Taiko. Part 29

Ieyasu knew that his wife's servants were troubled more than anyone else by this situation, and he himself was a patient man. "Ah, yes," he said, turning, and then, to Heishichi: "Well, make the necessary arrangements, and come and tell me when it's time." He stood up. The women ran in front of him with small steps, looking as though they had been saved.

The inner part of the house was some way off, so it was not unreasonable that his wife often longed to see him. Pa.s.sing through the many turns of the central and bridged corridors, he finally got to his wife's private apartments.

On their wedding day, the clothes of the poor hostage husband from Mikawa could not compare with the luxury and brilliance of the dress of Lady Tsukiyama, an adopted daughter of Imagawa Yoshimoto. "The man from Mikawa"-known by this epithet, he was an object of contempt for the Imagawa clan. And living with such pride in her secluded quarters, she despised the retainers from Mikawa but showered her husband with all the devotion of her selfish, blind love. She was also older than Ieyasu. Considered within the limits of their shallow married life, Lady Tsukiyama saw Ieyasu as little more than a submissive youth who owed his existence to the Imagawa.

After giving birth in the spring following their wedding, she had become even more selfish and unreasonable. His wife taught him perseverance every day.

"Oh, you're up. Are you feeling a little better?" Ieyasu looked at his wife and, as he spoke, was about to open the sliding doors. He thought that if his sick wife could see the beauty of the autumn colors and the autumn sky, her mood might brighten.

Lady Tsukiyama had left the sickroom and was sitting in the middle of the reception room with a frigid look on her livid face. She narrowed her eyebrows as she spoke. "Leave them closed."

She was not exactly a beauty, but, as might be expected of a woman brought up the privileged environment of a wealthy family, her complexion had a fine sheen. Beyond that, both her face and her fingertips were almost translucently white, perhaps because her first delivery. She held her hands neady folded on her lap.

"Sit down, my lord. There is something I'd like to ask you." As she spoke, her words and eyes were as cold as ashes. But Ieyasu did not act at all as a young husband would be expected to behave-such mellow-spirited handling of one's spouse was more appropriate for a mature man. Or perhaps he held a certain opinion of women, and he was looking objectively at the person whom he should have loved the most.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting down in front of her as she had requested. But the more obedient her husband was, the more unreasonable she became.

"There's something I'd like to ask you. Did you go out somewhere a moment ago? Alone, without attendants?" Her eyes filled with tears. The blood was rising to her face, still thin from childbirth. Ieyasu knew both the state of her health and her character, and he smiled at her as if he were humoring a baby.

"Just now? I was tired of reading, so I took a leisurely walk along the riverbank. You should try taking a walk there. The autumn colors and the chirping of the insects-it's pleasant at the riverbank this time of year."

Lady Tsukiyama was not listening. She was staring at her husband, rebuking him for his lie. She sat rigidly straight, with an air of indifference, but without her usual self-involvement. "That's strange. If you went out for a walk to listen to insects and look the autumn colors, why would you go out into the middle of the river in a small boat, hiding from people for such a long time?"

"Aha...you knew."

"I may be confined indoors, but I know everything you do."

"Is that so?" Ieyasu forced a smile, but did not speak of his meeting with Jinshichi.

Although this woman had become his bride, Ieyasu was never able to believe that she was really his wife. If retainers or relatives of her adoptive father called on her, she would tell them everything, and she was always exchanging letters with Yoshimoto's household.

Ieyasu had to be far more careful of his wife's unintentional carelessness than of the eyes of Yoshimoto's spies.

"No, I got into that boat on the riverbank without thinking much about it, and tried to ply the oar with the flow of the water. I thought I could handle the boat, but when I out into the current, I couldn't do a thing." He laughed. "Just like a child. Where were you when you saw me?"

"You're lying. You weren't alone, were you?"

"Well, a servant ran after me later."

"No, no. There's no reason for you to have a secret meeting in a boat, with someone who appears to be a servant."

"Who in the world has told you such a thing?"

"Even though I'm stuck inside, there are loyal people who think of me. You're hiding a woman somewhere, aren't you? Or if that's not it, perhaps you've grown tired of me and planning to run away to Mikawa. There's a rumor going around that you've taken another woman as your wife in Okazaki. Why are you hiding that from me? I know that youonly married me out of fear of the Imagawa clan."

Just as her sobbing voice, driven by illness and distrust, finally found expression, Sakakibara Heishichi appeared at the door. "My lord, your horse is ready. It's almost time.

