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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  "It looks like the battle is over," Tokichiro muttered as he led his men back the way they had come.

  The muddy water running from the surrounding mountains into the marsh had increased since the sky had cleared. When he saw how many corpses were lying in the streams and piled up on the slopes, Tokichiro was filled with a sense of wonder that he was still alive.

  "We must have won. Look! All the dead around here are Imagawa samurai." Tokichiro pointed here and there. From the way the enemy corpses were sprawled along the road, he could see the route the defeated army had taken.

  His men, however, just grunted in their stupefied state, and were too tired even to sing a victory song.

  They were only a few and they were lost. The battlefield was suddenly very quiet, and this could mean that Nobunaga's army had been completely wiped out. The fear that they might be surrounded by the enemy and massacred at any moment was very real.

  Then they heard it. From Dengakuhazama rose three victory cheers that were loud enough to shake heaven and earth. Shouts in their own Owari dialect.

  "We won! We won! Let's go!" Tokichiro ran ahead. The soldiers, who up until now had been barely conscious, somehow recovered completely. Not wanting to be left behind, they stumbled and tripped after Tokichiro toward the cheering.

  Magomeyama was a low, circular hill a little beyond Dengakuhazama. A black mass of soldiers stained with blood, mud, and rain now covered the area from the hill to the village. The battle was over and the men had regrouped. The rain had stopped, the sun had come out, and now a hazy white steam rose from the closely packed assembly.

  "Where's Master Asano's regiment?" Threading his way through the mass of warriors, Tokichiro rejoined his original regiment. Wherever he turned, he bumped and scraped

  someone's bloody armor. Although he had fully intended to fight bravely, he now felt ashamed. Certainly he had done nothing to make people notice him.

  When he found his regiment and stood among the press of soldiers, he finally realized that they had won. Looking out from the hill, it struck him as odd that the vanquished enemy was nowhere to be seen.

  Still spattered with mud and blood, Nobunaga stood on the hillock. Just a few steps from his camp stool, a number of soldiers were digging a large hole. Each of the enemy heads was inspected and then tossed into the hole. Nobunaga looked on, his palms pressed together, while the warriors around him stood by in silence.

  No one said a prayer. But this was the highest etiquette followed when warriors buried fellow warriors. The heads buried in the hole would serve as a lesson to those who were alive and would fight again. Even the head of the most insignificant enemy treated with the utmost solemnity.

  With the mysterious boundary between life and death at his very feet, a samurai could not help thinking about what it meant to live as a warrior. Everyone stood reverently, hands joined in prayer. When the hole had been filled in and a mound built ovver it, they looked up to a beautiful rainbow that arched across a clear sky.

  As the men stood looking at this scene, a party of scouts who had been reconnoitering the area around Odaka pulled into camp.

  Tokugawa Ieyasu commanded Yoshimoto's vanguard in Odaka. Considering the skill with which Ieyasu had demolished the fortresses of Washizu and Marune, Nobunaga could not afford to underestimate him.

  "When the Tokugawa heard that Yoshimoto had been killed, the camp at Odaka seemed to have panicked. They sent out scouts a number of times, however, and as learned the facts, they quickly calmed down. At this point they are preparing to retreat to Mikawa by nightfall, and they don't seem to be inclined to fight."

  Nobunaga listened to the reports and, in his own way, announced their triumphaal return. "Well, then," he said, "let's go home."

  The sun had still not set, and now the rainbow, which had begun to fade, stood out clearly once again. A single head was fastened to the side of Nobunaga's saddle, as a memento. It was, of course, the head of the great Imagawa Yoshimoto.

  When they reached the gate of Atsuta Shrine, Nobunaga swung off his horse and went into the sanctum, while his officers and men pressed in as far as the central gate and prostrated themselves. A hand bell was ringing somewhere in the distance, and bonfires filled the forest of the shrine with a red glow.

