Taiko. Part 122

The only men remaining are of two kinds: those who have no outstanding talents that would support their lives elsewhere if they did leave, and those truly faithful men who are retainers to the very end, through poverty and decline, life and death, happiness and grief.

But who are the true samurai? Those who live expediently or those who remain simply for the sake of opportunism? This is not easily understood, because all of them use every bit of their ingenuity to deceive their lords into overevaluating their talents.

Although he was an opportunist, Ieyasu was a player of an entirely different cast from the infantile n.o.buo, who knew absolutely nothing about the world. Ieyasu held n.o.buo in the palm of his hand like a chessman-in-reserve.

"Well now, you've gone to extraordinary lengths, Lord n.o.buo," Ieyasu said. "Really, I'll just have a little more rice. I was brought up in a modest household, so both my palate and my stomach are overwhelmed by the luxury of tonight's meal."

It was the night of the thirteenth. When Ieyasu arrived in Kiyosu that afternoon, n.o.buo took him to a temple where the two of them held secret talks for several hours. A banquet was held that evening in the guest rooms in the castle.

Ieyasu had not moved to the center even during the Honno Temple incident. Now, however, he was gambling the Tokugawa clan's entire strength-a strength he had spent many years in building up-and had ridden to Kiyosu himself. n.o.buo looked to Ieyasu as his savior. He was going to do his best to entertain him, and now he put delicacies in front of him.

But to Ieyasu's eyes, n.o.buo's hospitality was really nothing but immature child's play, and he could only feel sorry for the man. At a former time, Ieyasu had feasted and entertained n.o.bunaga for seven days when the latter was making a triumphal return from Kai on the pretext of sightseeing at Mount Fuji. When he recalled the scale of that event, Ieyasu could only pity the poverty of this evening.

A human being could only view the situation with pity, and Ieyasu felt his share. He was, however, a man who knew that the nature of the universe was change. So, even though he felt pity and sympathy in the middle of such a banquet, he did not suffer any pangs of conscience about his ulterior motive, which was simply to use this fragile and aristocratic fop as his own puppet. The reason was clear: there is no one more likely to kindle disaster than the foolish heir of an ill.u.s.trious family who has been bequeathed both an inheritance and a reputation. And the more he is capable of being used, the more dangerous he becomes.

Hideyoshi most likely thought the same as Ieyasu. But while Hideyoshi considered n.o.buo a hindrance to his own goals and thought of ways to dispose of him, Ieyasu was finding ways to use him. Those opposing viewpoints were based on the same fundamental goal for both Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. And no matter which man won, n.o.buo's fate would be the same because he was simply unable to abandon the idea that he was n.o.bunaga's heir.

"What do you mean?" n.o.buo said. "The real feast is just starting. It's a fine spring night, and it would be a shame to go to bed so soon."

n.o.buo was trying his best to entertain Ieyasu, but the truth was that Ieyasu had work to do.

"No, Lord n.o.buo. His Lordship shouldn't have any more sake. At least judging from the color of his face. Send the cup in our direction."

But n.o.buo had not noticed the guest of honor's embarra.s.sing boredom. His efforts were now guided by his misinterpretation of the sleepy look in his guest's eyes. He whispered to his retainers, and the sliding paper doors at the end of the room were quickly removed, revealing an orchestra and dancers. To Ieyasu it was the usual contrivance, but with a patient look he displayed interest at moments, laughed from time to time, and clapped his hands when the performance ended.

Taking this opportunity, his retainers tugged at Ieyasu's sleeve and quietly signaled him that it was time for bed, but in that very instant a comedian appeared with a flourish of musical instruments.

"For the honored guest this evening, we are now going to present a performance of Kabuki, recently received in the capital "

The man's loquacity was incredible. He then sang an introduction to the play. Then another actor introduced a stanza from a chorus and some chants from the Christian ma.s.s, which had recently been gaining favor among the lords of the western provinces.

He played an instrument that resembled the viola used in church services, and his clothes were embroidered with a Western-style design and trimmed with lace, dazzlingly harmonized with a traditional j.a.panese kimono.

The audience was impressed and fascinated. There was no doubt that what pleased the common man also gave pleasure to the great lords and samurai.

"Lord n.o.buo, Lord Ieyasu says that he's getting sleepy," Okudaira said to n.o.buo, who had been completely taken by the play.

n.o.buo quickly got up to see Ieyasu off, walking him to his apartments himself. The Kabuki performance had not yet finished, and the viola, flutes, and drums could still be heard.

