Taiko. Part 95

"His Lordship is worried that news of the incident in Kyoto might leak out to the men."

Kyutaro's eyes revealed his intention to kill the messenger, but Hikoemon shook his head. After they had walked a few steps, Hikoemon said, "He'll probably die right where he is from overeating. Let's let him die innocently."

Looking toward the sutra room, Hikoemon held an extended palm out from his chest in prayer.

8.

TENTH YEAR OF TENSHO 1582 SUMMER.

Characters and Places.

Hori Kyutaro, senior Oda retainer.

Oda n.o.butaka, n.o.bunaga's third son Oda n.o.buo, n.o.bunaga's second son Niwa Nagahide, senior Oda retainer Tsutsui Junkei, senior Oda retainer Matsuda Tarozaemon, senior Akechi retainer.

Ishida Sakichi, Hideyoshi's retainer Samboshi, n.o.bunaga's grandson and heir Takigawa Kazumasu, senior Oda retainer Maeda Geni, senior Oda retainer.

Sak.u.ma Genba, Shibata Katsuie's nephew Shibata Katsutoyo, Katsuie's adopted son.

An Ill-Fated Messenger.

Hideyoshi had not moved. Fine pieces of ash were falling around the base of the lamp- probably the remains of Hasegawa's letter.

Kanbei came limping in, and Hideyoshi greeted him with a nod. Kanbei bent his crippled leg and lowered himself to the floor. During his captivity at Itami Castle, he had developed a chronic scalp condition that had never fully cleared up. When he sat close to the lamp, his thinning hair seemed almost transparent, giving him a grotesque appearance.

"I received your summons, my lord. What could be so urgent at this time of night?" Kanbei asked.

Hideyoshi replied, "Hikoemon will tell you." Then he folded his arms and hung his head with a long sigh.

"This will come as a shock, Kanbei," Hikoemon began.

Kanbei was known for his courage, but as he listened, he blanched. Saying nothing, he sighed deeply, folded his arms, and stared at Hideyoshi.

Kyutaro now edged forward on his knees, and said, "This is no time to be thinking of what is past. The wind of change is blowing through the world, and it's a fair wind for you. Time to raise your sails and depart."

Kanbei slapped his knee and said, "Well spoken! Heaven and earth are eternal, but life only progresses because all things change with the seasons. From a broader perspective this is an auspicious event."

The two men's opinions made Hideyoshi smile with satisfaction, because they mirrored his own thoughts. Yet he could not admit to those feelings in public without running the risk of being misunderstood. For a retainer, the death of his lord was a tragedy, and one that must be avenged.

Kanbei, Kyutaro, you've given me great encouragement. There's only one thing we can do now," Hideyoshi said with conviction. "Make peace with the Mori as quickly and secretly as possible."

The monk Ekei had come to Hideyoshi's camp as the Mori's envoy to negotiate a peace treaty. Ekei had contacted Hikoemon first, because of their long acquaintance; then he had met with Kanbei. Hideyoshi had so far refused to come to terms with the Mori, regarddless of what they offered. When Ekei and Hikoemon had met earlier that day, they had parted without reaching an agreement.

Turning to Hikoemon, Hideyoshi said, "You met Ekei today. What are the Mori planning to do?"

"We could conclude a treaty quickly, if we agreed to their terms," Hikoemon replied.

"Absolutely not!" Hideyoshi said flatly. "As they stand, there is no way I can agree. And what did he offer you, Kanbei?"

"The five provinces of b.i.t.c.hu, Bingo, Mimasaka, Inaba, and Hoki if we lift the siege of Takamatsu Castle and spare the lives of General Muneharu and his men."

"A handsome offer, superficially. But apart from Bingo, the four other provinces the Mori are offering are no longer under their control. We cannot accept those terms now without arousing their suspicions," Hideyoshi said. "But if the Mori have found out what has happened in Kyoto, they'll never agree to peace. With luck, they still know nothing. Heaven has given me a few hours' grace, but it will be tight."

"It's still only the third. If we requested a formal peace conference tomorrow, one could be held in two or three days," Hikoemon suggested.

'No, that's too slow," Hideyoshi countered. "We have to start immediately, and not wait until dawn. Hikoemon, get Ekei to come here again."

"Should I send a messenger right now?" Hikoemon asked.

