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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  It was the end of the year. Nobunaga planned on spending New Year's at Azuchi. It was a year that had been filled with unexpected disturbances and campaigns, but as he looked over the streets of the castle town, he caught the scent of a rich new culture rising through the air. Shops both large and small were lined up in an orderly fashion, bringing Nobunaga's economic policies to fruition. Guests overflowed the inns and post stations, while at the lakeside, the masts of the anchored ships resembled a forest.

  Both the residential area of the samurai, wound all through with small paths, and the magnificent mansions of the great generals had for the most part been completed. The Temples, too, had been expanded, and Father Gnecchi had also begun to build a church.

  What is called "culture" is as intangible as mist. What had begun as a simple act of destruction was suddenly taking form as an epoch-making new culture right at Nobunaga's feet. In music, theater, painting, literature, religion, the tea ceremony, clothing, cooking, and architecture, old styles and attitudes were being abandoned, and the new and fresh were being adopted. Even the new patterns for women's silk kimonos rivaled each other in this burgeoning Azuchi culture.

  This is the New Year I've been waiting for, and it is a New Year for the nation. It's hardly necessary to say that to build is more pleasant than to destroy, Nobunaga thought, imagining that the new dynamic culture would move like an incoming tide, flooding the eastern provinces, the capital, and even the west and the island of Kyushu, leaving no place untouched.

  Nobunaga was absorbed in such thoughts when Sakuma Nobumori, with the bright sun shining at his back, greeted him and stepped into the room. Seeing Nobumori, Nobunaga suddenly remembered.

  "Ah, that's right. How did that affair go afterward?" he asked quickly, passing the cup in his hand to the page who delivered it to Nobumori.

  Nobumori raised the cup reverently to his forehead, and said, "That affair?" He peered at his master's brow.

  "That's right. I told you about Shojumaru, didn't I? Kanbei's son—the one who's in Takenaka Hanbei's castle as a hostage."

  "Ah, you mean the matter of the hostage."

  "I sent you with an order for Hanbei to cut off Shojumaru's head and send it to Itami. But afterward there was no response even though the head was supposed to have been cut off and sent. Have you heard anything?"

  "No, my lord." Nobumori shook his head and, as he spoke, he appeared to be remembering his mission of the year before. He had accomplished his mission, but Shojumaru had been placed in Takenaka Hanbei's care in Mino, so the execution was unlikely to have been carried out immediately.

  "If this is Lord Nobunaga's command, it will be carried out, but I will need some more time," Hanbei had said, acknowledging the request in a normal fashion and, of course, Nobumori had understood.

  "Well then, I have given you His Lordship's order," Nobumori had added, and promptly returned to report to Nobunaga.

  Owing possibly to his own responsibilities, Nobunaga seemed to have forgotten about the matter; but the fact was that Nobumori, too, had not really kept the fate of Shojumaru in mind. He had simply assumed that Hanbei would report the boy's execution di­rectly to Nobunaga.

  "You have heard nothing else about it from either Hideyoshi or Hanbei, my lord?"

  "They haven't said a word about it."

  "That's rather suspicious."

  "You're sure you spoke to Hanbei?"

  "That's hardly necessary to ask. But he's been extraordinarily lazy recently," Nobu­mori mumbled vexatiously, and then added, "To have considered this simply as a mea­sure affecting the child of a traitor, and not yet to have taken any action on Your Lordship's important command, would be a crime of disobedience that could not be ig­nored. On my way back to the front, I'll stop in Kyoto and very definitely question Han­bei about it."

  "Really?" Nobunaga's response did not show much interest. The strictness of the command he had given at that time and the way he was recalling the matter right now re­flected two completely different frames of mind. He did not, however, tell Nobumori to forget about it. Certainly, that would have meant a complete loss of face for the man who had been sent on the mission.

  How was Nobumori to take this? Perhaps he thought that Nobunaga believed he had executed his mission incompetently, for he quickly finished with his congratulations for the New Year, took his leave from the castle and, on his return to the besieged castle at Itami, purposely stopped at the Nanzen Temple.

