Taiko. Part 99

Akechi Mitsuhide, who was still at his main camp in Onbozuka, had heard early on about Matsuda Tarozaemon's death on Tennozan and the complete rout of his troops. He blamed himself for misjudging the timing of his own command. He knew quite well that, strategically, there was a great difference between fighting with Tennozan under the control of his own men and facing a decisive battle after having abandoned the high ground to the enemy.

Prior to advancing toward Tennozan, however, Mitsuhide had been distracted by three things: Tsutsui Junkei's betrayal; his order to strengthen Yodo Castle-misjudging the speed of Hideyoshi's attack; and a flaw in his character-he was indecisive. Should he take the offensive or the defensive? He had not decided which until his advance on Onbozuka.

The battle began almost by accident. Both armies had spent the morning among the reeds and rushes, being eaten by gnats and mosquitoes. Throughout this time, they faced each other squarely and waited for their generals' commands. At one point, however, a beautifully saddled horse suddenly sprang from Hideyoshi's side toward the bank of the Enmyoji River, possibly to slake its thirst.

Four or five soldiers-probably retainers of the horse's owner-chased after it. Gunfire rang out abruptly from the opposite bank, followed by one volley after another.

In response, Hideyoshi's troops fired their own volley toward the northern bank order to help the soldiers, who had taken cover in the reeds. Now there was no time to wait for orders.

"Attack!"

Hideyoshi's order for a general a.s.sault actually came after the exchange of gunfire. The Akechi troops naturally reacted to the movement of the enemy, and, they, too, waded into the river.

The place where the Enmyoji River met the Yodo River was fairly wide, but not far from the convergence the Enmyoji was little more than a stream.

The current, however, was strong after several days of rain. While the Akechi gunners' corps appeared through the reeds on the northern bank and fired into the ranks of Hideyoshi's forces standing on the southern bank, corps of armored men-the soldiers of the spear corps, the picked troops of the Akechi-kicked up sprays of water as they pushed their way across to the other side.

"Send out the spear corps!" an officer of the Takayama corps yelled, jumping up on the bank.

Because the river was so narrow, the effectiveness of the gunners was limited. As the rear ranks moved up in order to let the front ranks reload, there was the possibility that the enemy would suddenly overrun the bank and leap into the midst of the gunners.

"Gunners, open up to the side! Don't obstruct the men in the front ranks!"

The Nakagawa corps had their spear points aligned and ready. Most of them now brandished those spears and struck downward from the bank and into the water.

They were, of course, aiming at the enemy, but rather than pulling back their spears and thrusting, it was speedier to simply hold them aloft and strike in an effort to prevent the enemy from even starting up the bank. The fierce clash occurred in the middle of the river, spear to spear, spear to long sword, and even spear to spear shaft. Men thrust into others and were stabbed in turn.

The soldiers yelled and grappled with each other, some falling dead into the water and raising a spray. The muddy current whirled around. Blood and gore floated to thesurface of the water and then was washed away.

By that time the first corps under Nakagawa Sebei had relinquished the fight downstream to the soldiers under Takayama Ukon's command. Like the lines of young men shouldering a sacred palanquin during a festival, yelling in unison, they forced their way into the front line of battle.

Quickly stepping over the reeds on the eastern bank of the river, they dashed furiously into the midst of the enemy. The sun began to set. Burnt red clouds showing the approach of evening reflected their colors on the black clumps of men yelling beneath the desolate sky.

The violent battle continued for yet another hour. The tenacity of the Saito corps was surprising. Just as it seemed they might crumble, they rallied once more. Making their stand in a swamp, they fought back attack after attack. And they were not the only ones-almost all of the Akechi forces fought with uncanny resignation, and the desperate voice of the defeated army resounded with a bitterness that each man could imagine in Mitsuhide's breast.

"Retreat before we're surrounded! Fall back! Fall back!"

That pathetic chorus was raised by troops in rapid succession, and the sad news spread like the wind to the other two Akechi corps.

At the heart of the central army, which acted as a reserve corps, were the five thousand men directly under Mitsuhide at Onbozuka. At their right were four thousand more men, including two thousand under Fujita Dengo.