The following morning n.o.buo arose at what was for him an exceptionally early hour and went off to Ieyasu's apartments. There he found Ieyasu ready with the fresh face of dawn, discussing some matter with his retainers.

"What about Lord Ieyasu's breakfast?" n.o.buo inquired.

When a retainer told him that breakfast had already been served, n.o.buo looked a little embarra.s.sed.

At that point a samurai on guard in the garden and a soldier up in the reconnaissance tower yelled back and forth about something going on in the distance. That caught the attention of both Ieyasu and n.o.buo, and as they sat silently for a moment, a samurai came up to make a report.

:Black smoke has been visible for a while now in the sky far off to the northwest. At first we thought it was a forest fire, but the smoke gradually changed its location, and then a number of other smoke clouds started rising into the sky."

n.o.buo shrugged. If it had been the southeast, he might have thought of the battlefields in Ise or other places, but his expression indicated that he didn't understand at all.

Ieyasu, who had heard reports of Nakagawa's death two days earlier, said, "Isn't that the direction of Inuyama?" Without waiting for an answer, he gave orders to the men around him. "Okudaira, go take a look."

Okudaira ran down the corridor with n.o.buo's retainers and climbed the reconnaissance tower.

The footsteps of the men hurriedly descending the tower clearly indicated that a disaster had already occurred.

It could be Haguro, Gakuden, or Inuyama, but whichever it is, it's in that area for sure,"Okudaira reported.

The castle had become as agitated as a boiling teakettle. The conch sh.e.l.l could be heard outside, but most of the warriors who immediately rushed around collecting their weapons did not notice that Ieyasu was already there.

When Ieyasu was informed for certain that the flames were coming from the direction of Inuyama, he yelled, "We've bungled it!" and hurried off in a way that was not typical of him.

He whipped his horse to a gallop and rode off toward the smoke in the northwest. His retainers rode at his right and left, not wishing to be left behind. It was no great distance from Kiyosu to Komaki, or from Komaki to Gakuden. From Gakuden to Haguro was another league; and finally, from Haguro to Inuyama, the same distance. By the time they arrived at Komaki, they knew the entire story. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the castle at Inuyama had fallen. Ieyasu reined in his horse and gazed steadily at the smoke rising from a number of places between Haguro and the neighborhood of Inuyama.

"I'm too late," he muttered bitterly. "I shouldn't be making mistakes like this."

Ieyasu could almost see the face of Shonyu in the rising black smoke. When he had heard the rumor that n.o.buo had sent Shonyu's son back to his father, he had had misgivings about the consequences of n.o.buo's good-natured act. Nevertheless, he did not think that Shonyu could have hidden his true posture and committed such an underhanded act with such cynicism and speed.

It's not that I didn't know Shonyu is such a crafty old fox, Ieyasu thought. There was no need to consider once again the strategic importance of the stronghold of Inuyama. Close as it was to Kiyosu, its importance in the war against Hideyoshi's army would only increase. Inuyama controlled the upper reaches of the Kiso River, the border between Mino and Owari, and the all-important crossing to Unuma. It was in a position worth a hundred ramparts, and now it had been lost to the enemy.

"Let's go back," Ieyasu said. "The way those flames are rising, there's no doubt that Shonyu and his son have already withdrawn to Gifu."

Ieyasu suddenly turned his horse around, and at that moment the expression on his face returned to normal. The feeling that he imparted to the retainers around him was one of confidence; he was certain he would more than make up for this loss. As they talked vehemently about Shonyu's ingrat.i.tude, deplored the cowardice of his surprise attack, and threatened to teach him a lesson on the next battlefield, Ieyasu seemed not to hear them. Grinning silently, he turned his horse back toward Kiyosu.

On the way back they ran into n.o.buo, who had left Kiyosu a good bit later at the head of his army. n.o.buo stared at Ieyasu as though his return were something completely unexpected.

"Was everything all right at Inuyama?" he asked.

Before Ieyasu could respond, laughing voices were heard among the retainers behind him. As he explained the situation to n.o.buo, Ieyasu was truly kind and courteous. n.o.buo was crestfallen. Ieyasu brought his horse alongside n.o.buo's and comforted him.

"Don't worry. If we have had one defeat here, Hideyoshi will have an even bigger one. Look over there."

With his eyes he indicated the hill at Komaki.

