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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  Beneath the spray of the rain gushing violently from the leaking roof, Hideyoshi kneeled and made his petition. It seemed that the impressionable young lady was moved by that alone.

  "Please wait for a moment," she said gently, and disappeared into the house. When she appeared again, however, she told him, evidently with some pity, that Hanbei's answer had not changed. "I'm sorry that my elder brother is so stubborn, but would you kindly withdraw? He says that no matter how often you come here, he won't see you. He dislikes speaking with people and refuses to do so now."

  "Is that so?" Hideyoshi looked down in apparent disappointment but did not persist. The rain from the eaves battered against his shoulders. "There's nothing else to be done. Well, I'll wait until he's in a good mood." Putting on his hat, he walked out, dejected, into the rain. Following the path through the pine forest as he always did, he had just come out on the other side of the mud wall when he heard Kokuma chasing him from behind.

  "Mister! He'll meet you! He said he'll meet you! He said to come back!"

  "Huh? Master Hanbei said he would meet me?" Hideyoshi hastily returned with okuma. But only Oyu, Hanbei's sister, was waiting for them.

  "My brother was so impressed with your sincerity that he said he would be at fault if he didn't meet you. But not tonight. He's in bed today because of the rain, but he asked you to come on another day, when he sends a message to you." It suddenly occurred to Hideyoshi that perhaps this woman had felt sorry for him and that, after he had left, she had appealed to her elder brother, Hanbei, on his behalf.

  "Whenever you send word, I'll be ready."

  "Where are you staying?"

  "I'm staying at the foot of the mountain, at Moemon's house, a farmhouse near a large zelkova tree in the village of Nangu."

  "Well, when the weather clears."

  "I'll be waiting."

  "It must be cold, and you're getting wet in the rain. At least dry your clothes by the fire in the cooking hut and have something to eat before you go."

  "No, I'll save it for another day. I'll take my leave now." Striding through the rain, Hideyoshi went down the mountain.

  The rain continued to fall the next day. The day after that, Mount Kurihara remained wrapped in white clouds, and no tidings came from a messenger. Finally the weather cleared, and the colors of the mountain were entirely renewed. The early autumn leaves of the sumac and lacquer trees had turned bright red.

  That morning Kokuma arrived at Moemon's gate leading a cow. "Hey, mister!" he said. "I've come to invite you up! My teacher told me to guide you to the house. And since you're a guest today, I've brought a mount for you." With that, he handed him an invitation from Hanbei. Hideyoshi opened it and read:

  Curiously, you have often come to visit this weakened man who has retired to the country. Although it is difficult for me to grant your request, please come for a bowl of plain tea.

  The words seemed a bit haughty. Hideyoshi could see that Hanbei was a rather unsociable man, even before he met him face to face. Hideyoshi sat astride the cow's back, say­ing to Kokuma, "Well, since you brought me a ride, shall we go?" Kokuma turned toward the mountain and began walking. The autumn sky around Mount Kurihara and Mount Nangu was clear. It was the first time since he had come to the foothills that Hideyoshi was able to look up and see the mountains so clearly.

  When they finally approached the entrance to the mud wall, they could see a beauti­ful woman standing there with an expectant expression. It was Oyu, who had dressed and made herself up more carefully than usual.

  "Ah, you shouldn't have taken the trouble," Hideyoshi said, hastily jumping down from the cow's back.

  Having passed inside, he was left alone in a room. The babbling of water cleansed his ears. The bamboo in the wind brushed against the window. This truly seemed to be a quiet retreat in the mountains. In an alcove with rough clay walls and pine pillars was hung a scroll on which a Zen priest had written the Chinese character for the word "dream."

  How can he be here without being completely bored? Hideyoshi wondered, mar­veling at the thoughts of the man who lived in such a place. And he thought that he him­self would be unable to stay for more than three days. He didn't know what to do with himself, even for the time he was there. Even though he was being soothed by the songs of the birds and the soughing of the pines, his mind had dashed off to Sunomata and then gone on to Mount Komaki, while his blood seethed in the winds and clouds of the times. Hideyoshi was definitely a stranger to this sort of peace.

