how two half-naked scarecrows would convince a fully armed

soldier to give up his weapons and horses to them. At least the

soldier’s companions looked negligible. One seemed sick; his

body not only slumped but swayed in the saddle. Someone had

tied him to the horse to keep him from tumbling off. The other

man was frail and no longer young. He clutched his horse’s

mane and slipped at every bounce. Neither had any weapons

that Akitada could see.

No, the only dangerous man was the one in the lead. Tall, a

good horseman, and young, judging by his straight back and

easy movements with the stride of his horse, he wore his

helmet pulled forward against the sun, a breastplate, and a long

sword. He was still too far away for them to guess his military

rank, but possibly he also carried a second, shorter sword in

his belt.

Then Akitada’s heart started beating wildly with a sud-

den hope. There was something very familiar about the set of

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those shoulders, the tilt of the head. “Dear heaven,” he mut-

tered. “Tora?”

Haseo turned to look at him. “What?”

Akitada gave a laugh. “Come on,” he cried, rising from

behind the shrub, “I know that soldier.” He started into a stum-

bling run down the embankment, hardly thinking of his

knee now.

The horseman saw them and reined in his horse. After a

moment, he urged it forward again, but now his hand was on

the hilt of his sword.

Akitada stopped and waited, grinning foolishly, chuckling

from time to time, until Haseo shook his elbow. “Are you all

right? Are you sure you know those people?”

“Only one of them, and yes, I’m sure.”

The three horsemen approached at a slow pace. The two in

back seemed to take little interest in them, but the young soldier

stared, frowned, and stared again.

He came to a halt before them. “What do you want?” he

asked, not unkindly. “I’ve no money to give you, but we can

share a bit of food.”

“Thank you, Tora,” said Akitada. “That is very kind of you.

We missed our morning rice.”

“Amida! Oh, dear heaven! Can that be you, sir? Is it really,

really you?” Tora bounded out of the saddle and ran up to

Akitada, seized him around the waist, lifted him, and crushed

him to his chest. He laughed, while tears ran down his face.

When he finally put the weakly chuckling Akitada back down,

he said, “Sorry, sir. I was on my way to Kumo’s mine to look for

you, and here you are. They said you were dead, and I’d started

believing it.” He wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Never mind. An easy mistake. There was a time when I

thought I was. This is my friend Haseo. We’re both on the run

from Kumo’s men.”

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353

It was said casually, as if they had just met on the street, old

friends exchanging broad smiles and trivial news, but Tora

was sobered instantly. “You look terrible,” he said. “I’ll kill the bastards.” This seemed to remind him of his companions. He

turned, his face grim, and pulling his short sword, went to the

man on the second horse. Akitada saw the bloodied, black-

ened, swollen face, the eyes so puffy that it was a wonder the

man could see, and he heard the man’s high scream of fear,

before he realized that he was looking at Wada and that

Tora meant to kill him right here in the middle of the road

to Mano.

“Wait!”

Tora turned, and Akitada saw the deadly determination in

his eyes. “He dies,” Tora said, his voice flat. “He would’ve died

yesterday, but I kept him around to show us the way.”

“Not here and not now,” Akitada said. “I don’t want to re-

member our meeting this way.”

Tora reluctantly put back his sword. He came to Akitada and

took him into another bear hug.

“Thank you, my friend,” Akitada said when they finally

released each other. “And who is your other companion?”

Tora grinned. “That’s Turtle. A bit of a coward, but his

heart’s good. He’s my servant.”

Akitada raised his brows. “I see you’ve risen in the world.

Congratulations on the new armor. You do look like a man in

need of a servant.”

Tora had the grace to blush and looked at Haseo, who had

sat down beside the road to adjust the bandage on his leg. “Your

friend’s hurt?”

Haseo made Tora a slight bow. “It’s just a cut which likes

to bleed. We’re anxious to get to Mano before Kumo catches

up with us, and I’ve already caused too many delays with my

infernal leg.”

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“Never mind, Haseo,” said Akitada. “We can ride now. I

see no reason to transport the despicable Wada. Let him run

alongside. And Tora’s servant can walk, too.”

Turtle slid from his horse and rubbed his behind. “Glad to,”

he said cheerfully. “He’s not a very comfortable horse.”

Tora unpacked his saddlebag and passed his spare trousers

and robe to Akitada. To Haseo he gave the wide-sleeved jacket

he wore over his armor. Then he frowned at their callused,

scarred feet. “How did you walk like that?” he asked Akitada,

taking off his boots.

Akitada said, “Thank you, but your boots won’t fit. And my

feet have become accustomed to worse than road gravel.”

“Uh-oh!” Haseo grabbed his arm. He was looking up the

road toward the north. Where the road disappeared around

the foot of the mountain, a dust cloud had appeared. It moved

rapidly their way.

“Kumo,” cried Akitada, and swung himself on Turtle’s

horse. “Come on. We’ll try to outrun them.”

Tora cut loose a whimpering Wada, who tumbled heavily

onto the road, where Tora kicked him out of the way, and called

to Haseo, “Here, get on!” before running to his own horse.

Turtle stood, staring at them with frightened eyes. “What’s

happening?” he cried. “Who’s coming? Please, take me with you,

master!”

Tora was in the saddle. “Sorry, Turtle. No time. Hide in some

bush. If I can, I’ll come back for you.”

“Tora, your sword,” cried Akitada, bringing his horse along-

side Tora’s. After the merest moment of hesitation, Tora passed

over his long sword and offered his helmet, but this Akitada

refused. Then they cantered off after Haseo.

The nags were not up to a chase. Having spent all their

miserable lives in post stables, fed on small rations of rotting

rice straw or trotting back and forth between the two coasts,

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

355

carrying fat merchants or visitors on leisurely trips, they had

never galloped. Now, beaten and kicked into a burst of speed,

they lathered up, started wheezing and heaving, and eventually

slowed to an agonized trot. Behind, the dust cloud came on

rapidly, already revealing horses, men, and the flying banner.

Haseo shouted to Akitada, “We’ll have to make a stand. Are

you any good with that sword?”

“Adequate,” Akitada shouted back. He had kept up his

practice with Tora, and he was not about to give up the sword.

“Sorry.”

Haseo nodded. He eyed Tora’s short sword, but evidently

decided against asking an officer in robust health to render up

his only weapon to an invalid.

Looking about for a suitable place to face their pursuers,

Akitada knew their chances of winning were slim. They were

badly outnumbered and lacked weapons. Tora, with his short

sword, would have to dismount, because a horseman had the

reach on him with a long sword. His only chance was to fight on

foot, slashing at the horses’ bellies or legs, and then killing the riders when they were tossed.