Taiko. Part 92

Sotan looked at the people around him. "Lord n.o.bunaga would like to take my Mu Ch'i scroll with one of his sly stratagems: 'Is anyone worthy of owning such a painting? This is like sending agent-provocateurs into an enemy province. You'd better look out for your precious oak tea caddy!" And he could not stop laughing.

He had hit dead center. For some time, n.o.bunaga had been after the painting. Both the tea caddy and the painting were family heirlooms, however, and for that reason even n.o.bunaga had not been able to speak his own mind freely.

But now the owner had been kind enough to bring up the matter, and n.o.bunaga thought that that was the same as promising to give him the object. Certainly, after laughing at him so audaciously, Sotan would not have the heart not to give him what he wanted.

So n.o.bunaga laughed too. "Well, you don't miss anything, Sotan. When you get to my age, a man can become a true disciple of tea." He was revealing the truth in a jest.

Sos.h.i.tsu rejoined, "In a few days I'll be meeting Master Sokyu from Sakai. Let's deliberate together then about where the painting belongs. Of course, it would have been best to ask Mu Ch'i himself."

n.o.bunaga's mood was improving. And, although the attendants came to trim the wicks of the lamps a number of times, he simply sipped water and went on, oblivious of the pa.s.sage of time.

It was a summer night, and the temple's shutters and doors were all open. Perhaps for that reason, the flames in the lamps were continually flickering and were capped by halos of evening mist.

If one had been able to read the future in the light of the lamps that evening, one might have divined an evil omen in the halos of mist or in the shades of light pa.s.sing through the wicks of the lamps.

Someone knocked at the front gate of the temple. After a while an attendant announced that a dispatch had arrived from the western provinces. Taking advantage of the moment, n.o.butada stood up and Sos.h.i.tsu also begged to take his leave. n.o.bunaga then stood up also, to accompany them as far as the bridged corridor.

"Sleep well," n.o.butada said, turning once more and looking at the figure of his father from the corridor.

Nagato and his son were standing next to n.o.butada, holding lanterns. The halls of the Honno Temple compound sank back into a darkness as black as ink. It was the second half of the Hour of the Rat.

Mitsuhide was standing at a crossroads: a right turn would take him westward; a left turn would lead him through the village of Kutsukake and across the Katsura River, and to the capital. He had reached the crest of the hill he had been climbing all his life. The two roads before him represented a turning point and a finality. But the view that presented itself to his eye that night did not compel him to reflection of any sort. Instead, the broad sky showing him the twinkling of peaceful stars seemed to promise a great change in the world, one that would begin with the new dawn.

No order had been given to rest, but Mitsuhide's horse had stopped, and he sat in the saddle, silhouetted against the starry sky. Perceiving that he was not going to move for the moment, the generals around him, clad in glittering armor-and the long lines of armored men, banners, and horses behind him-waited restlessly in the dark.

"There's a spring bubbling up over there. I can hear water murmuring, I think."

"There it is. Water!"

Groping along in the undergrowth of the precipice bordering the road, one of the men finally discovered a little stream in the rocks. One after another, the soldiers pushed forward to fill their canteens with the clear water.

"This will us get as far as Tenjin."

"Maybe we'll eat at Yamazaki."

"No, the night's so short, it'll probably get light when we get to the Kaiin Temple."

"The horses will get tired if we march during the daytime, so His Lordship is probably thinking that we should make as much progress as we can through the night and morning hours."

"That would be best until we get to the western provinces."

The foot soldiers, quite naturally, and even the samurai above them-with the exception of their commanders-still knew nothing at all. The whispers and laughing voices at did not quite reach the ears of the commanders manifested their a.s.sumption that the battlefield was still far away.

The line began to move. From that point, the commanders carried spears and advanced alongside of their troops with watchful eyes and a quickened pace.

To the left. To the left. The men began to descend the divide of Oinosaka to the east. Not one soldier turned off on the road to the west. Doubt reflected from eye to eye. But even those who were suspicious hurried on. The men behind simply looked up to the banners that fluttered in front of them; there was no mistake that this was the road on which their banners proceeded. The horses' hooves clattered on the steep slopes. From time to time the sound of the falling rocks became almost deafening. The army resembled a waterfall that would allow nothing to stand in its way.

Both men and horses were soaked with sweat, and their breath came in fiery gasps. Meandering through the deep mountain gorges, they once again descended. Quickly turning toward the babbling mountain stream, they pressed on toward the sheer slopes of Mount Matsuo.

"Take a rest."

"Break out the provisions."

"No fires are to be lit."

Orders were pa.s.sed down, one after another. They were still only at Kutsukake, a village on the mountainside that was made up of no more than ten or so woodcutters' houses. Nevertheless, the warning of the central command had been strict, and patrols were quickly set in the area of the road that went down to the foothills.

