Taiko. Part 52

"If that's the way you want it." Ittetsu made no move to get up. "This is such a shame. How are you going to protect the infinity of Buddha's light with your blood? Just what is this freedom you're going to protect? What are these traditions? Aren't they nothing more than deceptions, convenient for the temples' prosperity? Well, those charms have no currency in the world today. Take a good look at the times. It is inevitable that greedy men, who close their eyes and obstruct the tide of the times with their selfishness, will be burned up together with the fallen leaves." With that, Ittetsu returned to n.o.bunaga's camp.

The cold winter wind swirled the dry leaves around the mountain peaks. There was frost both morning and night. From time to time the cold wind was spotted with snow. About this time fires began to break out on the mountain almost every night. One night, fires broke out in the fuel storehouse of the Daijo Hall; the night before that, in the Takimido. This night again, although it was still early, there was a fire in the monks' quarters of the main temple, and the bell rang furiously. Since there were many large temples in the area, the warrior-monks worked frantically to keep the flames from spreading.

The deep valleys of Mount Hiei were dark under the bright red sky.

"What confusion!" one Oda soldier said and laughed.

"This happens every night," another added. "So they must never get a chance to sleep."

The cold winter wind whistled through the branches of the trees, and the men clapped their hands. Eating their meal of dried rice, they watched the nightly conflagrations. These fires were planned by Hideyoshi, so rumor had it, and carried out by the retainers of the old Hachisuka clan.

At night the monks were distressed by fires, and during the day they were exhausted by their preparations for defense. Also, their food and fuel were running low, and they had no protection against the cold.

Winter finally came to the mountain, and the snow flew furiously. The twenty thousand defending soldiers and the several thousand warrior-monks were now drooping like frost-blighted vegetables.

It was the middle of the Twelfth Month. Without armor and wearing only a monk's robes, a representative of the mountain approached n.o.bunaga's camp, accompanied by four or five warrior-monks.

"I would like to speak with Lord n.o.bunaga," the emissary said.

When n.o.bunaga appeared, he saw that it was Sonrin, the abbot who had previously met with Ittetsu. He brought the message that, because the views of the main temple had changed, he would like to plead for peace.

n.o.bunaga refused. "What did you say to the envoy I sent before? Don't you know what shame is?" n.o.bunaga drew his sword.

"This is an outrage!" the priest cried. He stood up and tottered sideways as n.o.bunaga's sword flashed horizontally.

"Pick up his head and go back. That's my answer!"

The monks turned pale and fled back to the mountain. The snow and sleet that blew across the lake that day also blew hard into n.o.bunaga's camp. n.o.bunaga had sent Mount Hiei an unmistakable message of his intent, but thoughts of how to deal with yet another great difficulty were taxing his mind. The enemy that appeared before him was nothing more than the reflection of a fire on a wall. Throwing water on the wall was not going to put the fire out, and in the meantime the real flames would be burning at his back. This was a common admonition in the art of war, but in n.o.bunaga's case, he was unable to fight against the source of the fire even though he knew what it was. Just the day before, an urgent report had come from Gifu that Takeda Shingen of Kai was mobilizing his troops and was about to attack in n.o.bunaga's absence. And more: there had been an uprising of tens of thousands of the Honganji's followers at Nagashima, in his own province of Owari, and one of n.o.bunaga's relatives, n.o.buoki, had been killed and his castle taken. Finally, every possible evil rumor slandering n.o.bunaga had been let loose among the people.

It was understandable that Takeda Shingen had broken out. Having arranged a truce with his traditional enemy of many years, the Uesugi of Echigo, Shingen had turned his attention toward the west.

"Hideyoshi! Hideyoshi!" n.o.bunaga called.

"Yes! I'm here!"

"Find Mitsuhide, and the two of you take this letter to Kyoto immediately."

"To the shogun?"

"Correct. In the letter, I've asked the shogun to mediate, but it would be better if he heard it from your mouth, too."

"But then why did you just decapitate the messenger from Mount Hiei?"

"Don't you understand? If I hadn't done that, do you think we could wrap up a peace conference? Even if we had succeeded in coming to terms, it's clear that they would tear up the treaty and come chasing right after us."

