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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

  Feeling Hanbei's direct stare, Nobunaga suddenly burst out laughing and spoke a though he could no longer hide his own foolishness. "Forget all that. I myself regretted that order almost immediately after I gave it. Somehow, I'm just a very suspicious person. This has been awkward for both Hideyoshi and Kanbei. But the wise Hanbei resisted my orders and did not slay the child. In fact, when I heard about how you had dealt with this, I was relieved. How am I going to blame you? The blame is mine. Forgive me, I didn't act very well." Nobunaga didn't hang his head or bow to the ground, but he looked as though he wanted to change the subject quickly.

  Hanbei, however, was not so easily contented with Nobunaga's forgiveness. Nobunaga had said to forget the matter, to let it flow downstream, but Hanbei's expression displayed no joy at all.

  “My having disobeyed your order may reflect on your authority at a later time. If you’ve spared Shojumaru's head because of Kanbei's innocence and merit, allow this young man to prove himself worthy of your mercy. Also, you could do me no better favor, my lord, than to command me to do some meritorious deed to atone for the crime of having ignored your order." Hanbei spoke as though he were opening his heart, once gain prostrating himself and waiting for Nobunaga's benevolence. This was what Nobunaga had wanted from the beginning.

  When Hanbei had once again received his lord's pardon, he told Shojumaru in a whisper to thank Nobunaga courteously. He then turned to Nobunaga again. "This may be the last time the two of us will meet in this life. I pray that you will prosper even more in the fortunes of war."

  "That's sort of a strange thing to say, isn't it? Does that mean you're going to disobey me yet again?" Nobunaga pressed Hanbei for his meaning.

  "Never." Hanbei shook his head as he looked down at Shojumaru. "Please look at the way this child is dressed. He is leaving here to fight in the Harima campaign beside Kanbei; he is resolved to distinguish himself no less than his father, gallantly ready to leave everything to destiny."

  "What? He wants to go to the battlefield?"

  "Kanbei is a famous warrior, and Shojumaru is his son. My request is that you enourage him in his first campaign. It would be a great blessing if you would tell him to exert himself in a manly way."

  "But what about you?"

  "As a sick man, I doubt that I can complement the strength of our men much at all, but I think it is the right time for me to accompany Shojumaru to the campaign."

  "Are you all right? What about your health?"

  "I was born a samurai, and to die peacefully in my bed would be mortifying. When it's time to die, one cannot do otherwise."

  "Well then, go with my blessing, and I wish Shojumaru good fortune in his first campaign, too." Nobunaga beckoned the youth with his eyes and gave him a short sword made by a famous swordsmith. Then he ordered a retainer to bring sake, and they drank together.

  Hanbei's Legacy

  No one could have predicted that Bessho Nagaharu would hold out in Miki Castle for so long. The castle had been besieged for three long years, and it had been completely blockaded by Hideyoshi's troops for more than six months. What were its occupants eating? How had they managed to survive?

  Hideyoshi's troops were amazed each time they observed the activity and heard the hearty voices of those inside the castle. Was some sort of miracle taking place? Sometimes they believed the enemy's survival was almost supernatural. The battle of endurance was being lost by the attacking troops. It seemed that no matter how they beat, struck, kicked, or choked the enemy, he was still moving.

  The garrison of three thousand five hundred men had had their provisions cut off and their water routes blocked. They should have been on the brink of starvation in the middle of the First Month, but at the end of the month the castle still had not fallen. It was now the beginning of the Third Month.

  Hideyoshi saw the weariness of his troops but forced himself to hide his concern. The scraggly beard on his chin and the hollowness of his eyes were clear symptoms of the anxiety and fatigue caused by the long siege.

  I've miscalculated, Hideyoshi realized. I knew they would hold out, but I never thought it would be this long. He had learned the lesson that war is not simply a matter of numbers and logistical advantages.

  The morale of the men inside the castle had actually strengthened; there was not even a hint that they might capitulate. Of course, there could have been no food. The besieged soldiers must have eaten their cows and horses, even tree roots and grass. All of the things that Hideyoshi had thought would decide the castle's fall were only strengthening the morale and unity of the defenders.

