TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  Nobunaga called the soldiers together and ordered a head count. That morning, when they had ridden out of the castle, lord and followers were a mere six or seven. Now the army numbered close to three thousand. It was announced publicly that there were at least five thousand men. Nobunaga considered the fact that this was really the entire army of his domain, which covered half the province of Owari. With neither garrisons nor reserves, these men made up the entire strength of the Oda.

  A satisfied smile came to his lips. The forty thousand men of the Imagawa forces were now within hailing distance, and to spy on their lineup and morale, the Oda troops concealled their flags and banners and viewed the situation from the edge of the mountain.

  Asano Mataemon's corps had gathered together on the northern slope, a little apart from the main army. Although they were archers, the battle today would not call for bows and arrows, so his men carried spears. The small group of thirty foot soldiers led by Tokichiro was also with them, and when the commander ordered the men to rest, Tokichiro passed on the order to his own men.

  They responded by taking deep breaths and falling onto the grass in the mountain's de.

  Tokichiro rubbed his sweaty face with a dirty towel. "Hey! Would somebody hold my spear?" His subordinates had just sat down, but one of them yelled, "Yes, sir," and got up and took the spear. Then, when Tokichiro started to walk off, the man followed from behind.

  "You don't have to come."

  "Where are you going, sir?"

  "I don't need any help. I'm going to relieve myself, and it's not going to smell too good." With a laugh, he disappeared into some shrubbery along the narrow cliff road, Perhaps thinking that Tokichiro had been joking, his subordinate stood for a while and gazed in the direction in which he had gone.

  Tokichiro went a little way down the southern slope, looking around until he found a suittable spot. He untied his bellyband and squatted down. The troops had left so fast that morning that he had barely had enough time to put on his armor, and had certainly had

  no time to go to relieve himself. And even while they hurried from Kiyosu to Atsuta and Tange, if they stopped somewhere to rest, his first thoughts were to relieve himself just like in everyday life. Thus it was now very satisfying to be taking care of his bodily needs under a clear blue sky.

  But even here, the rules of the battlefield allowed for no negligence. Very often, when armies confronted each other, enemy patrols would travel far from their camps, and when they discovered someone emptying his bowels, they would shoot him half in fun. So Tokichiro was unable to be completely at peace while gazing up at the sky. Looking to­ward the foot of the mountain, he could see that the river meandered like a sash, flowing to the sea at the Chita Peninsula. He could also see the single white road that wound its way south along the river's eastern bank.

  Washizu was in the mountainous area north of the road and had probably already burned to the ground. In the fields and villages he could see the many little antike forms of men and horses. "There's certainly a lot of them."

  It might have been because Tokichiro was a part of the army of a small province, but when he saw the scale of the enemy, the clichйed phrase "like the clouds and mist" natu­rally came to mind. And when he considered that this army was just one part of the enemy force, he was not surprised that Nobunaga had resolved to die. But no, this wasn't just another man's affair. Emptying his bowels was probably the last thing he was going to do in this world.

  Men are strange. I wonder if I'll still be alive tomorrow? While he was brooding on such things, Tokichiro was suddenly aware that someone was coming up the mountain from the marsh below.

  The enemy? Being close to a battlefield, this was an intuitive, almost instinctive reaction, and now he wondered if this might be an enemy scout, trying to get behind Nobunaga's headquarters. As Tokichiro quickly tied his sash and stood up, the face of the man who had scrambled up from the marsh suddenly met his own, and the two men stood staring straight at each other.

  "Tokichiro!"

  "Inuchiyo!"

  "What are you doing here?"

  "What are you doing?"

  "I heard that Lord Nobunaga had marched out and is resolved to die, and I've come to die with him."

  "I'm glad you came." With a lump in his throat, Tokichiro extended his hand to his old friend. Countless emotions were enveloped within the men's clasped hands. Inuchiyo's armor was splendid. From the lacquered feathering to the lacing, it was new and glittered brilliantly. A banner with a plum-blossom crest was attached to his back.