"Are you going out?" Before Ieyasu could respond, Lady Tsukiyama cut him off. You've been absent more and more at night recendy, so where in the world are you going now?"

"To the Palace." Paying her no heed, Ieyasu was beginning to stand up. But she was not satisfied with his brief explanation. Why was he going to the Palace so late? And was it going to take until midnight, like the other night? Who was going with him? She asked innumerable questions.

Sakakibara Heishichi was waiting for his master on the other side of the door, and although he was only a retainer, he was getting a little impatient with all of this. Ieyasu, however, cheerfully comforted his wife and finally took his leave. Lady Tsukiyama, unhecked by Ieyasu's admonition that she might catch cold again, came to the entrance and saw him off.

"Come back quickly," she begged, putting all her love and fidelity into these parting words.

Ieyasu walked in silence to the main entrance. But as he started out under the stars, cooled by the evening breeze, he tousled his horse's mane, and his mood changed completely-proof that youthful, animated blood coursed through his veins. "Heishichi, we're a little late, aren't we?" Ieyasu asked.

"No. There was no hour clearly indicated on the note, so how can we be late?"

"That's not it. Even though Sessai is old, he's never been late. It would pain me, as a young man and a hostage, to be late for an appointment when the senior retainers and Sessai were already there. Let's hurry," he said, spurring his horse. Besides a groom and three servants, Heishichi was the only retainer escorting Ieyasu. As Heishichi hurried along to keep up with the horse, he was moved to tears for his master, whose patient endurance with his wife and his submissive loyalty to the Palace-that is, to Imagawa Yoshimoto-must clearly cause him great anguish. As a retainer, it was his sworn duty to free his lord from his shackles. He must remove him from his subordinate position and restore him to his rightful place as lord of Mikawa. And to Heishichi, every day that went by without attaining his goal was another day of disloyalty.

He ran along, chewing his lip as he made his vow, his eyes moist with tears.

The castle moat came into view. When they crossed the bridge, there were no longer any shops or commoners' houses. Among the pines stood the white walls and imposing gates of the mansions of the Imagawa.

"Isn't that the lord of Mikawa? Lord Ieyasu!" Sessai called from the shadow of the pines.

The broad pine grove that meandered around the castle was a military a.s.sembly field during wartime, but its long, broad pathways were used as a riding ground in peacetime.

Ieyasu quickly dismounted, giving Sessai a respectful bow. "Thank you for taking the time to come here tonight, Your Reverence."

"These messages are always sudden. It certainly must be troublesome for you."

"Not at all." Sessai was alone. He walked along in old straw sandals the size of which matched the huge proportions of body. Ieyasu began to walk along with him and, as courtesy to his teacher, one step behind him, handing the reins of his horse to Heishichi.

Listening to his teacher, Ieyasu suddenly felt a grat.i.tude to this man that he could not express in words. No one could argue that being a hostage in another province was anything but a misfortune, but when he thought about it, he realized that receiving an education from Sessai was more good fortune than bad.

It is difficult to find a good teacher. Had he stayed in Mikawa, he would never have had the opportunity to study under Sessai. So he would not have had the cla.s.sical and military education he had now-or the training in Zen, which he regarded as the most precious thing he had learned from Sessai.

Why Sessai, a Zen monk, had entered the service of the lord of the Imagawa and become his military adviser was not understood in other provinces, and they considered it rather strange. Thus there were people who called Sessai a "military monk" or a "worldly monk," but if his lineage had been investigated, they would have discovered that Sessai was Yoshimoto's kinsman. Still, Yoshimoto was only Yoshimoto of Suruga, Totomi, and Mikawa. Sessai's fame, however, knew no boundaries; he was Sessai of all the universe.

But Sessai had used his talents for the Imagawa. As soon as he had seen the signs of defeat for the Imagawa in a war against the Hojo, the monk had helped Suruga to negotiate a peace treaty without disadvantage to Yoshimoto. And when he had arranged the marriage of Hojo Ujimasa to a daughter of Takeda Shingen, lord of Kai, the powerful province on their northern border, and the marriage of Yoshimoto's daughter with Shingen's son, he had demonstrated great political skill by tying the three provinces into a alliance.

He was not the kind of monk who went about in splendid isolation with a staff and atattered hat. He was not a "pure" Zen monk. It could be said that he was a political monk, a military monk, or even an unmonkish monk. But whatever he was called, it did not affect his greatness.

