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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  Nobunaga appeared not to have noticed the shot; in fact he had already galloped ahead more than fifty yards. From that distance he turned and shouted, "Let him be!"

  Because Nobunaga was alone, far ahead of the others, they left the would-be assassin behind. When Hideyoshi and the other generals overtook Nobunaga and asked if he had been wounded, Nobunaga slowed his horse and held up his sleeve, showing a small hole through the loose cloth. His only comment was, "Our fate is decreed by heaven."

  It was later discovered that the man who had shot at Nobunaga was a warrior-monk famous for his marksmanship.

  "Our fate is decreed by heaven," Nobunaga had said, but this did not mean he waited passively for heaven's will. He knew how rival warlords envied him. The world had not thought much of him when he had spread his wings over Owari and Mino from his small domain, which covered no more than two districts of Owari. But now that he had taken center stage and was giving orders from Kyoto, the powerful provincial clans were suddenly ill at ease. Clans with whom he had no quarrel whatsoever—the Otomo and Shimazu of Kyushu, the Mori of the western provinces, the Chosokabe of Shikoku, and even the Uesugi and Date in the far north—all looked upon his successes with hostility.

  But the real danger was from his own in-laws. It was clear that Takeda Shingen of Kai was no longer to be trusted; neither could he be negligent about the Hojo; and Asai Nagamasa of Odani, who had married his sister Oichi, was living proof of the weakness of political alliances based on marriage. When Nobunaga had invaded the north, his main enemy—the man who had suddenly allied himself with the Asakura and threatened his retreat—was none other than this Asai Nagamasa, proving again that the ambitions of men cannot be trammeled by a woman's hair.

  Everywhere he looked, there were enemies. The remnants of the Miyoshi and Matsunaga clans were still troublesome adversaries lying in ambush, and the warrior-monks of the Honganji were fanning the flames of rebellion against him everywhere. It seemed that, as he took power, the whole country was turning against him, so it was prudent for him to return quickly to Gifu. If he had idled in Kyoto for another month, there might have been no castle or clan to return to, but he reached Gifu Castle without incident.

  "Guard! Guard!" The short night had not yet ended, but Nobunaga was calling from his bedroom. It was about the time the cuckoo's song could be heard over Inabayama, not an unusual time for Nobunaga to wake up and unexpectedly give orders. His night watch was used to it, but it seemed that whenever they relaxed their guard a little, Nobunaga would take them by surprise.

  "Yes, my lord?" This time, the guard was quick.

  "Call a war council. Tell Nobumori to summon the general staff immediately," Nobunaga said on his way out of his bedroom.

  The pages and attendants ran after him. They were still half asleep and could hardly tell whether it was midnight or dawn. Certainly it was still dark, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky.

  "I'm going to light the lamps," said an attendant. "Please wait just a moment, my lord."

  But Nobunaga had already stripped. He stepped into the bathroom and began to pour water over himself and wash.

  In the outer citadel, the confusion was even worse. Men like Nobumori, Tadatsugu, and Hideyoshi were in the castle, but many of the other generals had been staying in the castle town. As messengers were sent to summon them, the hall was cleaned and the lamps lit.

  At length the generals were all gathered for the war council. The white lamplight shone on Nobunaga's face. He had decided to ride out at dawn against Asai Nagamasa of Odani. Although this meeting was meant to be a war council, its purpose was not the air­ing of different opinions or discussion. Nobunaga simply wanted to hear if anyone had any suggestions as to tactics.

  When it was clear just how determined Nobunaga was, a deathly silence fell over the assembled generals. It was as though something had struck them deep in their hearts. Nobunaga's relationship with Nagamasa, they all knew, was more than that of a political ally. Nobunaga was truly fond of his brother-in-law, and he had invited him to Kyoto and per­sonally shown him the sights.

  If Nobunaga had not told Nagamasa of his attack on the Asakura clan, it was because he knew that the Asai and Asakura were bound by an alliance much older than the Asai clan's ties with the Oda. Thinking of his brother-in-law's delicate position, he tried his best to keep him neutral.

  However, once Nagamasa knew that Nobunaga's army was deep in enemy territory, Nagamasa had betrayed Nobunaga, cut off his retreat, and forced him into an inevitable defeat.

