Price To Pay

I stopped my mount and gazed across the plain below me. The dark green pines that mark the beginnings of the Cold Lands filled the vista before my eyes. They were flanked by a line of purple mountains tipped with snow. On the plain below me lay the enemy camp, a chaos of wagons and tents with men, women and children moving between them. We had finally run the Kimasharu to ground and it felt good!

Of course, we were seen the moment that we appeared on the skyline, not that we were trying to hide. Yamato’s scouts had been watching us for over a week so he knew we were coming. In fact we would have reached the plain three days ago, but for our own wagons slowing us down. Three days of extra life for him because he knew exactly why we were here. His reign of banditry and extortion had ended the moment that Uncle and other leading daimyos had met on Mount Fuji and had sworn to drive Yamato and his men from Ritsuryo. So, rather than face us, he and his followers had headed for the edge of the Cold Lands, daring us to follow.

Maybe Yamato had expected more dropouts from the army forcing us to return home. Or perhaps and, he speculated on us never pursuing him this far north. Either way, he could have then sojourned for a year or so before returning to Ritsuryo. As things had turned out he was wrong on both counts. We were and eager to avenge the sacked towns, burnt farms and all the other indignities that had been heaped upon us over the years.

Had we been facing an honourable foe, we would have camped for the night as custom demands. Battle would only to be commenced in the morning. But we are not, so Uncle gave up in battle order ready to attack. The order to advance though, never came. Instead, the signal was given to hold our position. A party was riding out from the Kimasharu ranks with a white banner at its head. Astonishing as it might seem, Yamato wanted to a parley!

Two other daimyos and I joined Uncle before the four of us rode down to meet the approaching horsemen. This would the first time that I would have seen the infamous bandit general and I was a little surprised at what I was to see. Had we met at another time or place, I would have assumed that by his ornate helmet and two swords pushed through his belt he was just another samurai. Granted, his armour was looking a little shabby after years of campaigning, but then so did mine. However, his carriage was more aristocratic than I expected and he carried himself like the noble that he was masquerading as and not the lowborn worm that he was.

Then I looked in his eyes and saw why the man had become leader of a host of the dregs of Ritsuryo. He was mad, yes, but he was also cunning. No daimyo would have allowed such a warrior to remain in his entourage, not that Yamato would have accepted a place in one. He was born to lead not be led. The two of us actually had something in common!

He opened with a plea for everyone present to be rational. He reminded us that his troops had never raided our lands; true if you only look back five years apart from which he had not spared our neighbours.