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clutched at Zenta, whose protests were completely drowned out.
    From the corner of his eye the ronin caught a flash. He flung himself to one side and barely escaped the swishing blade of a murderous looking weapon.
    This was a halberd, a broad curved knife mounted on a long pole. It was the traditional weapon of women in samurai households. When wielded by a trained fighter, it produced terror in the hearts of strong men.
    Zenta was frankly terrified. There were three women wielding halberds, and his attempts to dodge their swings were greatly hampered by lack of space and by the clutching hands of the other women. He did not draw his sword, not wishing to cause unnecessary bloodshed, and he tried to use one of the women as a shield. The ferocious women fighters, however, were willing to cut down one of their own people in order to reach him. He was hampered also by a fatal urge to laugh, which had a weakening effect worse than that of wine or fatigue.
    Help finally arrived from an unexpected quarter. Yoshiteru succeeded in escaping from his would-be rescuers. Wiggling through the legs of the women, he came up to the female warriors and grabbed at the handle of a halberd before it could descend again.
    â€œStop! Stop, you stupid women! Can’t you understand? He’s my friend! He was just taking me home!”
    His high voice finally penetrated the din. One by one, the women fell back. To Zenta’s relief, the female warriors stepped back and rested their weapons.
    Yoshiteru glared around him. “You were attacking Konishi Zenta, you stupid fools! I was out hunting crickets tonight and I met him by the moat. Since it was late and dark, he kept me company on the way home. You’d better say you’re sorry! He can cut off all your heads with just two strokes of his sword if he wanted to.” The circle of women stared in dismay. Then slowly, one by one, they bowed down until their heads were almost touching the ground. They were heard to mumble some unintelligible apologies.
    Yoshiteru dismissed them with a lordly gesture and turned to examine Zenta. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
    Zenta straightened his torn clothing and grinned ruefully down at the boy. “Well, you’ve had your desire. You saw me in a fight. If you hadn’t come to my rescue, I would have been chopped to pieces by those female Deva Kings.” Yoshiteru grinned. “Those women are pretty frightening, aren’t they? My father made them train with the halberd. He heard of a castle which was taken by the enemy, and when all the samurai defenders were killed, it was the women fighters who managed to hold off the besiegers so that the lord had time to commit hara-kiri and escape capture.”
    â€œI’m glad to see that you and your mother have such effective protectors,” said Zenta.
    Yoshiteru’s face fell. “We used to have many more of these fighting women, but the chamberlain has been sending them away one by one. Those three are the only ones left.” Then he brightened. “But you should see my sister Tama! She is the best halberd fighter of all, and she is equal to ten men!”
    â€œWith such high standards as these, any fight that I can arrange is sure to be disappointing,” murmured Zenta.
    One of the women approached and bowed. With her voice now low and humble she addressed Zenta. “My Lady Kaede says that she would like to see you in her reception room so that she can thank you personally for bringing back Lord Yoshiteru. Would you come this way, please.”
    Zenta gloomily inspected some tears which had already appeared in his new kimono. His clothes had a habit of going to pieces on him. He followed the attendant in with a resigned shrug, hoping that Lady Kaede would not be influenced by appearances.
    In the reception room a beautifully painted door slid apart to reveal Lady Kaede seated on a flat silk cushion upon a low dais. Behind her were a hanging scroll painted