It was in the fifth year of the Go-Kazan-Tennō's reign that Prince Shōtoku was born. The second son by Go-Kazan's concubine Tomoe, the Prince had before he had reached his ninth year suffered more than most men could ever imagine enduring throughout the whole of their lives. Yet always he had endured his sorrow with unfailing dignity.
Abandoned by a great many friends when he was still young, made to watch as the woman intended for him was swept away into his father's harem. This and a hundred other small tragedies had left the good Prince a man well-accustomed to loss.
And yet he was not without admirers, for he was tall, well-formed, muscular and well-trained in the military and cultural arts. This latter trait had made him something of an exotic fellow in the eyes of most members of the court such as the sitting ruler Go-Seiryu-Tennō and the Sesshō and others.
Yet the 'Wild Prince' as he was known was hardly bothered by the whispers that filled the court and streets. Yes, dear Readers the common people knew him and against all expectations had seen him race down the streets to and from his pavilion in Hachihara. Often sighted racing to and from a hunt with his guards and retainers following after him, he was a source of inspiration to those of the city of Miyakō so that many were to lay claim in a manner of speaking to the Prince.
"The Crown Prince and his brothers may well belong to the Court, but the Prince Shōtoku belongs to we the people."
This was a sentiment that was returned by the passionate Prince who was among those members of the Imperial Family not raised by the Tahara. This had thus steeled his heart against them; it was therefore this mighty bear of a man who galloped whither and over yonder all about the lands near Miyakō so that he it was of those of the capital city first met Satomine.
Theirs was an inauspicious first meeting, one that took place near to one of the estates of the Prince just fifty leagues outside the great city. Their meeting took place to the north-east of the city. Never in all his life had he ever been confronted by a message sent to him by the lord of the Nohara. At any other time he might well have ignored the message but as Nohara had chosen to submit his request to the Kana-donō who was once the Prince's wet-nurse, with this good lady the old man's good-sister. So that she was to intercede with the Prince so that he could not therefore in good conscience do so.
Startled to hear the lady in bated breath relate the difficulties that her favourite niece, Tsubaki had been made to endure. Hearing only of the sorrow and concern of old Kana was all that it took to make the Prince demand, "And Kana? Where has she gone?"
Sly, the old woman was to bow her head. She knew of the innate valorous nature of the Wild Prince so that he was to give himself over to a great panic that nothing short of the death of those that had attacked Tsubaki could possibly soothe. Grabbing the old woman, he cast aside his bow to one of his retainers that he might charge forward.
Those around him naturally screamed out after him, "My Prince! Prince! No, you shan't go to her if the countryside is indeed infested with brigands!"
Yet he did not bear the title of the 'Wild Prince' for naught, as he ignored them one and all. The chief of his guards Shinosuke was a bright-eyed ferocious bear of a man, one who could strike a man dead long before he had drawn his blade. Yet even he was stunned by the speed with which the Prince was to tear a path down the road. Quite where he was galloping off to none of his servants or house-guards knew. They knew only that their duty was to follow after him.
"Whereabouts does he intend to go?" They all asked themselves, with only one or two having observed Kana's arrival hither to greet them.
Most shrugged their shoulders or exclaimed in frustration as they followed after the great Prince as he led the way out of the city. They rode for many kilometres out of the city with it being early in the morn when they left and in time for an early supper they arrived before the home of the Nohara. It was only after they had crossed the second of the bridges and that the hill that loomed high over the home appeared within view that the household servants and guards relaxed, realizing whither their Prince had chosen to take them.
*****
The arrival of the prince was such a shock to Satomine, so that he was to gape in as rude a manner as one could imagine. To describe the shame that he felt then is impossible, as he threw himself to his knees and pressed his face against the floor of the small hall that was akin to that of Yoshitada in miniature, his figure shaking with emotion and shock. Never before had anyone in his entire line had ever found themselves confronted by one of the Imperial Clan, so that he was to find himself frozen in place. He did not know how he was supposed to react, how he should comport himself or how best he might explain the situation to the young Prince.
The Prince was dressed differently than he had ever predicted a member of the Imperial line might dress himself. His clothes were woollen and dark, and there was something decidedly shabby about them. They were not of noble-quality and what was more was that the Prince was not clean shaven as most other nobles were, with a short if dark beard having grown along his well-formed jaw.
He was to hold himself in the regal manner that was once so natural to one of his rank. It must be noted that this was how they had once carried themselves, for though Satomine did not yet know it, the princes of the blood Imperial had long since succumbed to depression and weakness. Many of them had given themselves over to their wives so that they preoccupied themselves not with their subjects, or with their duties but with little more than poetry readings, their wives' needs and concerns and had even become like those very women they doted upon. It was this last quality of theirs that had won for them the scorn of so many of those of Masaharu and Yoshinobu's rank.
None of them though could hope to defy the Imperial Court, so that they were humiliated by having to grovel and beg for favour. Shōtoku was different. Wild and ferocious as a jungle-tiger he would not be subdued.
In fact it was this side of him that had driven him to take on as his badge the tiger so that the emblem decorated his palatial estate in Hachihara, his countryside estate and many of his garments. Such was his love for the animal that it was rumoured he had one for a pet in his countryside estate to the west of the capital. It was a testament to how wild he could be that men believed such things about him.
His mother it was said had been no less fierce in nature, for she was a daughter of the house of the Momohana a clan that had made their mark centuries prior as warriors before they became an aristocratic clan. Long since impoverished due in no small part to how the Tahara had replaced them as the premiere clan of the Empire and their own poor judgment they had by this time become a minor baronial clan in Kyūkoku with a nominal presence in Miyakō. In this they were not at all that different from the Nohara, which was one of the reasons for which the Lady of the Fujihama pavilion as she was called had favoured the wet-nurse she had chosen for her son.
A lady who had gone to Go-Kazan-Tennō's bed reluctantly, for she was the fifth daughter of the Momohana and thus had not expected that she might be put there by her father. Her hope had been to wed the youngest of the then Kampaku's sons'. She had fallen in love with him and had hoped for a quiet life of love and poetry, this she did not receive so that when she was to have her son she was deeply miserable.
Still she had devoted herself heart and soul to her son, whom she had brought up to be not only a Momohana but also a bushi with the aid of her guardsman. This before she had passed away after a particularly long winter in which a dread sickness had blown from the easternmost isle of Kemoshima. It was there that a dreadful beast and warlock ruled it was said, one who reigned over the whole of the island in defiance of the wishes and mandates of the Imperial Court.
His mother's tastes and scornful views of the Tahara had of course passed to her beloved son who looked on the Takimoto and Nohara with more kinship than he did most of the nobility. It was for this reason that he had never truly taken to the Tahara and regarded them with suspicion.