  Nobunaga had been thinking about his brother-in-law's punishment ever since his return to Kyoto. A secret report had been handed to Nobunaga in the dead of night. It in­formed him that Sasaki Rokkaku had fomented a peasant uprising with the support of Kannonji Castle and the warrior-monks. Taking advantage of the chaos and acting in concert with the Asai, Rokkaku was aiming to crush Nobunaga with a single blow.

  When the war council had ended, Nobunaga went into the garden with his generals and pointed to the sky. In the distance the flames of the insurrection turned the sky a brilliant red.

  On the following day, the twentieth, Nobunaga led his army into Omi. He crushed the warrior-monks and broke through the defenses of Asai Nagamasa and Sasaki Rokkaku. Nobunaga's army moved with the speed of a storm sweeping the clouds from the plain, and struck with the suddenness of lightning.

  On the twenty-first, the Oda were pressing in on the main castle of the Asai at Odani. They had already laid siege to Yokoyama Castle, a branch castle of Odani. For the enemy, it was a complete rout. They had had no time to prepare themselves, and their resistance crumbled, giving them no time to set up new positions.

  The Ane River was only a few feet deep, so, although it was quite broad, a man could ford it on foot. Its clear waters, which flowed from the mountains of eastern Asai, were, however, so cold that they cut into the body even in summer.

  It was just before dawn. Nobunaga, leading an army of twenty-three thousand men, with a further six thousand Tokugawa troops, deployed his men along the east riverbank.

  From about midnight on the previous day, the combined forces of the Asai and the Asakura —numbering about eighteen thousand—had gradually moved in from Mount Oyose. Hiding behind the houses along the west bank of the river, they waited for the right moment to attack. The night was still dark, and only the sound of the water could be heard.

  "Yasumasa," Ieyasu called one of his commanders, "the enemy is approaching the riverbank thick and fast."

  "It's difficult to see anything through this mist, but I can hear the horses neighing in the distance."

  "Any news from downstream?"

  "Nothing so far."

  "Which side is heaven going to bless? Half a day should see the turning point."

  "Half a day? I wonder if it will take that long."

  "Don't underestimate them," Ieyasu said as he walked into the woods at the river's edge. Here were his own silent troops, the flower of Nobunaga's army. The atmosphere in the forest was one of total desolation. The soldiers had spread out into a firing line, crouching in the undergrowth. The spearmen grasped their weapons and looked out over the river, where still nothing stirred.

  Would it be life or death today?

  The eyes of the soldiers shone. Untouched by life or death, they silently imagined the outcome of the battle. Not one looked as if he had confidence that he would see the sky again that evening.

  Accompanied by Yasumasa, Ieyasu walked along the line, his clothes making only a slight rustling noise. No light shone, except for the smoldering fuse cords of the muskets. A man sneezed—perhaps a soldier with a cold, whose nose was itchy from the smoke of the fuses. Still, it made the other soldiers tense.

  The surface of the water began to turn white, and a line of red clouds silhouetted the branches of the trees on Mount Ibuki.

  "The enemy!" a man shouted.

  The officers around Ieyasu immediately signaled the gunners to hold their fire. On the other
bank just a little downstream, a mixed corps of mounted samurai and foot sol­diers, numbering perhaps twelve or thirteen hundred, was fording the river at a diagonal. Kicking up a white spray with their feet, they looked like a white gale crossing the river.

  The formidable vanguard of the Asai was ignoring the Oda vanguard and even the second and third lines of defense, and was preparing to strike at the center of the Oda camp.

  Ieyasu's men swallowed hard and exclaimed all at once, "Isono Tamba!"

  "Tamba's regiment!"

  The famous Isono Tamba, the pride of the Asai clan, was a worthy opponent. His crested banners could be seen fluttering through the splashes and spray.

  Gunfire!

  Was it covering fire for the enemy, or the rifles of their own troops? No, the firing had begun from both banks at the same moment. Echoing over the water, the noise was al­most deafening. The clouds began to part, and the cloudless summer sky displayed its hue. Just then the second Oda line, under Sakai Tadatsugu, and Ikeda Shonyu's third line suddenly struck out into the river.

  "Don't let the enemy put one foot on our side! Don't let a single one of them return to their own!" shouted the officers.

