In fact, there was no one even in Nobunaga's family who could withstand this treatment. If veteran generals like Katsuie and Nobumori came under Nobunaga's angry eye, they would turn absolutely pale. Seasoned men like Niwa and Takigawa would become confused and mumble excuses. With all his wisdom, Akechi Mitsuhide had no way of dealing with it, and even all of Nobunaga's affection was no help at all to Ranmaru. But Hideyoshi's handling of such situations was quite different. When Nobunaga was angry and would scowl and glare at him, Hideyoshi would manifest no reaction at all. It was not that he took his lord lightly. On the contrary, he was, more than most men, awed by Nobunaga. Generally, he would look up placidly as though gazing at a threatening sky and desist from speaking except in the most commonplace way.
His Lordship is a little angry again, Hideyoshi was now thinking. This composure seemed to be part of Hideyoshi's own special nature, and certainly no one was able to imitate him. If Katsuie or Mitsuhide had copied Hideyoshi's behavior, they would have been throwing oil on a fire, and Nobunaga would have exploded into a fit of anger. Nobunaga appeared to be losing the game of patience. Finally he spoke.
"Hideyoshi, why did you come here?"
"I came to receive your reprimand," Hideyoshi answered with deep respect.
He always has a good answer, Nobunaga thought. It was growing more and more difficult to stay angry. He was going to have to speak deliberately, as though he had chewed the words up and were spitting them out. "What do you mean, you've come to be reprimanded? Did you think this matter was going to be finished with an apology? You made a great error that affects not only me but the entire army."
"You've already read the letter I sent to you?"
"I have!"
"Sending Kanbei as an intermediary clearly ended in failure. In this connection—
"Is that an excuse?"
"No, but to serve as an apology, I galloped through enemy lines to offer a plan that might turn this disaster into good fortune. I would like to ask you either to order the a cleared of everyone here or to move elsewhere. After that, if there is to be some puniment for my crime, I will respectfully accept it."
Nobunaga thought for a moment, then granted his request and ordered everyone to leave. The other generals were dumbstruck by Hideyoshi's audacity, but, looking back and forth at each other, they could only withdraw. There were some who accused him of impudence even in the face of his crime. Others clicked their tongues and called him self-seeking. Hideyoshi looked as though he were paying no attention, and waited until he and Nobunaga were the only ones left in the enclosure. When everyone had gone, Nobunaga's appearance softened somewhat.
"So what kind of suggestion do you have that made you ride all the way here from Harima?"
"I have a way to attack Itami. At this point, the only thing left to do is to strike Araki Murashige resolutely."
"That's been true from the beginning. Not that Itami is so important, but if the Honganji and Murashige act in concert with the Mori, there could be considerable trouble.”
"Not that much, I think. If we move too fast, our troops could suffer considerably; and if there is even the slightest failure among our allies, the embankment you have built up so carefully until now could crumble all at once."
"So what would you do?"
"I had no plan of my own, but Takenaka Hanbei, who has been in the capital convalescing, was able to see through the present situation." Hideyoshi then related the plan to Nobunaga exactly as he had heard it from Hanbei. Essentially, the plan against Itami Castle called for allowing as little damage to their own troops as possible. Taking whatever time was required, they would first put all of their strength into isolating Murashige by clipping his wings.
Nobunaga accepted the plan without the least hesitation. It was, more or less, what he had been thinking of doing himself. The plan was set, and Nobunaga completely forgot about reprimanding Hideyoshi. There were still a number of things to ask Hideyoshi about in regard to their later strategies.
"Since we've dealt with the most urgent business, perhaps I should start off for Harima today," Hideyoshi said, looking up at the evening sky. Nobunaga, however, told him that the roads were so dangerous that he should return by ship that night. And since he was going by ship and there would be enough time, his lord was not going to let him go without a drink.
Hideyoshi sat a little straighter and asked, "Are you going to let me go without being punished?"
Nobunaga forced a smile. "Well, what should I do?" he joked.
"When you forgive me but still don't say anything, somehow the sake I receive from you doesn't go down my throat very well."
