Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/184

180 Naozane came riding along a narrow path onto the beach, with the intention of intercepting one of their great captains. Just then his eye fell on a single horseman who was attempting to reach one of the ships in the offing. The horse he rode was dappled-gray, and its saddle glittered with gold mounting. Not doubting that he was one of the chief captains, Kumagai beckoned to him with his war fan, crying out: “Shameful! to show an enemy your back. Return! Return!”

The warrior turned his horse and rode back to the beach, where Kumagai at once engaged him in mortal combat. Quickly hurling him to the ground, he sprang upon him and tore off his helmet to cut off his head, when he beheld the face of a youth of sixteen or seventeen, delicately powdered and with blackened teeth, just about the age of his own son and with features of great beauty. “Who are you?” he asked. “Tell me your name, for I would spare your life.”

Nay, first say who you are,” replied the young man.

“I am Kumagai Naozane of Musashi, a person of no particular importance.”

“Then you have made a good capture,” said the youth. “Take my head and show it to some of my side, and they will tell you who I am.”

“Though he is one of their leaders,” mused Kumagai, “if I slay him it will not turn victory into defeat, and if I spare him, it will not turn defeat into victory. When my son Kojirō was but slightly wounded at Ichi no tani this morning, did it not pain me? How this young man’s father would grieve to hear that he had been killed! I will spare him.”

Just then, looking behind him, he saw Doi and Kajiwara coming up with fifty horsemen. “Alas! look there,” he exclaimed, the tears running down his face, “though I would spare your life, the whole countryside swarms with our men, and you cannot escape them. If you must die, let it be by my hand, and I will see that prayers are said for your rebirth in Paradise.”

“Indeed it must be so,” said the young warrior. “Cut off my head at once.”

Kumagai was so overcome by compassion that he could scarcely wield his blade. His eyes swam and he hardly knew what he did,