Sessai spoke sparingly, but something he had told Ieyasu on the veranda of the Rizai Temple had stuck in Ieyasu's mind: "Hiding in a cave, roaming about alone like the wandering clouds and the flowing water-being a great monk is not in these things alone. A monk's mission changes with the times. In today's world, to think only of my own enlightenment and live like one who 'steals the tranquillity of the mountains and fields,' as if I despised the world, is a self-indulgent kind of Zen." They crossed the Chinese Bridge and pa.s.sed through the northwestern gate. It was difficult to believe that they were inside the walls of a castle. It was as though the palace of the shogun had been transported here. Toward Atago and Kiyomizu, the majestic cone of Mount Fuji was darkening in the evening. The lamps were lit in the niches along the corridors that stretched as far as the eye could see. Women so lovely they could have been miitaken for court ladies pa.s.sed by, cradling koto or carrying flasks of sake.

"Who's that in the garden?" Imagawa Yoshimoto held a fan in the shape of a ginkgo leaf over his slightly reddened face. He had crossed over the garden's red half-moon bridge. Even the pages who followed him wore elaborate clothes and swords.

One of the pages went back along the bridged corridor and hurried into the garden. Someone was screaming. It sounded like a woman's voice to Yoshimoto, so, thinking it strange, he had stopped.

"What's happened to the page?" Yoshimoto asked after a few minutes. "He hasn't come back. Iyo, you go."

Iyo went down into the garden and ran off. Although the place was called a garden, it was so large that it looked as if it led to the foothills of Mount Fuji. Leaning against the pillar where the bridged corridor angled away from the main walkway, Yoshimoto beat a rythm with his fan and sang to himself.

He was pale enough to be mistaken for a woman, because he used light makeup. He was forty years old and in the prime of manhood. Yoshimoto was enjoying the world and was at the height of his prosperity. He wore his hair in the style of the n.o.bility, his teeth were elegantly blackened, and a mustache sprouted beneath his nose. For the last two years he had put on weight, and, being born with a long trunk and short legs, he now looked a little deformed. But his gilded sword and his richly brocaded clothes mantled him with an aura of dignity. Someone finally came back, and Yoshimoto stopped humming.

"Is it you, Iyo?"

"No, it's Ujizane."

Ujizane was Yoshimoto's son and heir, and looked like someone who had never known hardship.

"What are you doing out in the garden when it's almost dusk?"

"I was beating Chizu, and when I unsheathed my sword she ran away."

"Chizu? Who is Chizu?"

"She's the girl who looks after my birds."

"A servant?"

"Yes."

"What could she have done that you had to punish her with your own hands?"

"She's hateful. She was feeding a rare bird that had been sent to me all the way from Kyoto, and she let it escape," Ujizane said seriously. He was inordinately fond of songbirds. It was well known among the n.o.bility that if someone found a rare bird and sent it to him, Ujizane would be absurdly happy. Thus, without lifting a finger, he had become the owner of a collection of extravagant birds and cages. So here, it was said, a human being could be killed for the sake of a bird. Ujizane was furious, as if the matter had beer an important affair of state.

An indulgent father, Yoshimoto muttered in disappointment at his son's foolish anger. And this was in front of his retainers. Even though Ujizane was his heir, having demonstrated this kind of imbecility, Yoshimoto's retainers were unlikely to think much of him.

"You fool!" Yoshimoto shouted violently, intending to show his great love. "Ujizane, how old are you? You had your coming-of-age ceremony a long time ago. You're the heir of the Imagawa clan, but you do nothing but amuse yourself by raising birds. Why don't you do a little Zen meditation, or read some military treatises?"

Being spoken to like this by a father who almost never scolded him, Ujizane turned pale and fell silent. He generally considered his father easy to deal with; however, he was already of an age when he could look at his father's behavior with a critical eye. Now, instead of arguing, he simply pouted and sulked. Yoshimoto felt that this too was a weak point. Ujizane was very dear to him, and he knew that his own conduct had never provided a good example for his son.

"That's enough. Restrain yourself from now on. All right, Ujizane?"

"Yes."

"Why are you looking so disgruntled?"

"I'm not disgruntled about anything."

"Well then, be off with you. These are not the times for raising birds."

"Well, but..."

"What do you want to say?"

"Are these times for drinking sake with girls from Kyoto and dancing and beating the drum all afternoon?"

"Hold your tongue, know-it-all!"