  He told the priest who greeted him, "I know Lord Hanbei is confined indoors be­cause of his illness, but I've come on a mission from Lord Nobunaga." His request for a interview was expressed in extraordinarily severe and imperative terms. The monk left, then returned quickly, and invited to follow him.

  Nobumori replied with a nod, and followed the priest. The sliding paper doors of the thatched building were closed, but incessant coughing—probably prompted by Hanbei's leaving his sickbed in order to meet his guest—could be heard coming from inside. Nobumori lingered outside for a moment. The appearance of the sky suggested snow. Though it was still midday, it was frigid in the shadow of the mountains around the temple.

  'Come in," a voice invited from within, and an attendant opened the sliding doors to a small reception room. The lean figure of his master was propped up on the floor. "Welcome," Hanbei said in greeting.

  Nobumori walked in and said without preamble, "Last year I brought you His Lord­'s order to execute Kuroda Shojumaru, and I expected the matter to be dealt with without delay. There has been no positive response since then, however, and even Lord Nobunaga has become concerned.What you have to say for yourself."

  "Well, well…" Hanbei began, bowing with his hands to the floor and exposing a back as thin as a board. "Have I inadvertently made His Lordship worry because of my care­lessness? I am doing as much as I can to hurry and obey His Lordship's will as my illness gradually gets better."

  "What! What are you saying?" Nobumori was losing his self-control. Or better said, judging by the color of his face, he was so angered by Hanbei's answer that he could not repress his exasperation or untangle his tongue. Heaving a sigh, Hanbei coolly observed his guest's agitation.

  "Well then… isn't there something… ?" Apart from the voice that disgorged itself from his mouth, Nobumori's agitated eyes remained entangled with the calm eyes of his host. Nobumori coughed uncontrollably, then asked, "Haven't you sent his head to Kanbei at Itami Castle?"

  "It's as you say."

  "It's as I say? That's a rather unusual answer. Have you deliberately disobeyed His lordship's command?"

  "Don't be absurd."

  "If that's so, why haven't you killed the boy yet?"

  "He was strictly entrusted to me. I thought that I could do it at any time, without too much hurry."

  "That's excessive leniency. There's a limit to this leisurely pace, you know. I do not recall having ever been so inept on a mission as I was on this one."

  "There was never any fault in the way you carried out your mission. It's absolutely clear that I purposely delayed the matter because of my own thoughts on the subject."

  "Purposely?"

  "While I knew that it was a grave errand, I've been thoughtlessly preoccupied by this less…"

  "Wouldn't it be sufficient if you sent a courier with a note?"

  "No, he may be a hostage from another clan, but he's been entrusted to us for a number of years. The people around such a lovely child naturally feel sympathy toward him and would find it difficult to kill him. I'm concerned that if the worst happened and some indiscreet retainer sent someone else's head for His Lordship's inspection, I would have no excuse to offer Lord Nobunaga. So I think that I myself should go to behead him. Perhaps my condition will improve before long." As Hanbei spoke, he began coughing uncontrollably. He put a paper handkerchief over his mouth, but it seemed that he was not going to able to stop.

  An attendant nearby moved behind him and began rubbing Hanbei's back. Nobumori could do nothing but keep qui
et and wait until Hanbei settled down. But just sitting in front of a man who was trying to control his violent coughing fit and who was having his sick body massaged began to be painful in itself.

  "Why don't you rest in your room?" For the first time Nobumori mumbled some­thing sympathetic, but the look on his face bore no sympathy at all. "At any rate, in the next few days there should be some action taken as a result of these words from His Lord­ship. I'm amazed at your negligence, but there's nothing else I can do after what I've said here now. I'll be sending a letter to Azuchi explaining the situation exactly as it is. No matter how sick you may be, any further delay will only provoke His Lordship's anger. It's tedious, but I'll definitely have to inform him about this!"

  Ignoring the pained figure of Hanbei, who was still racked by coughing, Nobumori had his say, announced his leave, and departed. As he reached the veranda, he passed by a woman carrying a tray from which floated the thick smell of some medicinal decoction.

