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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  Nevertheless, at this time Nobunaga was still hopeful that he would not have to kill Nagamasa. Of course, he respected Nagamasa's courage, but more than that, he was troubled with his affection for Oichi. People thought this strange, remembering that, when he had destroyed Mount Hiei with fire, this lord had thought nothing of being called "the king of the demons."

  Autumn deepened day by day. At dawn, the dew on the grass around the castle was wet and cold.

  "My lord, something terrible has happened." Fujikake Mikawa's voice was unusually perturbed. Nagamasa had slept that night near the mosquito netting that protected his wife and children, but he had not taken off his armor.

  "What is it, Mikawa?" He quickly left the bedroom, breathing heavily. A dawn attack! That was his first thought. But the disaster that Mikawa was reporting was worse than that.

  "The Kyogoku enclosure was taken by the Oda during the night."

  "What!"

  "There's no doubt. You can see it from the keep, my lord."

  "It can't be." He climbed quickly to the watchtower, stumbling many times on the dark stairs. Although the Kyogoku was far away from the watchtower, the enclosure looked as if it were just below him. There, fluttering at the top of the castle in the dis­tance, were a great number of banners, but not one of them belonged to the Asai. One of the commanders' standards, flying brilliantly and proudly in the wind, quite clearly evi­denced the presence of Hideyoshi.

  "We've been betrayed! Fine! I'll show them. I'll show Nobunaga and all the samurai in this country," he said, forcing a smile. "I'll show them how Asai Nagamasa dies!"

  Nagamasa descended the darkened stairway of the watchtower. For the retainers who followed him, it was like accompanying their lord deep beneath the surface of the earth. "What-what's going on?" lamented one of the generals, halfway down the staircase. "Onogi Tosa, Asai Genba, and Mitamura Uemon have gone over to the enemy," one general answered.

  Another man said bitterly, "Even though they were senior retainers, they betrayed the trust placed in them when they were put in charge of the Kyogoku."

  "They're inhuman!"

  Nagamasa turned around and said, "Stop complaining!"

  They stood in the wide, wooden-floored room at the bottom of the stairs, which was brightened by a faint light. The fortified room resembled a huge cage or jail cell. Many of the wounded had been brought here, and they lay on straw mats, groaning. When Nagamasa passed through, even the samurai who were lying down made an effort to kneel.

  "I won't let them die in vain! I won't let them die in vain!" Nagamasa said with tears in his eyes as he passed through. Yet he turned again to his generals and strictly forbade them to complain.

  "There is no use in insulting others. Each of you must pick your own course— whether you surrender to the enemy or die with me. There's moral duty on both sides, Nobunaga is fighting to rebuild the nation; I'm fighting for the name and honor of the samurai class. If you think you had better submit to Nobunaga, then go to him. I'm certainly not going to stop you!" So saying, he walked out to check the defenses of the castle, but he had not taken a hundred paces when something much more serious than losing Kyogoku was reported to him.

  "My lord! My lord! Terrible news!" One of his officers, drenched in blood, came running toward him and dropped to his knees. "What is it, Kyutaro?"

  A premonition that something was very wrong settled quickly in Nagamasa's breast. Wakui Kyutaro was not a samurai stationed in the third enclosure; he was a retainer of Nagamasa's father.

  "Your honored father, Lord Hisamasa, has just committed seppuku. I cut my way here through the enemy to bring you this." Kyutaro dropped to his knees. Gasping, he took out Hisamasa's topknot and the silk kimono it was wrapped in and put them into Nagamasa's hand.

  "What! The first enclosure has also fallen?"

  "Just before dawn, a corps of soldiers took the secret path from Kyogoku to just outside the castle gate, flying Onogi's standard, saying that Onogi urgently needed to see Lord Hisamasa. Assuming that Onogi was leading his own men, the guards opened the the gate. As soon as that happened, a large force of soldiers rushed in and cut their way through to the inner citadel."

  "The enemy?"

  "The greater part of them were Lord Hideyoshi's retainers, but the men who showed him the way were undoubtedly the retainers of that traitor Onogi."

