Hisashi raised his left haunch and broke wind.

“You’re right, Hisashi,” said a sarcastic voice. “Any samurai who laid eyes on you would instantly recognize you as his equal.”

The voice belonged to Sadamichi. Sadamichi was a tall young man with a bony face. His eyes had a slight squint. Sadamichi’s vanity showed in his neatly trimmed mustache, which he had grown in imitation of Lord Oda Nobunaga, the famous warlord. He considered himself to be a good deal better than his colleagues, and treated them with contempt.

“That big mouth of yours is going to land you in big trouble one of these days, Sadamichi!” snapped Hisashi.

Sadamichi’s smile was thin and mocking.

“Would you care to try shutting it, Hisashi?” he said.

Hisashi scowled. Sadamichi had a reputation as a swordsman, and Hisashi feared him.

“You may be able to shoot a matchlock, Hisashi, but you still stink of the farmyard,” gibed Sadamichi. He glanced at Jimmu. “Peasants should be kept in the fields where they belong, don’t you agree?”

Jimmu struggled to keep his temper. He detested bullies like Sadamichi.

“I asked you if you agreed with me,” said Sadamichi. “Are you stupid, or deaf?”

Jimmu no longer trusted himself. Without a word, he stood and walked out of the mess hall.

“These things must be endured!” he whispered under his breath. “These things must be endured!”

He repeated the sentence over and over, until he felt calm.

5

MITSUKAGE CASTLE ISE PROVINCE

SUMMER 1572

Jimmu soon became aware that he had made a serious mistake. By trying to avoid trouble, he had embraced it. The incident in the mess hall had brought him to Sadamichi’s attention and, on a whim, Sadamichi singled Jimmu out for special treatment. As far as he was concerned the boy was young, inexperienced, and unsure of himself—a perfect victim—and Sadamichi set out to demonstrate his superiority. What he actually demonstrated was his own childishness.

His campaign began with name-calling. When he passed Jimmu deep in the castle’s labyrinth of corridors, he whispered, “Farm Boy!” or “Dung Head!” If Jimmu sat anywhere near him in the mess hall, Sadamichi pulled a face, held his nose, and said things like, “I thought Hisashi stank, but the smell of Farm Boy is enough to put you off your food!”

Jimmu knew that Sadamichi was trying to provoke him and did not react, but deep inside his anger glowed like burning charcoal.

The inferno erupted on a day when the air was warm and heavy. The sky was overcast, and all morning distant thunder rumbled in the mountains to the north. It was weather to jangle nerves and set teeth on edge. The castle dogs snapped at anyone who approached them; in the stables, the horses shied and kicked their stalls.

At noon, Jimmu was relieved of duty and went to the mess hall for his midday meal. About half the guards were present, including Sadamichi.

Sadamichi appeared to be bored. His mess bowl was empty, and he was toying with a chopstick, tossing it up and catching it. When he saw Jimmu, he turned to his neighbor and said loudly, “Lucky I ate before Farm Boy got here!”