"You're right, my lord. I understand now."

"No matter which side you pick, no matter where the flames are, the blaze has but a single source, and there's no mistake that this is the work of that two-faced shogun, who loves to play with fire. We need explicitly to make the shogun the mediator of peace accords and withdraw as quickly as possible."

Peace negotiations were initiated. Yoshiaki came to the Mii Temple and made an effort to mollify n.o.bunaga and arrange a peace settlement. Delighted at what they saw as a happy opportunity, the armies of the Asai and the Asakura left for home on that very day.

On the sixteenth, n.o.bunaga's entire army took the land route and, crossing the floating bridge at Seta, withdrew to Gifu.

Shingen the Long-Legged Although Amakasu Sanpei was related to one of Kai's generals, he had spent the past ten years in a lowly position, because of a unique talent-his ability to run at high speed over long distances.

Sanpei was the leader of the Takeda clan's ninja-the men whose job it was to spy on enemy provinces, form clandestine alliances, and spread false rumors.

Sanpei's talent as a swift walker and runner had amazed his friends since his youth. He could climb any mountain and walk twenty to thirty leagues in a single day. But even he could not keep up this speed day after day. When hurrying back from some remote place, he rode wherever the terrain permitted, but when he encountered steep paths, he would rely on his own two strong legs. For this reason he always had horses stationed at essential points along the routes he traveled-often at the huts of hunters and woodsmen.

"Hey, charcoal maker! Old man, are you at home?" Sanpei called as he dismounted in front of a charcoal burner's hut. He was covered with sweat, but no more so than the horse he had been riding.

It was early summer. In the mountains the leaves were still a pale green, while in the lowlands the buzzing of cicadas could already be heard.

He's not here, Sanpei thought. He kicked the broken-down door, which opened immediately. Sanpei led the horse that he planned on leaving here inside the hut and, fastening it to a post, went into the kitchen and helped himself to rice, pickled vegetables, and tea.

As soon as he had filled his stomach, he found ink and a brush, wrote down a message on a sc.r.a.p of paper, and stuck it to the lid of the rice tub with leftover grains of rice.

This was not the work of foxes and badgers. It was I, Sanpei, who ate these things. I am leaving you my horse to take care of while I am gone. Feed him well and keep him strong until I pa.s.s through again.

As Sanpei was leaving, his horse began to kick at the wall, unwilling for his master to leave. His heartless owner, however, did not even look back, but closed the door firmly on the sound of the hooves.

It would be an exaggeration to say that he flew off on his gifted legs, but he did hurry toward the mountainous province of Kai at a speed that made him look nimble indeed. His destination from the start had been Kai's capital city of Kofu. And the speed at which he was traveling suggested that he was carrying a very urgent report.

By the morning of the following day, he had already crossed several mountain ranges and was looking at the waters of the Fuji River right at his feet. The roofs that could be seen between the walls of the gorge were those of the village of Kajikazawa.

He wanted to reach Kofu by afternoon, but since he was making good time, he rested awhile, gazing at the summer sun beating down on the Kai Basin. No matter where I go, and regardless of the inconveniences and disadvantages of a mountain province, there's just no place like home. As he said this to himself, hugging his knees with his arms, he saw a long line of horses loaded with buckets of lacquer being led up the mountain from the foothills. Well, I wonder where they're going, he asked himself.

Amakasu Sanpei stood up and started down the mountain. Halfway down, he met the packhorse train of at least a hundred animals.

"Heyyy!"

The man on the leading horse was an old acquaintance. Sanpei quickly asked him, "That's an awful lot of lacquer, isn't it? Where are you taking it?"

"To Gifu," the man answered, and at Sanpei's dubious expression, he added an explanation. "We finally manufactured the amount of lacquer ordered by the Oda clan the year before last, so I'm just now taking it to Gifu."

"What! To the Oda?" Knitting his brow, Sanpei appeared unable even to smile and wish him a safe trip. "Be very careful. The roads are dangerous."

"I hear that the warrior-monks are fighting too. I wonder how the Oda troops are doing."

"I can't say anything about that until I report to His Lordship."