Long before, Hideyoshi had made the acutely strategic observation that n.o.bunaga should move from Kiyosu to Komaki. It was really nothing more than a round hill only two hundred and eighty feet high, but it dominated the plain on which it stood and would be a convenient base from which to mount an attack in any direction. In a battle on the Owari-Mino plain, if Komaki was fortified, the western army would be impeded in its advance, and thus it would make an excellent location for strategies of both attack and defense.

There was really no time to explain all that to n.o.buo, and Ieyasu turned around and pointed, this time speaking to his own retainers. "Start building fortifications on Mount Komaki right away."

As soon as he had given the orders, he began to trot alongside n.o.buo, exchanging pleasant conversation with him as they rode back to Kiyosu.

At the time everyone thought Hideyoshi was in Osaka Castle, but he had been in Sakamoto Castle since the thirteenth day of the Third Month, the day Ieyasu was talking with n.o.buo in Kiyosu. That kind of tardiness was not typical of him.

Ieyasu had already roused himself to action, completing his plans and making steady progress in his antic.i.p.ated push from Hamamatsu to Okazaki and then Kiyosu; but Hideyoshi, who had often shocked the world with his lightning speed, was slow to start this time. Or so it seemed.

"Somebody come here! Aren't my pages here?"

It was the master's voice. And, as usual, it was loud.

The young pages, who had intentionally withdrawn to the faraway pages' room, hurriedly put away the game of suguroku they had been surrept.i.tiously playing. From among them, the thirteen-year-old Nabemaru went running off as fast as he could to the room where his lord was repeatedly clapping his hands.

By now Hideyoshi had gone out onto the veranda. Through the front castle gate he could see the tiny figure of Sakichi hastening up the slope from the castle town, and, without looking around toward the footsteps behind him, he shouted out an order to admit him.

Sakichi entered and knelt in front of Hideyoshi.

After he listened to Sakichi's report of the situation at Osaka Castle, Hideyoshi asked, "And Chacha? Are Chacha and her sisters well, too?"

For a moment Sakichi displayed an expression that seemed to indicate that he didn't remember. To answer as though he had been waiting for that question would only make Hideyoshi suspicious (That d.a.m.ned Sakichi has found out), and would undoubtedly make him feel uncomfortable later on. The proof was that in the instant he had asked awkwardly about Chacha, Hideyoshi's lordly expression had crumbled and a blush filled what seemed to be his prevaricating face. He looked extremely self-conscious.

Sakichi alertly saw through his discomfort and could not help feeling amused.

After the fall of Kitanosho, Hideyoshi had cared for Oichi's three daughters as though they were his own. When he had built Osaka Castle, he had had a small, bright enclosure constructed just for them. From time to time he would visit and play with them as though he were taking care of some rare birds in a golden cage.

"What are you laughing about, Sakichi?" Hideyoshi challenged him. But he himself felt slightly amused. Obviously, Sakichi had already understood.

"No, it's nothing at all. I was distracted by my other responsibilities and returned without visiting the three princesses' quarters."

"Is that so? Well, fine." With that, Hideyoshi quickly changed the subject to other gossip. "What rumors did you hear around the Yodo River and Kyoto while you were on the road?"

Hideyoshi inevitably asked a question like that whenever he sent a messenger to a far-off place.

"Wherever I went, war was the only topic of conversation."

When he questioned Sakichi further about conditions in Kyoto and Osaka, he found out that everyone thought that the battle provoked by n.o.buo would not actually be fought between Hideyoshi and the Oda heir, but that it would be between Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. After n.o.bunaga's death, it was thought that peace would finally be established by Hideyoshi, but once again the nation had been divided in half, and the people's hearts were steeped in anxiety at the specter of a great conflict that would probably extend into every province.

Sakichi withdrew, and as he left, two of Niwa Nagahide's generals, Kanamori Kingo and Hachiya Yoritaka, appeared. Hideyoshi had been going to great lengths to make Niwa his ally because he knew that he would be at a serious disadvantage if he drove him into the enemy camp. Apart from the loss of military strength, Niwa's defection would convince the world that n.o.buo and Ieyasu had right on their side. Niwa had been second only to Katsuie among n.o.bunagas retainers, and he was held in great respect as a man of rare gentility and sincerity.

It was certain that Ieyasu and n.o.buo were also offering Niwa every enticement to join them. Perhaps finally moved by Hideyoshi's enthusiasm, however, Niwa had sent Kanamori and Hachiya as the first reinforcements from the north. Hideyoshi was pleased but was nevertheless not completely rea.s.sured.

Before nightfall messengers arrived three times with reports on the situation in Ise. Hideyoshi read the dispatches and questioned the messengers in person, entrusted them with verbal replies, and had letters of response written as he ate his evening meal.

