his beard where the drying sweat irritated him. "What would you have done if you'd been him?"
"I would have killed her then charged the Browns. Too much blood there. It was all I could do not to slaughter all the Grays near me on the battlement."
"It's good to kill sometimes. Very good. Sometimes it's very special and then it's better than a lusting woman."