  In the Fifth Month the rainy season began. This was a mountainous region of the western provinces, so, adding to the misery of the constant rain, the roads turned into waterfalls and the empty moats overflowed with muddy water. Now, as the men slipped in the mud while going up and down the mountain, the siege—which had seemed at last to be having some effect—was once again turned into a stalemate by the power of nature.

  Kuroda Kanbei, whose knee—which had been injured during his escape from Itami Castle—had never completely healed, inspected the front lines from a litter. He would force a smile at the thought that he would probably be limping for the rest of his life.

  When Hanbei witnessed his friend's efforts, he forgot about his own suffering and tackled his own arduous task. Hideyoshi had a strange field staff, indeed. Neither of his two chief generals, whom he valued like a pair of bright jewels, was in perfect health. One was chronically sick; the other had to direct the fighting from a litter.

  But the considerable help these two men gave Hideyoshi went beyond their resourcefulness. Every time he looked at their tragic figures, he could not help but be moved to tears by sublime emotions. At this point his field staff was absolutely of one body and mind. It was only because of this that the morale of the troops did not waver. It had taken at least half a year, but now the resistance of Miki Castle was beginning to weaken. If the field staff of the attacking troops had not had this indestructible center, Miki Castle might never have fallen. Then the Mori fleet might have broken through the encircling troops and brought in provisions, or their troops might have crossed the mountains, combined with the soldiers in the castle, and crushed the attacking troops. And the name of Hideyoshi might have met its end right there. With this kind of spirit, there were times when even Hideyoshi felt outstripped by Kanbei's quick wit and re­sources, and, half in jest, would express his admiration by calling Kanbei "that damned cripple." But it was clear that in his heart he felt a deep respect for this man upon whom he relied so much.

  The rainy season was long over, the intense heat of the summer had passed, and the coolness of fall had come in with the beginning of the Eighth Month. Hanbei's illness suddenly took a turn for the worse, and this time it seemed as though he would never be putting armor on his sick body again.

  Ah, is heaven abandoning me, too, at last? Hideyoshi lamented. Hanbei is too young and talented to die. Can't fate give him more time?

  He had shut himself in the hut where Hanbei lay, sitting with his sick friend day and night, but that evening, when he was called to other important affairs, Hanbei's condi­tion appeared to worsen hourly. The enemy fortresses at Takano and Mount Hachiman were wrapped in the evening mist. As night approached gunfire echoed through the mountains.

  It must be that damned cripple again! Hideyoshi thought. He shouldn't go that far inside enemy lines.

  Hideyoshi worried about Kanbei, who had pressed in on the enemy but had not yet returned. Hurried footsteps approached and stopped at his side. When he looked around, someone was tearfully prostrating himself.

  "Shojumaru?"

  After Shojumaru had joined the camp at Mount Hirai, he had gone into battle on several occasions. In a short time he had been transformed into a stouthearted adult. About one week before this, when Hanbei's condition had seemed to be deteriorating quickly, Hideyoshi had ordered Shojumaru to watch Hanbei.

  "I'm sure the patient would be more
pleased with you at his bedside than someone else. I would like to be there taking care of him myself, but I'm afraid that if he worried about troubling me, his condition would worsen."

  For Shojumaru, Hanbei was both teacher and surrogate father. Now he waited upon Hanbei day and night without taking off his own armor, putting all his energy into preparing the man's medicine and caring for his needs. This was the Shojumaru who had come running in and had tearfully prostrated himself on the ground. Intuitively, Hideyoshi felt as though he had been struck in the chest.

  "Why are you crying, Shojumaru?" he scolded him.

  "Please forgive me," Shojumaru said, wiping his eyes. "Lord Hanbei is almost too weak to speak; he may not last until midnight. If you can take time from the battle, could you come for a moment?"

  "He's on the verge of dying?"

  "I-I'm afraid so."

  "Is that what the doctor says?"

