Читать книгу Traditions. Essays on the Japanese Martial Arts and Ways онлайн

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Enraged at the loss of another opportunity to kill Yoshitsune, Noritsune tore off all his armor except for his breastplate, one woven with fine Chinese silk. He shouted to the boats of his enemy, the Minamoto, rocking all around him. “Isn’t there a single warrior among you who wishes to take me on?”

Aki-no-Taro Sanemoto, a Minamoto samurai who was an expert in grappling, took up the challenge. He, his brother Jiro, and another Minamoto retainer launched a small dory-like boat toward the larger vessel where Noritsune waited. They leaped aboard and attacked as a group. With a kick, Noritsune knocked one retainer into the drink. He seized Aki-no-Taro in a wristlock, then grabbed Jiro. “Come on,” he roared, “let’s climb the Mountain of Death!” And with his enemies in tow, he jumped into the foaming swells of the straits.

Three trails of bubbles rose . . .

Noritsune’s sacrifice, like most of the famous sacrifices of the samurai throughout their history, is remembered principally because it was futile. The Taira lost. They lost the battle at Dan-o-ura, and shortly thereafter, they lost the war with the Minamoto entirely. Their clan was doomed. But the spirit of Noritsune is a perfect example of the fighting spirit of the samurai at its best. The violence of combat as it is popularly depicted in modern movies or other forms of fiction tends to be horribly fraudulent. Popular heroes in these take on a whole army of enemies it seems, tackling a regiment of terrorists or a battalion of gangsters or the majority of the adult male population of any country in Southeast Asia. And while our hero may be bloodied a bit or bruised—and his shirt will always be torn—we may be sure that by the time the credits are rolling or the final page has been turned, he will have emerged the victor.