“It would be better if I had died!” he said. “If you knew the truth about me—”

“The truth is that the courage you showed the night of the raid on the Takeda camp helped turn back Takeda Shingen and his army, and save Hamamatsu,” interrupted Kambei. “During the fighting, you were wounded, and you’ve been unconscious for six days. His Lordship’s personal physician has been attending you. I’ve been ordered to watch over you, which I don’t mind, because it’s easier than guard duty.”

“Did Lord Ankan say anything about me?” said Jimmu.

Kambei shrugged. “I think he is concerned for your health.”

Jimmu was baffled. Why had Lord Ankan bothered to keep him alive? Was there going to be some sort of trial?

“But didn’t Lord Ankan—” he said.

Kambei raised his hand.

“Rest!” he said gently. “There’ll be plenty of time for talking after you get your strength back.”

While Jimmu recovered, the winter turned severe. Blizzards raged for days on end, and the wind piled deep snowdrifts against the castle’s outer walls. Long icicles hung from the eaves, and the pool in the garden froze over.

The wound in Jimmu’s side healed quickly, but the wounds in his mind festered. He was doomed. His attempt on Lord Ankan’s life had failed, and since he was too weak to escape from Mitsukage Castle, he could do nothing but accept whatever fate Lord Ankan had prepared for him. His prospects appeared as bleak and empty as the winter countryside. It would not be the glorious death he had foreseen for himself. All his training, planning, and struggle had been for nothing. His life would end in shame and disgrace.

Kambei visited Jimmu daily, bringing food and keeping him company.

One evening, just after Jimmu and Kambei had finished supper, there was a knock on the screen door of Jimmu’s room. Kambei slid back the door to reveal Lord Ankan standing in the corridor.

Kambei bowed low. “Good evening, My Lord.”

“Good evening,” said Lord Ankan. “Please leave us, Kambei. I need to speak to Jimmu in private.”

Kambei hurried away, and Lord Ankan stepped into the room.

Jimmu struggled onto all fours, and pressed his forehead against the floor.

Lord Ankan sat cross-legged in front of him.

“Get up, Jimmu,” he said quietly.

“I can’t!” burst out Jimmu. “How can I look you in the face after what I’ve done? Why haven’t you had me put to death?”

“Get up,” Lord Ankan said again.

Jimmu obediently raised his head.

Lord Ankan was dressed in a plain brown robe.