  "You cut a fine figure," Tokichiro said with admiration. Suddenly, he fhought about Nene, whom he had left behind. But he forced his thoughts to return to Inuchiyo. "Where were you until now?"

  "I was waiting for the right time."

  “When Lord Nobunaga banished you, didn't you think about serving another clan?"

  “No, my loyalty has always been undivided. Even after I was banished, I felt that Lord

  Nobunaga's punishment made me more human, and I'm thankful for it."

  Tears filled Tokichiro's eyes. Inuchiyo knew that the battle today was going to be the glorious death of the entire Oda clan, and it made Tokichiro unbearably happy that his friend had come here, wanting to die with his former lord.

  "I understand. Look, Inuchiyo, this is the first time Lord Nobunaga has rested today. Now's the time. Come on."

  "Wait, Tokichiro. I won't go into Lord Nobunaga's presence."

  "Why not?"

  "It wasn't my intention to come here at a time when Lord Nobunaga might withhold his anger from any soldier, and I would hate his retainers to see me in that light."

  "What are you saying? Everybody here is going to die. Didn't you come here wanting to die in front of your lord's standard?"

  "That's right."

  "Then don't worry. Gossip is for the living."

  "No, it's better if I die without saying anything. And that is my deepest ambition, whether Lord Nobunaga forgives me or not. Tokichiro?"

  "Yes?"

  "Will you hide me in your group for a little while?"

  'That's no trouble at all, but my command is only thirty men in the foot soldiers. Youre going to stand out."

  “I’ll go like this." He covered his helmet with something that looked like a horse blanket, and slipped into Tokichiro's group of soldiers. If he stood on tiptoe, he could see Nobunaga clearly. And he could hear his high-pitched voice come and go with the wind.

  Like a low-flying bird, a lone rider was coming toward Nobunaga from an unexpected direction. Nobunaga saw the man before anyone else did, and watched him in silence. As the entire army looked in his direction, the man rode closer and closer.

  'What is it? Do you have news?"

  'The main body of the Imagawa, the troops under Yoshimoto and his generals, has just now changed its direction and is headed for Okehazama!"

  What?" Nobunaga asked with glittering eyes. "Well, then, Yoshimoto has taken the road to Okehazama without turning toward Odaka?"

  Before he could finish, a shout rose: "Look! There's another!"

  One rider, then two—scouts for Nobunaga's forces. The men held their breaths as the riders whipped their horses toward the camp. Adding to the previous report, the scouts informed Nobunaga of the continuing turn of events.

  “The main force of the Imagawa turned on the road to Okehazama, but they've just now spread out over an area slightly above Dengakuhazama, a little to the south of Okehazama. They've moved their headquarters, and it seems as though they're resting their troops with Lord Yoshimoto right in the center."

  Nobunaga fell silent for an instant, his eyes as clear as the blade of a sword. Death. He had only thought of death. With intensity, in the absolute dark, in self-abandonment. His only desire had been to die in a manly way. He had ridden furiously from dawn until the sun was high in the sky. Now, suddenly, like a single ray of light breaking through the clouds, the possibility of victory flashed across his mind.

  If t
hings went well…

  The truth was that, up to that point, he had not believed in victory, and victory was the only thing a warrior fought for.

  Fragments of thoughts appear and disappear in the human mind, like an endless stream of tiny bubbles, so that one's life is carved out instant by instant. Right up to the point of his death, a man's words and actions are decided by this chain of fragments. Ideas that can destroy a man. A day in a man's life is constructed according to whether he accepts or rejects these flashes of inspiration.

  In ordinary situations, there is time for a mature deliberation over choices, but a man's moment of destiny comes without warning. When the crisis breaks, should he go to the right or to the left? Nobunaga was now at that fork in the road and unconsciously drew the straw of fate.

  Clearly his character and training played their part at the crucial moment and kept him from taking the wrong direction. His lips were tightly shut. Yet there was something he wanted to say.