  "Well, what about my father?"

  "He fought gallantly to the very end. He himself set fire to the inner citadel and then committed suicide, but the enemy put out the fire and occupied the castle."

  "Ah! So that's why we didn't see any flames or smoke."

  "If flames had been rising from the first enclosure, then you would have sent reinforcements, or you might have set fire to this castle and committed suicide with your wife and children when your father perished. I think this is what the enemy feared and planned against."

  Suddenly, Kyutaro dug his nails into the ground and said, "My lord… I am dying…" With his palms pressed down in obeisance, his head dropped to the floor. He had fought and won a far more bitter battle than on the field.

  "Another brave soul gone," someone lamented behind Nagamasa, and then softly intoned a prayer.

  The sound of prayer beads clicked in the silence. When Nagamasa turned, he saw that it was the head priest, Yuzan—another refugee from the war.

  "I was sorry to hear that Lord Hisamasa met his end early this morning," Yuzan said.

  "Your Reverence, I have a request," Nagamasa said in a steady voice. His words were calm, but there was no concealing their plaintive tone. "It will be my turn next. I would like to gather all of my retainers together and hold a funeral service, at least in form, while I am still alive. In the valley behind Odani, there is a memorial stone carved with the Buddhist death name you yourself gave me. Would you please have the stone moved in­side the castle? You're a priest, and surely the enemy would let you through."

  "Of course."

  Yuzan left immediately. As he did so, one of Nagamasa's generals nearly ran into him as he hurried in.

  "Fuwa Mitsuharu has come to the castle gate."

  "Who is he?"

  "A retainer of Lord Nobunaga."

  "The enemy?" Nagamasa spat. "Chase him away. I don't have any use for Nobunaga's retainers. If he won't go away, feed him some rocks from the castle gate."

  The samurai obeyed Nagamasa's command and dashed off immediately, but soon another commander arrived.

  "The messenger from the enemy is still standing at the castle gate. He won't leave, no matter what we say. He protests that war is war, and negotiations are negotiations, and asks why we lack the proper etiquette toward him as a representative of his province."

  Nagamasa ignored these complaints, and then berated the man who had repeated them. "Why are you explaining the protests of a man I told you to chase off?"

  Just then, yet another general came forward. "My lord, the rules of war dictate that you should meet with him, even for just a moment. I would not have it said that Asai Nagamasa was so distracted that he lost his composure and refused to grant an audience to an enemy envoy."

  "All right, let him in. I'll see him, at least. Over there," Nagamasa said, pointing to the guard room.

  More than half of the soldiers in the castle of the Asai hoped that peace was walking in through the gate. It was not that they lacked admiration or devotion for Nagamasa, but the “duty" that Nagamasa preached and the reasons for this war were entwined with his relationship with Echizen and his resentment of Nobunaga's ambitions and achievements. The soldiers understood this contrast only too well.

  And there was more. Although Odani Castle had held out steadfastly until then, both the first and second enclosures had already fallen. What chance of victory did they have, entrenched in an isolated and desolate castle?

  Thus, the arrival of the Oda envoy was like the clear blue sky they had been waiting for. Fuwa entered the castle, went into the room where Nagamasa awaited him, and knelt in front of h
im.

  The men inside fixed Fuwa with hostile stares; their hair was disheveled, and they had wounds on their hands and heads. The kneeling Fuwa spoke so gently that one might have doubted that he was a general at all.

  “I have the honor of being Lord Nobunaga's envoy."

  “Formal greetings are not necessary on the battlefield. Let's get to the point," Nagamasa said peremptorily.

  “Lord Nobunaga admires your loyalty to the Asakura clan but today, the Asakura have already fallen, and their ally, the shogun, is in exile. Both favors and grudges are now far in the past, so why should the Oda and Asai clans be fighting? Not only that, but Lord Nobunaga is your brother-in-law; you are the beloved husband of his sister."

  “ I’ve heard this all before. If you're asking for a peace treaty, I absolutely refuse. It won’t make any difference how persuasive you are."