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the valley to get some water."

"You're not allowed to separate from the ranks. Borrow some water from somebody else."

The soldiers opened up their provisions and silently started to eat. A good bit of whispering was heard as they chewed their food. A number of the men wondered why they were fortifying themselves with a meal at this apparently inopportune time, halfway down the mountain. They had already eaten a meal before they had left the Hachiman Shrine that night.

Why weren't they to eat when the sun came up, at Yamazaki or Hashimoto where they could tether their horses? Though they were puzzled, they still a.s.sumed that they were on their way to the western provinces. The road to b.i.t.c.hu was not the only way that led to their destination. If they turned to the right at Kutsukake, they could pa.s.s through Oharano and come out in the direction of Yamazaki and Takatsuki.

But when they started off once again, the entire army descended straight ahead to Tsukahara without turning to either side, and went on to the village of Kawashima. By the fourth watch, the greater part of the army looked down at the unexpected sight of the Katsura River under the night sky.

The soldiers suddenly became agitated. As soon as they felt the cool breeze of the river, the entire army stopped in its tracks in fear.

"Settle down!" the officers ordered the men.

"Don't make so much noise! And don't talk to each other unnecessarily!"

The clear water of the river shimmered, and in the breeze from the river the nine standards with their blue bellflowers swayed like long poles bent into bows.

Amano Genemon, whose command was on the edge of the army's right wing as, was summoned by Mitsuhide. He jumped off his horse and ran toward his commander.

Mitsuhide was standing on a dry part of the riverbed. The penetrating eyes of the generals all turned in Genemon's direction. There were Saito Toshimitsu, his face rimmed with frost-white hair, and Mitsuharu, whose tragic face now appeared like a mask. Along with these two men, the many armored members of his field staff surrounded Mitsuhide like an iron barrel.

"Gengo," Mitsuhide said, "it will soon be light. You take a company and cross the river first. On the way you are to cut down anyone who might be able to run through our lines to warn the enemy. Also, there may be merchants and other travelers who are pa.s.sing through the capital in the early dawn, and it will be necessary to take care of the people. This is extremely important."

"I understand."

"Wait." Mitsuhide called the man back. "As a precaution, I've sent some men to guard the road through the mountains from Hozu, down from northern Saga, and along the Nishijin Road from the Jizoin. Don't attack our own men by mistake." Mitsuhide's voice was cuttingly sharp; it was easy to see that his mind was now working at full speed and that his blood vessels were so filled with tension they were close to bursting.

Watching Genemon's troops splash across the Katsura River, the remaining men felt increasingly uneasy. Mitsuhide remounted and, one after another, the men under his command followed his example.

"Give out the orders. Make sure no one misses a word."

One of the commanders at Mitsuhide's side cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Take off your horses' shoes and throw them away!" The shrill command from the first ranks could be heard clearly. "The foot soldiers should all put on new straw sandals. Don't wear sandals with cords that are loose from walking on the mountain roads. If the cords have loosened, tie them firmly enough so that if they get wet, they won't chew up your feet. Gunners, cut your fuse cords to lengths of one foot and tie them in bundles of five. Unnecessary things, like the wrapping for provisions and personal effects, or anything that will be a burden to the free movement of your arms and legs, should be thrown into the river. Don't take anything but your weapons."

The army was dumbfounded. At the same time, something of a groundswell began bubble up from the men. It was connected with neither the sound of voices nor the appearance of motion. The men looked to the left and right, but having been forbidden to talk among themselves, it simply went from face to face-a voiceless voice. Nevertheless, almost instantaneously, action was kindled wherever one looked. And it was so exceedingly swift that, superficially at least, any doubt, uneasiness, or alarm was nowhere apparent.

When everything was ready and the men had re-formed their ranks, the old warrior, Saito Toshimitsu, raised a voice that had been tempered in a hundred battles, and spoke to the troops almost as if he were reading.

"Rejoice. Today our master, Lord Akechi Mitsuhide, will become the ruler of the country. Do not entertain the least bit of doubt."

His voice carried all the way to the faraway foot soldiers and sandal bearers. Everyone gasped as though they were all breathing their last. But this gasp contained no trace of either joy or acclamation. It was more like a shudder. Toshimitsu closed his eyes and raised voice almost as though he were scolding the men. Was he trying to rea.s.sure himself, too?

"No day will ever shine as brightly as today. We will rely especially on the samurai to achieve meritorious deeds. Even if you fall in battle today, your relatives will be rewarded accordance with your actions." Toshimitsu's voice did not change much, right up to the time he finished speaking. He had been told what to say by Mitsuhide, and it was probably not in accord with his own thinking. "Let's cross the river!"