Dengo sounded the large drum and the men fanned out into a line of battle. The men of the archers' corps in front released their ghastly rain of arrows in whining unison, and immediately the enemy returned the action with a hail of bullets.

As a command from Dengo cut through the air, the archers dispersed and the gunners took their place. Without waiting an instant for the shroud of gunpowder smoke to clear, armored warriors with iron spears appeared before the enemy and began to cut their way through. Dengo and his hand-picked troops routed the Hachiya corps.

Taking that corps' place, the soldiers under n.o.butaka resumed the attack and struck against the Akechi forces. But Dengo defeated them as well, chasing them back. For the time being, Dengo's troops seemed to have no worthy opponent.

The drum of the Fujita corps boomed. It seemed to express the clan's pride in being without rival, and it menaced the mounted samurai who had crowded in a protective ring around n.o.butaka, causing them to mill about in confusion.

Just then, a corps of five hundred soldiers attacked the Fujita corps' flank, yelling war cries as though they made up a large army.

The clouds were still vaguely red, but on the ground it was already dark. Dengo was reflecting that he had gone too far, and changed his instructions.

"Shift to the right!" he commanded. "Turn! Turn as far as you can toward the right!" His intention was to have the entire force make a circle to rejoin the central army and then fight on firmly.

Suddenly, however, a unit under the command of Hori Kyutaro attacked fiercely from the left. To Dengo, it was as though enemy soldiers had suddenly bubbled up from the earth.

There was no way to retreat, Dengo realized at once, but there was also no time to correct his formation. The Hori warriors cut off his men with the speed of the wind and began to encircle them.

n.o.butaka's standard seemed to flutter closer and closer to Dengo.

Just at that point, a band of five hundred men, including Dengo's son and his younger brother, promptly rode out in a black cl.u.s.ter and galloped fearlessly into the enemy. The night had grown dark. The wind carried the cries of the life-and-death struggles and filled the sky with the smell of blood.

n.o.butaka's corps was respected as being the strongest among the divisions of Hideyoshi's army, and now it was reinforced with the three thousand men under the command of Niwa Nagahide. Brave and spirited as Dengo and his men were, they could not break through the enemy line.

Dengo was wounded in six places. Finally, after fighting and whirling about on his horse for so long, he began to lose consciousness. Suddenly a voice came from the darkness behind him.

Thinking it to be the voice of his son, he raised his head from the horse's mane Just at that moment something struck him above the right eye. It felt like a star falling from heaven, hitting him on the forehead.

"Stay in the saddle! Hang on tight to the saddle! An arrow has glanced off you, and you have a light wound on your forehead." "Who is it? Who's holding me up?"

"It's me, Tozo."

"Ah, brother. What's happened to Ise Yosaburo?"

"He's already been cut down in battle."

"What about Suwa?"

"Suwa is dead too."

"And Denbei?"

"He's still surrounded by the enemy. Now let me accompany you. Lie against the front ring of your saddle."

Without talking further about Denbei's being either dead or alive, Tozo took themuzzle of his brother's horse and fled at top speed through the chaos.

The Two Gates A lonely wind blew through the pines that grew around Mitsuhide's camp at Onbozuka. The curtain of the enclosure swelled in the wind like a large white living thing. It flapped incessantly, singing an eerie, uneasy dirge.

"Yoji, Yoji!" Mitsuhide called.

"Yes, my lord!"

"Was that a messenger?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Why didn't he report directly to me?"

"The report has not yet been confirmed."

"Is there a rule about what can and cannot reach my ears?" Mitsuhide asked, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, my lord."

"Take courage! Are you losing your nerve over bad omens?"

"No, my lord. But I fully expect to die."

"Really?"

Mitsuhide was suddenly aware of his shrill tone, and lowered his voice. He then considered that perhaps he himself should listen to the words with which he had just reproved Yojiro. The wind made a much more lonely sound than in the day. Vegetable gardens and fields lay beyond the gentle slope. To the east was Kuga Nawate; to the north, mountains; to the west, the Enmyoji River. But in the darkness, only the pale twinkling of stars shone over the battlefield.

