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

by Eiji Yoshikawa

It had only taken three hours. There was no doubt that Yojiro had just now received one more piece of bad news. And he had lost the courage to relay the matter to Mitsuhide. Reprimanded by his lord, Yojiro once again descended the hill. Looking around, he feebly leaned against the trunk of a pine and stared up at the stars.

  A horseman rode up to Yojiro and halted in front of him.

  "Friend or foe!" Yojiro shouted, challenging the stranger with the spear he had been using as a staff.

  "Friend," the rider replied as he dismounted.

  Just by looking at the shambling gait of the man, Yojiro could see that he was seriously wounded. Yojiro walked toward him and offered him his arm.

  "Gyobu!" Yojiro said, recognizing his comrade. "Hold fast! Lean on me."

  "Is that Yojiro? Where is Lord Mitsuhide?"

  "On top of the hill."

  "He's still here? This is a dangerous place for him now. He must leave right away.”

  Gyobu went up to Mitsuhide and prostrated himself in front of him, almost falling on his face. "The entire army has been routed. The dying fell on top of the dead; so many achieved glorious deaths in battle that I cannot remember their names."

  Looking up, he could only see Mitsuhide's white face. It seemed as though it were floating beneath the dark shape of the pines. Mitsuhide said nothing, as though he had not been listening.

  Gyobu went on, "At one point, we pressed close on Hideyoshi's center, but when darkness fell our retreat was cut off, and we could no longer find Lord Dengo. General Sanzaemon's division was surrounded by the enemy, and extremely bitter fighting ensued. He was able to escape with only two hundred men. His last words were, 'Go immediately to Onbozuka and tell His Lordship to withdraw to Shoryuji Castle as fast as he can, and then either prepare to hold the castle or retreat toward Omi during the night. I will act as his rear guard until then. After we receive news that His Lordship has withdrawn, we will gallop straight into Hideyoshi's camp and fight to the death.'"

  Mitsuhide was still silent. When Gyobu had finished giving his report, he collapsed and breathed his last.

  Mitsuhide stared at him from his seat and then looked vacantly at Yojiro. He asked "Were Gyobu's wounds deep?"

  "Yes, my lord," Yojiro answered, tears filling his eyes.

  "He seems to be dead."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Yojiro," Mitsuhide suddenly said in an entirely different tone. "What did the previous messenger report?"

  "I will not conceal anything from you, my lord. Tsutsui Junkei's army appeared on the field and attacked our left wing. Saito Toshimitsu and his entire corps did not have the strength to hold them off, and they were completely routed."

  "What! Was that it?"

  "I knew that if I told you that now, it would be hard to accept. I had truly hoped to tell you when it wouldn't add to your unhappiness."

  "This is the world of men." Then he added, "It makes no difference."

  Mitsuhide laughed. At least it was something like a laugh. Then he abruptly waved toward the rear of the camp and impatiently called out for his horse.

  Mitsuhide had sent most of his troops to the front, but there should have been at least two thousand men in the camp with his senior retainers. Leading this force, Mitsuhide was ready to join up with what was left of Sanzaemon's corps and attempt one last battle. Mounting his horse, he yelled out the orders for the attack in a voice that resounded through Onbozuka. Then, without waiting for the soldiers to assemble, he turned his horse around and started to gallop down the hill, accompanied by a few mounted samurai.

  "Who are you?" Mitsuhide asked, bringing his horse to a stop. Someone had suddenly rushed out of the camp, run down the slope, and stood blocking the way, his arms stretched out wide.

  "Tatewaki, why are you stopping me?" Mitsuhide asked sharply. It was one of Mitsuhide's senior retainers, Hida Tatewaki, and he quickly grabbed the bridle of Mitsuhide's horse. The unruly animal stamped the ground, unable to control itself.

  "Yojiro! Sanjuro! Why didn't you stop him? Get off your horses, my lord," Hida Tatewaki said, scolding Mitsuhide's attendants. Then bowing in Mitsuhide's direction, he said, “The man before me is not the Lord Mitsuhide I serve. The war is not lost after one defeat. It is not like you to think about throwing away your life right after one battle. The enemy is going to ridicule us for having lost self-control. Even though you've been defeated here, you have a family in Sakamoto and several generals dispersed in the provinces just waiting for word from you. Surely you must not be without a plan for the future. First withdraw to Shoryuji Castle."

