Autumn Bridge by Takashi Matsuoka Page B

Better that he thinks I don’t understand, then he won’t worry about me worrying. When I come to mind, he will smile in amusement. Then he will focus his full attention on his task. Perhaps, in such a way, I can help him to come back.”
    “Surely there is no doubt of that,” another of her ladies said. “Lord Masamuné is the greatest warrior of Shikoku.”
    “Shikoku is a speck in the sea,” Lady Kiyomi said, “and the other islands of Japan just more specks. The Great Khan of the Mongol Empire commands armies numbering in the millions. He and his ancestors have conquered kingdoms many times the size of this insignificant place. Our lord is more likely to die in battle than to return.”
    They walked in silence to the courtyard where the children played. There they joined in the childish games and spoke no more of war.
     

     
    “Masamuné!” Gengyo, Lord of Hakata, was stunned to see one of his worst enemies arriving with reinforcements.
    Masamuné bowed, a broad smile on his face. Gengyo’s dismay alone was worth the rigors of the arduous journey. “We have come to help you expel the arrogant invaders.”
    “My deepest thanks to you. Unfortunately, we are not yet in a position to expel. With your help, we can perhaps hope to slow their advance until the Shogun’s main armies arrive.”
    “Nonsense! When the Mongols came seven years ago, they broke and ran as soon as we charged.” If Masamuné tried to recall the details, he would remember that this was not quite true. The fighting had been hard and bloody, and it was quite possible that had the storm not come and driven their ships away, the Mongols would have taken the field. But his perception of the first invasion had taken on an entirely different shape, thanks to exaggerated retellings of those battles.
    “There are more of them this time,” Gengyo said, “many more.”
    “What does it matter? Let us charge immediately. What barbarian can stand against an all-out samurai attack?”
    Gengyo gestured for Masamuné to follow him. He led the way to earthwork walls on the rise overlooking the shoreline plain. “See for yourself.”
    Hakata Bay was filled with ships, hundreds of them, and hundreds more approached from the horizon. On land, Mongols were encamped in well-spaced, well-defended groups behind earthwork walls of their own. Masamuné estimated the number of Mongols he could see at twenty thousand. But their camps extended all the way down the shore and out of sight behind the western hills. If all the troops aboard the ships had come ashore, there could be as many as fifty thousand Mongols already in Japan, with many thousands more soon to land.
    “Horses,” Gengyo said. “See? They have horses, too. Many of them. What we heard about them, the way they conquered China and Korea, and unknown empires in the Far West, must be true. We’ve skirmished a few times. The way they fight from the saddle is incredible. I don’t remember them fighting that way before.” No doubt Gengyo, too, had done his share of reshaping memories. “Our brave sailors from Choshu and Satsuma Domains have been climbing on board the enemy ships at night and killing many of them. But for every one that’s killed, ten more arrive.”
    “What are they unloading now?”
    “Those tubes and cylinders?” Gengyo looked very worried. “I don’t know. But they are pointing them in our direction.”
    “When will the Shogun’s forces arrive?” Masamuné asked.
    “Tomorrow. Or the day after. The Mongols will probably attack in force at noon.”
    Masamuné and Gengyo watched the Mongols for several minutes in silence. Finally, Masamuné said to his lieutenant, “Remove the horses to safety. Bring the men forward on foot with their bows.” He turned to Gengyo. “They must cross a wide stretch of open terrain to reach us. We will cut them down with a barrage of arrows before they’re halfway here.”
     

     
    “You!” The Mongol brigade commander pointed at