The sky was still dark. The current of the Katsura River momentarily checked the warhorses as they attempted to ford the stream. Curls of white waves surged and rolled back on themselves. The entire army shivered as the men sloshed through the water in soaked straw sandals. Although they were drenched, not one gunner let his fuse cords get wet. The clear water went up past their knees, and it was colder than ice. No doubt every soldier and officer was consumed by his own thoughts as he crossed the current, each man considered the words that were spoken by Toshimitsu and the corps commanders before he began to ford the stream.

Well, we must be attacking Lord Ieyasu. Except for Tokugawa Ieyasu, there's no one nearby enough to attack. But what did Toshimitsu mean when he said our lord would be come the ruler of the country from this day on?

That was as far as the soldiers' thoughts took them. In large part, the Akechi clan's warriors were men steeped in morality and justice, and it had still not occurred to them that the enemy was n.o.bunaga. The earnest, stubborn Akechi spirit, devoted to a sense of justice, had been pa.s.sed from the company commanders down through the ranks, righ to the lowest foot soldier and sandal bearer.

"Hey, it's getting light."

"Daybreak will be here soon."

They were in the area between Nyoigadake and the mountain range that delimitated the eastern edge of Kyoto. The edge of a ma.s.s of clouds was glittering a bright red.

When the men strained their eyes, they could see the city of Kyoto just barely visible in the dark of dawn. Behind them, toward Oinosaka or the border of the gra.s.sy province of Tamba, however, the stars were so clear and bright they might have been counted.

"A corpse!"

"There's another one over there too."

"Hey, and over here!"

The army was now approaching the eastern outskirts of Kyoto. With the exception of groves and thatched huts, there was only dew-covered farmland until one reached the paG.o.da of the Eastern Temple.

Dead bodies were strewn at the foot of the pines along the side of the road, in the middle of the road, and almost everywhere the soldiers looked. The dead all seemed to have been farmers from the area. Lying face down as though asleep in a field of eggplant flowers, a young girl lay dead, still clutching her basket, cut down by the single stroke of a sword.

It was apparent that the blood was still flowing, for it was fresher than the morning dew. Undoubtedly the troops of Amano Genemon that had set out before the main army saw these early-rising farmers in their fields, chased them down, and killed them. They may have felt pity for their innocence, but their orders were not to risk the success of the greater action to come.

Looking down at the fresh blood on the earth and up at the red clouds in the sky Mitsuhide stood up in his stirrups, abruptly raised his whip into the air, and shouted "On to the Honno Temple! Overrun it completely! My enemies are at the Honno Temple Go! Go! I'll cut down anyone who lags behind!"

Now was the time for battle, and the nine banners emblazoned with the blue bellflowers split into three companies of three banners each. Striking into the entrance to Seventh Street, they trampled through city gate after city gate, swarming into the capital all at once. The Akechi army burst in through the gates at Fifth, Fourth, and Third streets, and poured into the city.

The mist was still thick, but a bright red dawn had begun to permeate the sky over the mountains, and as usual, the wicket gates were being opened for the people going to and fro.

The men crowded through the gates, and spears and guns swarmed in confusion.

Only the banners were kept down as the soldiers crowded through.

"Don't push! Don't be fl.u.s.tered! The rear corps should wait outside the gate for a moment."

Seeing the confusion, one of the commanders did what he could to restrain the men. Slipping the bar out of the large door, he opened the gate wide.

"All right! Go through!" he yelled, goading them on.

The order had been to rush in silently, without raising a battle cry, to keep the banners down, and even to keep the horses from neighing. But as soon as they crashed through the gates and stormed into the city, the Akechi troops had already worked themselves into a near frenzy.

"On to the Honno Temple!"

Through the general turmoil, the sound of opening doors could be heard coming from houses here and there, but as soon as the residents looked outside, they pulled their heads in again and slammed the doors tight.

Among the many units that pushed in on the Honno Temple, the forces that approached it the quickest were those led by Akechi Mitsuharu and Saito Toshimitsu, who could be seen in the vanguard.

"It's difficult to see in these narrow streets filled with mist. Don't get lost trying to get there before the others. The honey locust tree of the Honno Temple grove should be your landmark! Aim for the big bamboo stand between the clouds of mist. There it is! That's the honey locust tree of the Honno Temple!"

Galloping ahead on horseback and waving his hands furiously as he gave out instructions, Toshimitsu seemed to have pledged his warrior's voice to that one morning of life.

The second army, led by Akechi Mitsutada, was also in motion. Those forces inundated the district around Third Street, pa.s.sed through the inner section like smoke, and made a drive to encircle the Myokaku Temple in Nijo. This action was naturally coordinated with the forces attacking the Honno Temple and was calculated to finish off n.o.bunaga's son n.o.butada.