  "What are you talking about, Tatewaki?" Mitsuhide shook his head almost in time with his horse's mane. "Are all the men we've lost going to rise up once again and regain their high spirits? I cannot abandon my men to the enemy and let them be killed. I'm going to deal one good blow to Hideyoshi and punish Tsutsui Junkei's treachery. I'm not looking for a place to die in vain. I'm going to show them who Mitsuhide is. Now let me pass!”

  "Why are my wise lord's eyes so wild? Our army received a blow today, and at least three thousand men died while countless others were wounded. Our generals were struck down, and our new recruits have been scattered. How many soldiers do you think are left this camp now?"

  "Let me go! I can do exactly as I please! Let me go!"

  "It's exactly that kind of irresponsible talk that proves you're only rushing off toward death, and I'm going to do my best to stop you. It would be one thing if there were still three or four thousand obstinate men here, but I suspect there are only four or five hundred who will be trailing behind you. All the others have slipped out of camp since morning and fled," Tatewaki said, his voice filled with tears.

  Is a man's intellect so frail? And once that intellect fails, does he simply become a madman? Tatewaki gazed at Mitsuhide's frenzy and wondered how the man could have changed so much. Shedding bitter tears, he could not help remembering how prudent and intelligent Mitsuhide had once been.

  Other generals now stood in front of Mitsuhide's horse. Two of them had already been on the front lines, but, concerned for their lord's safety, they had come back to the camp. One of them said, "We all agree with Lord Hida. Shoryuji is nearby, and it's certainly not too late to go there first and work out a strategy for our next step."

  "As long as we're here, the enemy forces will be drawing closer and closer, and everything could come to an end right in this spot. We should whip our horses and move on to Shoryuji as fast as we can."

  Tatewaki no longer asked what his lord's intentions were. He had the conch shell blown and quickly ordered a retreat to the north. Yojiro and another retainer abandoned their own horses and walked, each grasping the bridle of their master's horse and leading it to the north. The other soldiers and commanders on the hill followed them. But, just as Tatewaki had said, they numbered no more than five hundred men.

  Miyake Tobei was the commander of Shoryuji Castle. Here, too, there were nothing but omens of defeat, and a desolate mood of doom filled the castle. Surrounded by faintly flickering lanterns, all present deliberated over how to save themselves. As they searched for some rational conclusion, even Mitsuhide realized that there was nothing to be done.

  The sentries outside the castle had repeatedly reported the approach of the enemy, and the castle itself was not strong enough to resist the crushing force of Hideyoshi’s army. Even Yodo Castle had been in this condition when he had ordered its repair some days ago. It was not unlike beginning to build a dike only after hearing the sounds of the billowing waves.

  Perhaps the only thing Mitsuhide did not regret at this point was that a number of his generals and soldiers had remained loyal and fought a furious battle, poignantly demonstrating their loyalty. It was, in one sense, paradoxical that there were men within the Akechi clan—the clan that had struck down their own lord—who would still not break the bond between lord and retainer. Clearly Mitsuhide was a virtuous man, and those men were manifesting the ironclad law of the samurai.

 
For that reason, the number of dead and wounded was unusually high, even though the battle had lasted no more than three hours. It was later estimated that the Akechi had suffered more than three thousand casualties, while Hideyoshi's forces had lost more than three thousand three hundred. The number of wounded was incalculable. Thus one might understand the great spirit of the Akechi forces, which was in no way inferior to that of their general. Considering the small size of Mitsuhide's force—nearly half the size of his enemy's—and the disadvantageous ground on which it fought, his defeat was not one that could be ridiculed by the world.

  * * *

  The moon of the thirteenth day of the Sixth Month was blurred by thin clouds. One or two mounted warriors rode separately on ahead, while others followed a little behind. Thirteen mounted men rode in scattered groups from north of the Yodo River toward Fushimi.

  When they had finally entered a dark trail in the depths of the mountain, Mitsuhide turned and asked Tatewaki, "Where are we?"