Nobunaga broke out laughing happily for the first time.
"That's good, that's good."
"In that case," Hideyoshi said, as though he had been waiting for the right moment, “Kanbei shares no blame either, does he? And the messenger with the command to cut off his son's head has already left, I believe."
"No, you can't be the guarantor for what is in Kanbei's mind. How can you say he's without blame? I'm not going to withdraw my order to have his son's head sent to Itami Castle. It's a matter of military discipline, and it won't do any good to intervene." Thus Nobunaga highhandedly sealed his retainer's mouth.
Hideyoshi returned to Harima that night, but upon his return, secretly had a messenger take a letter to Hanbei in the capital. What was in the letter will be understood later on, but essentially it concerned his private agony over the son of his friend and adviser, Kuroda Kanbei.
Nobunaga's messenger also hurried to Kyoto. On his way back, he stopped for a short time at the Church of the Ascension. When he returned to Nobunaga's main camp on Mount Amano, he was accompanied by the Italian Jesuit, Father Gnecchi, a missionary who had been in Japan for many years. There were many Christian missionaries in Sakai, Azuchi, and Kyoto, but among them, Father Gnecchi was the foreigner whom Nobunaga most favored. Nobunaga did not dislike Christians. And, even though he had fought the Buddhists and burned their strongholds, he did not dislike Buddhism either, for he recognized the intrinsic value of religion.
Not just Father Gnecchi, but all of the many Catholic missionaries who were invited to Azuchi from time to time went to great pains to try to convert Nobunaga to Christianity. But grasping Nobunaga's heart was the same as trying to ladle the reflection of the moon out of a bucket of water.
One of the Catholic fathers had given Nobunaga a black slave he had brought with him from across the sea, because Nobunaga had looked upon the man with considerable curiosity. Whenever Nobunaga left the castle, even when he went to Kyoto, he included the black slave in his entourage. The missionaries were a little jealous and once asked Nobunaga, "You seem so interested in your black slave, my lord. Exactly what is it that you find so pleasing in him?"
"I'm good to all of you, aren't I?" he quickly replied. This quite clearly indicated Nobunaga's feelings toward the missionaries. The way in which he liked Father Gnecchi and the other fathers was essentially equal to his affection for his black slave. Which brings up another point: when Father Gnecchi had his first audience with Nobunaga, he presented him with gifts from overseas. The list included ten guns, eight telescopes and magnifying glasses, fifty tiger skins, a mosquito net, and one hundred pieces of aloeswood. There were also such rare items as a timepiece, a world globe, textile goods, and chinawear.
Nobunaga had all of these things lined up on display, and gazed at them as a child might. He was especially taken by the globe and the guns. With the globe in front of them, he listened intently night after night as Father Gnecchi told him about his home, Italy; the distances across the seas; the differences between northern and southern Europe; and about his travels through India, Annam, Luzon, and southern China. There was one other man present who would listen even more intently and asked any number of questions—Hideyoshi.
"Ah, I'm really glad you've come." Nobunaga happily welcomed Father Gnecchi to his camp.
"What can this be about, my lord? Your sum
mons was so urgent."
"Well, sit down." Nobunaga pointed to a chair used by Zen abbots.
"Why, thank you," Father Gnecchi said, easing into the chair. He was like a reserve pawn on a chessboard, wondering when he might be used. And Nobunaga had invited him here for precisely that reason.
"Father, you once gave me a petition on behalf of the missionaries in Japan, in which you asked permission to build a church and to spread Christianity."
"I don't know how many years we have longed for the day when you would accept our plea."
"Somehow it seems that that day is approaching."
"What? Do we have your permission?"
"Not unconditionally. It is not a custom of the samurai simply to give out special privileges to men who have done no meritorious deeds."
"What exactly do you mean, my lord?"
"I understand that Takayama Ukon of Takatsuki was converted to Christianity when he was about fourteen years old and is even now a fervent believer. I can imagine you're on quite friendly terms with him."
"Takayama Ukon, my lord?"