It was also said to be the reason for which he preferred to keep his distance from the lady intended for him, for she was the Lady Tahara no Sakiko. Her father was the youngest nephew of the current reigning Sesshō with Shōtoku having hitherto then avoided marriage to her.
Always he had treasured Tsubaki, regarding his gentle if timid wet-nurse's niece with a mixture of fascinating and affection. This was the reason for which he threw himself inside with a cry hardly waiting to take notice of those already present or of his guards' myriad shouts of concern for him.
"Really now," Tsubaki complained when he threw himself before her, to examine her with eyes that conveyed how stricken and distressed on her behalf he was. "I am quite well, cousin!"
"I had heard you had been attacked on your way to the shrine of Konohanasakuya-hime," Shōtoku replied sharply before he rounded upon Masaharu with a stern gleam in his eyes. "How could this happen Masaharu?"
Masaharu as calm as he always was simply sipped at the tea he had finished brewing over the small fire in the centre of the small hall. Humming to himself as he poured it into the small cup that he had kept nearby throughout the morning. "My daughter had been away to the temple as is her custom as it was the anniversary of her mother's death. I could not follow her, as I had been called away to see to other matters and did not think she would be in trouble-"
"Do not lie to the Prince father, you were enjoying a lazy morning nap," Tsubaki interrupted impatiently only to flush scarlet when she saw everyone glance at her, including her irritated parent.
"Very well!" He said with no small amount of exasperation at having been exposed, "I was napping and did not notice she had left."
"You really must stop lying when it suits you," Shōtoku reprimanded with a sigh of frustration, "It contradicts Bushidō which stresses honesty."
"My intentions and heart are honest even if my words are not always so," Masaharu replied breezily with a dismissive wave of his hand before he carried on. "My daughter was returning from the temple of Konohanasakuya-hime when she was set upon by a number of brigands. Notably those of Tōzoku no Kiyoshi who has long sought her hand in marriage."
This explanation confused the likes of Satomine. The name of Tōzoku no Kiyoshi was one that he had never heard and therefore did not recognize. It did however worry the likes of Shōtoku who frowned at the old man, a disapproving glint in his eyes.
"I still do not see you shan't send Tsubaki to the capital," the Prince persisted sharply.
"Because it is near impossible to persuade her to do so, and I have no other heirs and must prepare her for what is to come," Masaharu informed the young prince, who scoffed at his words wherefore the old man said with a sidelong glance at the bushi next to him. "If I may, it is more than time that we listen now to the words of wise young Satomine!"
Flushing scarlet at the manner in which the head of the Nohara presented him to the Prince, the young bushi could not help but throw in his direction a grateful look as the eyes of Shōtoku turned now to him.
"My Prince, I have a message for you," Satomine told the Prince, desperation marring his voice as he threw himself to the ground before the Prince.
The Prince for his part ignored the youth, fixated as he was upon his cousin. "My dearest Tsubaki-chan, whatever has happened? A bandit raid? Are you unharmed my cousin?"
For her part the honest and otherwise stony-faced Tsubaki at last gave way to giggling at his expense. He could not have known it, but the maid was hardly hard of heart but had kept her silence and only spoken and sung when she could after she had summoned the nerve. Timid with those she did not know, she had been frightened by the battle with the brigands in spite of her warrior's blood.
At that time she looked on her cousin as he had long ago dubbed himself appeared snapping open the door with a cry of panic, and then the submissive display of her rescue with the same sort of amusement her father did.
Her sniggering drew out the same sort of sound from her father, who was no less amused though where she covered her mouth in a feminine display he did not. "Oh dear, Satomine-sama it would appear that you have not bowed quite near enough, before Prince Shōtoku!"
Her mocking words made his cheeks turn crimson as he looked up at her in irritation, her words sparked greater chortling from her father who remarked to her, "Really now daughter? Now who is it that has forgotten herself?"
This served now to embarrass the young woman, who attempted to splutter out some sort of excuse for her own comportment, "Really now father it is only that- well you see I have done little in the way that- you shan't compare our comportments!"
"But I am certain that the likes of Satomine-san and the likes of our dear Prince would think otherwise," Masaharu remarked with something of a wink before he turned away to bow before his cousin's milk-son with a deep bow. "My Prince you honour us with thy presence, really this is an honour of which we are not worthy."
The Prince for his part could only look from one person to the next in absolute confusion, his mystification only deepening and giving way to displeasure as he demanded of the old man. "What is this news of brigands attacking my sweet cousin? It best not be some sort of jest to have lured me from the capital. And who is this man?"
"Do not point at him sire, it is quite rude," one of the newly arrived aides of the Prince addressed him sharply, "Think of thy namesake the wondrous Prince who codified our laws and set such a high example for us all!"
The man who reprimanded the young Prince was as plump as he was balding, with an air of snobbery and frustration about him. Dressed well in a red silk kimono he shuffled about and tugged at his bare chin with the air of a man on the cusp of a great fit. Dark eyed and obsequious there was however an air about the man that made every hair on the back of Satomine's neck stand on end.
He did not much like the manner in which the plump man or the guards who filed into the small room for a brief moment studied the lady Tsubaki. The lady for her part shrunk back ever so slightly as she looked to her father, who bowed once more to aunt's milk-child. "Forgive us Prince, but if you may ask those behind you to please step out? This is a very private matter that concerns matters of the most important sort."
"How do you mean? And who is this man?" Shōtoku demanded as he continued to point at the bushi who knelt before him.
Satomine did not know what emboldened him to speak then, however he spoke up for the first time looking up as he did so to meet the gaze of the young Prince. "Shōtoku-kimi! I must request this favour please heed my warnings for I have come south from the far north to warn the Court of danger!"
"What danger?"
"Sire, he is a northern barbarian, and has the look of a half-breed!" Hissed the man's servant.
"He is no such thing you filthy dog!" Tsubaki bellowed with sudden furor that startled every man present.
If other men were stunned, Satomine included into silence at such an outburst by the previously genteel seeming daughter of the Nohara the servant of Shōtoku was anything but. Unimpressed by her ill-manners he was to become red in the face and exclaim at her, even as the girl's own father stared at her with a disapproving expression on his face.
"What did you just call me, you hick of a girl?" The servant shouted back at her.
"Mind your tongues the both of ye," Masaharu growled at once arresting the attention of all those present, adding with a glower in the direction of his daughter, "We have discussed this in the past, comport yourself as a lady ought to Tsubaki."
"Yes father," She agreed at once, eyes radiating with fury when she glanced once more at the Prince's attendant.
"As to yourself my Prince, you simply must hear what Satomine-san has heard… the news he has come bearing south is of the direst sort, I myself have heard with distress what was said." Masaharu said with no small amount of distress.
