So it was that Old One looked up from her iron tripod through the open doorway of her hut to see the child of her grandson's daughter come walking along the village path, prodding a shamefaced Japanese soldier along before her with his own spear, his bronze shortsword thrust awkwardly into the sash of her jacket.
"Now what?" she muttered. She rose from her stool, shook the wrinkles from her seer's robes, and came out into the sunlight, blinking like a toad.
The girl's route home from the mountainside took her and her prisoner through most of the village, so that by the time they reached her great-great-grandmother's house their progress was attended by every woman, child, gaffer, dog, pig, and chicken with time to spare and curiosity to waste. The young man's face grew pale as he trod the narrow path between rows of hostile faces. The war had gone on for long enough to drain the village of all its able-bodied males, leaving behind wives and sweethearts whose patriotism had soured more and more with every winter's night when all they had to occupy their minds was needlework. There was only so much embroidery a woman could do before she realized there were some itches that a dainty little needle was insufficient to scratch.
It was one such badly deprived lady who threw the first clod of pig manure. Others soon followed her example.
To his credit, the young man did not flinch from that less-than-refreshing rain. Instead, he turned in his assailants' direction and allowed his face to melt into the most charmingly regretful smile anyone in the village had ever seen. On so handsome a face, such a tender expression was utterly devastating. The village filled with the echoing plops of manure balls dropping from nerveless hands and of many women crying out to the young man in pity, apology, and invitation.
Old One saw all this and shook her head. "Idiots. First they threaten his life one way, then another. Can't they see he's one of our enemies? He may know things that will prove priceless to our own armies." She hastened forward, bulling her way through the sea of clamoring females, all the while shouting, "Fools! Headless chickens! This man is valuable! Will you kill him and waste what good he can do us?"
Most of the crowd stepped aside for Old One, but the blacksmith's wife-a woman as sturdy as her husband's anvil and as fearless of his hammer-stood her ground. "You don't have to tellme how valuable he is," she replied. "Just look at that back, so strong and young! And those arms! And those legs! He's healthy as a horse and twice as beautiful."
"And you'd be just the one to break him to the saddle, eh?" Old One spat deftly, so that the gob landed just an inch from the other woman's toes. "Wait until your man comes home and I tell him that."
"Ifmy man comes home." The blacksmith's wife glowered. "It's been almost three years since the war began and no sign that it will ever end. And if it does, will there be a single man left alive in all the three kingdoms?"
"Well, they're not dead yet," the young man spoke up.
Old One and the blacksmith's wife turned to stare. "What did you say?" Old One asked. The Japanese soldier's grasp of the local tongue was serviceable but a trifle shaky and she wanted to be certain she had not misunderstood.
"I said that no one's dead," he repeated. "It is the will of our Empress, the serene lady Jingo, who leads us into glorious battle. Uh… more or less glorious. And I suppose you couldn't technically call itbattle, but-"
" 'Us', you say?" Old One interrupted, regarding the young man closely. "I see only one of you."
The young man lowered his eyes. "I am in truth only one. I am called Matsumoto Yoshi."
"You are called worse things. You're a deserter, aren't you?" The young man did not reply, and his shamed silence was an eloquent confirmation. "I thought so," Old One said with satisfaction. "Just what this village needs: A pretty coward."
"I am not a coward!" Matsumoto Yoshi's eyes flashed angrily. "Ask anyone who knows me!"
Old One cocked her head to one side. "Here?"
The young man was not disposed to chop the logic of his declarations. "I did not leave our army because I feared death," he continued. "I left because I could no longer bear the insult to my manhood that this war has become. Who ever heard of battles without bloodshed, campaigns without corpses? How is a warrior to make his reputation without killingsomebody? But such is the will of our Empress." He scowled, a grimace which did nothing to diminish his beauty. The village women sighed and murmured that it was very naughty of the Japanese Empress to deprive such a fine young man of the opportunity to advance his chosen career through applied slaughter.
Old One turned to Snow Moon. "My stool and my pipe," she said. When these were brought, she settled down, lit the gummy nubbin in the silver bowl, and inhaled the smoke deeply before addressing the visitor once more.
"What a great gift you have brought me, Matsumoto Yoshi," she said. "If I live to be two hundred I shall never be able to thank you enough."
"Gift?" the young man repeated, confused. "What gift?"
"At my age, anything new is a gift, for I awaken each day with the dreadful conviction that I have already seen all that this world has to offer. Only by encountering something new do I manage to go on living. Take your case, for example: You have given me not one but three fine gifts. First, you bring me word of a woman commanding troops. This is wonderful."
"The Empress is only doing what her late husband, the Emperor Chuai, should have done while he yet lived." Matsumoto Yoshi's tone was downright sulky. "He took a vow before his divine ancestress, the great sun-goddess Amaterasu, that he would subjugate this land, for such was her desire. But he kept putting it off and putting it off-doubtless because he did not yet have an heir who might assume the imperial throne-until it pleased the gods to take him into their company."
"A man who would rather make love to his wife than go out and steal another man's land?" Old One raised one tufty white eyebrow. "In that case, make itfour gifts you've brought. How munificent!"
"What are the remaining two?" A distinct chill had come into the young man's voice. He looked down his nose at the old woman on her stool as if he had already conquered the village and all who dwelled in it single-handed, solely by the force of his having been born able to pee neatly while standing up.
"Don't take that tone with me, sonny," Old One said, chuckling. "You only enrich me. The other two unheard-of things are these: That a war is fought without killing and that a man is fool enough to think this is a calamity. I would like to meet your Empress; she sounds clever. Tell me, little fighting cock, howhas she managed to keep a war going for three years without a single death?"
"By the favor of the goddess Amaterasu, of course," Matsumoto Yoshi said haughtily. "The divine one gave the Empress a pair of miraculous gems, the Tide Ebbing and the Tide Flowing Jewels. By these, the serene lady Jingo was able to subdue the very waves of the sea and to bring our armies here in safety. By these she continues to rule the waters, making seas and mighty rivers do her bidding."
"Is that so?That would be a sight worth seeing."
"I've seen it," Matsumoto Yoshi said dully. "I have done nothing but see it since we left home. Every time we have had the chance for a good, settled, murderous battle, the Empress calls upon the power of the Tide Ebbing and the Tide Flowing Jewels and suddenly there is a great and unwelcome incursion of water, preventing any combat. Your people pursue ours or ours pursue yours, only to have the Empress call a halt to the chase time and time again by invoking Amaterasu's tokens."