"As you know, he's joined Araki Murashige's rebellion and has sent two of his children to Itami Castle as hostages."
"This is truly a sad situation, and we, his friends in religion, are much pained by it. I don't know how many prayers we have sent to God for His divine protection."
"Is that so? Well, Father Gnecchi, in times like these, the prayers you offer at the chapel in your temple do not seem to manifest any effects. If you're really that anxious about Ukon, you'll obey the command I'm giving you now. I want you to go to Takatsuk Castle and enlighten Takayama Ukon on the matter of his indiscretion."
"If that's something I can do, I'll be happy to go anytime. But I understand that his castle is already surrounded by the forces of Lord Nobutada as well as those of Lords Fuwa, Maeda, and Sassa. Perhaps they won't let me through."
"I'll provide you an escort and give you a guarantee of passage. It will be a great meritorious deed for the missionaries if you can explain this issue to the Takayama—both father and son—and convince them to enter my ranks. Then you will have my permission to have a church and the freedom to do missionary work. You have my word."
"Oh, my lord…"
"But wait," Nobunaga told Father Gnecchi. "You should understand very clearly that if, on the contrary, Ukon rejects your proposal and continues to defy me, I'm going to regard all Christians the same way that I regard the Takayama; and that I will quite naturally demolish your temple, exterminate your religion in Japan, and execute every last one of your missionaries and their followers. I want you to leave with that understanding."
The blood drained from Father Gnecchi's face, and for a moment, he cast his eyes to the ground. Not one of the men who had boarded a sailing ship and come east from faraway Europe could have possessed a faint or cowardly heart, but sitting before Nobunaga and being spoken to in this manner, Father Gnecchi felt his body shrink and his heart grow cold with fear. There was really nothing that gave the figure of Nobunaga the appearance of the devil himself, and in fact both his features and his speech were quite elegant. It had been engraved into the missionaries' minds, however, that this man said nothing he did not put into practice. Previous examples of this fact could be seen in both the destruction of Mount Hiei and the subjugation of Nagashima. In fact, this truth could be seen in every policy Nobunaga had ever conceived.
"I'll go. I'll be the envoy you're ordering me to be, and I'll go to meet with Lord Ukon," Father Gnecchi promised.
With an escort of a dozen mounted men, he headed out on the road to Takatsuki. After seeing Father Gnecchi off, Nobunaga felt that everything had gone exactly as he had desired. But Father Gnecchi, who had seemingly been led off by the nose to Takatsuki Castle, was congratulating himself as well. This foreigner was not as easy to manipulate as Nobunaga thought. It was well known among the common people of Kyoto that few people were as shrewd as the Jesuits. Before Nobunaga had even summoned him, Father Gnecchi had already exchanged letters with Takayama Ukon several times. Ukon's father had often asked his spiritual adviser what heaven's will might be in the matter at hand. Father Gnecchi had written the same response over and over again. The correct way did not lie in acting contrary to the wishes of one's lord. Lord Nobunaga was Murashige's master and Ukon's as well.
Ukon had written expressing his deepest feelings.
We've sent two of our children to the Araki as hostages, so that my wife and mother are strongly against submitting to Lord Nobunaga. If it were not for that, I would not want my name associated with rebellion, either.
So, for Father Gnecchi, the success of this mission and the rewards to follow were a foregone conclusion. He had the conviction that Ukon already agreed with what he himself was suggesting.
Soon afterward, Takayama Ukon announced that he could not just look away as his religion was destroyed, even if his wife and children hated him for defending it. One could abandon one's castle and family, he declared, but not the one true way. Secretly leaving the castle one night, he fled to the Church of the Ascension. His father, Hida, immediately sought refuge with Araki Murashige at Itami, and bitterly explained the situation, saying, "We've been betrayed by my worthless son."
There were many people in Murashige's camp who had close and friendly relations with the Takayama clan, and so he could not insist on the punishment of the Takayama hostages. So, although Murashige was a rather insensitive man, he was vaguely aware of the intricacies of the situation.