"No, wait a little. A messenger arriving in the middle of the night would make him suspicious. We should put a good deal of thought into what we're going to say."

Following Hideyoshi's orders, Asano Yahei's men began a close inspection of all travelers going in and out of the area. At about midnight, the guards stopped a blind man who was walking along with a heavy bamboo staff and asked him where he was going. Surrounded by the soldiers, the man rested on his staff. "I'm going to a relative's house in the village of Niwase," he said with extreme humility.

"If you're going to Niwase, why are you on this mountain track in the middle of the night?" the officer in charge asked.

"I couldn't find an inn, so I just kept on walking," the blind man replied, lowering his head in an appeal for sympathy. "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me where I might find a village with an inn."

The officer suddenly yelled out, "He's a fake! Tie him up."

The man protested, "I'm no fake! I'm a licensed blind musician from Kyoto, where I've lived for many years. But now my elderly aunt in Niwase is dying." He pressed his palms together in supplication.

"You're lying!" the officer said. "Your eyes may be closed, but I doubt if you need this!"

The officer abruptly grabbed the man's bamboo staff and cut it in half with his sword. A tightly rolled letter fell from the hollow interior.

The man's eyes now blazed like mirrors at the soldiers. Looking for the weakest point in the circle of men, he tried to make a run for it. But with more than twenty soldiers around him, even this fox of a man could not escape. The soldiers grappled him to the ground, trussed him up so that he could hardly move, and hoisted him over a horse like a piece of baggage.

The man heaped insults and curses on his captors. The officer stuffed some dirt in his mouth. Whipping the horse's belly, the soldiers hurried off to Hideyoshi's camp with their prisoner.

That same night a mountain ascetic was challenged by another patrol. In contrast to the cringing manner of the fake blind musician, the monk was haughty.

"I'm a disciple of the Shogo Temple," he announced arrogantly. "We mountain ascetics often walk the whole night through without taking a rest. I walk where I will, path or no path. What do you mean by asking me a trivial question like where am I going? Someone with a body like traveling clouds and flowing streams has no need of a destination."

The ascetic continued in this vein for a while, and then tried to run away. A soldier caught him in the shins with the shaft of his spear, and the man fell down with a scream.

Stripping the monk half-naked, the soldiers found that he was not a mountain ascetic at all. He was a warrior-monk of the Honganji, who was carrying a secret report to the Mori about the events at the Honno Temple. He too was immediately sent like a piece of baggage to Hideyoshi's camp.

There were only two captives that night, but if either of them had slipped through the cordon and accomplished his mission, the Mori would have known by the next morning about n.o.bunaga's death.

The fake ascetic had not been sent by Mitsuhide, but the man posing as a blind musician was an Akechi samurai with a letter from Mitsuhide for Mori Terumoto. He had left Kyoto on the morning of the second. Mitsuhide had sent another messenger that same morning-by sea from Osaka-but storms delayed him, and he reached the Mori too late.

"I thought we would be meeting in the morning," Ekei said after he greeted Hikoemon, "but your letter said to come as quickly as possible, so I came immediately."

"I'm sorry to get you out of bed," Hikoemon replied nonchalantly. "Tomorrow would have been fine, and I'm sorry my ineptly worded letter has deprived you of your sleep."

Kanbei led Ekei to an isolated spot vulgarly known as the Nose of the Frog, and from there to the empty farmhouse where they had held their previous meetings.

Sitting squarely in front of Ekei, Hikoemon said with deep feeling, "When you think about it, the two of us must be bound by a common karma."

Ekei nodded solemnly. The two men silently recalled their meeting in Hachisuka some twenty years before, when Hikoemon was still the leader of a band of ronin, and went by the name of Koroku. It was during his stay at Hikoemon's mansion that Ekei first heard about an extraordinary young samurai by the name of Kinos.h.i.ta Tokichiro, who had lately been taken into n.o.bunaga's service at Kiyosu Castle. In those early years, when Hideyoshi still ranked far below n.o.bunaga's generals, Ekei had written to Kikkawa Motoharu: "n.o.bunaga's rule will last for a little while longer. When he falls, Kinos.h.i.ta Tokichiro will be the next man with whom to reckon."

Ekei's predictions were astoundingly accurate: twenty years ago, he had perceived Hideyoshi's ability; ten years ago he had guessed n.o.bunaga's fall. That night, however, there was no way he could have known how right he was going to be.

