形 English

Nakamura Shinbei, commander of spears for Matsuyama Shinsuke, lord of half the province of Settsu, was a warrior of the greatest renown throughout the Five Home Provinces and the western regions.

In those days, among the retainers of the great and lesser lords who divided the Home Provinces among themselves—Tsutsui, Matsunaga, Araki, Wada, Bessho, and the rest—there was surely not one who did not know the name 'Yari-Nakamura,'

the Spear-Nakamura.

So greatly had Shinbei accumulated glory in vanguard and rearguard alike, with the point of his great-bladed spear on its three-ken shaft thrust forward in his grip.

Moreover, his martial figure displayed a brilliance on the battlefield that made him stand apart from all others.

Clad in a surcoat of scarlet-red like fire, and wearing a helmet crowned with a Chinese-style golden crest, his appearance blazed with a dazzling splendor before friend and foe alike.

"Ah, the scarlet surcoat—the Chinese crown!"

—and at those words the enemy foot soldiers shrank from the tip of Shinbei's spear.

When one's own side fell into disorder and broke, the scarlet figure standing like a crag amid surging waves and holding the enemy at bay—no one could say how much courage that sight poured into their allies.

And when he swept down upon the enemy lines like a storm, the Chinese-crowned helmet gleaming at the head of the charge—no one could measure what dread that sight struck into the foe.

Thus the scarlet surcoat and the Chinese-crowned helmet of Yari-Nakamura were the glory of the battlefield, a terror to his enemies, and an object of absolute trust for his allies.

"Shinbei-dono, I have an earnest request to make of you."

A handsome young samurai who appeared to have only recently come of age pressed both hands to the floor before Shinbei.

"What is it? Between you and me there is no need for such ceremony. Out with this wish of yours—speak it quickly."

Shinbei looked at the young man with a warmly nurturing expression.

The young samurai was a son born of a concubine to Shinbei's lord, Matsuyama Shinsuke.

Since the boy's earliest childhood, Shinbei had served as his guardian and had raised him with all the affection one gives a son.

"It is nothing else. Tomorrow is my first battle, and I wish to perform some glorious deed. Would you not lend me your scarlet surcoat and the Chinese-crowned helmet? I should like to wear that surcoat and helmet and strike awe into the enemy's eyes."

"Ha ha ha ha—what a thought!"

Shinbei laughed aloud.

Shinbei could receive his ward's childlike and innocent desire for glory with a willing heart.

"But hear me well: that surcoat and helmet are, so to speak, the outward form of Nakamura Shinbei. If you are to wear those articles, you must have a spirit of steel equal to mine—nothing less will do."

Saying this, Shinbei again laughed aloud.

The next day, on one corner of the Settsu plain, the Matsuyama forces crossed blades with the troops of Tsutsui Junkei of Yamato.

Before the battle began, as was customary, the scarlet warrior flashed his Chinese-crowned helmet in the morning sun, wheeled his horse in a great arc with a contemptuous glance at the enemy formation, then wheeled it back and charged straight into the enemy lines.

As though scattered by a gale, one flank of the enemy formation fell into disarray; the scarlet warrior thrust his spear among them and, before one could say so, had already knocked down three or four common foot soldiers, then withdrew at his leisure back to his own lines.

On that day, Nakamura Shinbei—who alone wore black-laced armor and a helmet of southern-barbarian iron—watched the scarlet warrior's brilliant display with a smile of quiet satisfaction.

And he felt no small measure of pride that even the mere outward form of himself possessed such power.

Intending to take the second spear himself, he spurred his horse forward and charged straight into the enemy lines.

The enemy who had lost their footing before the scarlet warrior without even fighting showed not the slightest wavering before Nakamura Shinbei.

What was more, they bore a grievance for having been routed by the scarlet-clad Yari-Nakamura,

and were burning to take their revenge upon this warrior in the black-laced armor.

Shinbei realized that something was different from what he was used to.

Always before, the enemy had before him the timidity of sheep facing a tiger.

It had been no trouble at all to run them through as they panicked and lost their heads.

Today they were roused and ready as men spoiling for a fight.

Every foot soldier, to a man, brought his full strength to bear against Shinbei.

It was not easy to cut down even two or three of them.

The points of enemy spears grazed his body again and again.

Shinbei fought with desperate force.

He put forth twice the strength he normally possessed.

Yet again and again he was on the verge of being forced back.

The thought that he might regret having so readily lent away his helmet and scarlet surcoat was just beginning to flash through his mind

when an enemy spear thrust out, slipping beneath the lacing of his armor, pierced him through the flank.