It was no distance from this place to the Honno Temple. The armies were separated by the dark of predawn, but already at this point an indescribable noise was beginning to rise from the direction of the Honno Temple. The ringing sound of the conch sh.e.l.l and booming of the gongs and drums could be heard. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the sound shook heaven and earth and was not like anything ordinarily heard in this world. There was no one in the capital that morning who did not either jump up in surprise or leap out of bed in response to the screams of his family.

Clamorous noises and voices quickly arose even in the ordinarily peaceful area of the n.o.bles' mansions that surrounded the Imperial Palace. With all of this uproar and the echoing of the drumming horses' hooves, the sky of Kyoto itself seemed to be ringing.

The confusion of the city people, however, was only momentary, and as soon as the n.o.bility and common people understood the situation, their homes were as quiet as they had been a while before, when they had been sleeping peacefully. No one ventured to go out into the streets.

It was still so dark the soldiers could not determine whose face was in front of them, and on their way to the Myokaku Temple, the second army mistook some of its own men, who had taken a roundabout way through another narrow street, for the enemy. Even though their commander had strictly warned them not to fire until the order was given, when they came to the corner of the intersection, the excited soldiers suddenly began to fire blindly through the mist.

When they smelled the gunpowder smoke, their spirits became all the more excited in spite of themselves. Even soldiers who had been in battles before might go through a situation like this before they achieved complete self-control.

"Hey! You can hear conch-sh.e.l.l horns and gongs over there. It's started over at the Honno Temple."

"They're fighting!"

"The attack is on!"

They couldn't tell if their feet were hitting the ground or not. Running forward, they still could not determine whose voices they heard, though there was no resistance in front of them. Still, the pores all over their bodies began to swell, and they were even unaware of the cold mist striking their goose-fleshed faces and hands. They shook with such feeling that all they could do was yell.

And so they raised their battle cry even before they saw the roofed walls of the Myokaku Temple. Unexpectedly, a cry rose up in the direction of the front of the unit, and the gongs and drums began to ring out impatiently as well.

Mitsuhide was with the third army. It would be proper to say that headquarters were located wherever he happened to be, and this time he had stopped at Horikawa. He was surrounded by members of his clan, and a camp stool had been set up for him, but he did not sit down even for a moment. His entire being was focused on the voices of the clouds and the shrieks of the mist, and he looked uninterruptedly into the sky in the direction of Nijo. From time to time his eyes overflowed with the red of the morning clouds, but still no flames or smoke reached skyward.

n.o.bunaga woke up with a start, but not for any particular reason. After a good night's sleep, he naturally woke up in the morning on his own. Since his youth he had always risen at dawn, no matter how late he had gone to bed. He awoke, or rather-while he was not yet fully conscious and his head was still on the pillow-he experienced a particular phenomenon. It was a transition from dreaming to wakefulness that lasted only a fraction of a second, but in that infinitesimal s.p.a.ce, a number of thoughts would pa.s.s through his head with the speed of a flash of lightning.

They were memories of experiences that had occurred between the time of his youth and the present, or reflections on his present life, or goals for the future. Whatever they were, these thoughts would pa.s.s through his brain in that moment between dream and reality.

This experience was, perhaps, less a habit than an innate ability. As a child, he had already been an extraordinary dreamer. The brambles and thorns of reality, however-especially given his birth and breeding-would not permit him to live only in a world of dreams. The real world had added difficulties on top of difficulties and had taught him the pleasure of cutting his way through them.

During this period of growth, when he was tested and returned victorious, and was tested again, he ultimately learned that he was not satisfied with the difficulties given to him. The highest pleasure of life, he found, lay in seeking out difficulties, plunging right into them, and then turning back to see them behind him. His convictions had been strengthened by the self-confidence he had gained from such experiences and had put him into a frame of mind far beyond the common sense one of ordinary men. After Azuchi , the idea of the impossible did not exist within his boundaries or in the world of his conceptions. That was because the works he had accomplished up to that point had not been done by following the path of ordinary men's common sense; rather, he had taken the path of making possible the impossible.

And that morning, on the border between the world of dreams and his mortal body, where the intoxication of the night before was perhaps still running fragrantly through his veins, pictures were being drawn in his brain: convoys of huge ships going to the southern islands, to the coast of Korea, and even to the great country of the Ming. He himself stood in the tower of a ship along with Sotan and Sos.h.i.tsu. One more person would have to accompany him, he thought-Hideyoshi. He felt that the day he could make this into a reality was not far off.

In his mind, a small accomplishment like the domination of the western provinces and Kyushu was not enough to fill an entire lifetime.

It's dawn, he muttered to himself, and he rose and left his bedroom.

The heavy cedar door that opened to the corridor had been exquisitely fashioned so that when it was pulled open or closed, the sill naturally made a noise almost as if it were calling out. When the pages heard this sound in their faraway room, they jumped up with a start. The flickering light of the paper lantern was reflected by the thick pillars and planks of the veranda, which gleamed as if they had been polished with oil.