"But you-"

"Silence!" Yoshimoto said, throwing his fan at Ujizane. "Rather than criticizing your father, you should know your place. How can I proclaim you as my heir, if you take no interest in military matters and learn nothing about administration and economics? Your father studied Zen when he was a young man, went through all sorts of difficulties, and fought countless battles. Today I am the master of this small province, but I will rule the entire country one day. How could I have had a child with so little courage and so few ambitions? There's nothing I can complain of now except dissatisfaction with you."

At some point, Yoshimoto's retainers found themselves cowering in the corridor, Struck by his words, every one of them silently stared at the floor. Even Ujizane hung his head and stared at his father's fan at his feet.

Just then, a samurai came in and announced, "His Reverence Master Sessai, Lord Ieyasu, and the senior retainers are waiting for Your Lordship in the Mandarin Orange Pavilion."

The Mandarin Orange Pavilion was built on a slope dotted with mandarin orange trees, and it was here that Yoshimoto had invited Sessai and his other advisers, ostensibly for a nighttime tea ceremony.

'Ah! Really? Is everyone there? As the host, I shouldn't be late." Yoshimoto spoke as though he had been saved from the confrontation with his son, and walked down the corriidor in the opposite direction.

The tea ceremony had been nothing but a ruse from the start. Appropriately for an evening tea ceremony, though, the flickering shadows cast by the lanterns, combined with the chirping of insects, seemed to envelop the place an in air of elegance. But as soon as Yoshimoto had entered and the door was shut, soldiers patrolled the grounds so tightly that water could not have leaked in unnoticed.

"His Lordship." A retainer announced his master as though he were heralding royalty. In the large room, built in the manner of temples, a faint light flickered. Sessai and the senior retainers were all seated in a line, with Tokugawa Ieyasu at the far end. The line of men bowed to their master.

Yoshimoto's silk clothes whispered perceptibly in the silence. He took his seat, unaccompanied by either page or attendant. His only two attendants were holding back at a distance of two or three yards.

"Excuse my lateness," Yoshimoto said in reply to the bows of his field staff. Then, paying sppecial attention to Sessai, he said, "I'm afraid this is an imposition on you, Your Reverence." It was Yoshimoto's habit of late to inquire about the monk's health whenever they met. Sessai had been p.r.o.ne to illness for the last five or six years, and recently he had aged perceptibly.

Sessai had instructed, protected, and inspired Yoshimoto since childhood. Yoshimoto knew that he owed his greatness to Sessai's statecraft and planning. Thus, at first, Yoshimoto could not help feeling Sessai's age very much as he felt his own. But when he realized fhat the strength of the Imagawa had not suffered by not relying on Sessai, and that it was, in fact, more vital than ever, he began to believe that his successes were due to his own ability.

"As I am now an adult," Yoshimoto had told Sessai, "please don't worry yourself about the administration of the province or military matters. Spend your remaining years pleasantly, and concentrate on the promulgation of the Way of the Buddha." It was clear that he had begun to keep Sessai at a respectful distance.

But from Sessai's point of view, watching Yoshimoto was like watching a stumbling child, and he felt the same kind of distress. Sessai looked at Yoshimoto exactly as Yoshimoto looked at his son, Ujizane. Sessai thought that Yoshimoto was unreliable. He knew that Yoshimoto felt uncomfortable in his presence and had kept him away, using Sessai's illness as a pretext, but he still tried to a.s.sist in both administrative and military matters From the beginning of spring that year, he had not missed one of the more than ten conferences in the Mandarin Orange Pavilion, even when he was ill. Would they move now, or wait a little longer? This conference was going to decide one way or the other, and the rise or fall of the Imagawa clan would depend on the decision.

Enveloped in a light shower of cricket songs, the conference that would transform the government of the nation was conducted in the strictest privacy. When the chirping of the insects stopped suddenly, the group of guards paced back and forth along the hedges outside the pavilion.

"Did you investigate what we talked about at the last conference?" Yoshimoto asked one of his generals.

The general spread out some doc.u.ments on the floor and opened the conference by explaining them in outline. He had written a report on the military and economic power of the Oda clan. "It's said to be a small clan, but recently it would seem that its economy has rallied remarkably." As he spoke, he showed diagrams to Yoshimoto. "Owari is said to be a united province, but within its eastern and southern sections there are places, like Iwakura Castle, which owe their allegiance to you, my lord. Additionally, there are men who, although they are Oda retainers, are known to feel ambivalendy about their loyalties. Thus, under the present circ.u.mstances, the possessions of the Oda clan are less than one-half, possibly only two-fifths, of all of Owari."