"Ah, that's right. You're just coming back from there, aren't you? Well, we shouldn't be standing here chatting. I'm off." The packhorse driver and his hundred horses crossed the pa.s.s and went off to the west.

Sanpei watched them go, thinking that a mountain province is, after all, exactly that. News of the rest of the world is always slow to arrive there, and even if our troops are strong and the generals clever, we are at a serious disadvantage. He felt the weight of his responsibilities even more, and ran down to the foothills with the speed of a swallow. Sanpei picked up another horse in the village of Kajikazawa and, with a stroke of the whip, galloped toward Kofu.

In the hot and humid Kai Basin stood Takeda Shingen's heavily fortified castle. Faces that were rarely seen except in times of weighty problems and war councils were now entering the castle gates one after another, so that even the guards at the entrance knew something was afoot. Inside the castle, which was wrapped in the green of new leaves, it was silent except for the occasional buzzing of the summer's first cicadas.

Since morning, not one of the many generals who had come to the castle had left. It was at this point that Sanpei hurried toward the gate. Dismounting beyond the moat, he ran across the bridge on foot, grasping the horse's reins in his hand.

"Who's there?" The eyes and spearheads of the guards glittered from a corner of the iron gate. Sanpei tied the horse to a tree.

"It's me," he replied, showing his face to the soldiers, and walked briskly into the castle. He often pa.s.sed back and forth through the castle gate, so while there may have been those who did not know exactly who he was, there was not a soldier at the gate who did not know his face and the nature of his work.

There was a Buddhist temple inside the castle, called the Bishamondo after the guardian G.o.d of the north; it served as Shingen's meditation room, as a place to discuss governmental affairs, and from time to time as a place for war councils. Shingen was now standing on the veranda of the temple. His body seemed to flutter in the breeze that blew into the hall from the rocks and streams in the garden. Over his armor, he wore the red robe of a high priest, which looked as if it were made from the flaming flowers of the scarlet tree-peonies.

He was of average height, with a solidly built, muscular frame. There was clearly something unusual about the man, but while those who had never met him would remark on how intimidating he must be, he was not really so difficult to approach. On the contrary, he was a rather kindly man. Just looking at him, one could feel that he possessed natural composure and dignity, while his s.h.a.ggy beard gave his face a certain unyielding quality. These features, however, were common to the men of the mountain province of Kai.

One after another, the generals rose from their seats and took their leave. They spoke a few parting words and bowed to their lord standing on the veranda. The war council had lasted since morning. And Shingen had worn his armor under his scarlet robe, exactly as he did on the battlefield. He seemed to be a little tired from the heat and the lengthy discussions. Moments after the council had ended, he had gone out to the veranda. The generals had departed, no one else was in attendance, and there was nothing in the Bishamondo other than the gilded walls that glittered in the wind and the peaceful buzzing of the cicadas.

This summer? Shingen seemed to be looking into the distance at the silhouette of the mountains that encircled his province. From his very first battle, when he was fifteen, his career had been filled with events that had occurred from summer through fall. In a mountain province, there was nothing else to do in the winter but confine oneself indoors and maintain one's strength. Naturally, when the spring and summer came, Shingen's blood would rise, and he would turn toward the outside world, saying, "Well, let's go out and fight." Not only Shingen, but all the samurai of Kai shared this att.i.tude. Even the farmers and townspeople would suddenly feel that the time had come with the summer sun.

This year Shingen would turn fifty, and he felt a keen regret-an impatience with expectations of his life. I've fought too much just for the sake of fighting, he thought. I imagine that over in Echigo, Uesugi Kenshin is realizing the same thing.

When he thought about his worthy opponent of many years, Shingen could not suppress a bitter smile for the man's sake. This same bitter smile, however, gnawed bitterly in his breast when he thought of those fifty years. How much longer did he have to live?

Kai was snowed in for a third of the entire year. And although it could be argued that the center of the world was far away and the procurement of the latest weapons difficult, he felt that he had wasted the years of his prime, fighting with Kenshin in Echigo.

The sun was strong, and the shade beneath the leaves deep.

For many years Shingen had a.s.sumed he was the best warrior in eastern j.a.pan. Certainly the efficiency of his troops and of his province's economy and administration were respected by the whole country.