Looking from the heir of the Prince Heishi who had lived more than a hundred years prior, from the man who was heir to what had once been the noblest of the bushi-clans of Zipangu to the other warrior, with a frown, Shōtoku sighed. Seating himself before the youth he snapped his fingers at Tsubaki, "Fetch us saké, and food while my men return home to my lands to find more."
"But my prince!"
"Do so now Fujimitsu, lest I have thee slain for rebelling against my authority," Shōtoku retorted evenly, with none of his prior good grace.
Any other man might well have become afraid, yet it appeared as though the attendant of the Prince only grew more mulish. Full of fury he glowered at the young Prince for some time so that Satomine rose ever so slightly, his hand going to his hidden tantō. He had foregone his katana since his arrival in the home of the fallen Nohara he had given over his principal weapon to the patriarch of the tiny family.
He did not take well to the Prince's attendant.
The man took notice of this, and threw in his direction a stern look. One filled with fury and disdain for him. "Very well," He said after a moment's thought, "I will go though do not hesitate to call for me."
"Yes, yes now away with you and all the rest of my stupid and worthless guards that have been assigned to me." Shōtoku commanded as he waved away his servant. His words left those who knelt before him feeling awkward and unsure of themselves, for each of them felt some measure in some fashion of guilt on behalf of those that had accompanied the Prince to the house of the Nohara.
The Prince though for his part waited, a hard look in his eyes until they had turned and left and the door slid shut behind them. He waited still longer, ears open and head turned until he could hear them no longer before he addressed Kana. "Fujimitsu could you do me the honour of standing guard outside to ensure that they do not listen in on our conversation? I have no wish for any of them to hear these words. Many of my servants are to be trusted but some of their numbers have been known to spy on me and report to the Tahara."
"Yes, my Prince!" Fujimitsu said hurrying away to stand outside the door.
The door was promptly closed behind her, with the Prince now turning to Satomine with a keenly interested expression on his face. Stroking his beard he was to look from him to the also bearded Masaharu only to bite his lip and ask, "This news you have brought me, is it true?"
"But of course it is! Satomine-san helped to save me without knowing who I am, therefore why would he lie over such a thing?" Tsubaki demanded impatiently of the Prince who threw her an exasperated look.
"My dear cousin, there is no reason to comport yourself as might a she-wolf," Shōtoku grunted with a shake of his head, "It is only that I know that the bushi shan't tolerate failure. I would have thought that a man as honourable as you claim Satomine to be would already have taken his own life."
"I could not do it," Satomine confessed with a downturned gaze, his heart broken so that he was aware once more of the weight of his decision. He had puzzled over it over the course of a number of months now, and only now begun to understand what it was that had made him choose not suicide but life. "I believe that my death could not help anyone. It would not help my honour, and would not help the nation when I alone survived Motonaga's madness and have seen what he is capable of."
This answer served to amaze the likes of Masaharu who stared at him, with visible surprise. The old man had never heard such an earnest response to such a query. Neither had Tsubaki who could only study him with keen interest, it was however Kana who grumbled to herself of cowardice though none of them heard her do so outside the room. Shōtoku for his part was visibly intrigued and stared for some time.
To the youth's surprise the Prince was to say to him, "There are not a great many of the nobility now who understand the bushi. You are one and all Samurai, you are to serve and to never question us. This is how they and a great many of my cousins and brothers perceive the whole of thine caste. It has always been so in their eyes and must always remain so. I however hold a similar perspective if one that regards your people as crucial to the continued health of the Empire. Satomine! The service you have provided to us is a great one however you have been called forth to do so much more!"
Never had any man, especially one of such a prestigious standing ever spoken to him so. It was with more than a little amazement that the kneeling bushi felt his face become scarlet as an apple. Deep within his core, he felt his very being begin to tremble and shake. How could he not tremble before the full weight of gratitude on the part of the Imperial Prince who sat before him?
Neither his mother nor his father had ever met a single member of the Imperial bloodline, so that neither of them had ever enjoyed such honour as he at that moment.
"I-I thank you, my Prince! I must ask another favour beyond that which you have already granted by gracing me with thy presence. I know that Yoshinobu-donō might well have gained an audience before the Tennō or Sesshō but I must ask you to present what I have seen before the Court."
Shōtoku studied him, visibly amused by his words for reasons that escaped him. Such was the force of this particular sentiment in him that he could hardly repress a loud bark of laughter that drew a sharp look from Tsubaki. One of the few people who might reprimand him, she it was that intervened in defence of Satomine.
She did not do this before she addressed him to clarify for him, if in embarrassed fashion, "Erm, if I may say so Satomine-san it happens that Prince Shōtoku cannot simply march into the Imperial Palace without permission from the Tahara clan." Now she turned upon the Prince, "And really now Prince, you must not laugh in that manner at his expense!"
"It is only that it is utterly ridiculous to imagine a man as lowly as Takimoto no Yoshinobu gaining entry to the Imperial Court or into the presence of the heads of the Tahara family." Shōtoku replied with another bark of laughter before he informed the youth. "The matter of the Court is a disaster, of the sort that one such as yourself could not possibly imagine!"
"What?"
"Do heed his words," Masaharu counselled Satomine who looked mortified by the man's strange sniggering before he also turned to the Prince. "Prince Shōtoku, he has come in good faith and ought to be dealt with in this manner."
"The difficulty, Masaharu-donō, is that I do not have permission to visit with the Sesshō, due to how he keeps himself preoccupied with other matters." Shōtoku retorted quietly as he stroked his bearded chin pensively.
"Is there no hope of meeting with any of them?" Satomine inquired despairing.
"I did not say it was not possible to arrange for you to meet with some at court, only that a formal meeting was impossible," Shōtoku replied with a quiet shrug of his shoulders. "You must know before you step forward into the Capital that none here are as decisive as noble Masaharu. What is more is that Yoshinobu-san is not a popular name at Court therefore I would advise against making reference to it while you are here."
"Why is that?" Satomine demanded feeling nettled, and defensive of his beloved liege's good name.
The other man smiled another thin-lipped grin, and with a grimace he informed him, "It is precisely because of Takimoto-san's inability to determine who to follow and who to support. You see, he was widely regarded as weak and foolish, also because his knowledge of poetry and art were pitiful."
"Such blunt speech! What will Satomine-san think of you if you speak so Prince Shōtoku?" Tsubaki complained as she fidgeted restlessly where she sat, full of frustration with the warrior-prince who sniggered once more.
"I am more accustomed to such speech than that of the flowery sort," Satomine confessed with a small chortle now of his own which drew a shake of her head.
Masaharu was to intervene, "We must correct that Satomine, as it will not do for any representative of the Takimoto to enter into the city without the skills which the capital values."