"I see," Yoshimoto said. "It seems to be a small clan, just as we've heard. How many soldiers can they muster?"

"If you look at their possessions as being only two-fifths of Owari, the area would produce about one hundred sixty to one hundred seventy thousand bushels of rice. If you figure that ten thousand bushels supports about two hundred fifty men, then even if the entire Oda force were raised, it would not exceed four thousand men. And if you subtract those garrisoning the castles, I doubt that they could call up more than about three thousand men."

Yoshimoto suddenly broke into laughter. Whenever he laughed, it was his habit to tilt his body a little and cover his blackened teeth with his fan. "Three or four thousand, you say? Well, that's hardly enough to prop up a province. Sessai says that the enemy to watch on the way to the capital would be the Oda, and all of you have repeatedly brought up the Oda, too. So I commissioned these reports. But what are three or four thousand men going to do in the face of my military forces? What kind of trouble is it going to be to kick him around and then knock him down with a single blow?"

Sessai said nothing; the other men also kept their mouths shut. They knew that Yoshimoto was not going to change his mind. The plan had existed for some years now, and the aim of all their military preparations and the administration of the Imagawa domains was Yoshimoto's march on the capital and his domination of the entire country. The time was ripe, and Yoshimoto was unable to hold himself in check a moment longer.

Yet, if several conferences had been held since the spring, aiming at decisive action, and the goal had still not been attained, it meant that within this pivotal group there was someone who argued that it was still premature. The dissenting voice was Sessai's. More than arguing that it was still premature, Sessai conservatively advocated recommendations concerning internal administration. He did not criticize Yoshimoto's ambition of unifying the country, but neither did he ever express approval.

:The Imagawa is the most ill.u.s.trious clan of its generation," he had said to Yoshimoto. If there comes a time when there is no successor to the shogun, someone from the Imagawa clan would have to take a stand. You, by all means, must have this great ambition and begin to cultivate yourself for the capacity of ruling the nation from now on." It was Sessai himself who had taught Yoshimoto to think on a broad scale: Rather than being the master of a single castle, be the ruler of an entire province; rather than being the ruler of a single district, be the governor of ten provinces; rather than being the governor of ten provinces, be the ruler of the country.

Everyone preached this. And all samurai children faced the chaotic world with this in mind. This was also the main point in Sessai's training of Yoshimoto. So, from the time Sessai had joined Yoshimoto's field staff, the armed forces of the Imagawa clan expanded precipitously. Steadily, Yoshimoto had stepped up the ladder towards hegemony. But recently Sessai had felt a great contradiction between his training of Yoshimoto and his role as an adviser: somehow he had started to feel uneasy about Yoshimoto's plans to unify the country.

He hasn't got the capacity, Sessai thought. Watching Yoshimoto's growing confidence, especially in recent years, Sessai's thoughts had become acutely more conservative. This is his peak. This is as far as his capacity as a ruler can go. I've got to get him to drop the idea. This was the source of Sessai's anguish. Yet there was little reason to believe that Yoshimoto, so proud of his worldly advancement, would suddenly drop the idea of making his bid for supremacy. Sessai's remonstrations were laughed at as symptoms of his dotage, and went unheeded. Yoshimoto considered the country to be already in his grasp.

I should put an end to this quickly. Sessai no longer admonished him. Instead, every e there was a conference, he stressed extreme prudence.

"What kind of difficulties am I going to encounter when I march on Kyoto with all my power and the great armies of Suruga, Totomi, and Mikawa?" Yoshimoto asked again.

He planned a bloodless march on the capital, ascertaining the actual conditions of all the provinces on the way and planning a diplomatic policy ahead of time to avoid as much fighting as possible. But the first battle on the road to Kyoto was not going to be with the strong provinces of Mino or Omi. It was going to be, first and foremost, against the Oda of Owari. They were small fry. But they were not to be conciliated by diplomacy, or bought off.

They were going to be a troublesome enemy indeed. And this was not just today's or yesterday's enemy. For the last forty years the Oda and the Imagawa had been at war. If a castle was taken, another would be captured by the other side, and if a town was burned, ten villages would be set on fire in return. In fact, from the time of n.o.bunaga's father and Yoshimoto's grandfather, the two clans seemed fated to bury the bones of their men at the border of the two provinces.