Only three hours had pa.s.sed between the Hour of the Monkey and the second half of the Hour of the Rooster. Mitsuhide's banners had filled the field. Where were they now? All had been struck down. He had listened to the names of dead men until he was no longer able to keep count.

It had only taken three hours. There was no doubt that Yojiro had just now received one more piece of bad news. And he had lost the courage to relay the matter to Mitsuhide. Reprimanded by his lord, Yojiro once again descended the hill. Looking around, he feebly leaned against the trunk of a pine and stared up at the stars.

A horseman rode up to Yojiro and halted in front of him.

"Friend or foe!" Yojiro shouted, challenging the stranger with the spear he had been using as a staff.

"Friend," the rider replied as he dismounted.

Just by looking at the shambling gait of the man, Yojiro could see that he was seriously wounded. Yojiro walked toward him and offered him his arm.

"Gyobu!" Yojiro said, recognizing his comrade. "Hold fast! Lean on me."

"Is that Yojiro? Where is Lord Mitsuhide?"

"On top of the hill."

"He's still here? This is a dangerous place for him now. He must leave right away."

Gyobu went up to Mitsuhide and prostrated himself in front of him, almost falling on his face. "The entire army has been routed. The dying fell on top of the dead; so many achieved glorious deaths in battle that I cannot remember their names."

Looking up, he could only see Mitsuhide's white face. It seemed as though it were floating beneath the dark shape of the pines. Mitsuhide said nothing, as though he had not been listening.

Gyobu went on, "At one point, we pressed close on Hideyoshi's center, but when darkness fell our retreat was cut off, and we could no longer find Lord Dengo. General Sanzaemon's division was surrounded by the enemy, and extremely bitter fighting ensued. He was able to escape with only two hundred men. His last words were, 'Go immediately to Onbozuka and tell His Lordship to withdraw to Shoryuji Castle as fast as he can, and then either prepare to hold the castle or retreat toward Omi during the night. I will act as his rear guard until then. After we receive news that His Lordship has withdrawn, we will gallop straight into Hideyoshi's camp and fight to the death.'"

Mitsuhide was still silent. When Gyobu had finished giving his report, he collapsed and breathed his last.

Mitsuhide stared at him from his seat and then looked vacantly at Yojiro. He asked "Were Gyobu's wounds deep?"

"Yes, my lord," Yojiro answered, tears filling his eyes.

"He seems to be dead."

"Yes, my lord."

"Yojiro," Mitsuhide suddenly said in an entirely different tone. "What did the previous messenger report?"

"I will not conceal anything from you, my lord. Tsutsui Junkei's army appeared on the field and attacked our left wing. Saito Toshimitsu and his entire corps did not have the strength to hold them off, and they were completely routed."

"What! Was that it?"

"I knew that if I told you that now, it would be hard to accept. I had truly hoped to tell you when it wouldn't add to your unhappiness."

"This is the world of men." Then he added, "It makes no difference."

Mitsuhide laughed. At least it was something like a laugh. Then he abruptly waved toward the rear of the camp and impatiently called out for his horse.

Mitsuhide had sent most of his troops to the front, but there should have been at least two thousand men in the camp with his senior retainers. Leading this force, Mitsuhide was ready to join up with what was left of Sanzaemon's corps and attempt one last battle. Mounting his horse, he yelled out the orders for the attack in a voice that resounded through Onbozuka. Then, without waiting for the soldiers to a.s.semble, he turned his horse around and started to gallop down the hill, accompanied by a few mounted samurai.

"Who are you?" Mitsuhide asked, bringing his horse to a stop. Someone had suddenly rushed out of the camp, run down the slope, and stood blocking the way, his arms stretched out wide.

"Tatewaki, why are you stopping me?" Mitsuhide asked sharply. It was one of Mitsuhide's senior retainers, Hida Tatewaki, and he quickly grabbed the bridle of Mitsuhide's horse. The unruly animal stamped the ground, unable to control itself.

"Yojiro! Sanjuro! Why didn't you stop him? Get off your horses, my lord," Hida Tatewaki said, scolding Mitsuhide's attendants. Then bowing in Mitsuhide's direction, he said, "The man before me is not the Lord Mitsuhide I serve. The war is not lost after one defeat. It is not like you to think about throwing away your life right after one battle. The enemy is going to ridicule us for having lost self-control. Even though you've been defeated here, you have a family in Sakamoto and several generals dispersed in the provinces just waiting for word from you. Surely you must not be without a plan for the future. First withdraw to Shoryuji Castle."

