Lord Ankan instinctively drew his sword, and when Jimmu struck at him, he parried the blow with great skill.

“Are you mad, Jimmu?” he gasped. “What is the meaning of this?”

In reply, Jimmu swung his sword again. Lord Ankan locked blades with him, and their faces came close together.

“You are bleeding badly, Jimmu!” gasped Lord Ankan. “The pain of your wound has turned your wits. Lay down your sword; I have no wish to kill you.”

Jimmu felt light-headed.

“Why not?” he cried. “You killed my father. I am Shimomura Jimmu, son of Lord Shimomura Kensu,” he declared, “the man whose reputation you destroyed with forged documents, the man you drove to suicide, along with his wife, my mother!”

“What madness is this?” shouted Lord Ankan. “What are you talking about?”

Jimmu no longer knew himself; all his clear-cut certainties were blurred and blunted. As his strength ebbed away, so did his determination. Nichiren had taught him to hate Lord Ankan, but where was the demon Nichiren had described? Lord Ankan had treated Jimmu generously, and had displayed courage and skill in battle. With a sense of shock, Jimmu realized that Choju Ankan had earned his respect.

The shock was too great for Jimmu to bear. He flung his sword aside in a gesture of surrender, then felt his knees begin to buckle. The pain of his wound roared in a rising tide of darkness that swallowed him down.

18 - MITSUKAGE CASTLE ISE PROVINCE

18

MITSUKAGE CASTLE ISE PROVINCE

WINTER 1572

Jimmu’s mind entered a dream that seemed as real as waking. He was following a narrow mountain track that ran through a forest of firs. The track was scattered with browned pine needles and fallen cones. It passed by mossy boulders and clumps of brambles with sickly yellow leaves. Through gaps between the trees, Jimmu glimpsed a deep valley filled with white mist.

He stopped to look closely at a stump that stood beside the track. The stump had been carved into the likeness of a human figure, but the carving was so crude that it was impossible to tell whether the figure was intended to be male or female. At the foot of the stump, a bunch of flowers lay on a flat stone. The place was obviously a shrine, but Jimmu did not know which spirit was honored there.

He bowed to the carving.

“Since I don’t have an offering, I can’t ask you for a blessing,” he confessed to it, “so instead, I ask you please to leave me alone.”