Nevertheless, Kai had been placed to one side. From about the previous year, when n.o.bunaga had gone to Kyoto, Shingen had thought about the position of Kai and looked at himself again with a new perspective. The Takeda clan had set its sights too low.

Shingen did not want to spend his life shaving off bits of surrounding provinces. When n.o.bunaga and Ieyasu were sniffling children in the arms of their wet nurses, Shingen already dreamed of uniting the country under his iron rule. He felt that this mountain province was only a temporary abode, and his ambition was such that he had even let this thought slip to envoys from the capital. And certainly his never-ending battles with neighboring Echigo were really only the first of many battles to come. But most of the battles he had fought had been against Uesugi Kenshin, and had consumed a large portion of his provincial resources and taken much time.

But by the time he realized this, the Takeda clan had already been left behind by n.o.bunaga and Ieyasu. He had always considered n.o.bunaga "the little brat from Owari" and Ieyasu "the kid from Okazaki."

When I think about it now, I've committed a great blunder, he admitted bitterly. When he had only been involved in battles, he had hardly ever regretted anything; but nowadays, when he reviewed his diplomatic policies, he realized that he had bungled the job. Why hadn't he headed for the southeast when the Imagawa clan was destroyed? And, having taken a hostage from Ieyasu's clan, why had he watched silently as Ieyasu expanded his territory into Suruga and Totomi?

An even bigger error was in becoming n.o.bunaga's kinsman by marriage at the latter's request. Thus n.o.bunaga had fought with his neighbors to the west and south and, at a single stroke, stepped toward the center of the field. In the meantime, the hostage from teyasu had watched for his opportunity and escaped, and Ieyasu and n.o.bunaga were bound by an alliance. Even now it became clear to everyone how effective this had been diplomatically.

But I'm not going to be taken in by their scheming forever. I'm going to teach them that I am Takeda Shingen of Kai. The hostage from Ieyasu has escaped. This severs my connection with Ieyasu. What other excuse do I need?

He had said as much at the military council today. Having heard that n.o.bunaga was camped at Nagashima and apparently locked in a hard battle, this astute warrior saw his opportunity.

Amakasu Sanpei asked one of Shingen's close attendants to announce his return. As a summons was not forthcoming, however, he made his request once again.

"I wonder if His Lordship was informed of my arrival. Please tell him once more."

"A conference has just now been concluded, and he seems a little tired. Wait a little longer," the attendant replied.

Sanpei pressed further, "My business is urgent precisely because of that conference I'm sorry, but I must insist that you inform him immediately."

It appeared that this time the message was pa.s.sed on to Shingen, and Sanpei was summoned. One of the guards accompanied him as far as the central gate of the Bishamondo. From there, he was handed over to a guard of the inner citadel and led to Shingen.

Shingen was seated on a camp stool on the veranda of the Bishamondo. The young leaves of a large-trunked maple rustled speckles of light over him.

"What news do you bring, Sanpei?" Shingen asked.

"First of all, the information I sent you before has completely changed. So, thinking that something untoward might happen, I rushed here as fast as I could."

"What! The situation at Nagashima has changed? How is that?"

"The Oda had temporarily abandoned Gifu, and it seemed as though they were making a combined effort in their attack on Nagashima. But as soon as n.o.bunaga arrived on the battlefield, he ordered a general withdrawal. His troops paid dearly for it, but they receded like the tide."

"They retreated. And then?"

"The retreat seemed to have been unexpected, even by his own troops. His men were saying among themselves that they couldn't understand what was on his mind, and not a few of them were very confused."

This man is shrewd! Shingen thought, clicking his tongue and chewing his lip. I had a plan to bring Ieyasu out in the open and destroy him while n.o.bunaga was trapped by the warrior-monks in Nagashina. But it has all come to naught, and I have to be careful now, he said to himself. Then, turning toward the interior of the temple, he suddenly called out, "n.o.bufusa! n.o.bufusa!" He quickly gave the command to inform his generals that the decisions taken at the war council that day to depart for the front was being canceled forthwith.