  Nobunaga presented a sacred horse to the shrine stable. This done, he was once again ready to hurry on his way. His armor had become increasingly heavy, and he was exhausted. Leaving the moonlit path to his horse, however, his spirits seemed as light as if he were wearing a thin summer kimono.

  Compared with Atsuta, Kiyosu was in an uproar. Every door was festooned with lanterns, bonfires burned at the crossroads, and old folks, children, and even young girls stood excitedly in the streets, looking at the triumphant soldiers and shouting their congratulations.

  Dense crowds pushed together at the roadside. Women watched to see if their

  husbands were among the men marching solemnly toward the castle gate. Old people called out their sons' names, and girls searched for the faces of their sweethearts. But all of them raised a cheer when they caught sight of the mounted Nobunaga, silhou­etted against the night sky.

  "Lord Nobunaga!"

  Nobunaga meant more to them than their own children, husbands, and lovers.

  "Take a look at the head of the great lord of the Imagawa!" Nobunaga announced to the crowd from horseback. "This is the souvenir I have brought back for you. From to­morrow on, the troubles at the border will be over. Be diligent and work hard. Work hard and enjoy yourselves!"

  Once inside the castle, Nobunaga called for his lady-in-waiting, "Sai! Sai! Before any­thing else, a bath! And some rice gruel."

  As he emerged from his bath, he proclaimed the rewards for more than one hundred twenty men who had fought in the battle that day. Even the deeds of the lowest-ranking soldiers had not escaped Nobunaga's eyes. Last of all he said, "Inuchiyo is granted permission to return." This news was transmitted to Inuchiyo that very night, for when the entire army had entered the castle gates, he alone had stopped outside, waiting for word from Nobunaga.

  Tokichiro received no praise whatsoever. And, of course, he expected none. Nevertheless, he had received something far more precious than a stipend of a thousand kan: for the first time in his life, he had straddled the line between life and death, he had lived through a battle, and he had seen firsthand Nobunaga's grasp of human nature and his great capacity for leadership.

  I have a good master, he thought. I'm the luckiest man alive, after Lord Nobunaga. From that time on, Tokichiro did not just look up to Nobunaga as his lord and master. He became Nobunaga's apprentice, studying his master's strong points and concentrating his whole mind on the task of improving himself.

  The Go-between

  For the last five or six days, Tokichiro had been truly bored. He had been ordered to accompany Nobunaga on a secret journey to a distant province and to make preparations for the trip. They were to leave within ten days, and until then he was to stay indoors Tokichiro sat around and waited.

  He sat up and thought how strange it was for Nobunaga to be setting out on a journey. Where were they going?

  Gazing at the tendrils of the morning glories on the fence, he suddenly thought of Nene. He had been ordered to go out as little as possible, but when the evening breeze picked up, he passed by the front of Nene's house. For some reason he had been hesitant to visit there recently, and whenever he met her parents, they looked right through him. So he simply walked past the house like any other passerby and returned home.

  The morning glories were blooming also on the fence of Nene's house. The evening before, he had gotten a glimpse of her lighting a lamp, and had returned home as though he had achieved his purpose. Now he suddenly recalled that her profile had been whiter than the flowers on the fence.

  The smoke from the firewood wafted through the house from the kitchen. Tokichiro bathed, put on a light hempen kimono, and, slipping on a pair of sandals, walked out through the garden gate. Ju
st then a young messenger hailed him, handed him an offical summons. Tokichiro hurried back inside, changed quickly, and hurried to the residence of Hayashi Sado.

  Sado handed him his orders in person:

  Be at the residence of the farmer Doke Seijuro, on the western highway outs: Kiyosu, by the Hour of the Rabbit.

  That was all. Nobunaga was traveling to a distant province incognito, and Tokichiro was one of his attendants. When he thought about it, he thought he understood Nobunaga's plans, even though he knew so little about them.

  He realized that he would be separated from Nene for some time, and the desire to catch just a glimpse of her under the summer moon, there and then, welled up in his chest. It was his nature that nothing could stop him once he got an idea into his head, Tokichiro was a child of passion, and the uncontrollable passions and desires that dwelt in his heart dragged him to Nene's house. Then, just like a delinquent boy who peeps into lighted windows, Tokichiro peeked in from outside the fence.

