Shike - Robert J. Shea (best finance books of all time .TXT) 📗

unwashed bodies, garbage, decaying meat and human sewage. The huge fleet was rapidly poisoning the bay. “Milk drinkers,” Munetoki groaned. Their kobaya pulled alongside a two-masted junk. They drifted till they were just at the midpoint of the vessel, where the sides were lowest. Jebu could hear conversations on the deck of the ship in an unfamiliar language that, he guessed, was Korean. He heard horses stamping on the other side of the hull, and one of them whickered. They would have to act quickly now. The horses were likely to smell them and set up a commotion. Jebu made room for two samurai who went to work with practical speed at the base of Flying Feather’s mast. They unwrapped a rope and pulled out an arrangement of pegs and splints. With ropes attached to the top of the mast other crewmen guided its fall. It crashed against the junk’s railing, and a cry of alarm pierced the humid night.

It was the third night after the Great Khan’s fleet arrived at Hakata Bay. Each night the kobaya had been going out. They filtered in among the big enemy ships and used their collapsible masts, an invention of Moko’s, to board the junks. After slaughtering as many of the warriors and crew as they could reach, the raiders set fire to the ships and escaped-or tried to. Each night nearly half the ships that went out did not come back.

“We’ll have more ships coming back after the warriors who aren’t good at this have got themselves killed off,” Moko’s son Sakagura said carelessly when Jebu was arranging for himself and Munetoki to go raiding on Flying Feather. Jebu though the remark crude but said nothing. Sakagura was reputed to be the best of the kobaya captains and therefore was the most likely to get Munetoki back safely. That was all that mattered.

Jebu had not seen Moko until earlier that day. It turned out that when the Mongol fleet arrived, war junks had pursued Moko’s scout ship, driving it on to the rocks a day’s journey north of Hakata Bay. Jebu himself had been occupied, until this morning, in the furious battle that ended in driving the Mongols off Shiga Island. Moko saw Flying Feather off from Hakozaki that night, his eyes shining with pride in his son.

Sakagura had promised Jebu and Munetoki the right to be first on the enemy ship. Jebu took a firmer grip on his naginata and set his bare foot on the slanting mast when an unexpected elbow in the ribs knocked him to one side, and Munetoki was clambering up the mast ahead of him. Like the lowliest, youngest samurai, the Regent of the Sunrise Land could not resist the urge to be the first to attack the enemy. Stifling his anger, Jebu scrambled up the mast. It was his responsibility to protect the Regent on this raid.

He glimpsed Munetoki bringing his sword down on the back of a screaming Korean crewman. Swinging his naginata in a huge arc, Jebu dashed for a small lantern beside the door of the stern cabin. He grabbed the lantern, and splashed burning oil on the deck. Mongol soldiers were tumbling up through the hatches now, waving swords, spears and bows and arrows, but the samurai had control of the deck and were cutting them down almost as fast as they appeared. Another fire had started in the bow of the ship. If they’re carrying any of the black powder we’ll all go up together, Jebu thought.

The Korean crewmen, realizing that their ship was past saving, were diving overboard. The Mongol soldiers were more stubborn-or desperate, since most of them couldn’t swim. They had no choice but to stand and fight. About twenty of them managed to form a line across the deck and were steadily shooting arrows into the attackers with well-drilled precision. Jebu jumped to the railing of the ship, took hold of a free line and wrapped it around his left arm. He swung feet first into the bowmen, sending the nearest of them sprawling, killing or scattering the others with his naginata. The samurai rushed the Mongols, their long swords flashing like torches in the firelight. Munetoki was in the lead, and a huge Mongol stood up with his spear pointed at the Regent’s chest. Jebu ran at the Mongol, whirling the naginata over his head and bringing it down on the big man’s neck. The severed head went sailing off the ship into the blackness. Munetoki took a moment to bow his thanks before decapitating another Mongol with a two-handed swing of his sword.

The Mongols just aren’t used to fighting on foot in close quarters, Jebu thought. Sakagura was shouting, “Sparrow! Sparrow!” the signal to abandon the enemy ship. Samurai were jumping into the water or scrambling down Flying Feather’s mast. Soon all the surviving raiders were on board the kobaya. Even the mast was saved, pulled back into place by four crewmen. The rowers pushed off, and Flying Feather was racing across the bay to Hakozaki.