  "Yes. Lord Hanbei strictly ordered me not to tell you or anyone else in camp of his condition, but the doctor and Lord Hanbei's retainers said that his departure from this world is imminent and that it would be better if I told you."

  Hideyoshi was already resigned. "Shojumaru, would you stay here for a short while in my place? I suspect your father will be withdrawing from the battlefield at Takano soon.”

  "My father's fighting at Takano?"

  "He's directing everything from his litter as usual."

  "Well then, could I go to Takano, lead the fighting in my father's place, and tell him to go to Lord Hanbei's bedside?"

  "You've spoken well! Go, if you have that kind of courage."

  "As long as Lord Hanbei is still breathing, my father will want to be with him. He won't say it, but I'm sure that Lord Hanbei wants to see my father, too." Shojumaru spoke gallantly and, grasping a spear that looked much too big for him, dashed off toward the foothills.

  Hideyoshi walked off in the opposite direction, gradually lengthening his stride. Lamplight spilled from one of the huts. It was the one Takenaka Hanbei slept in, and just at that moment the moon began to shine faintly over the roof. The doctor Hideyoshi had sent was at the bedside, as were Hanbei's retainers. The hut was hardly more than a wooden fence, but white coverlets had been piled on the rush mats, and in one corner stood a folding screen.

  'Hanbei, can you hear me? It's me, Hideyoshi. How do you feel?" He sat quietly at his friend's side, looking at his face on the pillow. Perhaps because of the darkness, Hanbei’s face was as luminescent as a jewel. One could not help shedding tears, wondering that a man could become so thin. It was a heartrending sight for Hideyoshi; just looking at the man was painful.

  "Doctor, how is he?"

  The doctor could say nothing. His silent answer meant that it was only a matter of time, but Hideyoshi really wanted to hear that there might be some hope.

  The sick man moved his hand slightiy. He seemed to have heard Hideyoshi's voice, and, barely opening his eyes, he tried to say something to one of his attendants, who replied, "His Lordship has been kind enough to come visit you…to be at your bedside…."

  Hanbei nodded but seemed to be fretful about something. He appeared to be ordering the man to help him up.

  "What do you think?" an attendant inquired, looking at the doctor. The doctor was hardly able to answer. Hideyoshi understood what Hanbei wanted.

  "What? You want to sit up? Why not stay in bed?" he said, soothing him as though he were calming a child. Hanbei shook his head slightly and once again chided his attendants. He was unable to speak in a loud voice, but his desire could plainly be seen in his hollow eyes. They gently raised the upper half of the sick man's plank-thin body, but when they tried to help him sit up, Hanbei pushed them away. He bit his lip and gradu­ally got out of bed. This act clearly require a huge effort on the part of a sick man who by now could hardly breathe.

  Transfixed by what they were witnessing, Hideyoshi, the doctor, and Hanbei's retainers could only hold their breath and watch. Finally, when he had crawled a few paces from his bedding, Hanbei knelt properly on the reed matting. With the sharp points of his shoulders, his thin knees, and his sallow hands, Hanbei looked almost like a young girl. He closed his mouth tightly and appeared to be controlling his breath. Finally he bowed so low that it seemed he might break.

  "My farewell to you is approaching this evening. Once again I must show my gratitude for the many years of your great benevolence." Then he paused for a moment. "Whether the leaves fall or bloom, live or die, when you reflect deeply on the matter, it would appear that the colors of autumn and spring fill the entire universe. I have felt that the world is an interesting place. My lord, I have been tied by karma to you and have re­ceived your kind treatment. When I look back, my only regret at parting is that I have been of no service to you at all."

  There was only a thread of his voice left, but it smoothly left his lips. Everyone present adjusted his posture and sat quietly at this solemn miracle. Hideyoshi, especially, straightened his back, hung his head, and, with both hands on his lap, listened as though he could not bear to miss a single word. The lamp ready to go out will flare up brightly just before it dies. Hanbei's life now was like that, for one sublime moment. He continued to speak, desperately struggling to leave Hideyoshi his last words.