"Values? They ought to value their survival above all other things, and once they hear my message they will understand that we live in desperate, dark times and must gather what forces we have and strike north!" Satomine thundered hardly able to hear his ears as he stared at the head of the Nohara as though he had lost the last of his wits.
The wind whistled outside causing a number of the men outside to shiver, even as it threw itself against the house with all the force of a battering ram. In response the house creaked and moaned, too ancient to properly resist the badgering air that struck against it. It was in the winter of its life so that it was utterly in decline much as House Nohara was.
And yet there was still vigour to be found in the eyes of the last of the two members of the once great Takuma-Nohara clan. Satomine could not help but feel some measure of his resistance against them from a lifetime of being told how weak and foolish they were fold once more. He did not stop to ask himself if some of this may have had to do with the fire in the eyes of Masaharu or the beauty of the equally fiery and obnoxious Tsubaki.
"It truly is the height of folly to expect the gentlemen of the capital to be bold and impulsive as the barbarians of the north," Tsubaki reprimanded him sharply, as though he were a misbehaving child. "Really now Satomine, for a man as cunning as yourself and resourceful I would have expected you to be less immature in such matters!"
This only served to anger the youth, who snapped at her, "And a woman should be silent and respectful, and not lecture us men in so haughty a manner."
The two were to glare at one another for some time, just before Tsubaki with a shudder looked away. Her lips trembling she was to dissolve into tears to the astonishment of the young man. He could not quite understand how it happened, but within a moment he was to exchange a glance with several of the nearby men.
It was with a start he was to find himself confronted by the glaring father of the young woman, "Really now, Satomine-san! I expected more from you than to speak to my beloved daughter in so brusque a manner!"
"I- pardon?" Satomine stammered utterly out of his element as always, when it came to young women. It was with a helpless glance at the trembling young woman who strove to hide her face behind her sleeves, ashamed of her tears. It was with a pang that he recalled how his mother would do the same when reduced to tears, it was a gesture that he could not help but feel torn by. Still furious with her, he was to nearly give in. Nearly. "I will not, as I do not see how I could possibly profit from such a thing as a nobleman's education!"
This drew a small frown from the likes of the Wild Prince who remarked to him, "My dear Satomine, you have already impressed me with your great virtue and valour in coming so far where any other man might well have fallen. I must say though that you have shown yourself to be frightfully naïve regarding the usefulness of education."
"How so?"
"Because, to know how to dance, to compose a poem in the traditional style of Miyakō's nobles, to know to paint, calligraphy, and to know the wisdoms of the Continent and the writings of the wise-men of Lián and history of Zipangu and her neighbours is not weakness." Shōtoku lectured him severely, "Education is the whetstone for man's spirit. Refinement of the intellect ought to be the highest aspiration of all men. What sort have you had hitherto now if I may ask my friend that might well create in you such reluctance to learn these arts?"
This struck him as fairly harsh so that Satomine retorted, "I know something of calligraphy, and have been taught to fight and to aid the Takimoto."
"Is that all?" Masaharu asked of him raising an eyebrow, "I must say Satomine, this worries me. It appears that you have entered the realm of Miyakō without being properly prepared."
"He-he is unrefined!" Tsubaki complained, still hiccupping over her tears.
Satomine remained silent. Fuming and feeling as though they were all conspiring against him in some manner.
"Will you allow us to share with you what we know?" Shōtoku added with a slightly more genial expression, "It is one of my conditions for aiding you. Just as I have learnt the way of the bushi, out of love for it and would love to have you teach me what songs, what martial arts you know I would share my princely education with thee."
It was with a profound reluctance that Satomine examined his situation. While he revolted against the notion of undergoing any sort of education at this time, he could not truly do so. He needed to meet with the Imperial Court. He needed to convey to them even if through Prince Shōtoku the urgency of the threat that menaced them from the north.
"Very well," he said through gritted teeth only to sit back down, for he had arisen over the course of his quarrel with Tsubaki. "Apologies, Tsubaki-donō, it was inappropriate to reduce a lady of such austere rank and of such a noble line of bushi such as yourself to tears. Forgive me."
Tsubaki stared at him, wiping still at her tears she was to though he did not bow his head, though he did not kneel before her slowly nod her head. Her reluctance the first hint of the steel beneath the surface, even as her tears had been the first indication to him of her femininity.
"Excellent, it seems apparent to me then that given how occupied the Prince is with other matters, this should serve as the appropriate time for Tsubaki to leave for the city." Masaharu decided at once, his expression brightening as he exchanged a cheeky glance with the Prince who stared at him no less stunned than the rest of those around him.
"I do not think that appropriate," Satomine said at once, "What of how she is heiress to the Nohara?"
"Agreed, at present it is not a good time," Shōtoku agreed at once.
"Hold," Tsubaki objected at once, "Father you shan't be serious! What of yourself?"
"Bah, I have survived well for a number of decades, who is it that hunts for me? Myself. What of the crafting of my arrows? Daughter, the Prince has long wished for you to foster with him and I have refused out of respect for thee my heiress, yet now duty compels us all to contribute." The head o the Nohara snapped at once, sitting taller his head thrown back as he took command of the room. "I shan't teach Satomine-san, as I have other matters to see to, for I must write to my cousins in the west, and along the route to Montō, just as I must gather what people I can in the locality here to prepare for war in the north. Shōtoku must work on converting the Court to our cause. This means that it must fall onto Tsubaki."
"But I have never left home! Not for an extended period that is." Tsubaki complained.
"While I am elsewhere it will not be safe here," Masaharu added, "Those brigands and men sworn to those nobles that lust for thee, will not remain idle. Therefore I would entrust thee to the Prince in my absence."
"But I am heiress of the Nohara! My place is by your side, father!"
"I am not asking you to do your duty daughter, but commanding it of you." Masaharu said with finality such that his daughter opened her mouth and closed it again, wherefore she nodded her head, defeated.
Lo! This was how the former herald of Yoshinobu now found himself convinced if against his wishes into accepting a court education by the likes of Shōtoku and Tsubaki. It was also how the daughter of the Nohara was entrusted with his care, even as she was given over to that of the Wild Prince.
*****
The suns' had begun to set; the wind turn cold and the mountains darken as light faded from the world ever so slightly. In all the valley in which the Nohara lived had begun to turn from day to dusk even as countless ravens cawed and birds bellowed their cries across the land. The great river that cut through the midlands of Zipangu glimmered as the bright silver flashing blades of Wakamikenu no Mikoto once did in olden times when the islands were considerably younger and the land was still unconquered by the Yamatai-people who now populated the majority of it.
Much of the land near the capital was green and well-maintained with a great many rice-farms all around it. The paddies were a crucial source of food for the great city which had expanded greatly since the days of Takuma the Great. The great walls of the city were pure white marble that had never been truly tested. The walls in question though were not terribly high, standing only five metres high in total.