Baba n.o.bufusa, his senior retainer, had no time to ask the reason why. Still more, the generals who had just now left were going to be confused, thinking there was no better opportunity than the present for smashing the Tokugawa clan. But Shingen knew, with a sudden illumination, that he had missed his opportunity, and that he was not going to be able to hold on to his former plan. Rather, he must quickly seek the next countermeasure and the next opportunity.

After taking off his armor, he met with Sanpei again. Sending his retainers away Shingen listened carefully to the detailed reports of the situation in Gifu, Ise, Okazaki, and Hamamatsu. Later one of Sanpei's doubts was dispelled by Shingen.

"On my way here I noticed the transport of a large amount of lacquer for the Oda clan, who are allies of the Tokugawa. Why are you sending lacquer to the Oda?"

"A promise is a promise. Also, the Oda might be careless, and as the packhorses first had to pa.s.s through the Tokugawa domain, it was a good opportunity to survey routes to Mikawa, but that has turned out to be useless, too. Well, not useless. The time may come again tomorrow." Muttering self-scorn, he unburdened himself somewhere in solitude.

The departure of Kai's efficient and powerful army was postponed, and the men spent the summer in idleness. But when autumn came around, rumors could once again be heard in the western mountains and the eastern hills.

On a fine autumn day Shingen rode to the banks of the Fuef.u.ki River. With only a few attendants accompanying him, his spirited figure, bathed in the autumn sun, seemed to be taking pride in the perfect administration of his own province. His senses were attuned to the dawning of a new age. Now is the time! he thought.

The plaque of the temple gate read "Kentokuzan." This was the temple where Kaisen lived, the man who had taught Shingen the secrets of Zen. Shingen acknowledged the greetings of the monks and went into the garden. Because he really was just dropping by for a short visit, he purposely did not enter the main temple.

Close by was a small teahouse with only two rooms. Water flowed from a spring; yellow ginkgo leaves had fallen into the water pipe running through the fragrant moss of a rock garden.

"Your Reverence, I've come to say good-bye."

Kaisen nodded at Shingen's words. "You're finally resolved, then?"

"I've been pretty patient, waiting for this opportunity to arrive, and I think this autumn the tide has somehow turned in my favor."

"I've heard that the Oda are going to make an offensive westward," Kaisen said. "n.o.bunaga seems to be gathering together an army even bigger than last year's, in order to destroy Mount Hiei."

"All things come to those who wait," Shingen replied. "I've even received a number of letters from the shogun saying that if I struck the Oda from the rear, the Asai and Asakura would rise up at the same time and, with the added help from Mount Hiei and Nagashima, just by kicking Ieyasu, I will advance quickly on the capital. But no matter what I do, Gifu is going to continue to be dangerous. I don't want to repeat Imagawa Yoshimoto's performance, so I've watched for the right opportunity. My intention is to catch Gifu off guard, to streak through Mikawa, Totomi, Owari, and Mino like a clap of thunder, and then go on to the capital. If I can do that, I think I will greet the New Year in Kyoto. I hope Your Reverence will remain in good health."

"If that's the way it's going to be," Kaisen said gloomily.

Shingen consulted Kaisen on almost every matter, from military to governmental matters, and trusted him implicitly. He was very alert to the expression he now perceived. "Your Reverence seems to have some misgivings about my plan."

Kaisen looked up. "There's no reason for me to disapprove of it. It is, after all, your life's ambition. What disturbs me are the petty schemes of Shogun Yoshiaki. The incessant secret letters urging you to the capital don't go to you alone. I've heard that they've also been received by Lord Kenshin. It also appears that he had called upon Lord Mori Motonari to mobilize, although he has since died."

"I'm not unaware of that. But regardless of everything else, I must go to Kyoto to realize the great plans I have for this country."

"Alas, even I have not been able to resign myself to the fact that a man of your ability should live out his life in Kai," Kaisen said. "I think you're going to have many troubles on the way, but the troops under your command have never been defeated. Just remember that your body is the only thing that is truly your own, so use your natural term of existence wisely."

Just then, the monk who had gone to scoop water from a nearby spring suddenly threw down the wooden bucket and, yelling unintelligibly, went running through the trees. Something like the sound of a running deer echoed through the garden. The monk who had been chasing after the fleeing footsteps finally dashed back to the teahouse.