  "This is Okame Valley, my lord."

  Speckles of moonlight spilling through the branches fell on Tatewaki and the men who followed behind.

  "Do you plan on crossing to the north of Momoyama and then coming out to the Kanshu Temple Road from Ogurusu?" Mitsuhide asked.

  "That's right. If we pursue this course and get close to Yamashina and Otsu before it gets light, we won't have to worry."

  Shinshi Sakuzaemon suddenly stopped his horse a little in front of Mitsuhide's and signaled them to be quiet. Mitsuhide and the horsemen following him also stopped. Without so much as a whisper, they watched Akechi Shigetomo and Murakoshi Sanjuro as they walked ahead as scouts. The two riders had stopped their horses next to a stream and signaled for the men behind them to wait. They stood there for some time, listening.

  Was it an enemy ambush?

  Finally, a look of relief appeared on their faces. Following the signals of the two men motioning ahead of them, they once again quietly moved forward. Both the moon and the clouds appeared to be hanging in the middle of the midnight sky. But no matter how stealthily they advanced, when the horses started up the slope, they kicked up stones or stepped on rotten wood, and even the echoes of such little sounds awakened the sleeping birds. Each time it happened, Mitsuhide and his followers quickly restrained their horses.

  After their horrible defeat, they had fled to Shoryuji Castle and rested. Later they had disussed what was to be done, but in the end, the only possible plan was to retreat to Sakamoto. All of his retainers had prevailed on Mitsuhide to be patient. Leaving Miyake Tobei in charge of the castle, Mitsuhide slipped out at dusk.

  The force that followed him right up to the time he left Shoryuji still numbered about four or five hundred men. But by the time they entered the village of Fushimi, most of them had deserted. The few who remained were his most trusted retainers, and they numbered only thirteen men.

  "A great number of us would only stand out to the enemy, and anyone who hasn't resolved to accompany our lord in either life or death would only be a hindrance. Lord Mitsuharu is in Sakamoto along with three thousand troops. All I care about is getting there safely. I pray to the gods to help our poor lord."

  The loyal retainers who remained comforted each other in this way.

  Although the area was hilly, it had no really steep places. The moon was visible, but because of the rain, the ground beneath the trees was muddy, and the road was dotted with puddles.

  In addition, Mitsuhide and his retainers were exhausted. They were already close to Yamashina, and if they could only get to Otsu, they would be safe. That was how they encouraged each other, but to the tired men themselves it seemed more like a hundred leagues.

  "We've entered a village."

  "This must be Ogurusu. Go quietly."

  Thickly thatched mountain huts could be seen here and there. Mitsuhide's followers would have liked to avoid such human habitations as much as possible, but the road led between the houses. Fortunately, not a light was showing. The houses were surrounded

  by large bamboo thickets under a white moon, and all indications were that everyone was deeply asleep, completely unaware of the world's confusion.

  With narrowed eyes that pierced the darkness, Akechi Shigetomo and Murakoshi Sanjuro scouted far ahead, riding along the narrow village road without mishap. Stopping where the road wound around a bamboo thicket, they waited for Mitsuhide and his group.

  The figures of the two men, and the reflection of their spears, could be clearly seen from the shadows of the trees that stood fifty yards ahead.

  The sound of bamboo being trampled and the grunt of a wild animal suddenly exploded from the darkness.

  Tatewaki, who was leading his horse ahead of Mitsuhide, instinctively looked behind. Darkness lined the brushwood hedge of a hut covered by the gloom of the bamboo thicket. Some twenty yards behind, Mitsuhide's silhouette stood out as if he had been nailed to the spot.

  "My lord," Tatewaki called.

  There was no answer. The clumps of young bamboo swayed in a windless sky.

  Tatewaki was about to turn back, when Mitsuhide suddenly spurred his horse forward and passed in front of him without a word. He was slumped over the horse's neck. Tatewaki thought it strange, but nevertheless followed along behind, as did the others.

  They galloped along the road in this manner without incident for about three hundred yards. After joining up again with the two scouts, the thirteen men continued to advance, with Mitsuhide riding sixth from the front.

  Suddenly, Murakoshi's horse reared up. In that instant, his drawn sword swept by the left of his saddle.