  The woman hurriedly put down her tray and bowed to her guest. Nobumori in­spected her at length, from the white hands that touched the wooden-floored veranda to the back of her neck, and finally said, "It seems that I've met you before. Ah, yes, that's right. The time I was invited by Lord Hideyoshi to Nagahama. I remember that you were waiting upon him at that time."

  "Yes. I was given leave to take care of my brother."

  "Well then, you're Hanbei's younger sister?"

  "Yes, my name is Oyu."

  "You're Oyu," he muttered rudely. "You are pretty." Mumbling to himself, he stepped down on the stepping stone.

  Oyu simply nodded as he left. She could hear her brother still coughing, and she seemed more concerned about the medicine growing cold than about what her guest's feelings might be. Just when she thought that he had left, however, Nobumori turned again and said, "Has there been any news recently from Lord Hideyoshi in Harima?"

  "No."

  "Your brother was purposely negligent with Lord Nobunaga's orders, but I'm sure that couldn't have been a result of Hideyoshi's instructions, could it? I fear that our lord may have some doubts about that. If Hideyoshi is incurring Lord Nobunaga's wrath, he may be in for a great deal of trouble. I'm going to say this once again: I think it would be a good thing if Kuroda Kanbei's son were executed immediately."

  Looking up into the sky, Nobumori quickly walked away. Obscuring his retreating figure and the huge roof of the Nanzen Temple, specks of snow fell obliquely, turning everything white.

  “My lady!" The coughing had suddenly stopped behind the sliding doors, and the agitated voice of the retainer could now be heard in its place. Her chest pounding, Oyu opened the doors and looked inside. Hanbei lay face down on the floor. The paper handkerchief that had been over his mouth was covered with bright red blood.

  6 SEVENTH YEAR OF TENSHO 1579

  Characters and places

  Shojumaru, Kuroda Kanbei's son

  Kumataro, retainer of Takenaka Hanbei

  Bessho Nagaharu, lord of Miki Castle

  Goto Motokuni, senior Bessho retainer

  Ikeda Shonyu, senior Oda retainer

  Anayama Baisetsu, senior Takeda retainer

  Nishina Nobumori, Takeda Katsuyori's brother

  Saito Toshimitsu, senior Akechi retainer

  Yusho, painter

  Miki, Bessho Nagaharu's castle

  Nirasaki, new capital of Kai

  Takato, Nishina Nobumori's castle

  A Retainer's Duty

  Hideyoshi's campaign in the western provinces, Mitsuhide's campaign in Tamba, and the long siege of Itami Castle were Nobunaga's real work. The campaign in the western provinces and the siege of Itami were still stalemated, and only in Tamba was there some minor action. Day by day, a vast number of letters and reports arrived from these three areas. The documents were screened by staff officers and private secretaries, so that Nobunaga saw only the most important ones.

  Among them was a letter from Sakuma Nobumori. Nobunaga read it and tossed it aside with an expression of extreme displeasure. The person whose job it was to pick up any discarded letters was Nobunaga's trusted page, Ranmaru. Thinking that Nobunaga's orders had been disobeyed, he surreptitiously read the letter. There was nothing in it that should have upset Nobunaga. It read:

  To my surprise, Hanbei has not yet taken any action to carry out your orders. As your messenger, I impressed upon him the error of his ways, informing him that if he disobeyed the order, I would be accused of negligence. I think your order will be carried out soon. This has been extremely trying for me, and I humbly request your magnanimity in this matter.

  Behind Nobumori's words one sensed that he was, more than anything else, trying to justify his own faults. In fact, his intention really was nothing more than that. Ranmaru was not able to read more meaning into it.

  Nobunaga's anger at the letter, and his perception that Nobumori had changed, would not be manifested until later on. Until then, it would have been difficult for anyone other than Nobunaga to have understood his own true feelings. The only hints presaging the future that did not go unnoticed were that Nobunaga did not seem angry about Hanbei's disobedience and negligence—even after he received such a letter from Nobumori—and that after this event, the matter was ignored. Nobunaga himself certainly did not press it. But there was no reason for Hanbei to be aware of such complicated changes in Nobunaga's thinking. It was not Hanbei, however, but Oyu and the retainers who were taking care of him, who thought that Hanbei should do something. It seemed he had not yet decided what to do about the problem.