  “Well, I've made you wait." The voice of a young man came from behind him. It was Hanbei. Hideyoshi had known he was young, but hearing the man's voice, he was im­pressed with this fact all the more. His host sat down, leaving him the seat of honor.

  Hideyoshi spoke hastily, beginning with a formal greeting. "I am a retainer of the Oda clan. My name is Kinoshita Hideyoshi."

  Hanbei gently stopped him. "Don't you think we can omit stiff formalities? That certainly wasn't my intention in inviting you here today."

  Hideyoshi felt that he had already been put at a disadvantage by this reply. The opening gambit that he had always taken with others had already been taken by his host with him.

  "I am Takenaka Hanbei, the master of this mountain cottage. I'm honored by your coming here today."

  "No, I'm afraid I've rather obstinately presented myself at your gate and been quite troublesome."

  Hanbei laughed. "To be honest, you've been a real annoyance. But now that I meet you, I must say it's quite a relief to have a guest from time to time. Please make yourself at home. By the way, my honored guest, what is it that you're looking for by climbing up to my mountain cottage? People say there's nothing in the mountains but the sounds of birds."

  He had taken a seat lower than his guest's, but his eyes seemed to wear a smile, and seemed amused by this man who had shown up from nowhere. At this point, Hideyohi studied him frankly. Hanbei's frame truly did not seem very robust. His skin was :cid, his face pale. But he was a handsome man, and the red of his mouth was especially striking.

  All in all, his demeanor must have been the result of good upbringing. He was serene and spoke quietly, and with a smile. But there was some doubt as to whether the surface of this human being really manifested the underlying truth, just as, for example, the mountain today seemed peaceful enough for happy wandering, but the other day a storm had d roared out of the valley, blowing enough to make the trees howl.

  "Well, in fact…" For an instant Hideyoshi smiled, and he straightened his shoulders a little. "I have come to meet you at Lord Nobunaga's order. Won't you come down from this mountain? The world is not going to allow a man of your ability to live a leisurely life in the mountains from such an early age. Sooner or later you're bound to serve as a samurai. And if that's so, who are you going to serve, if not Lord Oda Nobunaga? So I've come to encourage you to serve the Oda clan. Don't you feel like standing among the clouds of war one more time?"

  Hanbei only listened and grinned mysteriously. Even with his quick tongue, Hideyoshi found his zeal considerably diminished by this kind of opponent. The man was like a willow in the wind. You couldn't tell whether he was listening or not. Holding his tongue for a while, he waited meekly for Hanbei to respond, and to the very end he carried himself like a blank sheet of paper, facing this man without stratagem or affectation.

  During this time, a light breeze was fluttering from a fan in Hanbei's hand. He had previously placed three chunks of charcoal into a small brazier, and putting down the tongs, he fanned the brazier just enough to ignite the fire without raising the ashes. The water in the kettle started to boil. In the meantime, he took up the napkin used for the ceremony and wiped the small tea bowls for both host and guest. It seemed as though he might be judging the temperature of the water by the sound of its boiling. The man was graceful and seemingly without a fault, but very deliberate.

  Hideyoshi could feel his feet beginning to fall asleep, but he was unable to find an opening for his next word
s. And before he noticed it, the things he had talked about in such detail had flown off in the direction of the wind in the pines. It seemed that nothing remained in Hanbei's ears.

  "Well now, I wonder if you have anything to say concerning the things I spoke about just now. I'm sure that making some statement about how you will be repaid in terms of stipend and rank, and trying to entice you with money, is not the way to quicken your re­turn from retirement, so I'm not going to mention such things at all. Now, it's true that Owari is a small province, but it's going to control the nation in the future because no one other than my lord has the capacity. So it's wasteful for you to live in seclusion in the mountains in the midst of this chaotic world. You should come down for the sake of the nation." His host suddenly turned to him as he spoke, and Hideyoshi unconsciously held his breath. But Hanbei quietly offered him a tea bowl.