  The Sakai corps attacked the enemy's flank. In an instant, hand-to-hand fighting broke out in the middle of the river. Spear clashed against spear, sword rang against sword. Men grappled and tumbled from horses, and the waters of the river ran with blood.

  Tamba's regiment of crack troops pushed Sakai's second line back. Shouting, "We have been shamed!" so loudly that he could be heard on both sides of the river, Sakai's son, Kyuzo, dashed into the middle of the fight. He achieved a glorious death in battle, with more than one hundred of his men.

  With unstoppable force, Tamba's soldiers broke through the third Oda line. Ikeda's spearmen readied their spears and tried to break the enemy onslaught, but they could do nothing.

  Now it was Hideyoshi's turn to be amazed. He muttered to Hanbei, "Have you ever seen such intimidating men?" But even Hanbei had no tactics to deal with this attack. This was not the only reason for Hideyoshi's defeat. Within his line were a great number men who had surrendered at enemy castles. These new "allies" had been put under Hideyoshi's command, but they had once received their stipends from the Asai and Asakura. Quite naturally, their spears were rarely accurate, and when they were ordered to charge the enemy, they were more likely to get in the way of Hideyoshi's own men.

  Thus Hideyoshi's line was defeated, and the Oda's fifth and sixth lines were also soundly beaten. In all, Tamba routed eleven of the thirteen Oda lines. At this point the Tokugawa forces upstream crossed the river, overrunning the enemy on the opposite bank, and gradually they made their way downstream. Looking back, however, they saw that Tamba's soldiers were already pressing close on Nobunaga's headquarters.

  With the yell, "Attack their flank!" the Tokugawa soldiers leaped back into the river. Tamba's soldiers thought these men were their own allies entering the river from the west bank, even when they drew near. With Kazumasa in the lead, the Tokugawa samurai cut into Isono Tamba's regiment.

  Suddenly aware of the enemy, Tamba yelled himself hoarse, ordering his men to fall back. A warrior, brandishing a dripping spear, struck him from the side. Tamba collapsed in a spray of water. Grasping the shaft of the spear that had pierced his side, he attempted to get up, but the Tokugawa warrior had no intention of letting him do so. A sword flashed over Tamba's head and crashed down on his iron helmet. The sword shattered into pieces. Tamba stood up, the water around his feet turning into a bright red pool of blood. Three men surrounded Tamba, stabbing and hacking him to pieces.

  "The enemy!" the retainers around Nobunaga shouted. They ran from the head­quarters to the riverbank with their spears ready.

  Takenaka Kyusaku, Hanbei's younger brother, was in Hideyoshi's regiment, but in the confusion of battle he had become separated from his unit. Pursuing the enemy, he was now close to Nobunaga's headquarters.

  What? he thought in amazement. The enemy's here already? As he looked around, he spotted a samurai coming around from the back of the enclosure. The man, whose armor was not that of a common foot soldier, lifted the curtain and looked stealthily inside.

  Kyusaku flung himself at the man and grabbed his leg, which was covered by chain mail and armor. The warrior might be one of their own men, and Kyusaku did not want to kill an ally by mistake. The samurai turned without a hint of surprise. He looked like an officer of the Asai army.

  "Friend or foe?" Kyusaku asked.

  "Foe, of course!" the man yelled, working his spear through his hands and moving in to strike.

  "Who are you? Do you have a name worth repeating?"

  "I am Maenami Shinpachiro of the Asai. I've come to take Lord Nobunaga's head. You disgusting runt! Who are you?"

  "I am Takenaka Kyusaku, a retainer of Kinoshita Hideyoshi. Come and try me!"

  "Well, well. Takenaka Hanbei's little brother."

  "That's right!" The instant he said this, Kyusaku yanked away Shinpachiro's spear and threw it back at his chest. But before Kyusaku could draw his sword, Shinpachiro grabbed him. Both men fell to the ground, Kyusaku on the bottom. He kicked himself free, but he was once again pinned down beneath his enemy. At that moment he bit on Shinpachiro's finger, making him loosen his grip a little.

  Now was his chance! Giving Shinpachiro a shove, Kyusaku was able to free himself at last. In an instant his hand found his dagger and struck at Shinpachiro's throat. The point of the dagger missed the man's throat, but sliced across Shinpachiro's face from his chin to his nose, piercing his eye.