  A loud clanging sound rang out as the sword cut the sharpened tip of a bambo spear. The hands that held the spear quickly disappeared into the bamboo thicket, but the others had clearly seen what had happened.

  "What was that? Bandits?"

  "It must be. Watch out, they seem to be somewhere inside this big bamboo thicket.”

  "Murakoshi, are you all right?"

  "What, you think I'm going to be hurt by the bamboo spear of some wandering thief?"

  "Don't be distracted! Just hurry along. Distractions will be nothing but trouble."

  "What about His Lordship?"

  All of them turned around.

  "Look, over there!

  Suddenly they all turned pale. About a hundred paces in front of them, Mitsuhide had fallen from his horse. Worse, he was writhing on the ground, groaning in agony, and looked as though he was unable to stand up again.

  "My lord!"

  Shigetomo and Tatewaki dismounted, ran up to him, and tried to lift him back into the saddle. Mitsuhide no longer seemed to have the will to ride. He simply shook his head.

  "What's happened to you, my lord?" Completely forgetting themselves, the other men

  crowded around in the dark. The groans of the suffering Mitsuhide and the sighs of the men filled the air. Just at that moment, the moon shone with special clarity.

  Suddenly the undisguised footsteps and screams of the bandits came clamoring noisily out of the darkness of the bamboo thicket.

  "It looks like the accomplices of the man with the bamboo spear are coming up at us from behind. It's the nature of these marauders to try to take advantage of any show of weakness. Sanjuro and Yojiro, take care of them."

  At Shigetomo's words, the men split up. A spear was quickly positioned and swords drawn.

  "Damn you!" With a thunderous yell, someone leaped into the bamboo thicket. A sound like a rain of leaves, or perhaps a pack of monkeys, split the silence of the night.

  "Shigetomo… Shigetomo…" Mitsuhide whispered.

  "I'm here, my lord."

  "Ah… Shigetomo," Mitsuhide said again. He then groped around as though searching for the arms that were supporting him.

  Blood was spurting from the side of his chest, his vision was fading, and he was finding it difficult to speak.

  "I'm going to bind your wound and give you some medicine, so be patient for just a little while."<
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  Mitsuhide shook his head to show that binding the wound would be unnecessary. Then his hands moved as though they were searching for something.

  "What is it, my lord?"

  "A brush…"

  Shigetomo hurriedly took out paper and ink and a brush. Mitsuhide took the brush with shaking fingers and looked at the white paper. Shigetomo knew that he would be writing his death poem and began to feel a choking sensation in his chest. He could hardly stand to see Mitsuhide writing such a thing now and in this place, and in his attachment to what he felt was his lord's greater destiny, he said, "Don't take up your brush now, my lord. Otsu is hardly a breath away, and if we can just find our way there, you'll welcomed by Lord Mitsuharu. Let me bandage up this wound."

  As Shigetomo put the paper on the ground and began to untie his own sash, Mitsuhide suddenly waved his hand with surprising strength. Then, with his left hand, he lifted himself off the ground. Stretching out his right hand, he grasped the brush with almost crushing strength and started to write:

  There are not two gates: loyalty and treason.

  But his hand shook so much that he seemed to be unable to write the next line. Mitsuhide passed the brush to Shigetomo. "You write the rest."

  Leaning on Shigetomo's lap, Mitsuhide turned his head toward the sky and gazed at the moon for a little while. When the color of death even paler than the moon had filled his face, he spoke with a voice surprisingly free of confusion and finished the verse.

  The Great Way penetrates the font of the heart.

  Waking from the dream of fifty-five years,

  I return to the One.

  Shigetomo put down the brush and began to weep. Just at that moment, Mitsuhide drew his short sword and cut his own throat. Sakuzaemon and Tatewaki ran back in shock and saw what had happened. Approaching the dead body of their lord, each man fell on his own blade. Another four men, then six, then eight surrounded Mitsuhide’s body in the same way and followed him in death. In no time at all, their lifeless bodies formed the petals and heart of a flower of blood on the ground.

  Yojiro had dashed into the bamboo thicket to fight with the bandits. Murakoshi called out into the darkness, worried that he might already have been cut down.