  "Have some tea," he said. Then, taking a small tea bowl for himself, Hanbei sipped the tea almost as though he were licking the bowl. He tasted the tea a number of times, as though there were absolutely nothing else in his heart.

  "Honored guest…"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you like orchids? In the spring they are beautiful, but they're quite nice in the fall, too."

  "Orchids! What do you mean, orchids?"

  "The flowers. When you go about three or four leagues deeper into the mountain, on the precipices and cliffs there are orchids that hold the dew of ancient times. I had my servant, Kokuma, pick one and then put it into a pot. Would you like to see it?"

  "N-no." Hideyoshi stopped hesitantly. "I have no use for looking at orchids."

  "Is that so?"

  "I hope to one day, but the fact that my dreams run off to the battleground even when I'm at home shows that I'm still a hot-blooded youth. I'm nothing more than a humble servant of the Oda clan. I don't understand the feelings of such men of leisure."

  "Well, that's not unreasonable. But don't you think it's a personal waste for a man like you to be so busily worn out by the search for fame and profit? There's a rather profound significance to a life lived in the mountains. Why don't you leave Sunomata and come build a hut on this mountain?"

  Isn't honesty the same as foolishness? And in the end doesn't being without strategy mean being without wisdom? Perhaps sincerity alone is not sufficient to knock at the human heart. I don't understand, Hideyoshi thought as he silently went down the moun­tain. It had been in vain. His visit to Hanbei's house had been for nothing. Burning with indignation, he turned around and looked back. Now nothing remained but resentment. No regrets. He had been politely sent away after today's first encounter. Perhaps I'll never meet him again, Hideyoshi thought. No. The next time I'll examine his head after they place it in front of my camp stool on the battlefield. He promised this to himself as he chewed his lip. How many times had he walked this road and lowered his head, being perfectly courteous and hiding his shame? This road was now an irritation. He turned around once again.

  “You worm!" he shouted impotently. Perhaps he was recalling Hanbei's pale face and worn body. In his anger, he quickened his pace. Then, taking a turn in the road that looked out over a cliff on one side, he suddenly seemed to remember something he had been suppressing ever since leaving Hanbei's house. Standing on the cliff, he relieved himself into the valley below. The arcing stream became a rusting mist halfway down. Hideyoshi became abstracted and took care of his business, but when he finished he exclaimed, "That's enough of grumbling!" With that, he quickened his pace even more, and dashed down to the foothills of the mountain.

  When he got to Moemon's house he said, "Saya, this has unexpectedly turned out to be a long trip. Let's get up early tomorrow and go home." With his master wearing such an energetic look, Saya thought that the meeting with Takenaka Hanbei must have gone well, and he felt happy for his master. Hideyoshi and Saya passed the evening with Moemon and his family, and then dropped off to sleep. Hideyoshi slept with an empty mind, Saya was so surprised at his master's snoring that he opened his eyes from time to time. But when he thought about it, he realized that the worry and physical fatigue of going up Mount Kurihara every day must have been considerable. With this knowledge, even Saya became teary-eyed.

  Trying to triumph, even just a little, must be something, he told himself, but he had no idea that his master's efforts had ended in failure. Hideyoshi was already finishing his travel preparations before dawn. Stepping out into the dew, they left the village. No doubt many of the families there were still sound asleep.

  "Wait, Saya."

  Hideyoshi suddenly stopped and stood up straight, facing the rising sun. Mount Kurihara was still black above the sea of morning mist. Behind the mountain, the glowing clouds were moving with the colors of the brilliantly ascending sun.

  "No, I was wrong," Hideyoshi muttered. "I came to get a person who is hard to get. So that he is hard to get is natural. Maybe my own sincerity is still insufficient. How can I accomplish great things with such smallness of mind?"

  He turned completely around. "Saya, I'm going up Mount Kurihara one more time. You go back before me." With that, he abruptiy turned and went back up the road, pierc­ing the morning mist on the slopes of the mountain, going steadily on. So today, again, he climbed the mountain, and before long he was already halfway up. When he came to the edge of a broad, grassy swamp that was close to Hanbei's house, he heard a voice addressing him in the distance.