  "An enemy of my comrade!" a voice shouted out from behind. There was no time cut off the dead man's head. Leaping up, Kyusaku immediately exchanged blows with a new adversary.

  Kyusaku knew that several of the Asai suicide corps had made their way into the area, and this man now showed his back and ran. Chasing him, Kyusaku struck at his knee with his sword.

  As he fell on top of the wounded man and straddled him, Kyusaku shouted, "Do you have a name worth saying? Yes or no?"

  "I'm Kobayashi Hashuken. I have nothing to say except that I regret falling into the hands of a low-class samurai like you before getting close to Lord Nobunaga."

  "Where is the Asai's bravest man, Endo Kizaemon? You're an Asai, you must know.”

  "I have no idea."

  "Speak! Spit it out!"

  "I don't know!"

  "Then I've no use for you!" Kyusaku cut off Hashuken's head. He ran off, his eyes blazing. He was determined not to let Endo Kizaemon's head fall to someone else's hand. Before the battle, Kyusaku had boasted that he would have Kizaemon's head. He now ran off in the direction of the riverbank where countless bodies lay among the grass and pebbles—a riverbank of death.

  There, among the others, was a corpse whose bloodied face was hidden by a tangle hair. Bluebottle flies buzzed in a swarm at Kyusaku's feet. Kyusaku turned around wh he stepped on the foot of the corpse whose face was hidden by its hair. There was nothing wrong with that, but it gave him a strange sensation. He looked around suspiciously, and in that instant the corpse leaped up and dashed off in the direction of Nobunaga's headquarters.

  "Protect Lord Nobunaga! The enemy is coming!" Kyusaku screamed.

  Seeing Nobunaga, the enemy samurai was about to jump over a low embankment when he stepped on the cord of his sandal and tripped. Kyusaku leaped on top of the man and quickly subdued him. As he was dragged off by Kyusaku to Nobunaga's headquarters, the man roared out, "Cut off my head quickly! Right now! Don't heap shame a warrior!"

  When another prisoner who was being led away saw the screaming man, he blurted out, "Master Kizaemon! They took even you alive?"

  This extraordinary man who had pretended to be dead and whom Kyusaku had captured was the very one he had been seeking—the fierce Asai warrior Endo Kizaemon.

  At first the Oda army had been near collapse. But as the Tokugawa forces under Ieyasu struck the enemy flank, the acute angle of the enemy attack was
deflected. However, the enemy had also had a second and third line of attack. As they pushed and then retreated, trampling through the waters of the Ane River, both the enemy and Nobunaga troops were breaking their sword guards and shattering their spears. The battle was such chaos that no one could tell who was going to win.

  “Don't be distracted! Just strike straight into Nobunaga's camp!"

  From the very beginning, this had been the objective of the second line of Asai troops. But they had driven through too far and had actually come out to the rear of the Oda troops. The Tokugawa forces had also broken through to the opposite bank with the cry, "Don't be bested by the Oda troops!" and had advanced toward the camp of Asakura Kagetake.

  Finally, however, the Tokugawa had advanced too far from their allies and were surrounded by the enemy. The battle was in total chaos. Just as a fish cannot see the river in which it swims, no one was able to grasp the entire situation. Each soldier was simply fighting for his life. As soon as a man struck down one of the enemy, he immediately looked up to see the face of another.

  From above, it would have looked as though both armies, forced into the waters of the Ane River, had entered a giant vortex. And, as might be expected, Nobunaga coolly observed the situation in exactly that way. Hideyoshi also took a general view of the bat­tle. He sensed that this very instant would decide either victory or defeat. The turning point was a very subtle moment.

  Nobunaga was striking the ground with a staff, yelling, "The Tokugawa have struck in deep! Don't leave them there alone! Somebody go to the aid of Lord Ieyasu!" But the troops on both right and left did not have enough remaining strength. Nobunaga was shouting in vain. Then, from a stand of trees on the northern bank, a single corps of men dashed directly through the chaos to the opposite bank, kicking up a pure-white spray of water.

  Hideyoshi, while he had not received Nobunaga's orders, had also understood the situation. Nobunaga saw the standard with Hideyoshi's golden gourd and thought, Ah, good! Hideyoshi has done it.