Now, as they rode through the eastern suburbs toward Kiyomizu Temple, Sano bowed to Yanagisawa, who looked the perfect general, ready to inspire his troops to victory. Never had Sano envisioned fighting under the command of the man who’d so often tried to destroy him. Yet the ancient mystique of great warriors like Tokugawa Ieyasu and Toyotomi Hideyoshi surrounded Yanagisawa like a magic spell. The warrior in Sano cleaved to it. He willingly placed his life in his enemy’s service.

“You understand your orders?” Yanagisawa said. The gaze he swept over Sano, Marume, and Fukida was clear of animosity, focused on larger concerns than personal strife.

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain. We three will find the emperor and capture him alive,” Sano said.

“Good. I’m counting on you.”

As Yanagisawa moved on to confer with his other commanders, Sano felt strangely uplifted by the encounter. Surely all the men present would fight their best for Yanagisawa tonight.

The approach to Kiyomizu Temple led the army up a steep incline, along a narrow lane of shops where craftsmen had produced pottery for generations. High above loomed the temple gate, its square arch and flaring roof stark against a landscape of forested cliffs. The sky was the color of a fresh wound.

A murmur rippled through the ranks of the army: “Listen!”

From beyond the gate came the thunder of hoofbeats. Torches borne through the temple precinct by the approaching rebel army cast an eerie glow. Sano felt battle lust consuming him and his allies like invisible flames.

Chamberlain Yanagisawa called, “Ambush them at the top of the hill!”

The army surged forward, reaching the crest just as several thousand rebels stampeded through the gate and down broad stone stairs leading to a plaza. Some were samurai in elaborate armor, but many wore ragged peasant clothes. Gangsters sported leather tunics over bare, tattooed skin. White hoods cowled the shaved heads of priests in saffron robes. Banner bearers waved flags imprinted with the imperial crest. Foot soldiers carried bows, guns, and spears; mounted troops brandished swords and lances. Their torches illuminated shocked faces: They hadn’t expected such prompt opposition. Now they froze in ranks.

“You’re trapped!” Yanagisawa shouted from his position behind his troops. "Surrender!”

Instead, a defiant yell came from the rebel general, a mounted samurai clad in full armor: “Stand and fight!”

Simultaneously the archers and gunners of both armies dropped to their knees, aiming bows and arquebuses. A storm of arrows whirred across the plaza. Volleys of gunfire rocked the night. Amid gunpowder fumes and smoke, men fell dead and injured. Conch trumpets and war drums signaled troop movements. Then a maelstrom of swinging blades and rearing horses engulfed the plaza as the troops fought. Pressing forward through the melee, Sano felt arrows clatter against his armor. A rebel samurai galloped at him, waving a sword. Sano cut his opponent across the neck. The rebel’s horse galloped away, dragging a corpse. The glory of destruction horrified Sano, and thrilled him to the core of his samurai spirit.

“Come on!” he shouted to Marume and Fukida. “Let’s find the emperor!”

They fended off attackers while their mounts trampled fallen bodies. Torches lay scattered on the ground. In their light, Sano scrutinized the rebel soldiers. He didn’t see the emperor among them. He guessed that the rebels wouldn’t allow Tomohito to join the battle. Tomohito represented their claim to power, and they needed to keep him safe.

“He must be in the temple,” Sano said.

As he and his men urged their mounts up the stairs beyond the plaza, gunfire exploded behind them. Shots ricocheted off Sano’s armor, jolting him. Marume’s lance speared a swordsman who blocked their way, but another rebel dragged him off his mount. While they fought, a bullet struck Fukida’s horse. It screamed and tumbled down the stairs. Fukida jumped out of the saddle, but his arm caught in the reins. Sano leapt from his own mount and jerked Fukida loose. They fought the enemy past twin statues of roaring lion-dogs and up the second flight of steps, leaving dead men in their wake. Marume joined them. They raced through the gate.

The temple precinct, built on terraces hewn from a steep hill, was enveloped in a darkness relieved only by flames in stone lanterns along the paths. The sounds of gunfire and clashing blades faded as Sano and his men sped up more steps, through an inner gate, past a pagoda. Pausing to catch his breath, Sano saw several low buildings to his left. All were apparently deserted. Moving cautiously, he led his men past a tinkling fountain, through another gate. Beyond stretched a covered passageway, and ahead, the main hall.

With its vast, humped roof, it looked like a giant outgrowth of the hill. Huge, square pillars supported lower peaked roofs above exterior corridors. The windows were dark, but Sano pointed to a glow emanating from the south side. He and Marume and Fukida advanced stealthily through the passageway and into the hall’s west corridor, toward the light. It came from brass lanterns attached to the ceiling of a wide veranda that jutted over the Kin-un-kyō Gorge. Far below, in the distance, the lights along the river and in Miyako twinkled. Hearing voices from the veranda, Sano halted.

“I want to fight in the battle. Why do I have to stay here?” It was Emperor Tomohito, sounding petulant.

“Because you’ll get killed if you go down there,” said a man’s stern voice. “We’re protecting you.”

Then came the sound of a scuffle, and Tomohito’s outraged cry: “Let me go! I’m the emperor. You have to obey me!”

“If you want to live to rule Japan, you’ll obey us,” said a different voice.

Sano peered around the corner. The lanterns lit the veranda like a stage. Two samurai in leather armor tunics stood with their backs to Sano. Through the gap between them he saw Tomohito, dressed in his old-fashioned imperial armor, a long sword at his waist.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been outside the palace,” Tomohito pouted, “but I haven’t seen anything except this stupid temple. You wouldn’t even let me look out the window of the palanquin on the way here.” His voice quavered tearfully. “And now I’m missing the battle that I’ve dreamed about for so long!”

While the emperor raged and tried to push past the soldiers, they entreated him to be quiet. Sano could tell from their worried voices that they knew the coup attempt had gone wrong. Sano whispered to his detectives. Then he circled the hall. He stepped onto the veranda behind Tomohito.

“Surrender quietly, or you will be killed immediately,” he said.

The emperor spun around, his babyish face startled beneath the ornate helmet. “You?” he exclaimed.

The two rebel samurai froze. When they drew their blades and started toward Sano, Marume and Fukida rushed them from behind. Then the four men were battling in a tornado of darting figures and flashing blades.

Backing away from Sano, the emperor blustered, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home, Your Majesty,” Sano said.

“I won’t go.” Tomohito puffed out his chest and stood his ground. “Not until I’ve conquered the Tokugawa.”

Sano pitied the boy’s delusion, fostered by his isolated existence and the people who had spoiled him all his life. “I’m sorry, but that is not your destiny,” Sano said. “The shogun’s force is slaughtering your troops as we speak. Listen: You can hear the sound of defeat.”

Diminishing gunfire resounded across the hills; the ring of fewer steel blades echoed. Marume and Fukida had driven the emperor’s guardians off the veranda, down to the path beside the hall. Yet Emperor Tomohito shook his head in angry denial.

“We can’t lose,” he said. “I have the divine sanction of the gods. My victory is certain.”