  It was Oyu, and with her was Kokuma. She had an herb basket at her elbow and was riding the cow. Kokuma was holding the reins.

  "Well, I'm surprised. You're amazing, aren't you, mister? Even my teacher said you'd had enough and probably wouldn't come back today."

  Dismounting from the cow's back, Oyu made her salutations as always. But Kokuma beseeched him.

  "Mister, please don't go on, just for today. He said he had had a fever in the night because he talked with you for a long time. Even this morning his mood was horrible, and I got scolded."

  "Don't be rude," Oyu reprimanded him, and apologized to Hideyoshi, asking him in a roundabout way not to visit. "It's not that my brother became ill from talking to you, but he seems to have a bit of a cold. He's in bed today, so I'll tell him that you wanted to come. But, please, not today."

  "I suppose it would be an annoyance. I'll drop the idea and go back, but…"

  He took a brush and an ink case from his kimono, and wrote a poem on a piece of paper.

  There is no leisure in a life of indolence.

  That should be left to the birds and beasts.

  There is seclusion even in a crowd,

  Tranquillity in the streets of a town.

  The mountain clouds are free from worldly attachments,

  They come and go of themselves.

  How can the place to bury one's bones

  Be limited to the green mountains?

  He knew very well that it was a poor poem, but it expressed what he felt. He added one more thing:

  Where is the destination of the clouds that leave the peaks?

  To the west? To the east?

  "I'm sure he's going to laugh at me and call me impudent and shameless, but this is the last time I'll bother him. I'll wait here for an answer. And if I see that it will be im­possible to complete my lord's order, I'll commit seppuku right here by this swamp. So please go speak to him for me one more time." He was even more earnest today than he had been yesterday. And there was no falseness in his use of the word seppuku. It had slipped out almost unconsciously, from his own zeal.

  Rather than despising him, Oyu felt a deep sympathy and returned to her brother's sickbed with the letter. Hanbei read the letter once and said absolutely nothing. He kept his eyes closed for almost half a day. Evening came, and the day turned into a moonlit night.

  "Kokuma, fetch the cow," Hanbei said suddenly.

  Since he was obviously going to go out, Oyu became alarmed and dressed her brother warmly in padded cotton clothes and a heavy kimono. Then he left, riding on the cow. With
Kokuma as his guide, they went down the mountain slope toward the swamp. On a grassy knoll in the distance, he could see the figure of someone who had had nei­ther food nor drink, sitting cross-legged like a Zen priest under the moon. Had a hunter discovered him from afar, he would have thought that Hideyoshi made a perfect target. Hanbei got down from the cow and approached him directly. Then he knelt down in front of Hideyoshi and bowed.

  “Master guest, I was discourteous today. I'm not sure what promise you've set your heart on, from a person who is nothing more than a worn-out man living in the mountains, but your manners were more than I deserved. It is said that a samurai will die for someone who truly knows him. I don't want you to die in vain, and I will carve this into my heart. And yet, at one time I served the Saito clan. I'm not saying that I will serve Nobunaga.1 am going to serve you, and devote this sickly body to your cause. I came here simply to say this. Please forgive my rudeness of the last several days."

  There was no fighting for a long time. Both Owari and Mino strengthened their defenses and left the winter to the snow and icy winds. With the unofficial truce, the number of travelers and the packhorse trains between the two provinces increased. The New Year passed, and finally the buds of the plum trees became tinted with color. The towns­people of Inabayama thought the world would continue untroubled for another hundred years.

  The spring sun struck the white walls of Inabayama Castle and enveloped them in an air of indolence and boredom. On such days, when the townspeople looked up at the castle, they wondered why they had built a fortress on the high mountain peak. They were sensitive to the moods of the castle. When the center of their lives came under stress, they felt it right away; when it was filled with lassitude, they, too, became apathetic. No matter how many official notices were posted morning and night, no one ever took hem seriously.