Ekei was not an ordinary monk. When he was still a young acolyte studying in a temple, Motonari, the former lord of the Mori, had ordered him to enter his service. During Motonari's lifetime, his "little monk," as he affectionately called Ekei, had accompanied him on all his military campaigns.

After Motonari's death, Ekei had left the Mori and wandered throughout the empire. When he returned, he was made abbot of Ankokuji Temple, and served Terumoto, the new lord of the Mori, as a trusted adviser.

Throughout the war with Hideyoshi, Ekei had consistently argued for peace. He knew Hideyoshi well and did not think that the west would be able to endure his onslaught. Another factor influencing him was his long friendship with Hikoemon.

Ekei and Hikoemon had met any number of times before, but each time they had parted ways at the same impa.s.se: Muneharu's fate. Hikoemon thus addressed Ekei: "When I spoke to Lord Kanbei earlier, he told me that Lord Hideyoshi was far more generous than he has been perceived to be. He suggested that if just one more concession were made by the Mori, peace would surely ensue. Lord Kanbei said that if we were to lift the siege and spare Lord Muneharu's life, it would seem to the world as if the Oda army had been forced to conclude a peace treaty. Lord Hideyoshi could not present those terms to Lord n.o.bunaga. Our only condition is Muneharu's head. You should have no trouble bringing the matter to a conclusion."

Hikoemon's terms had not changed, but he himself seemed a different man since their last meeting.

"I can only restate my position," Ekei replied. "If the Mori clan cedes five of its ten provinces, and Muneharu's life is not spared, they will have failed to abide by the Way of the Samurai."

"Nevertheless, did you verify their intentions after our last meeting?"

"There was no need to. The Mori will never agree to Muneharu's death. They prize loyalty above all else, and no one, from Lord Terumoto to his most lowly retainer, would berudge the sacrifice, even if it means the loss of the whole of the western provinces."

The sky was beginning to grow paler; a rooster was heard in the distance. Night was turning to the dawn of the fourth day of the month.

Ekei would not agree, and Hikoemon would not give in. They were deadlocked.

"Well, there's nothing more to be said," Ekei concluded fatalistically.

"With my limited abilities," Hikoemon apologized, "I haven't been able to find common ground with you. With your permission, I'd like to ask Lord Kanbei to take my place."

"I'll be happy to speak with anyone," Ekei replied.

Hikoemon sent his son to get Kanbei, who soon arrived on his litter. He alighted and sat down clumsily with the other two men.

"I was the one who encouraged Hikoemon to trouble you once more for a final discussion," Kanbei said. "So, what is the outcome? Haven't the two of you worked out a compromise? You've talked half the night."

Kanbei's frankness had the effect of raising their spirits. Ekei's face brightened in the morning light. "We tried," he said, laughing. With the excuse that he had to prepare for n.o.bunaga's arrival, Hikoemon took his leave.

"Lord n.o.bunaga will stay for two or three days," Kanbei said. "Except for the time we have now, it's going to be difficult to meet again for peace talks."

Kanbei's diplomacy was simple and straightforward. It was also extremely highhanded: if the Mori wanted to argue about terms, no outcome but war was possible.

"If you can help the Oda clan today, surely you will be guaranteed a great future," Kanbei said.

With this change of adversary, Ekei lost his former eloquence. His expression, however, appeared to be far more buoyant than it had been when he was negotiating with Hikoemon.

"If there is a definite promise that Muneharu will commit seppuku, I will ask His Lordship about the condition of ceding the five provinces, and I'm sure he'll agree to a compromise. At any rate, won't you ask Lord Kikkawa and Lord Kobayakawa to reconsider the matter once more this morning? I suspect it will make the difference between peace and war."

When Kanbei put the matter in this way, Ekei felt compelled to act. Kikkawa's camp at Mount Iwasaki was only one league away. Kobayakawa's camp at Mount Hizashi was a little less than two leagues. Soon after, Ekei whipped his horse into a gallop.

After seeing the monk off, Kanbei went to Jihoin Temple. He looked into Hideyoshi's room and found him asleep. The lamp had gone out, the oil having burned dry. Kanbei shook Hideyoshi awake and said, "My lord, the day is breaking."

"Dawn?" Hideyoshi asked, rising groggily. Kanbei immediately told him of the meeting with Ekei. Hideyoshi scowled but got up quickly.

