The four Regents drew rein, their hordes at their backs, and Yama faced them.
“You come to bear his bones away,” said Yama, “but who will come for yours?”
The Regents dismounted.
“You may not have this man, oh Death,” said the Master of the North, “for he belongs to the world, and we of the world will defend him.”
“Hear me, Regents who dwell upon Sumernu,” said Yama, taking his Aspect upon him. “Into your hands is given the keeping of the world, but Death takes whom he will from out the world, and whenever he chooses. It is not given to you to dispute my Attributes, or the ways of their working.”
The four Regents moved to a position between Yama and Tathagatha.
“We do dispute your way with this one. Lord Yama. For in his hands he holds the destiny of our world. You may touch him only after having overthrown the four Powers.”
“So be it,” said Yama. “Which among you will be first to oppose me?”
“I will,” said the speaker, drawing his golden blade.
Yama, his Aspect upon him, sheared through the soft metal like butter and laid the flat of his scimitar along the Regent’s head, sending him sprawling upon the ground.
A great cry came up from the ranks of the Yakshas, and two of the golden horsemen came forward to bear away their leader. Then they turned their mounts and rode back into the North;
“Who is next?”
The Regent of the East came before him, bearing a straight blade of silver and a net woven of moonbeams. “I,” he said, and he cast with the net.
Yama set his foot upon it, caught it in his fingers, jerked the other off balance. As the Regent stumbled forward, he reversed his blade and struck him in the jaw with its pommel.
Two silver warriors glared at him, then dropped their eyes, as they bore their Master away to the East, a discordant music trailing in their wake.
“Next!” said Yama.
Then there came before him the burly leader of the Nagas, who threw down his weapons and stripped off his tunic, saying, “I will wrestle with you, deathgod.”
Yama laid his weapons aside and removed his upper garments.
All the while this was happening, the Buddha sat in the shade of the great tree, smiling, as though the passage of arms meant nothing to him.
The Chief of the Nagas caught Yama behind the neck with his left hand, pulling his head forward. Yama did the same to him; and the other did then twist his body, casting his right arm over Yama’s left shoulder and behind his neck, locking it then tight about his head, which he now drew down hard against his hip, turning his body as he dragged the other forward.
Reaching up behind the Naga Chief’s back, Yama caught his left shoulder in his left hand and then moved his right hand behind the Regent’s knees, so that he lifted both his legs off the ground while drawing back upon his shoulder.
For a moment he held this one cradled in his arms like a child, then raised him up to shoulder level and dropped away his arms.
When the Regent struck the ground, Yama fell upon him with his knees and rose again. The other did not.
When the riders of the West had departed, only the Angel of the South, clad all in blue, stood before the Buddha.
“And you?” asked the deathgod, raising his weapons again.
“I will not take up weapons of steel or leather or stone, as a child takes up toys, to face you, god of death. Nor will I match the strength of my body against yours,” said the Angel. “I know I will be bested if I do these things, for none may dispute you with arms.”
“Then climb back upon your blue stallion and ride away,” said Yama, “if you will not fight.”
The Angel did not answer, but cast his blue shield into the air, so that it spun like a wheel of sapphire, growing larger and larger as it hung above them.
Then it fell to the ground and began to sink into it, without a sound, still growing as it vanished from sight, the grasses coming together again above the spot where it had struck.