A single glance though taught Yoshiyori all that he needed about the city when first he approached it. It was imposing and ferocious yet much of what it did was more a show of defence than an actually defensible wall. The city had never been made to endure a siege in all of its existence.
Satomine were he, present would have complained about their unpreparedness, as he had since he had returned south become obsessed with the northern menace. Yoshiyori wished he had the same sense of consternation as his friend over it. Certainly he had lost his father but being so near the capital had already begun to have an effect upon him. It was not aided by the fact that Tomizen was to
What most horrified the youth was how though he had presented himself before the gates of the house of Tahara, with his brother's letter of introduction in the proper manner only to be turned away. He was therefore suitably furious and stunned at the rudeness of the guards of house Tahara.
It was with only the most supreme of efforts that he had turned about. Ignoring the hooting and the mocking insults flung after him by the guards. Both of their faces had been marked out in his memory for when he next visited the gates. At that time it would be necessary the youth mused furiously to inform his hosts of what they had done.
"How is it that we have utterly failed to gain entry when we are loyal vassals of the Tahara, and have been for nigh on a century?" Yoshiyori exclaimed as they made for his father's small house within the great city.
Tomizen considered his words just before he dismissed them as a whole. Why should he ponder the worries of what was a mere child in his eyes. Cold to the youth's complaints he simply shrugged his shoulders and asked of him, "And? What would you have us do now Tonō?"
"I do not know! Surely the Nohara who have lived here forever might know how to meet with the Tahara clan?" Yoshiyori remarked beginning to doubt the wisdom of leaving the Nohara as they had done, "Perhaps Satomine was correct to stay with them?"
"Bah, what does that fool know of Miyakō?" Tomizen growled furiously, as he pounced back and forth wishing he had slain the offending guards. Or maybe Yoshiyori.
A part of him truly had begun to resent bringing the youth along with him. He had come to regard the youngest of Yoshinobu's sons' as something of a disgrace to the family. When last he had travelled with one of them, it was Nobuyoshi and Nobuyasu and they had not been quite as timid as his present travelling companion was.
Disgusted by the shyness of the youth, he was to growl disdainfully before turning to glance at some of the local people that were wandering through the streets. Most preferred to move all about the pair, ill-accustomed to having bushi within the city. There were not many and those that were to be found there within the capital, typically comported themselves not unlike the other people of the city. Yet there was an air of violence and quiet simmering fury that emanated from Tomizen so that few people felt at all at ease with him.
The women were especially noteworthy for shrinking back from him. Growling, the bushi was to make for the south of the city thinking to find his way back to the one part of the city he had come to best know.
"Whereabouts are thou headed to, Tomizen-san?" Yoshiyori wondered confused, "My brother's house is to the east of this place."
"To the south."
"I can see that, however I do not understand why?" Yoshiyori wondered confused just before his companion turned about to seize him by the arm. "What? What are you doing, Tomizen?"
"Do come along! I seek to aid thee, it might do you some measure of good!" Tomizen grunted irritably, "You have never drunk a drop of saké, and have yet to learn to enjoy life within the capital."
"But we are here as a matter of honour," Yoshiyori protested weakly, as he allowed himself to be carried along by Tomizen.
"There is naught that we can do, for the Takimoto," Tomizen replied indifferent to his reasoning, "Why should we not enjoy ourselves? We have a duty to indulge ourselves and enjoy what thy brothers cannot."
If he were a little older he might well have stopped Tomizen, he might well have kept his head. Yet this he did not do. Carried along by the folly of the older man, he was to be taken off the path his father had hoped for him, and down a road his mother could only have disapproved of.
*****
The Prince's house was a large estate. It was larger than that of Yoshinobu's in the area, which was perhaps one twentieth of the size. The princely estate was known as that of Hachihara and was located in northwest of the city, and was a series of estates with nine parts to it that is to say nine buildings with there being a great central one where there was seven floors not unlike some of the great countryside keeps. It was complete with a large assembly hall on the first floor, which gave way to the courtyard.
The white exterior was of such startling beauty that there could not be any comparison between it and the castle of the Takimoto up in the north. It was therefore with more than a little astonishment that the youth entered the great palatial estate where the Prince lived. The walls were covered in drawings of tigers and of butterflies.
This latter image was to amuse the bushi a great deal who asked, "Why butterflies?"
"Because I like butterflies, almost as much as I like pyre flies which if you look to the walls in the various rooms will see portrayed in some night scenes and depictions of some of the lands and forests of Iyoshima," Shōtoku replied with a shrug of his large shoulders, as he glanced at the pink animals that decorated his walls. "I have also a fondness for tigers and consider them among the most impressive of creatures."
"I see," Satomine said noncommittally, trying to hide how impressed he was by the beauty of the painted walls.
"Is it not only the walls, look to the ceiling Satomine-san!" Tsubaki whispered to him as she stepped forward to his side.
Satomine did just that at once. He was immediately struck with awe. The ceilings had also been painted at the Prince's expense with great colours. There were paintings of the great butterfly badge that Shōtoku loved more than his own life. It was patterned against the great alabaster coloured ceiling that shimmered as the light of the suns' struck it. The crimson butterfly was once more of particular interest to the bushi.
"Magnificent, who painted the walls and ceiling?" Satomine inquired astounded by the beauty of the Prince's palace.
"The monks of Mt-Tairei were those who painted the walls and ceiling, along with Masaharu and his brothers," Shōtoku confess amused by his enthusiasm.
"Masaharu-donō has brothers?"
"Had, only one remains still alive and is Abbot of Mt-Taiyama in the land of Bishū in the region of Montō." Shōtoku corrected him genially, "Masaharu-san does not speak often of them I imagine due to his sorrow, with Akashikan as his younger brother now calls himself also grief-stricken at the passing of their middle sibling."
"I see."
"It also happens that Prince Shōtoku has had three of the buildings here rebuilt after a fire many years prior. He began life one of the poorest of the Imperial Princes and is now one of the wealthiest," Tsubaki boasted gleefully, "Quite how he accomplished such a deed is legendary throughout Miyakō!"
"Hardly anything of the sort, I simply funnelled the wealth gained from the donations given to me by the family into buying Shōens all about the western provinces nearest to the capital." Shōtoku confessed with a small snigger.
"Is that permitted?" Satomine inquired curiously.
"Almost," Shōtoku replied amused, "I did it with Kiyoharu's assistance. He and I have long had our own vision for the land and for the Imperial family's lot in the world, and for the Tahara clan. We dream of shaking the two clans to their foundations, for they have long ago fallen into utter complacency and irrelevance thought they do not yet realize it."