  A month went by. The plum trees were blossoming at the main gate of the Nanzen Temple and around Hanbei's retreat. As the days went by the sun became warmer, but Hanbei's condition did not improve.

  He could not bear uncleanliness, so every day he would have the sickroom swept clean and then, bathing himself in the sunlight on bright mornings, he would sit on the veranda.

  His sister would prepare tea for him, and his one pleasure during his illness was to watch the steam rise from the tea bowl in the bright morning sun.

  "Your color has improved a little this morning, brother," Oyu said brightly.

  Hanbei rubbed his cheek with a thin hand. "Spring has come to me, too, it seems. This is pleasant. For the last two or three days I've felt rather well," he answered with a smile.

  Both his mood and color had indeed become much better in the past two or three days, and Oyu felt the greatest pleasure in looking at him this fine morning. But suddenly she felt a sense of desolation as she recalled the doctor's words: "There is little hope of recovery." But she was not going to give in to her feeling. How many patients had recovered after their doctors had given them up for dead? She promised herself that she would nurse Hanbei back to health—to see him healthy was a goal she shared with Hideyoshi, who the day before had written from Harima to encourage him.

  "If you continue to get better at this rate, you'll be able to get out of bed by the time the cherry trees are blooming."

  "Oyu, I've been nothing but trouble, haven't I?"

  "What nonsense are you talking now?"

  Hanbei laughed weakly. "I haven't thanked you before, because we're brother and sister, but this morning somehow I feel I should say something. I wonder if it's because I'm feeling so much better."

  "It makes me happy to think it might be so."

  "It's already been ten years since we left Mount Bodai."

  "Time passes quickly. When you look back, you realize life goes by just like a dream.”

  "You've been at my side since then—and me, nothing but a mountain hermit—cooking my meals morning and night, taking care of me, even preparing my medicine."

  "No, it's only been for a little while. Back then, you kept saying that you would never get better. But as soon as your health improved, you joined Lord Hideyoshi, fought at the Ane River, Nagashino, and Echizen. You were in pretty good health then, weren't you?

  "I suppose you're right. This sick body has stood up prett
y well."

  "So if you take care of yourself, you'll certainly get better this time, too. I'm determined that you're going to become your old self again."

  "It's not that I want to die."

  "You're not going to die!"

  "I want to keep living. I want to live to make sure this violent world finds peace again. Ah, if only I were healthy, I'd be able to help my lord to the best of my ability.” Suddenly Hanbei's voice fell. "But the length of a man's life is beyond his control. What can I do in this condition?"

  Looking into his eyes, Oyu was suffused with pain. Was there something that her brother was keeping from her?

  The bell of the Nanzen Temple announced the hour of noon. Although the country was still in a state of civil war, people could be seen viewing the flowering plum trees, and the song of the nightingales could be heard among the falling blossoms.

  That spring was considered to be a pleasant one, but it was still only the Second Month. When night fell, and the lamps began to flicker coldly, Hanbei began to cough again. During the night, Oyu would have to get up several times to rub his back. There were other retainers nearby, but Hanbei was unwilling to let them take care of him in this way.

  "They are all men who will ride out with me into battle. It wouldn't be right to ask them to rub a sick man's back," he explained.

  That night, too, she got up to massage her brother's back. Going into the kitchen to prepare his medicine, she suddenly heard a noise outside the kitchen door that sounded as if someone was brushing past the old bamboo of the hedge. Oyu listened carefully. She could hear whispering outside.

  "I can see a light. Wait just a moment. Somebody must be up." The voices outside gradually came closer to the house. Then someone tapped lightly on the rain shutter.

  "Who is it?" Oyu asked.

  "Is that you, Lady Oyu? It's Kumataro from Kurihara. I've just come back from Itami."

  "It's Kumataro!" she called excitedly to Hanbei. She slid open the door to the kitchen and saw three men standing in the starlight.