Burning ships lit up the vast extent of the invading fleet. In the distance one ship blew up with a roar. There goes another kobaya crew, Jebu thought glumly, as those around him cheered. Hua pao mounted on the decks of the junks boomed, and flaming arrows sizzled through the air. The firelight revealed a distant ship that dwarfed the junks around it. It was bedecked with banners and had so many masts it was difficult to count them. On the foremast sail was painted a huge tiger’s head, fangs bared. Erom end to end the ship was Chinese vermilion, vivid as blood. It was Arghun Baghadur’s flagship, the Red Tiger. I wonder if he knows I survived his arrows in Oshu, Jebu thought. Red Tiger was surrounded by a ring of smaller war junks. There was no way to break through.

Jebu asked himself, do I hate him? Do I want vengeance for all he has done to me? Searching his heart, he was relieved to find that he felt no hatred. Arghun was like some dangerous beast of prey-like the tiger painted on his sail-whom one might feel a duty to destroy but could not hate the way it was possible to hate a twisted man like

Horigawa. One might even admire Arghun, see beauty in him, as one did in a tiger. Jebu’s Zinja insight told him that his enmity with Arghun was part of the necessary pattern of things, the pattern Taitaro had spoken of.

There was an ear-bursting roar and a flash of light from a junk near them. A round, dark object trailing sparks shot through the air. Jebu held his breath, waiting to see if it would fall on Flying Feather. It landed in the water far to their left and blew up, sending up a huge waterspout. A man near Jebu cried out and fell, holding his hand over a bleeding ear. The flying chunks of metal were the deadliest part of the Mongol fire balls, Jebu thought. But the hua pao were not at all accurate when mounted on ships. They might wreak havoc with masses of troops or break down fortifications, but they were nearly useless on the water.

“The one we raided is going down,” shouted Munetoki, clapping Jebu on the arm and pointing. Jebu watched as the junk, burning from end to end, rolled over on its side. The poor horses, he thought. Munetoki was wild with glee. Now that they had passed beyond shooting distance of the Mongol ships, everyone was chattering and laughing with the dizzy relief that comes to men when they have been in danger of death and have survived.

Sakagura pushed his way back to them. He held up a severed head by its braided black hair. In the other hand he had a rectangular bronze tablet attached to a gold chain.

“I got a general at least,” he laughed. “That is a general’s medallion, isn’t it?”

“A hundred-commander,” said Jebu, studying the tablet. To salvage some of Sakagura’s pride he added, “Surely the highest ranking officer aboard that ship.”

“I’ll get a general yet,” said Sakagura excitedly. “I’ll get Arghun Baghadur himself one of these days.” He grinned and stuffed the chain into his belt, then bowed to Munetoki. “Did your lordship enjoy the raid?”

“I’m only sorry it’s over,” said Munetoki. “I wish I could go out every night as you do. I’m obliged to you, captain.”

Sakagura bowed. “Eorgive my presumption, your lordship, but I hope you won’t forget me. I came when called to arms, and I’ve fought hard, risked my life many times and killed many enemies. I expect to do a lot more fighting.”

“Your exploits and your reputation for bravery are well known, captain,” said Munetoki with less warmth.

Sakagura did not look in the least abashed. Moko’s eldest son had his father’s features, but not the crossed eyes and bad teeth, features that without those defects were quite handsome. He had been born the year Yukio and Jebu left for China, taking Moko with them, and was now twenty-three. So he had not met his father until he was about seven years old. Even so, he had Moko’s outspokenness and intelligence, it was clear. But he also had some qualities that were, perhaps, peculiar to first-generation samurai-reckless courage, ambition and an air of braggadocio.

“Please forgive me, your lordship,” Sakagura said. “We fellows who do go out every night, as you wish you could, are hoping the Bakufu will be generous after this is over, with rice land and offices and rank.”

He excused himself as the galley approached the Hakozaki dock. A crowd had gathered along the stone quays and wooden piers. Sakagura stood on the prow of Flying Feather holding up the Mongol head. The crowd cheered him. Munetoki watched him with a worried frown as the ship manoeuvred up to the torchlit dock.

“Erom whom can we take the rice land or the offices or the titles so that we can give them to him and his kind?” he said to Jebu. “Winning this war means driving off the Mongols, not gaining land. It could be dangerous if there are many who think like him.”

You’d better start thinking about it now, Jebu thought to himself. After the war it will be too late. Aloud he said, “There won’t be that many samurai left to reward after this war, your lordship.” He gestured out over the dark waters of the bay, now lit by the distant fires among the Mongol ships and by the waning moon. “Twenty kobaya left this town tonight, and I count only twelve returning. In our boat we lost seven men out of thirty.”

“The Mongols are taking terrible losses,” Munetoki agreed. “But so are we.” The kobaya bumped against the dock, and samurai crewmen jumped out to make fast. The Great Khan has a whole continent full of warriors to send against us, Jebu thought. Most of our fighting men are already gathered here. How long can we hold out?