Again the old man whimpered.

Saigo gestured to the others. They followed him. So did the outside guard and the one on the corner. No turning back now. Those who were Buddhist had said a final prayer before a shrine, those who were Shinto had lit a last stick of incense and so joined their spirit with the thread of smoke that represented the fragility of life. All had written their death poems and sewn them to the breast of their tunics. Proudly they had given their correct fiefs, only the names were false.

Once in the alley they split up into pairs, each taking an independent route. Soon they were in position, crouched down in the tall weeds and coarse vegetation beside the perimeter fence at the back of the Inn, within sight of each other, Saigo at the southeast corner. The fence was three metres high and strongly made of giant bamboo and spiked at the top. By now shadows were losing form in the fading light.

Waiting. Heartbeats heavy in their chests, palms sweaty, the slightest rustle an enemy patrol. Strange, strong taste in every mouth.

Stabbing pains in the loins. Somewhere nearby a cricket began its urgent mating call, reminding Saigo of his death poem: A cricket with its joy filled song, Dies quickly anyway.

Better to be joy filled than sad.

He felt his eyes mist as the sky was misting.

So beautiful to be so happy yet so sad.

From inside the fence they could hear voices of servants, maids, occasionally samurai, the clatter of metal dishes for the kitchen area was not far away. In the distance a samisen and the singer.

Waiting. Sweat fell down Saigo's face.

Then he heard the approaching, barely perceptible rustle of a kimono and a girl whisper, "Blue Rainbow... Blue Rainbow." Then silence.

Again sounds of the Inn.

At once he motioned to Tora, beside him.

Silently this youth hurried to the other units and gave them the words and came back again. At Saigo's signal each pair found the ladders they had made, camouflaged and hidden in the wild undergrowth so carefully, set them against the fence.

Again he watched the sky. As the last thread of sunlight went, another signal and they went up and over the fence as one man, jumping to the ground that was soft and tilled, crouching motionlessly in the meticulous shrubbery but ready for an instant frontal attack.

Miraculously, no alarm yet. They looked up, warily. Ahead, sixty metres away, was the Shogun's section, the thatched roofs showing just above the tall, thick hedge of hemlock, the roofs of the central sleeping section and bathhouses a little higher. The main entrance was well away from them, its doors still open. Everything exactly as they expected. Except for the guards, many more than planned for. Bile jumped into their mouths.

To their right were the main kitchens with great steaming cauldrons and massed staff--more guards there.

Left and all around the compound were a scattering of guest cottages, in other gardens with streams and bridges, each with a well-tended entrance path curling through the shrubs. Silence there and no lights within, just one lantern at the front veranda. More anguish, they had expected them to be occupied and to serve as cover and a necessary diversion.

Karma, Saigo thought. Even so our positions are as we predicted, so are those of the enemy, the plan is good and we know the password. During the previous two weeks, disguised as an ordinary samurai traveller, he had found the correct courtesan and inveigled his way into her emotions so that soon he had been taken on a secret guided tour of the grounds--even to the places where the Hallowed Travellers were to rest.

"Why not?"' he had whispered, "Who will know?

They're not due here for days--ah you are so beautiful. Let us join where a Shogun and a sister of the Son of Heaven will join--that will be something to whisper to our grandchildren, eh? I think I shall never leave you..."

It had been equally easy to find a bathhouse maid who was secretly fanatic for shishi, and to persuade her there was no risk to listen and whisper a few words into the night.

He felt Tora touch his arm. Anxiously the youth pointed. A patrol had come through the far gates. It began to circle the grounds. Small pools of light were beneath the lanterns.

Inevitably the patrol would come this way and be very close. His signal, the call of a night bird, gave the order.

At once they sank deeper into the foliage and kept their heads lowered, hardly breathing. The patrol approached, and then passed without seeing them--just as Katsumata had forecast when he had suggested their attack plan: "Initially it will be easy to be missed in the dark. Never forget surprise is with you. Your infiltration will be totally unexpected. Who would dare to attack the Shogun when he is surrounded by so many men? At a way station? Impossible! Remember, with stealth, surprise and ferocious speed two or three of you will reach the kernel--and one is enough."

Saigo watched the enemy marching away. A marvelous glow pervaded him and all his confidence returned. Another short wait until the enemy patrol had turned the corner, then he motioned for the attack teams to move into their predetermined positions. Protected from view by the shrubbery, four men slithered away to his right, two to his left. When all were in position, he took a deep breath to help slow his heartbeat. His signal, again the call of a night bird, gave the order to begin.

At once the pair on his far right eased out of the shrubs onto the path, adjusting the ties on their pantaloons, and began strolling away, their arms around each other as lovers will. Within moments they had been noticed by the guards at the nearest hedge.

"You two halt!"

The two youths obeyed and one called out, "Blue Rainbow, Blue Rainbow, Lord Sergeant" and both laughed, pretending to be shy at being seen, then continued to stroll away, hand in hand.

"Halt! Who are you?"

"Ah, so sorry, just friends on a nightly stroll," the youth said in his softest, most gentle voice, "Blue Rainbow, have you forgotten our password?"

One of the samurai laughed and said, "If the Captain catches you "strolling" in the bushes around here you'll get more than a Blue Rainbow and both pairs of cheeks will know another type of beating!"

Again both youths pretended to laugh.

Unhurried, they walked away, ignoring more strident calls to stop. Finally the Sergeant shouted, "You two. Come here, at once!" They faced him a moment, calling out plaintively there was no harm in what they were doing. Saigo and the others, covered by the diversion had been crawling into final positions. Taut with excitement that they had not been noticed, they rested a second, knowing this diversion was almost over. The sound of the night bird Saigo made this time was loud enough to reach the two youths.

Without hesitation, they pretended to laugh and ran off gaily, hand in hand, directly away from the guards as though playing a game. Their path carelessly took them through a pool of light and allowed them to be seen clearly for the first time. With a shout of rage the Sergeant and four men charged in pursuit. Sentries at the far main gate peered into the darkness to see what was happening, and those guards at the hedge who could see beckoned others nearby, all of them alert.

The two shishi were quickly surrounded. Back to back, swords ready, they stood silently at bay under a barrage of questions, nothing effeminate now in their stance or the way their lips were drawn back from the teeth.

Enraged, the Sergeant stepped forward a pace.

The youth opposing him readied. His right hand darted into his sleeve and came out with a shuriken and before the Sergeant could duck or move aside the five-pointed circle of steel was embedded in his throat and he fell burbling, choking in his own blood. Both shishi leapt to the attack but neither could break out of the net and though they fought bravely, wounding three of the samurai, they were no match for the others who, though wanting to disarm them and capture them alive, could not do so.