Though it must be admitted that some of this was known to Satomine, who had by this time hear of some of Shōtoku's friendships from Tsubaki. He was however less than enthused at this last revelation.
The Court had maintained a great deal of influence over provincial appointments, even as far north as Miitsu where Yoshinobu ruled as all but King. It was therefore stunning to him to hear that Shōtoku considered them utterly irrelevant. Always the Tennō and his government had loomed large in his imagination so that he had worried as had Yoshinobu that he should somehow displease them.
"How do you mean that they are irrelevant?" Satomine asked rather more carefully than the likes of Yorinobu might well have done.
"I mean only that their interest and so their influence has died in places such as Iyoshima, Miitsu and Montō. So that the Imperial Court that once expertly managed affairs in the provinces has now begun to withdraw from them ever more." Shōtoku explained to him, with a piercing gaze that instilled in his friend a disquiet towards what he had to say.
It was then that he began to understand for the first time some of the myriad complaints that Yoshinobu had so often liked to make against the Court. He had despised the Tahara and regarded them as little more than parasites and worms that writhed beneath the flesh of the nation. Quite why had always been a mystery to the youth, who now better understood this perspective. Yet he still could not help but cling to his ideals, to his hopes that it might not be so; the Tennō was the descendant of Amaterasu-omikami-Tennō. Therefore he had to have some of the light of righteousness buried deep within him! And yet even as Satomine told himself this, there was a small voice in the back of his mind that murmured that it might not be so.
"Yet what of yourself, Tonō?" He asked quickly surprising his host, "I mean you are present herewith me, therefore should I really trust you?"
"Do not be rude!" Kagetoshi hissed at him, from behind him which made the bushi jump some fifty metres into the air. He had forgotten about the old man, who now leant towards him his dark eyes piercing through Satomine as he growled, "None may use that tone or speak so to a member of the Imperial line."
"Oh do be quiet Kagetoshi," Shōtoku growled at his servant, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
"But sire!"
"Never you mind what he says, and no Satomine-san, none within the boundaries of Miyakō may be trusted for this is a city of vipers." Shōtoku muttered as he frowned down at the shōgi board before him only to squint at it with irritated eyes. "When did thou begin to win this game?"
Satomine hid a smirk. While the Prince had been preoccupied with thinking and trouncing him in words, he had distracted him and begun to gain the advantage. He liked games but only if it meant he might win them.
Seeing the glint in his eyes and the tug of the other man's lips into the ghost of a smile, Shōtoku lost his annoyed expression and chuckled once more. "I see what it is you have done; well played Satomine-san! But I will no longer continue to play at games, but play in earnest!"
"Yes, of course Tonō."
"No matter, what was it that you wished to say?" Satomine was to ask of him, furrowing his brow as he focused himself once more on the game before him.
"They might be able to wield some measure of influence in some of the Western Provinces, but the north and east lie mostly beyond their authority. They could certainly gather an army if they wished but how much use it might be, and the question of who would lead it is the question that troubles my mind. They would never entrust it to Yoshinobu, for he is no longer known and thus no longer trusted." Shōtoku informed him pointedly, as he made to corner his opponent who stared at the board annoyed.
"Why would they not entrust such a task to him? What of his heroics in the war against the Emishi all those years ago?"
"Satomine-san… that was twenty-three years ago," Shōtoku said softly staring at him with a sad gleam in his eyes, "To the short-sighted effeminate Imperial Court that may as well be twenty-three centuries ago. They have long since forgotten it and Yoshinobu."
"Oh…" Satomine murmured unnerved at this revelation.
He wished to protest once more, and yet he could not help but feel utterly crushed at the revelation that the Court had become even worse than he had believed. What was to be done? He asked himself this, fretting over what might be done to secure victory for the Takimoto in the north. He had a duty to them, and if it meant having to learn the language and arts of the Court he would do so.
Reluctant to waste any sort of time he was to sigh, as he deflated considerably. Duty called and he would answer it, he mused reluctantly before he moved one last piece declaring as he did so. "I win."
Shōtoku stared. Tsubaki cheered. Then Shōtoku flipped over the board scattering the pieces, while Satomine sniggered, and the lady shouted at her cousin.
*****
The introduction of Satomine to matters of poetry and to calligraphy as an art form along with painting was given over to the Nohara. The task was one that they considered of the utmost importance and treated as such. If Satomine was to undertake presenting himself before the court as a representative from the north and therefore considered no less presentable a 'nobleman' than those of the noble families of Miyakō they were determined that he should be able to comport himself in the same manner as them.
The difficulty lay in that he had not the talent for poetry and art that a man steeped in those arts might well have demonstrated after a life spent with them. It was therefore for this reason that he was to quickly begin to despair of his own inability to half as well as what any of them expected of him.
He was to be asked at the start of each day to recite a new poem, with the lady Tsubaki serving as his instructor in these arts even as Shōtoku preoccupied himself with teaching him what he knew of oratory and history of the Capital as he took him hunting everyday after they first arrived in the palace of Hachihara.
On the fifth day after his arrival there, Satomine was asked as always not long after he first entered the walls of the palace he was to be asked to enter the main hall to present himself before the lady. Dressed as always in the most splendid fashion as befitted a proper princess of the Yamatai, Tsubaki wore silk dresses in the popular fashion of the ladies of the Court. Hers at the moment was a blue kimono that lay atop a crimson one and a number of other dresses of a different shade of red or pink. In all she looked more beautiful than ever before in her junihitoe, with this style of dress the current fashion in the capital.
"Recite for me the poem you have composed just before you slept." Tsubaki demanded as was her duty she had seated herself before the young man.
"Very well," Satomine agreed uneasily as always before he threw himself into the singing of the poem.
"The wisteria is in bloom,
Though it shimmers and trembles,
The moon shan't look away."
The poem was one that he had conjured forth as he stared out into the garden at the wisteria tree that grew near the rear of the courtyard. It was a sight he could not quite keep from staring at. The wisteria was in blossom for the last time that year, he realized with more than a little sentimentality.
He only hoped that he might have at last impressed her. The prior day he had striven to compose a poem that might impress the young woman. She had for her part heard it with an inscrutable almost disapproving air about her. This served to unnerve him, with the young maiden sighing furiously.
"Why do you refuse to listen? Here, this is not simply about capturing the flow of the river, or the fullness of the moon but about the sentiments that they inspire!" She proclaimed as she threw herself into the singing of a poem that made Satomine stare.
It was incomparable to his own, he realized at once with flushed angry cheeks.
"When the moon is away,
I shan't help but to twist and ache
Endlessly evening after evening,
For what is the wisteria without the moon?
But a hollow plant with nowhere to look to."
