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General Hattori stood on the gateway to the city, atop the battlements. The great wall encircled the city at a height of 15 metres and rose to its highest at the gate.
Beneath him he beheld an awesome sight. He saw the glow of 30,000 torches arranged around the plains. Obviously these torches were held aloft by men but at the current distance and darkness, they were merely pin pricks of orange, as if stars had fallen from the sky. Hattori was a samurai of the old Way who had his mettle tested on many a battle field. For the first time in his life he felt a sense of intimidation, not an all pervasive fear but an odd enough sensation for him to register it. This was not a flaw in his character as the true general should always be ‘aware’. Any other man would have merely abandoned the city -but Hattori was resolute in his posting – those other men would have been quite correct too. It was as if the beady eyes of hell had ascended to the plains below.
The only sign of Hattori’s discomfort was a bead of sweat that trickled down to the corner of his mouth, he licked it away. Tasting the bitter saltiness, it reminded him of how awash the fields below were with enemy malice.
A great storm was coming and the enemy would vent its fury at the city walls – like a great wave breaking upon a sturdy breakwater. The great wall that was never breached in 300 years – an awesome structure of defiance – the city’s last bastion, was now a feature of the city’s enslavement.
Hattori had been heavily criticised for evacuating the city of all the civilians unable to fight and refusing entry to fleeing families from the countryside – such was the civilians unshakable belief that the wall would hold.
The General knew that those civilians with sense would head east towards the lands of Katusmoto, leader of the Moritsu clan. He wished he could have seen the Shogun again, his old friend who had came to power in the manner befitting his status, he was also a Samurai of the old Way and Hattori wished he could have listened to his strategic council.
The Shogun, he thought, will only learn of our troubles through the idle gossip of displaced refugees. Alas! He will not here how the 3000 elite warriors of the Ichi clan met their end, in a last stand against foreign tyranny. He did not need his old friend there to know that he would have approved and rejoiced in their honourable deaths. My last days and those of my men will be remembered he thought.
Hattori had always hated defensive battles; he thought they often lacked initiative and resolve, handing the advantage immediately to the aggressor. Although none under his command would dare utter it but when Hattori was placed in a situation with the bridge behind him burning and the ships dashed upon the rocks, Hattori would strike out all the more venomously.
Hattori was now an enclosed animal but even the mightiest bear can be killed by ravenous dogs.
A great sound resounded and echoed around the fields – it thundered and bellowed like a thousand oxen. Hattori clenched his jaw resolutely, knowing he was about to fight a battle he could not win. Upon the gates he stood and their he would fall. All doubt ceased in his mind. He became the great General and Samurai he had always been fated to be. The bovine signal of the enemy army ceased. The eyes of hell now marched towards the city of Bansa. Hattori responded by trumpeting the call to arms, he ordered his horse killed, he would not flee. This gesture reassured the men, all of them were going to a beckoning grave. The last days of the Ichi clan were upon them, great men would die this day.