The bearers set down the litter, and one of them tapped at the doors. Lady Takeko emerged, holding the box that her father had presented to her. She walked slowly to the rocks, placed the box on the ground, and lowered her head in prayer.

The guards and the bearers relaxed. They drank water from their canteens and broke out their rations: rice balls and cold bean stew.

Jimmu did not join them. He stood watching Lady Takeko. She remained completely motionless, and Jimmu admired her powers of self-control and concentration.

The men finished eating and sat around in a circle. Kanji produced a pair of dice.

“Hey, Jimmu!” he called. “Fancy a game of chance?”

“I don’t gamble,” said Jimmu.

“Then you’re wiser than Sadamichi,” Kanji said, laughing.

“He was up till all hours last night, dicing in the mess hall. I don’t know where his money came from, but I know where a lot of it went, because I won it from him.”

The men chuckled mockingly, then settled to their game.

Jimmu frowned and looked around. The lower slopes of the hill were clear, and there was no one on the road. Uphill there was nothing to be seen but the last of the mists clinging to the trees, yet Jimmu felt that something was wrong. The atmosphere of the shrine was more tense than tranquil.

Jimmu screened out the voices of the gambling men, and listened intently. A startled bird chattered; the wind hissed through the branches of the pines; a horse snorted, and then, somewhere close by, metal chinked softly on metal.

“Ambush!” Jimmu yelled.

The men in the circle turned, startled, and hesitated for a split second. An arrow pierced the left eye of the guard seated next to Kanji, killing him instantly. The circle broke in panic.

Between the misty trees, six riders galloped downhill toward the shrine. They were all armed.

7

ZATO ISE PROVINCE

AUTUMN 1572

Just as when he fought the duel with Sadamichi, Jimmu entered a different kind of time. Seconds slowed down and stretched out, allowing him to take in tiny details: the snarling mouth and yellow teeth of the leading samurai; the diamond-shaped leaf badge of the Takeda clan on the crest of his helmet; the brown pine needles kicked up by the hoofs of his horse. Jimmu saw a second arrow flick through the air like the blink of a shadow, and he heard the scream of the litter bearer that the arrow took down.

Lady Takeko began to get to her feet.

“Stay low!” barked Jimmu.

He lowered his spear and advanced. The leading samurai was almost on top of him. The man held a long sword at arm’s length. His eyes bulged.

Jimmu braced the spear against his side, ignored the bulk of the horse bearing down on him, and concentrated his attention on its rider.

Before the samurai could use his sword, he rode onto the point of Jimmu’s spear. Momentum drove the blade of the spear in through his breastplate and out through his back. He tumbled from the saddle, wrenching the shaft of the spear from Jimmu’s hands. The horse galloped on, riderless.