"There's nothing to be done. If Ukon has run away, the hostages are useless." Regarding the two little children as nothing more than hangers-on, he returned them to Ukon's father. When Father Gnecchi received this information, he went with Ukon to Mount Amano for an audience with Nobunaga.
"You did well." Nobunaga was delighted. He told Ukon that he would grant him a domain in Harima, and presented him with silk kimonos and a horse.
"I would like to take the tonsure and dedicate my life to God," Ukon pleaded.
But Nobunaga would not hear of it, saying, "That's ridiculous for a man so young."
So, in the end, the affair went as Nobunaga had planned and as Father Gnecchi had anticipated. However, the way in which Ukon had conducted himself, resulting in the return of his children, had all been Father Gnecchi's clever scheme.
Yesterday's conditions can hardly be thought of in terms of today's, for time works its transfigurations moment by moment. Neither is it unreasonable to change one's course of action. The reasons for which men have erred in their ambitions and lost their lives are as plentiful as mushrooms after a shower.
It was toward the end of the Eleventh Month. Nakagawa Sebei—the man upon whom Araki Murashige depended as on his own right arm—suddenly left his castle and submitted to Nobunaga.
"This is a significant time for the nation; we should not punish small mistakes," Nobunaga said, and not only did not question Sebei about his crime but also presented him with thirty gold coins. He presented gold and clothing to the three retainers who had come with him, as well. Sebei had surrendered in response to Takayama Ukon's appeal.
The Oda generals wondered why these men were being treated so kindly. While Nobunaga was aware that there was some dissatisfaction among his own men, there was nothing else he could do if he wanted to achieve his military objectives.
Conciliation, diplomacy, and patience did not conform with his nature. Violent, fierce attacks, therefore, continually rained down upon the enemy. For example, Nobunaga attacked Hanakuma Castle in Hyogo and showed no mercy in burning down the temples and surrounding villages. He did not forgive the slightest hostile action, whether it was committed by the old or the young, by men or by women. But now his maneuvering on the one hand and his intimidations on the other were coming to fruition.
Araki Murashige was isolated in Itami Castle, a stronghold that had had both of its wings clipped. His battle array no longer included Takayama Ukon or Nakagawa Sebei.
"If we
strike now, he'll fall down like a scarecrow," Nobunaga said. He believed that Itami could now be taken anytime he liked. A combined attack was commenced at the beginning of the Twelfth Month. On the very first day, the attack began before evening and continued into the night. Resistance, however, was unexpectedly stiff. The commander of one corps of the attacking troops was struck down and killed, and there were hundreds of dead and wounded.
On the second day the number of casualties continued to increase, but not a single inch of the castle walls had been taken. Murashige was famous for his courage, after all, and there were a good many gallant men among his troops. More than that, when Murashige himself had been ready to fold up the flag of revolt following Nobunaga's attempts at appeasing him, it had been his family members and officers who had restrained him by saying, “To give up now would be the same as presenting him with our own heads."
The news of the start of these hostilities also quickly echoed throughout Harima and shook the officials in Osaka. Shock waves were spreading as far as Tamba and the Sanin.
First, in the western provinces, Hideyoshi immediately started the attack on Miki Castle, and had the auxiliary troops of Nobumori and Tsutsui push the Mori back to the boders of Bizen. He had thought that as soon as the Mori clan heard the shouts from the capital, its army would march on Kyoto. In Tamba, the Hatano clan considered that the tide was now favorable, and began to rebel. Akechi Mitsuhide and Hosokawa Fujitaka had been governing that area, and rushed to its defense in the nick of time.
The Honganji and the huge forces of the Mori communicated by ship-borne messengers, and the enemies that now faced Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Mitsuhide all danced to the music of these two powers.
"It's probably finished here," Nobunaga said, gazing at Itami Castie. Which was to say that he considered everything to be in order. Although Itami Castle was completely isolated, it had not surrendered. In Nobunaga's eyes, however, it had already fallen. Leaving the encircling army, he suddenly returned to Azuchi.
TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN Page 78