The pages were waiting at the entrance to the bathroom with water for his morning wash.

"As soon as I've eaten, I'll make a round of the camp. Bring my horse out as usual, and have my attendants stand by," he ordered as he dried his face.

Hideyoshi rode under a large red umbrella, preceded by his standard. Swaying slightiy in the saddle, he rode under the new leaves of the flowering cherry trees that grew along the road from the temple gate to the foot of the mountain.

Hideyoshi's daily round of the camp was never at a set time, but it was rarely so early in the morning. Today he seemed in better humor, and from time to time he would joke with his attendants as if everything were perfectly normal. There were no indications that morning that news of the incident in Kyoto had leaked out even among his own men. After confirming this for himself, Hideyoshi returned to his headquarters at a leisurely pace.

Kanbei was waiting for him in front of the temple gate. His eyes told Hideyoshi that Ekei's mission had ended in failure. The monk had ridden back from the Mori camp a little before Hideyoshi's return, but the response he brought had not changed: If we allow Muneharu to die, we are not living up to the Way of the Samurai. We will not agree to a peace that does not spare Muneharu's life.

"Have Ekei come here anyway," Hideyoshi ordered. He did not look in the least discouraged; in fact, he actually seemed to be growing more optimistic by the minute.

He invited the monk into a sunny room and made him comfortable. After talking over old times and relating gossip from the capital, Hideyoshi moved the conversation on. "Well now," he said, broaching the main subject, "it seems as though peace talks have stalled because both sides cannot agree on Muneharu's fate. Couldn't you go privately to General Muneharu, explain the circ.u.mstances to him, and recommend that he resign himself? The Mori will never order a loyal retainer to commit seppuku, but if you explained the Mori clan's distress to him, Muneharu would gladly give his life. His death, after all, will save the lives of the men in the castle and save the Mori from destruction." With these words, Hideyoshi abruptly got up and left.

Inside Takamatsu Castle, the fates of more than five thousand soldiers and civilians hung in the balance.

Hideyoshi's generals had brought three large ships, equipped with cannons, over the mountains, and had begun to sh.e.l.l the castle. One of the towers had almost collapsed, and there were many dead and wounded as a result of the bombardment. Added to that, it was still the rainy season, and more and more people were falling sick and food supplies were spoiling in the damp.

The defenders had collected doors and planking and built light boats with which to attack Hideyoshi's warships. Two or three of the small craft had been sunk, but the survivors had swum back to the castle to lead a second attack.

When the Mori army arrived and their banners and flags were sighted from the castle, the defenders thought they had been saved. But soon after, they understood the impossibility of their situation. The distance between their rescuers and themselves, and the consequent operational difficulties, would not allow for rescue. Although they were discouraged, they never lost the will to fight. On the contrary, after their realization they were clearly resolved to die.

When a secret message came to the castle from the Mori giving Muneharu permission to capitulate in order to save the lives of the men inside, he sent back an indignant response: "We have not yet learned what it is to surrender. At a time like this, we are ready to die."

On the morning of the fourth day of the Sixth Month, the guards on the castle walls spotted a small boat sculling toward them from the enemy sh.o.r.e. A samurai was handling the oar, and his only pa.s.senger was a monk.

Ekei had come to ask Muneharu to commit seppuku. Muneharu listened in silence to the monk's arguments. When Ekei had finished, and his entire body was soaked in sweat, Muneharu spoke for the first time. "Well, today is truly my lucky day. When I look at your face, I know that your words are not fraudulent."

He did not say whether he agreed or disagreed. Muneharu's mind was already far beyond consent and refusal. "For some time, Lord Kobayakawa and Lord Kikkawa have been worried about me, worthless as I am, and have even advised me to capitulate. But I have not considered surrender just to save my own life, and so I refused. Now, if I can believe what you've told me, the Mori clan will be a.s.sured of security, and the people in the castle will be safe. If that's the case, there is no reason to refuse. On the contrary, it would be a great joy to me. A great joy!" he repeated emphatically.

Ekei was trembling. He had not thought that it would be so easy, that Muneharu would welcome death so gladly. At the same time, he felt ashamed. He himself was a monk, yet would he have the courage to transcend life and death in this way when his own time came?

"Then you agree?"

"Yes."

"Don't you need to discuss the matter with your family?"

"I'll inform them of my decision later. They should all rejoice with me."