  Suddenly a retainer shouted, "My lord, now is the time! Yoshimoto thinks he knows our strength after capturing Washizu and Marune. He's probably filled with pride about his army's early success. He's glorying in his victory and letting his fighting spirit slide. This is the right moment. If we launch a surprise attack on Yoshimoto's headquarters, our victory is certain."

  Nobunaga joined in the man's high-strung voice. "That's it!" he said, slapping his saddle. "That's exactly what we're going to do. I'm going to have Yoshimoto's head. Dengakuhazama is straight to the east."

  The generals, however, were confused and filled with misgivings when they heard the scouts' reports, and they tried to check Nobunaga's instinctive dash forward.

  But Nobunaga would not listen. "You decrepit old men! What are you dithering about now? All you have to do is follow me. If I walk into the fire, you walk into it too. If I'm ready to walk into the water, then you'll follow me there. If you won't, stay on the sidelines and watch me." Leaving them with a single, cold laugh, Nobunaga gracefully raised his horse's head and galloped to the front line of his army.

  * * *

  Noon. Not a single bird could be heard in the hushed mountains. The wind had died, and the burning sun seemed to scorch everything under the sky. The leaves were either tightly closed or withered like dried tobacco.

  “Over there!" Leading a small group of men, a warrior was running up a grassy slope.

  "Put up the curtain."

  In one area, soldiers were clearing away the undergrowth with scythes; others un­furled curtains and tied them to the branches of the nearby pines and silk trees. In mo­ments they had put together a curtained enclosure that would serve as Yoshimoto's temporary headquarters.

  “Whew! It's scorching!" said one of the men.

  "They say it doesn't often get this hot!"

  The men wiped away their sweat.

  'Look, the sweat's pouring off me. Even the leather and metal of my armor are too hot to touch."

  'If I took off my armor and let a little breeze in I'd feel better. But I think the general staff will be here soon."

  'Well, let's take just a little rest." There were few trees on the grass-covered hill, so the soldiers sat down together under the shade of a large camphor tree. After a short rest, they felt cooler.

  The hill of Dengakuhazama was lower than the surrounding mountains, no more than a knoll in the center of a circular valley. From time to time, the white undersides of the leaves all over the hill would suddenly be rustled by a cool summer breeze descending from Taishigadake.

  One of the soldiers looked up to the sky while applying ointment to his blistered toes, and muttered something to himself.

  “What's the matter?" asked another soldier.

  “Look."

  “At what?"

  'Storm clouds are gathering. It'll probably rain in the evening."

  “A good rain would be nice. But I tell you, for those of us who do nothing but repair roads and carry the baggage, rain can be worse than an attack by the enemy. I hope it'll just be a light shower."

  The wind incessantly ruffled the curtained enclosure they had just set up. The officer in charge looked around and told his men, "Well, let's get up. His Lordship will be staying at Odaka Castle tonight. He's deliberately led the enemy into thinking that he'll be advancing from Kutsukake to Odaka, but with this shortcut through Okehazama, he plans to arrive this evening. It's our job to go on ahead and look for problems with the bridges, cliffs, and gullies along the way. Well, let's go!"

  The voices and men were gone, and the mountain returned to its former peace. The grasshoppers were making their shrill cries. But not long afterward, horses were heard in the distance. No conches were blown, no drums beaten, and they passed between the mountain peaks as quietly as possible. Yet despite their efforts, there was no way to conceal the dust and clatter of so many horses. The sound of the horses' hooves on the stones and roots quickly filled the air, and the main forces of the great Imagawa Yoshimoto soon buried the grassy knoll and the surroundings of Dengakuhazama in soldiers, horses, banners, and curtained enclosures.

  Yoshimoto was sweating more than anyone else. He had grown accustomed to the good life and, after passing the age of forty, had become grotesquely fat. It was obvious that he found these maneuvers a trial. Over his corpulent body with its long torso he wore a red brocade kimono and a white breastplate. His outsized helmet had five neckplates and was crowned with eight dragons. In addition, he wore the long sword called Matsukurago that had been in the Imagawa family for generations, a short sword—also the work of a famous swordsmith—gloves, shin guards, and boots. The entire outfit probably weighed more than eighty pounds, and lacked the smallest vent where the breeze might enter.

