The Golden Naginata Read Online Free PDF Page B

disconcerted.
    â€œI’m too late!” he said, looking at the bodies on the floor.
    Tomoe held her naked blade in the least threatening way, but was ready for any trick. “Who are you?” she asked.
    He replied, “Prince Shuzo Tahara!”
    Tomoe was startled. This was the son of a well known lord.
    Behind Tomoe, a paper door slid aside and a monk revealed himself where he’d been hiding. Prince Tahara drew his sword. He and Tomoe stood side by side. The monk carried a staff with jangling rings on the top end, and a sword through his cloth belt. His head was entirely shaven.
    â€œBonze!” said Tomoe, addressing him by a common title. “Have you come to pray for these murdered people?”
    â€œMy praying is done,” he said. His voice was kind. He was almost as young as Prince Shuzo Tahara but not nearly so handsome. “I intended to defend these people, but arrived moments too late. Now that their souls have been attended, I will seek revenge for their stolen lives.”
    Prince Tahara sheathed his sword while Tomoe retrieved her scabbard from the floor. At that moment, a broad-shouldered samurai pushed his considerable weight right through a paper door, screaming hideously and waving a sword. Woman, prince and bonze readied their weapons, but the big samurai stopped short and ceased raving. He looked amazed to see these three.
    â€œHave I failed?” he asked, sheathing his sword and scratching his head in a befuddled way. Tomoe said,
    â€œI am Tomoe Gozen of Heida. This is Prince Shuzo Tahara, whose family you may know. This Bonze is …”
    â€œShindo,” said the monk. “A novice on leave from a mountain sanctuary.”
    The big samurai still looked confused. He said, “I’m Hidemi Hirota, vassal to Hirotaka-no-Hondo. My arm is strong but my mind is weak. You must tell me why we have all met here!”
    The bonze stepped forward and said, “It would seem to be the plan of Okio’s ghost. There is one way to be sure. Follow me into the garden.” They left the house with the monk and went to a place where there was no shade. The monk said, “The light is good enough here.” He proceeded to knock the pin from his sword’s handle to reveal the tang. Tomoe followed this example, sitting on her knees beside the monk and removing the sword’s handle. The other two copied the maneuver. Directly, they compared all four tangs and saw that each bore the signature of Okio. To be sure there was no trick, they held the flat side of the blades toward the sunlight so that they could investigate the pattern of the temper. A clever forger could imitate a signature, but none could duplicate Okio’s secret method of tempering. The temper patterns of the four swords were identical.
    As the four avengers peered along the edges of each others’ swords, a fifth sword’s blade thrust toward the sun, its tang revealed in a soiled hand.
    The fifth man was an unbathed ronin. His forehead was unshaven. His queue of hair stuck up at a sad angle. His jaws were bristly. It was difficult to believe that so unfortunate a character owned one of Naipon’s finest swords; but the sword, and his presence, were proof enough. The four introduced themselves.
    The ronin hadn’t the courtesy to sit with them, but stood looking from bonze to vassal to prince and gazing overlong at the woman warrior. He scratched his whiskers and paraded back and forth. At length he said, “A ghost insisted that I come. I would be glad enough to avenge the maker of my sword, which was won from a famous warlord who likes to gamble when he’s drunk. But I’m not sure I would mix with wholesome children like these!” He passed his disapproving eyes over them again. “A monk who teaches Buddha’s love with a sword! A vassal who looks as intelligent as an ogre! A prince who is hardly more than a boy! A woman with swords instead of poems at Star