  Mataemon lived in the archers' district, and almost all of the people who passed through the neighborhood knew one another. Tokichiro was conscious of the footsteps of the passersby and was terrified that he was going to be discovered by Nene's parents. This cowardly spectacle was laughable. If Tokichiro himself had seen someone acting like this, he would have despised the man. But at that moment he did not have time to reflect on a man's dignity or reputation.

  He would have been satisfied with a single glimpse through the fence of her profile and of whatever she was doing that evening. I'll bet she's already taken her bath and is putting on her makeup, he thought. Or could she be with her parents eating dinner?

  Three times he went back and forth, trying to look as innocent as possible. It was evening, so few people were on the street. It would have been horribly embarrassing if somebody had called out his name just as he was peeping through the fence. No, worse than that, it could ruin the slim chance he had of marrying Nene. After all, his rival Inuchiyo had withdrawn from the competition, and after that, Mataemon had started to reconsider. For now, he should let things be. It seemed as though both Nene and her mother had made up their minds, but her father would not come to a decision so easily.

  The smoke from the mosquito incense wafted by. The sound of someone putting out dishes came from the kitchen. It seemed that the evening meal had not yet been served. She's working hard, Tokichiro imagined. In the dim light of the kitchen, Tokichiro finally saw the woman he had determined would become his wife. The thought occurred to him that a woman like Nene would manage her household well.

  Her mother called, and Nene's answer rang in his ears, even though he was crouching outside the fence, looking in. Tokichiro stepped aside. Somebody was coming up the street.

  She works hard and she's gentle. Surely my mother would be happy with her. And Nene wouldn't mistreat my mother just because she's a farm woman. His love was transformed into lofty thoughts right through his passion. We'll endure poverty. We won't be caught by vanity. She'll help me from behind the scenes, look after me with devotion, and excuse my faults.

  She was absolutely lovely. No one but this woman was going to be his wife; he was convinced of this. And with these thoughts his chest swelled and his heart beat powerfully. Looking up at the stars, he let out a deep sigh. When he finally came to himself, he realized that he had walked once around the block and was standing in front of Nene's ouse once again. Suddenly he heard Nene's voice just inside the fence, and as he looked irough the tendrils of the morning glories, he saw her white face.

  She even carries water like a servant. And with those hands that play the koto. Tokichiro wanted to show his mother that his wife would be this kind of woman. The sooner the better. He could not get enough of looking through the fence. He could hear the sound of water being scooped up, but suddenly Nene turned in his direction without drawing up the bucket. She must have seen me, he thought, panicked. Just as this crossed his mind, Nene left the well and started to walk toward the rear gate. Tokichiro felt a heat in his chest so intense that it might have been fire.

  When she opened the gate and looked around, Tokichiro was already running away without looking back. As he reached the corner at the first crossroads, he turned around. She stood outside the gate, with a puzzled look on her pale face. Tokichiro wondered if she wasn't angry with him, but at the same time he began to think about his departure the following morning. He was accompanying Lord Nobunaga, and he had been forbid­den from saying anything about the trip to others. This included Nene. Having caught a glimpse of her and knowing she was well, Tokichiro was his old self again, and he went home at full speed. When he fell asleep, his dreams were free from preoccupation.

  Gonzo woke his master earlier than usual. Tokichiro splashed his face with water, ate his morning meal, and prepared himself for the trip.

  "I'm off!" he announced, but did not tell his servant where he was going. And, a little before the agreed time, he arrived at Doke Seijuro's house.

  "Hey, Monkey! Are you going today too?" asked a country samurai standing at Seijuro's gate.

  "Inuchiyo!" Tokichiro looked at his friend with surprise. It was not just that he was surprised that Inuchiyo was coming, but that his appearance had been transformed; from the way he tied his hair right down to his leggings, Inuchiyo was dressed like a samurai right out of the backwoods.