  Covered with sweat, Yoshimoto rode on through the blazing heat, as the sun scorched even the leather and the lacquered feathering on his armor. Finally he arrived at Dengakuhazama.

  "What is this place called?" Yoshimoto asked as soon as he was seated behind his headquarters' curtain. All around him were the men charged with his protection: atten­dants, generals, senior retainers, physicians, and others.

  One of the generals replied, "This is Dengakuhazama. It's about half a league from Okehazama."

  Yoshimoto nodded and handed his helmet to an attendant. After a page unlaced his armor, he stepped out of his sweat-soaked undergarments and into a spotlessly clean white robe. A gentle breeze filtered in. How refreshing, Yoshimoto thought.

  When the waistband of his armor had been retied, his camp stool was moved to a leopard-skin mat spread out on the grassy knoll. The extravagant camp supplies that followed him everywhere were now unpacked.

  "What's that sound?" Yoshimoto took a gulp of tea, startled by something that sounded like a cannon's roar.

  His attendants also pricked up their ears. One of them raised an edge of the curtain and looked around outside. He was struck by a sight of awesome beauty: the scorching sun toyed with the shredded clouds and painted a maelstrom of light in the sky.

  "Distant thunder. Just the sound of distant thunder," the retainer reported.

  "Thunder?" Yoshimoto forced a smile, lightly patting his lower back with his left hand. His attendants noticed this but purposely refrained from asking the reason. That morning, when they had departed from the castle at Kutsukake, Yoshimoto had fallen off his horse. To inquire about his injury yet again would only have embarrassed Yoshimoto further.

  Something was stirring. Suddenly there seemed to be a clamorous rush of horses and men from the foot of the hill, coming in the direction of the enclosure. Yoshimoto immediately turned to one of his retainers, asking anxiously, "What is it?"

  Without waiting for his order to go and look, two or three men dashed outside the curtain, letting in the wind. This time it was not the sound of distant thunder. The clatter of horses' hooves and men's footsteps had already reached the top of the hill. It was a corps of about two hundred men, carrying in an enormous number of enemy heads taken at Narumi—graphic demonstration of
how the war was going.

  The heads were now brought in for Yoshimoto's inspection.

  "The heads of the Oda samurai from Narumi. Line them up! Let's take a look!" Yoshimoto was in good spirits. "Set up my camp stool!"

  Adjusting his position and holding his fan over his face, he examined the seventy-odd heads being submitted to him one after another. When Yoshimoto had finished his inspection, he exclaimed, "What a bloody mess!" and turned away, ordering the curtain to be closed. Scattered rain clouds filled the clear noon sky. "Well, well. A cool breeze is coming up the ravine. It'll soon be noon, won't it?"

  “No, my lord, it's already past the Hour of the Horse," answered an attendant.

  “No wonder I'm hungry. Get lunch ready, and let the troops eat and rest."

  An attendant went outside to transmit his orders. Inside the enclosure, his generals,

  pages, and cooks moved about, but the atmosphere was one of calm. Now and again, the representatives from local shrines, temples, and villages came to present sake and local delicacies.

  Yoshimoto studied these people from afar, and decided, "We'll reward them when we reurn from the capital."

  When the local people had gone, Yoshimoto ordered sake and made himself comfotable on the leopard-skin mat. The commanders outside the curtain each presented themselves, congratulating him on his victory at Narumi, which had followed the capture Marune and Washizu.

  "You're probably all unhappy with the little bit of resistance we've encountered so far," Yoshimoto said with a playful look on his face as he offered cups of sake to all his retainers and attendants. He was becoming progressively more and more expansive.

  "It's Your Lordship's power that has brought us to this happy situation. But as Your Lordship has said, if we continue on like this, with no enemy to fight, our soldiers will complain that all our discipline and training were for nothing."