Tsubaki countered at once with this poem as she sat before Satomine, a slight frown on her lips. Expertly weaving together a short poem in response to him, in the old custom she was to study him at some length, visibly disappointed by the clumsy manner in which he had sought to compose his poem for her.
"Is that how it is in the far north, Satomine?" She asked pouting ever so slightly, "Are none in the north able to compose as ably as we do herein the south?"
It was with more than a little reluctance that he nodded his head, sitting cross-legged before her with a frown of his own. "Yes, Tsubaki-san, it is exactly as you say. Many of us in the provinces sing songs that our parents have passed down to us. We have poetry though not of the same sort exactly as those nobles of Miyakō. But surely you already knew this? You are yourself of the line of the Nohara, who are of the provinces."
Tsubaki blinked her eyes.
In them Satomine saw a hunger, a longing for that past. It was with a start that it occurred to him that she might not have been raised by Masaharu as a daughter of the Nohara. Startled by this fact he was to stare at her in amazement and pity.
The vulnerability he saw there was unfamiliar to him. Himari was distant and cold, where Akemi and other women of the north were hardy and had never demonstrated a great deal of vulnerability with him. Perhaps he mused with a small smile to himself, it had to do with his own innate lack of success with them that they had rarely if ever entrusted any part of themselves to him when their lives were not under threat.
It was with a small grin that he was to burst at last into song. His was a voice that was at the first clumsy but became ever more enchanting the more he sang. He may not have realized it then but there was an otherworldly quality to his voice then that neither Tsubaki, nor any of those around them that day had ever heard in all their lives.
His voice now did not tremble and quake and shudder as it once did. He sang now not from a place of uncertainty as he had with his hurried poem, but with confidence and joy. In all, it was now her turn to gape at him, and stare in awe.
"Far off in shadow'd lands,
Away from the kiss of the suns',
Lived the lonesome Akayama,
Supported by his great war-bands,
He was without sons',
He the northern lord,
High born was his half-god father,
Mighty his arms and generous his nature,
Though his doom was long foretold,
So that misery was ever his brother,
Many the maids his subjects present'd,
Ere his fall down into the realm of Yomi,
Until Hibachi-hime came, and was resent'd
By all of his many myriad servants that number'd forty,
Into the mountain-estate she trod,
Cast down by her mother,
On pain of the rod,
Of him she dared not hope for a lover,
Of her he hoped for a bride,
Many summers they savour'd,
Ere into dark lands he went,
To stop the lord of Kurogahara of unfavour'd
Memory from which Akumara gave vent,
Many the tears, she spill'd,
Tears unending that fill'd
Many ponds, for noble Akayama
As he went down into the realm of Yomi."
When at last the song came to an end, the young woman was to stare visibly moved. Her eyes glistened with tears as she attempted to speak, only to fail. This is how it has always been with the harshest of critics; many of them are the sole people who can properly appreciate the beauty of a particular song, or the finest of turns of phrases. Certainly many of them are philistine in nature, yet there exists among their ranks some of the most sensitive of souls.
Satomine could not have known it, but raised half alienated from her roots as a proper lady, for her father had long ago become convinced that the Nohara might die with him, she had always longed for rural Zipangu. A lady who loved the refinement of the Court, the sweet poems and the fine culture and art that Shōtoku had shared with her, she was however as intrigued and fascinated by the provinces as he was. Save where he could visit them as he pleased, she could not. Hers was a gilded cage that barred her from her own people; the bushi. And yet her blood still burnt with desire, her bones still ached with longing and her heart still wept with the hope that she might someday be reunited with the bushi.
She was the daughter of the Nohara. Yet denied her heritage, she was a woman lost in the world this then was why she wept though she sought to hide it.
Hers was the loveliest face in the whole of the capital, so that her tears were the most heartrending to behold. It was at that moment that Satomine reached out to wipe at her tears, stricken to his core to see her reduced to tears in this manner. "Do cease weeping Tsubaki-donō! Why do you weep?"
It was with a small huff that the young maiden hissed at him, "Do not look at me as I do so! It is disgraceful!"
"Then stop crying," He murmured back now caught between concern for her and amusement at how she sought to retain her pride.
It was with infinite tenderness now that he wiped with callused fingers at her soft cheeks. Marvelling as he did so when she attempted to grapple away his hands at how soft they were also. She was made of porcelain, naught at all like those ladies of the north he had met over the course of his life.
Any other man might well have shrunk from her then, or he might have when he saw how near she was and how her eyes glimmered pounced upon her. Yet not Satomine.
He wished to. He came near to doing so.
Yet he could not.
Heart in his throat, blood burning and hands itching to press her down, yet he could not bring himself to do so. To do such a thing would be a desecration of her in his eyes. Even a kiss, much as he wished for it, would be going too far.
Reluctantly he pulled back, which served to startled and disappoint her, with Satomine sighing. He prepared himself for a quarrel, aware that the fiery Tsubaki could not take such a refusal without letting loose her great temper.
This she did not do. Instead, she was to move towards him, nearer her eyes hardening with longing and resolve that surprised and pleased him. His protests dying on his lips, he could not help but feel a kind of electricity pass through him.
It was then that there was a cry from just outside the gates, followed by two more of rage. Seated in the courtyard near the eastern gate of the great Hachihara-Pavilion, the two jumped, bewildered at the shouts that echoed across he courtyard.
"Who is that shouting at the gates?" Tsubaki wondered confused, as she glanced about her as though she expected that Susanowo might well surge forth from the ether to attack her or Satomine at any given moment.
It was not him that they heard but the sound of a young man's voice. It was a loud one, yet one that Satomine recognized at once though he did not say so at once. Surprised by it, he was to however regain his feet and was down the hallway from where they had been seated together in the midst of their lesson before she could mutter another word.
"Greetings! Greetings! I come bearing news from the north! From Miitsu for the likes of Satomine-san, messenger of the Takimoto!" Someone shouted from just outside, only to hasten to add, "Please allow me entry into the estate of Prince Shōtoku! I have heard tell from Nohara-donō that Satomine the representative of the Takimoto is staying here as a guest in the house of Prince Shōtoku!"
"Nonsense, move aside!" the voice of one of the guards was heard to echo from outside the estate walls.
"Not until I see the representative! I am a friend of his! My name is Harukor, please allow me to speak with him, to convey the letter of the Takimoto to him," begged Harukor beginning to grow frustrated.
"Bah, clear away from here!"
"Yes, away with you!" Shouted the second guard.
"But I have yet to see him!"
"Enough of this," Satomine yelled now, as he found his way to the gates of Shōtoku's palace, glaring fiercely at the two guardsmen who shrank beneath the fury of his gaze. "What is the matter with the both of you? Can you not see that Harukor has come all this way hither on behalf of the lords of the Takimoto clan? I mean look at his letter, it bears the seal of the head of the Takimoto clan!"