  "All the events… all the events and changes the world will go through hereafter… I sympathize with truly. Japan is presently on the verge of a great change. I would like to see what will happen to the nation. This is what is in my heart, but my allotted span of life will not allow me to have my wish." His words gradually became more and more clear, and he appeared to be speaking with the last strength left to him. His body naturally gasped for air momentarily, but he controlled the heaving of his shoulders and held his breath to continue speaking.

  "But… my lord… do you, yourself, not think that you were chosen to be born in a time like this? Looking carefully at you, I cannot see in you the ambition to become ruler of the nation." Here he paused for a moment. "Until now, this had been a strong point and part of your character. It's rude of me to bring it up, but when you were Lord Nobunaga's sandal bearer, you put your whole heart into the duties of a sandal bearer and when you had the status of a samurai, you put all of your capacities into carrying out the duties of a samurai. Never once did you have the wild fancy of looking up and trying to launch yourself higher. What I fear most now is that—true to this mentality—you willcomplete your duties in the western provinces, or totally satisfy your commission from Lord Nobunaga, or again, that you will simply subdue Miki Castle, and that except for the close attention you pay to these things, you will not think about current events or of ways of distinguishing yourself."

  It was so quiet that it seemed as if no one else were in the room. Hideyoshi was listening so intently that it looked as if he could not lift his head or move.

  "But… the great capacity that a man needs to gain control over this kind of age is given by heaven. Rival warlords fight for hegemony, each of them bragging that no one but he will be able to bring a new dawn to the chaotic world and save the people from their distress. But Kenshin, who was such an excellent man, has gone on to his death; Shingen of Kai has passed away; the great Motonari of the western provinces left the world having advised his descendants to protect their inheritance by knowing their own capacities; and beyond that, both the Asai and the Asakura brought destruction upon themselves. Who is going to bring this problem to a conclusion? Who has the force of will to be able to create the culture of the next era and be accepted by the people? Such men are fewer than the fingers on one hand."

  Hideyoshi suddenly lifted his head, and a beam of light seemed to come directly at him from Hanbei's sunken eyes. Hanbei was close to death, and even Hideyoshi could not be sure of his own life span, but for a moment their eyes wrestled in silence.

  "I know that in your heart you are probably confused by the things I am saying, because you now serve Lord Nobunaga. I can understand your feelings. But Providence has clearly set him on
the stage to perform a difficult mission. Neither you nor Lord Ieyasu has the kind of spirit that is required to break through the present situation, nor the faith to rise above all the many difficulties that have presented themselves until now. Who, other than Lord Nobunaga, would have been capable of leading the country thus far through the chaos of the age? But that is still not to say that the world has been renewed by his actions. Just by subjugating the western provinces, attacking Kyushu, and pacifying Shikoku, the nation will not necessarily be pacified, the four classes of people will not live peace and harmony, a new culture will not be established, nor will the cornerstone of prosperity for succeeding generations be laid."

  Hanbei seemed to have reflected on these things deeply, drawing insights from wisdom of the ancient Chinese classics. He had compared the transitions of modern times with historical events and had analyzed the complex undercurrents of the present situation.

  During the years he had served on Hideyoshi's field staff, his mind had been forming a general view of Japan's development. His conclusions he kept secret. Was Hideyoshi “the next man"? Even among his retainers, who were close to him day and night, and who saw him fighting periodically with his wife, rejoicing over some trivial matter, looking dispirited, and talking foolishly—or who compared him in terms of appearance with the lords of other clans and did not find him superior at all—there did not seem to be one out often who considered their lord to have superior natural talents. But Hanbei did not regret having served at this man's side or having spent half his life for his sake, rather, he rejoiced greatly that heaven had bound him to such a lord, and he felt that life had been absolutely worth living right up to the point of his death.

  If this lord carries out the role that I believe he will, and accomplishes the great task of the future, Hanbei thought, my life will not have been in vain. My own ideals will most likely be carried out in the world in some form with his spirit and future. People may say that I died young, but I will have died well.