  “With all due respect, there's nothing left for you to do but to capitulate. Your behavior so far has been exemplary. Why not give up the castle like a man, and work for your clan’s future? If you agree, Lord Nobunaga is willing to give you the entire province of Yamato."

  Nagamasa let out a scornful laugh. He waited until the envoy had finished. "Please tell Lord Nobunaga that I am not going to be fooled by such clever words. What he is re­ally concerned about is his sister, not me."

  “That's a cynical view."

  “Say whatever you like," he hissed, "but go back and tell him that I'm not considering saving myself through my ties with my wife. And you had better tell Nobunaga to persuade himself of the fact that Oichi is my wife and no longer his sister."

  “Well then, I take it you plan to share the fate of this castle, no matter what?"

  “I’m resolved on that not only for myself but for my wife, too."

  “Then there's nothing more to be said." With that Fuwa returned directly to Nobunaga’s camp.

  After that, hopelessness—or, more properly, emptiness—filled the castle with gloom. Soldiers who had expected peace from the Oda messenger could only assume that the talks had broken down. They were now openly despondent, because they had briefly hoped that their lives would be spared.

  There was another reason for gloom to settle on the castle. Although there was a battle going on, the funeral for Nagamasa's father was taking place, and voices intoning the sutras drifted out from the interior of the keep until the following day.

  Oichi and her four children wore white silk garments of mourning from that day on.

  The cords that held up their hair were black. They seemed to possess a purity that was not of this world, even though they were yet alive, and even those retainers who were re­solved to die in the castle quite naturally felt their fate was too pitiful for words.

  Yuzan now returned to the castle, accompanied by workmen carrying the stone monument. Just before dawn, incense and flowers were placed in the main hall of the castle for the funeral service for the living.

  Yuzan addressed the assembly of the Asai clan's retainers. "Valuing his name as a member of the samurai class, Lord Asai Nagamasa, the master of this castle, has passed away like a beautiful fallen flower. Therefore, as his retainers it is proper for you to pay your last respects."

  Nagamasa sat behind the stone monument as though he had really died. At the beginning, the samurai looked as though they did not understand. They asked themselves if all this was necessary and fidgeted in the strange atmosphere.

  But Oichi and the children and other members of the family knelt in front of the monument and put incense into the burner.

  Someone began to weep, and soon everyone was affected. Filling the broad room, the armored men hung their heads and averted their eyes. Not one of them could look up.

  When the ceremony was over, Yuzan took the lead, and several samurai shouldered the monument and carried it out of the castle. This time they went down to Lake Biwa, took a small boat, and at a place about one hundred yards from Chikubu Island, sunk the stone to the bottom.

  Nagamasa spoke fearlessly, facing the death that pressed in on him, and he had not overlooked the laxity of the martial spirit of those soldiers who had put their hopes on peace talks. His "funeral for the living" had a salutary effect on the faltering morale of the defenders. If their lord was resolved to die in battle, they too were resolved to follow him. It was time to die. Nagamasa's pathetic determination thus inspired his retainers. But al­though he was a gifted general, he was not a genius. Nagamasa did not know how to make his men die gladly for him. They stood, waiting for the final assault.

  Three Princesses

  At about noon, the soldiers at the castle gate started to yell.

  "They're coming!"

  The gunners on the walls jostled one another, searching out targets. But the only enemy who was approaching was a solitary rider, and he was ambling up to the gate in a very nonchalant way. If he were an envoy, he would be arriving with an escort of mounted men. Filled with doubt, the defenders watched the man approach.

  As he came closer, one of the commanders spoke to a soldier with a rifle. "He's got to be an enemy general. He doesn't look like an envoy, and he's being very audacious. Fire on him once."

  The commander had meant for one man to fire a warning shot, but three or four men fired together.

  As they fired, the man stopped, as if surprised. He then held up a war fan with a red sun on a gold background, waved it over his head, and shouted, "Hey, soldiers! Wait a minute! Is Kinoshita Hideyoshi a man you want to shoot? Do it after I've talked to Lord Nagamasa." He ran as he yelled, until he was almost directly under the castle gate.

