Jimmu turned his head and felt a faint draft as an arrow hummed past his right ear. The archer was riding at him, already bending his bow and firing again.

Time slowed down even further. Jimmu saw the arrow flying toward him, the head seeming to swell as it approached, the flight feathers ruffling. Jimmu drew his sword and with an instinctive twitch of his wrist, deflected the arrow with the blade, brought the weapon round to slash the archer across the chest, then twisted it to slash him across the back as he rode by.

The archer fell. His foot caught in a stirrup, and the horse dragged its dead master along behind it.

There was a shrill scream. A rider had dismounted at the shrine and was struggling with Lady Takeko. Her pale arms beat at him, like the flapping wings of a swan. She kicked and cursed. Her hat and veil had been torn off.

Jimmu rushed to her aid.

The samurai caught sight of him and pushed Lady Takeko to the ground. He reached for his sword, but never drew it.

Using all his strength, Jimmu brought down his sword in a stroke called “priest’s robe.” The edge of the blade sliced diagonally through the samurai’s right collarbone, severing his head, neck, left shoulder and arm from the rest of his body.

Blood sprayed Jimmu’s face. Without bothering to wipe it away, he wheeled around to locate the other riders.

Both the litter bearers were dead, and apart from Jimmu, the only guard still alive was Kanji. He had killed one rider and was now under attack from the remaining two. They held their horses on shortened reins as they tried to hack at him. Kanji held a spear in each hand and kept the samurai at bay, lunging and parrying with great skill.

As Jimmu hurried over to him, Kanji killed the rider on his left with a jab to his throat, but the other rider felled him with a sword stroke.

There was no time for the rider to alter position and defend himself against Jimmu. Jimmu took off the man’s left leg just below the knee, hauled him out of the saddle, and finished him with a two-handed thrust that sent the sword through the samurai’s breastbone.

Jimmu kneeled beside his fallen companion.

Kanji, not quite dead, was trembling violently. He wanted to speak, but all that passed his chattering teeth was, “Be . . . be . . .” Then his trembling ceased and his eyes glazed over.

Jimmu knew what Kanji had been trying to say.

“Betrayed!” he whispered to himself. “We were betrayed by someone at Mitsukage Castle.”

A shadow fell across Kanji’s corpse. Jimmu sprang to his feet, ready to fight, but the shadow had been cast by Lady Takeko, not an enemy. She stared at him in horrified wonder, while the breeze blew strands of her long, fine hair across her face. The white silk of her kimono was speckled red with blood.