"What are you talking about, Tatewaki?" Mitsuhide shook his head almost in time with his horse's mane. "Are all the men we've lost going to rise up once again and regain their high spirits? I cannot abandon my men to the enemy and let them be killed. I'm going to deal one good blow to Hideyoshi and punish Tsutsui Junkei's treachery. I'm not looking for a place to die in vain. I'm going to show them who Mitsuhide is. Now let me pa.s.s!"

"Why are my wise lord's eyes so wild? Our army received a blow today, and at least three thousand men died while countless others were wounded. Our generals were struck down, and our new recruits have been scattered. How many soldiers do you think are left this camp now?"

"Let me go! I can do exactly as I please! Let me go!"

"It's exactly that kind of irresponsible talk that proves you're only rushing off toward death, and I'm going to do my best to stop you. It would be one thing if there were still three or four thousand obstinate men here, but I suspect there are only four or five hundred who will be trailing behind you. All the others have slipped out of camp since morning and fled," Tatewaki said, his voice filled with tears.

Is a man's intellect so frail? And once that intellect fails, does he simply become a madman? Tatewaki gazed at Mitsuhide's frenzy and wondered how the man could have changed so much. Shedding bitter tears, he could not help remembering how prudent and intelligent Mitsuhide had once been.

Other generals now stood in front of Mitsuhide's horse. Two of them had already been on the front lines, but, concerned for their lord's safety, they had come back to the camp. One of them said, "We all agree with Lord Hida. Shoryuji is nearby, and it's certainly not too late to go there first and work out a strategy for our next step."

"As long as we're here, the enemy forces will be drawing closer and closer, and everything could come to an end right in this spot. We should whip our horses and move on to Shoryuji as fast as we can."

Tatewaki no longer asked what his lord's intentions were. He had the conch sh.e.l.l blown and quickly ordered a retreat to the north. Yojiro and another retainer abandoned their own horses and walked, each grasping the bridle of their master's horse and leading it to the north. The other soldiers and commanders on the hill followed them. But, just as Tatewaki had said, they numbered no more than five hundred men.

Miyake Tobei was the commander of Shoryuji Castle. Here, too, there were nothing but omens of defeat, and a desolate mood of doom filled the castle. Surrounded by faintly flickering lanterns, all present deliberated over how to save themselves. As they searched for some rational conclusion, even Mitsuhide realized that there was nothing to be done.

The sentries outside the castle had repeatedly reported the approach of the enemy, and the castle itself was not strong enough to resist the crushing force of Hideyoshi's army. Even Yodo Castle had been in this condition when he had ordered its repair some days ago. It was not unlike beginning to build a dike only after hearing the sounds of the billowing waves.

Perhaps the only thing Mitsuhide did not regret at this point was that a number of his generals and soldiers had remained loyal and fought a furious battle, poignantly demonstrating their loyalty. It was, in one sense, paradoxical that there were men within the Akechi clan-the clan that had struck down their own lord-who would still not break the bond between lord and retainer. Clearly Mitsuhide was a virtuous man, and those men were manifesting the ironclad law of the samurai.

For that reason, the number of dead and wounded was unusually high, even though the battle had lasted no more than three hours. It was later estimated that the Akechi had suffered more than three thousand casualties, while Hideyoshi's forces had lost more than three thousand three hundred. The number of wounded was incalculable. Thus one might understand the great spirit of the Akechi forces, which was in no way inferior to that of their general. Considering the small size of Mitsuhide's force-nearly half the size of his enemy's-and the disadvantageous ground on which it fought, his defeat was not one that could be ridiculed by the world.

The moon of the thirteenth day of the Sixth Month was blurred by thin clouds. One or two mounted warriors rode separately on ahead, while others followed a little behind. Thirteen mounted men rode in scattered groups from north of the Yodo River toward Fushimi.

When they had finally entered a dark trail in the depths of the mountain, Mitsuhide turned and asked Tatewaki, "Where are we?"