A large folding screen stood in the corner of the room. A map of j.a.pan on its two panels had been painted in gold leaf. Hideyoshi looked at the map and asked, "Haven't we heard from Echizen? What about the messenger I sent to the Uesugi?"

While his retainers made some excuse about the distances involved, Hideyoshi counted on his fingers. He had sent messages to the Kiso and to the Satake. The net of his diplomacy had been carefully thrown over the length and breadth of the country shown on the screen. By his very nature, Hideyoshi considered war to be the last resort. It was an article of faith with him that diplomacy itself was a battle. But it was not diplomacy for its own sake. Nor did it have its source in military weakness. His diplomacy was always backed up by military strength and was employed after his military authority and troops had been completely provided for. But diplomacy had not worked with Ieyasu. He had said nothing about it to anyone, but long before the situation had reached this pa.s.s, Hideyoshi had sent a man to Hamamatsu with the following message: If you will take into consideration my pet.i.tion to the Emperor last year for your promotion, you will understand my warm feelings toward you. Is there any reason we should fight? It is generally accepted throughout the nation that Lord n.o.buo is weak-minded. No matter how much you wave the flag of moral duty and embrace the remnants of the Oda clan, the world is not going to admire your efforts as those of a man of virtue commanding a righteous army. In the end, there is no value in the two of us fighting. You are an intelligent man, and if you come to terms with me, I will add the provinces of Owari and Mino to your domain.

The outcome of such proposals depends on the other party, however, and the answer that was returned to Hideyoshi had been clearly negative. But even after he had cut off relations with n.o.buo, Hideyoshi still sent messengers with even better conditions than before, trying to persuade Ieyasu. The envoys only incurred Ieyasu's indignation, however, and returned utterly discomfited.

"Lord Ieyasu replies that it is Lord Hideyoshi who does not understand him," the envoy reported.

Hideyoshi forced a smile and retorted, "Ieyasu doesn't understand my genuine feelings, either."

No matter what else he did, however, the time he spent in Sakamoto was consumed entirely by work. Sakamoto was both his military headquarters for Ise and southern Owari and the center of a diplomatic and intelligence network that stretched from the north to the western provinces. As the center for secret operations, Sakamoto was much more convenient than Osaka. Also, messengers could come and go to and from Sakamoto hout attracting undue attention.

On the surface, the two spheres of influence seemed to be distinctly drawn: Ieyasu from the east to the northeast, and Hideyoshi from the capital to the west. But even in Hideyoshi's stronghold of Osaka, there were innumerable people in collusion with the Tokugawa. Nor could it be said that there was no one at court who supported Ieyasu and waited for Hideyoshi to stumble.

Even among the samurai clans, there were fathers and mothers in the service of provincial lords in Osaka and Kyoto whose children served generals of the eastern army. Brothers fought on separate sides. Thus the tragic stage was set for b.l.o.o.d.y conflicts to erupt within families.

Hideyoshi knew the bitter hardships that war brought. The world had been at war from the time he was growing up in his mother's dilapidated house in Nakamura. It had been the same throughout the many years of his wanderings. With n.o.bunaga's appearance on the stage, society's suffering had become even more severe for a while, but it had been accompanied by a brightness and joy in the lives of the common people. People believed that n.o.bunaga was going to usher in an era of lasting peace. But he had been cut down halfway through his work.

Hideyoshi had vowed to overcome the setback of n.o.bunaga's death, and the effort he had made-almost without sleep or rest-had brought him within one step of his goal. Now that final step he needed to take to achieve his ambition was near. It could be said that he had traveled nine hundred leagues of a thousand-league journey. But those last hundred leagues were the hardest. He had presumed that at some point, as a matter of course, he would have to confront the last obstacle-Ieyasu-and either remove it from his path or destroy it. But when he approached, he discovered it was going to be more unyielding than he had imagined.

During the ten days Hideyoshi spent in Sakamoto, Ieyasu moved his army as far as Kiyosu. It was clear that Ieyasu planned to stir up war like a hornet's nest in Iga, Ise, and Kishu and advance westward, entering Kyoto and pressing in on Osaka in one blow, like the path of a typhoon.

But Ieyasu did not think the road was going to be an easy one. He was antic.i.p.ating one huge engagement on his advance toward Osaka, and Hideyoshi was expecting that as well. But where would it be? The only place of sufficient size to be the site of this all-or-nothing battle between east and west was the broad n.o.bi Plain that bordered the Kiso River.