  "What is it all about?" Tokichiro asked.

  "Everybody's already here. Hurry on in."

  "What about you?"

  "Me? I've been appointed gatekeeper for a while. I'll join you later."

  Tokichiro lingered in the garden just inside the gate. For a moment he didn't know which path to take. Doke Seijuro's dwelling was an unusual old house, even to Tokichiro's eyes. He couldn't tell exactly how old it was. It seemed to be left over from an earlier age, when whole families had lived together in one large enclosure. A long, multiroomed house, smaller outhouses, gates within gates, and countless paths covered the entire grounds.

  “Monkey! Over here!" Another country samurai was beckoning to him from a gate near the garden. He recognized the man as Ikeda Shonyu. Entering the garden, he found twenty or so retainers dressed up as country samurai. Tokichiro had also been informed of this plan, and he looked the most countrified of all.

  A group of seventeen or eighteen mountain ascetics were resting around the edges of courtyard. They, too, were disguised Oda samurai. Nobunaga seemed to be in a small room on the far side of the courtyard. Naturally, he too was in disguise.

  Tokichiro and the others were relaxed. No one asked any questions. No one knew. But they speculated.

  "His Lordship is disguised as the son of a country samurai traveling with a few retainers. He's waiting for all of his attendants to arrive. He's probably going to a distant province, but I wonder if anyone knows where we're really going?"

  "I haven't heard much, but when I was called to Hayashi Sado's residence, I overheard someone say something about the capital."

  "The capital?" and everyone gulped.

  Nothing could be more dangerous, and Nobunaga must have some secret plan in mind if he was going there. Unobserved by the others, Tokichiro nodded in agreement and went out into the vegetable garden.

  A few days later, the group of country samurai that would accompany Nobunaga and the company of mountain ascetics, who would guard him at a distance, set out for the capital.

  The first group posed as country samurai from the eastern provinces, who were going on a sightseeing trip to Kyoto. The men looked relaxed as they walked. They hid the fierce light that had shone in their eyes at Okehazama, and took on the rough looks and slow speech of those they pretended to be.

  Their lodgings had been arranged by Doke in a house on the outskirts of the capital. When he walked around Kyoto, Nobunaga always had the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes, and he was dressed like a simple provincial. His attendants numbered four or five men at the most. If assassins had known who he was, he would have made an easy ta
rget.

  There were days when he would let himself go completely and walk all day among the crowds and dust of Kyoto. And there were evenings when he would suddenly leave at some inopportune hour to call upon the mansions of courtiers and hold secret talks.

  The young samurai understood neither the motives of these actions nor why he dared to take on this venture in the dangerous tumult of a country at war with itself. Tokichiro, of course, had no reason to understand such circumstances either. But he himself used the time for observation. The capital has changed, he thought. During the time he had wandered the country selling needles, he had often come here to buy supplies. Counting on his fingers, he figured it had only been about six or seven years before, but the conditions around the Imperial Palace had changed remarkably.

  The shogunate still existed, but Ashikaga Yoshiteru, the thirteenth shogun, held the office in name only. Like the water in a deep pool, the culture and morale of the people stagnated. Everything had the feel of the end of an era. The real authority rested in the hands of his vice-governor-general, Miyoshi Nagayoshi, but he in turn had abdicated control in almost all areas to one of his retainers, Matsunaga Hisahide. This resulted in unsightly dissension and in an inefficient and tyrannical administration. The gossip of the common people was that Mastunaga's rule would soon collapse of its own accord.

  What was the trend of the times? Nobody knew. The lights burned brightly every night, but the people were lost in the darkness. Tomorrow is tomorrow, they thought, and a directionless, helpless current flowed through their lives like a muddy stream.

  If the administration of Miyoshi and Matsunaga was considered unreliable, what

  about those provincial governors who had been appointed by the shogun? Men like Akamatsu, Toki, Kyogoku, Hosokawa, Uesugi, and Shiba all faced similar problems in their own provinces.