  "Well, it's Kinoshita Hideyoshi of the Oda, all right. I wonder what he wants." The Asai general who peered down at him was skeptical about his reason for coming, but forgot about trying to shoot him.

  Hideyoshi looked up at the castle gate. "I would like you to convey a message to the citadel," he shouted again.

  What was going on? Voices that seemed to be deliberating noisily could be heard, on a derisive laugh mixed with the voices, and a general from the Asai stuck his head out over the parapet.

  "Forget it. I suppose you're one more advocate coming as an envoy from Lord Nobunaga. You're just wasting your time once again. Go away!"

  Hideyoshi raised his voice. "Silence! Where is the rule allowing a man with the status of a retainer to drive away his lord's guest without ever inquiring into his lord's inten­tions? This castle is as good as taken already, and I'm not so stupid as to take the time and trouble to come here playing the role of an envoy to hurry its destruction." His words were not exactly humble. "I've come here as Lord Nobunaga's representative, to offer in­cense in front of Lord Nagamasa's mortuary tablet. If we've heard correctly, Lord Nagamasa is resolved to die and has had his own funeral conducted while he is yet alive. They were friends during this life, so shouldn't Lord Nobunaga be allowed to offer in­cense too? Isn't there still grace enough here for men to exchange that kind of courtesy and friendship? Is the resolution of Lord Nagamasa and his retainers nothing but an af­fectation? Is it a bluff or the false courage of a coward?"

  The face over the castle gate withdrew, perhaps out of embarrassment. No answer came for a little while, but finally the gate opened a little.

  "General Fujikake Mikawa has agreed to speak with you for a few moments," the man said as he beckoned Hideyoshi in. But then he added, "Lord Nagamasa has refused to see you."

  Hideyoshi nodded. "That's only natural. I consider Lord Nagamasa to have already passed away, and I am not going to press the point."

  As he spoke, he walked in without looking to the right or left. How could this man walk into the midst of the enemy so calmly?

  As Hideyoshi walked up the long sloping path from the first gate to the central gate, he paid absolutely no attention to the man who was leading him. When he approached the entrance to the citadel, Mikawa came out to meet him.

  "It's been a long time," Hideyoshi said, as though it were nothing more than a normal greeting.

&n
bsp; They had met once before, and Mikawa returned the greeting with a smile. "Yes, it certainly has been a long time. Meeting you in these circumstances is quite unexpected, Lord Hideyoshi."

  The men in the castle all had bloodshot eyes, but the face of the old general did not look hard-pressed at all.

  "General Mikawa, I haven't seen you since Lady Oichi's wedding day, have I? It's been quite a long time."

  "That's right."

  "That was a splendid day for both our clans."

  "It's hard to tell what fate has in store. But when you look at the disturbances and cataclysms of the past, even this situation is not so unusual. Well, come inside. I can't give you much of a reception, but can I offer you at least a bowl of tea?"

  Mikawa led him to a teahouse. Looking at the back of the old, white-haired general, it was clear that he had already transcended life and death.

  It was a small, secluded teahouse, down a lane through the trees. Hideyoshi sat down and felt that he was in a different world entirely. In the quiet of the teahouse, both host and guest were temporarily cleansed of the bloodiness of the outside world.

  It was the end of autumn. The leaves of the trees fluttered outside, but not a speck of dust settled on the polished wooden floor.

  "I hear that Lord Nobunaga's retainers have recently taken up the art of tea." Making amiable conversation, Mikawa lifted the ladle toward the iron kettle.

  Hideyoshi noted the man's decorum and hastily apologized. "Lord Nobunaga and his retainers are well versed in tea, but I'm a dullard by nature and don't know the first thing about it. I only like the taste."

  Mikawa put down the bowl and stirred the tea with the whisk. His graceful move­ments were almost feminine in nature. The hands and body that had been hardened by armor did not seem cramped in the least. In this room furnished with nothing more than a tea bowl and a simple kettle, the gaudiness of the old general's armor looked out of place.