A man of initiative would gain the advantage by constructing fortifications and holding the high ground. While Ieyasu had already attended to that and was fully prepared, Hideyoshi could be said to have made a belated start. Even on the evening of the thirteenth day of the month, he still had not moved from Sakamoto.

Despite appearances, however, his seeming tardiness was not the result of negligence. Hideyoshi knew Ieyasu could not be compared with either Mitsuhide or Katsuie. He had to delay in order to complete his own preparations. He waited to win over Niwa Nagahide; he waited to make sure the Mori could do nothing in the western provinces; he waited to destroy the dangerous remnants of the warrior-monks in Shikoku and Kishu; finally, he waited to split the opposition of the generals in nearby Mino and Owari.

The stream of messengers was unending, and Hideyoshi received them even while he ate. He had just finished his meal and put down his chopsticks when a dispatch arrived. He reached out to take the letter box.

It was something he had been waiting for: the answer from Bito Jinemon, whom he had sent as the second messenger to Ikeda Shonyu's castle at Ogaki. Would it be good or bad news? There had been no news at all from the envoys he had sent to win over other castles. Hideyoshi opened the letter, feeling as though he was cutting open the envelope of an oracle, and read it.

"Fine," was all he said.

Late that night after he had gone to sleep, he suddenly got up as though he had just thought of something and called for the samurai on night watch.

"Is Bito's messenger returning tomorrow morning?"

"No," the guard replied, "he was pressed for time, and after a short rest he returned to Mino, taking to the road at night." Sitting on top of his bedding, Hideyoshi took up his brush and wrote a letter to Bito.

Thanks to your great efforts, Shonyu and his son have pledged their solidarity with me, and nothing could give me greater joy. But there is something I must say right away: If n.o.buo and Ieyasu know that Shonyu is going to support me, they will surely become threatening in every manner conceivable. Do not react. Do nothing rash. Ikeda Shonyu and Mori Nagayoshi have always been brave and proud men with great contempt for the enemy.

As soon as he put down his pen, he sent the note to Ogaki.

Two days later, however, on the evening of the fifteenth, another message was delivered from Ogaki.

Inuyama Castle had fallen. At the same time Shonyu and his son had made their decision, they had captured the most strategic stronghold on the Kiso River and presented it as a gift of their support for Hideyoshi. It was good news.

Hideyoshi was pleased. But he was troubled as well.

On the following day Hideyoshi was in Osaka Castle. During the next few days omes of failure multiplied. After the happy victory at Inuyama, Hideyoshi learned that Shonyu's son-in-law, Nagayoshi, wanting to achieve a great military exploit of his own, had planned to make a surprise attack on the Tokugawa fortifications at Mount Komaki. His army had been intercepted by the enemy near Haguro, and it was rumored that he had perished with many of his troops.

"We lost this man because of his fighting spirit. Such foolishness is unpardonable!" Hideyoshi's bitter lament was aimed at himself.

Just as Hideyoshi was ready to leave Osaka on the nineteenth, another piece of bad arrived from Kishu. Hatakeyama Sadamasa had rebelled and was pressing in on Osaka from both land and sea. n.o.buo and Ieyasu were most likely behind this. Even if they were not, the discontented remnants of the warrior-monks of the Honganji were always-watching for an opportunity to attack. Hideyoshi was obliged to postpone the day of his departure, in order to complete the defenses of Osaka.

It was early in the morning of the twenty-first day of the Third Month. The wrens sang their high-pitched songs in the reeds of Osaka. Cherry blossoms fell, and in the streets, the fallen blooms swirled around the long procession of armored men and horses, making it appear as though nature itself were sending them off. The townspeople who had come to watch formed an endless fence along the roadside.

The army following Hideyoshi that day numbered more than thirty thousand men. Everyone strained to catch a glimpse of Hideyoshi in their midst, but he was so small and ordinary-looking that, surrounded by his mounted generals, he easily escaped notice.

But Hideyoshi looked at the crowd and secretly smiled with a.s.surance. Osaka is going to prosper, he thought. It seems to be flourishing already, and that's the best omen of all. The crowd wore bright colors and bold patterns, and there were no indications of a town in decline. Was it because they had faith in the new castle at its very center?

We'll win. This time we can win. That is how Hideyoshi divined the future.

That night the army camped at Hirakata, and early on the following morning, the thirty-thousand-man army continued east, following a serpentine path along the Yodo When they arrived in Fushimi, about four hundred men came forward to meet them at the river crossing.

"Whose banners are those?" Hideyoshi asked.