The two guards exchanged a worried glance. Neither of them had truly expected for Satomine to stomp out from the house to confront them in defence of Harukor. The two men he recognized as members of Shōtoku's escort from nigh on a week prior, so that their names were known to him. He knew the one to the left with the longer hair, and bad teeth as Naomori, who was middle-aged and stout, with the other man being slightly younger and with shorter hair. A fellow who was nigh on as tall as the bushi, he was dressed as his peer was in armour. Darker eyed and with the stout tanned skin of a man who had spent the majority of his life outside, in the baking suns', Sadamori was a formidable man if a quiet one.
The glare that Satomine threw in his direction though cowed him, as it had Naomori who was to grumble beneath his breath. "We did not realize he was a friend."
"Friend or no, he should not be allowed entry to the home of an Imperial Prince." Sadamori added beneath his breath, only to leap when he saw how the bushi glared at him once more.
"I do not care for thine concerns, now follow me-Harukor you are covered in blood!" Satomine said only for his words to turn into a cry of panic as he took notice of how the man was dressed differently from the prior time he had seen him.
The last time he had set eyes upon Harukor he was dressed in a simple farmer's kimono, yet now he was dressed in the raiment of a warrior. That is to say he wore the armour of a peasant-conscript which amounted simply to a simple helm and a chest plate that reached down to their knees, and with a simple wakizashi and spear for weapons. The spear though was nowhere to be seen, though to his surprise the wakizashi hung from the horse behind Harukor's saddle. Quite how he had gotten the steed was unknown to Satomine, for he recognized it at once as one of the Takimoto's beasts.
"I did not expect you to arrive hither so soon after my own arrive here, Harukor what has happened? How is it you are covered in blood?" He exclaimed once more, this time though the visibly wearied farmer's son shrugged his shoulders.
"I- not all of it is my blood, though some of it- I must confess does indeed belong to me," Harukor stammered whereupon he leant heavily upon the man beside him. "It was the bandits near the city, I escaped them by the skin of my teeth!"
"Find him a physician! Now!" Satomine commanded with such urgency that Naomori hurried away at once, without question. "Why have you not called for a physician? Can you not see that he is wounded?"
"But-" Sadamori began helplessly.
"Go!"
And away the man went also, with Satomine left holding onto Harukor who leant on him heavily, panting ever so slightly. Not at all mortally injured, he was still able to look on his friend and jest ever so slightly, "It appears that you have rescued me once more, neh, Satomine-donō?"
"Oh do be quiet, and do come along, Harukor!" Satomine urged him, as he dragged him past the gates only to heave him bodily over his shoulder.
"Wait! Satomine-donō! Yorinobu's letter!" Harukor murmured to him, thrusting into his hands that which he had held in a death-grip hitherto then, his eyes wild with desperation even as his heart raced and he clung to his friend, spilling blood onto his kimono as he did so.
The other man was soon placed within the courtyard, just as not a physician but a monk was fetched from the other side of the city with Harukor by that time having lost consciousness. Wearied beyond measure from his wounds the half-Emishi northerner was to swoon, while the monk in question, Brother Tankei glanced over the youth before he pressed his hands over his wounds.
Not at all familiar with Shōtoku, the monk was stout and bald he had come at the call that there was a man injured, dying that necessitated healing. Dedicated to the kami, Sukunahikona who had first been brought it was said to the lands of Zipangu by Sea-Dwarves from the island of Kemoshima or Ezo. It was therefore a kami that was initially foreign some one thousand years prior only for him to have over the centuries become associated with the people of the nation even after the Dwarves had disappeared from sight so that they were now little more than an oddity or even a myth. In the capital there were still stories told about them, with the people having long since forgotten what most of them looked like, and of a mind that he belonged as much to them as the Dwarves.
The deity of healing, his arts which could be called 'miracles' were the gift of the kami to each of his followers, whom had for a duty to heal all whom they came across who might require it. These arts required a deep faith few men could possibly muster, and took years of training so that it was a calling few had. The monastery within the city was funded by the Tahara, and had been founded by Takuma himself, on account of his having seen the value of these healers throughout his wars against the Fratriarch Vanraegar.
It was to that monastery that Naomori had flown to for aid, with the monks not unaccustomed to such calls. The monk in question was noteworthy for his jolly face, his thick brows and his large hands and dark monastic robes which were kept together by a large brown sash. Running his hands over the wounds of the farmer he was to find more than four large arrow wounds, and two katana wounds.
"Hold him down, I will remove the arrow-heads," He growled as he removed from the bag he had brought with him tweezers made of iron that he might remove the arrow heads. "He did well to break the arrows that or he fell from his horse. He has perhaps an hour or so to live without my arts, yet I shan't close the wounds unless we remove these bits of iron from his flesh."
"Can you save him?" Satomine asked breathlessly, worried for the only one of the trio of farmers he had truly befriended up in the north.
"But of course, but only if either of you guards will assist me." He commanded sharply, turning now to the guards, who were startled at this request.
"Us?" Sadamori asked stunned as he had only just returned, to report that he had not found anyone who could help find a physician.
"Yes, what with how this other man, this bushi's hands are shaking even as he frets worse than a mother with her newborn," Tankei growled irritably, scowling at Satomine whom he ordered away from him.
"Very well," Satomine grunted distracted he was by the letter that Harukor had thrust into his hands.
Taking up his seat where he had left it near where Tsubaki now sat, while Brother Tankei did what he could to heal Harukor.
Glancing at the letter, he could see it had the Takimoto seal which was in the form of the emblem of the clan that is to say the three Zipangu gentian flowers on five bamboo leaves. Tearing the letter open, it was with a guilty sigh that Satomine realized too late that the letter was intended for Yoshiyori and not him. His shame though was short-lived when he soon found himself staring at one of the most horrifying messages he had ever read in all his life.
It was with trembling hands that he cast down the letter, to look up at the descending suns' in the distance. Burying his face in his hands he was to tremble for some time such was the force of his emotions. The letter which had been intended for the likes of Yoshiyori conveyed the very worst news imaginable.
Forgotten, sitting not far from where he stood Tsubaki was to interrupt his racing thoughts with a worried cry that pulled him out from the tempest that was his own thoughts. Staring at her for several minutes, it took him some time to decipher her words.
"What is it Satomine-san?" Tsubaki asked of him, worried at what the letter from the north could well mean.
She could see how strongly the young man was affected by the words in the letter, for he trembled and shook from head to toes. He was to look up at her with more than a little shock before he turned over the letter to her, saying as he did so to Shōtoku. "We must speak to someone in the Court; the Takimoto have reported that the northern fortresses have all fallen and that Motonaga's army is en route for Castle-Mononobe!"