One of the scouts ran up to confirm the report. Very soon thereafter, a force of four or five hundred men joined the nearly six hundred troops led by Ikeda Shonyu, and the silhouettes of a thousand men moved together like merging schools of fish.
Sanzo finally trailed in after Yukisuke's men. The sentries on guard looking back to-the rear surrounded him with spears and brought him before Shonyu's camp stool.
Shonyu did not give Sanzo the opportunity to say anything unnecessary as he questioned him on the essential points of his mission.
By that time a number of flat-bottomed fishing boats that had been scattered along the bank began making their way across the water. Dozens of lightly armored soldiers leaned forward and leaped out, one after another, onto the opposite bank. The poles were then quickly set to bring the boats back to transport yet another group across.
In the twinkling of an eye, the only man left on the bank was Sanzo. Finally the shouts of the warriors shook the damp night sky, from the opposite bank to the area just below the castle. In that instant one corner of the sky turned red, and sparks danced and glittered above the castle town.
Shonyu's clever plan had worked perfectly. Inuyama Castle fell in only an hour, its defenders taken by a surprise that was made more complete by treachery inside the castle and the town. Treachery was certainly one reason why a castle with such good natural defenses fell in such a short time. But there was yet another reason: Shonyu had once been the commander of Inuyama Castle, and the townspeople, the headmen in the surrounding villages, and even the farmers still remembered their former master. Although Shonyu had sent retainers to buy off those men with money just before the attack, the success of the plan owed far more to his former position than to bribery.
* * *
A man belonging to an illustrious family in decline tends to attract a complicated set of characters. The farsighted, the frivolous, the men who deplore the present evils but are unable to speak their own words or offer loyal advice—all of those quickly leave the scene. And those who are sensitive to the trends but have neither the strength nor the talent to check the decline also move on at some point.
The only men remaining are of two kinds: those who have no outstanding talents that would support their lives elsewhere if they did leave, and those truly faithful men who are retainers to the very end, through poverty and decline, life and death, happiness and grief.
But who are the true samurai? Those who live expediently or those who remain simply for the sake of opportunism? This is not easily understood, because all of them use every bit of their ingenuity to deceive their lords into overevaluating their talents.
Although he was an opportunist, Ieyasu was a player of an entirely different cast from the infantile Nobuo, who knew absolutely nothing about the world. Ieyasu held Nobuo in the palm of his hand like a chessman-in-reserve.
“Well now, you've gone to extraordinary lengths, Lord Nobuo," Ieyasu said. "Really, I’ll just have a little more rice. I was brought up in a modest household, so both my palate and my stomach are overwhelmed by the luxury of tonight's meal."
It was the night of the thirteenth. When Ieyasu arrived in Kiyosu that afternoon, Nobuo took him to a temple where the two of them held secret talks for several hours. A banquet was held that evening in the guest rooms in the castle.
Ieyasu had not moved to the center even during the Honno Temple incident. Now, however, he was gambling the Tokugawa clan's entire strength—a strength he had spent many years in building up—and had ridden to Kiyosu himself. Nobuo looked to Ieyasu as his savior. He was going to do his best to entertain him, and now he put delicacies in front of him.
But to Ieyasu's eyes, Nobuo's hospitality was really nothing but immature child's play, and he could only feel sorry for the man. At a former time, Ieyasu had feasted and entertained Nobunaga for seven days when the latter was making a triumphal return from Kai on the pretext of sightseeing at Mount Fuji. When he recalled the scale of that event, Ieyasu could only pity the poverty of this evening.
A human being could only view the situation with pity, and Ieyasu felt his share. He was, however, a man who knew that the nature of the universe was change. So, even though he felt pity and sympathy in the middle of such a banquet, he did not suffer any pangs of conscience about his ulterior motive, which was simply to use this fragile and aristocratic fop as his own puppet. The reason was clear: there is no one more likely to kindle disaster than the foolish heir of an illustrious family who has been bequeathed both an inheritance and a reputation. And the more he is capable of being used, the more dangerous he becomes.
Hideyoshi most likely thought the same as Ieyasu. But while Hideyoshi considered Nobuo a hindrance to his own goals and thought of ways to dispose of him, Ieyasu was finding ways to use him. Those opposing viewpoints were based on the same fundamental goal for both Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. And no matter which man won, Nobuo's fate would be the same because he was simply unable to abandon the idea that he was Nobunaga's heir.
"What do you mean?" Nobuo said. "The real feast is just starting. It's a fine spring night, and it would be a shame to go to bed so soon."
Nobuo was trying his best to entertain Ieyasu, but the truth was that Ieyasu had work to do.
"No, Lord Nobuo. His Lordship shouldn't have any more sake. At least judging from the color of his face. Send the cup in our direction."
But Nobuo had not noticed the guest of honor's embarrassing boredom. His efforts were now guided by his misinterpretation of the sleepy look in his guest's eyes. He whispered to his retainers, and the sliding paper doors at the end of the room were quickly removed, revealing an orchestra and dancers. To Ieyasu it was the usual contrivance, but with a patient look he displayed interest at moments, laughed from time to time, and clapped his hands when the performance ended.
Taking this opportunity, his retainers tugged at Ieyasu's sleeve and quietly signaled him that it was time for bed, but in that very instant a comedian appeared with a flourish of musical instruments.
"For the honored guest this evening, we are now going to present a performance of Kabuki, recently received in the capital "
The man's loquacity was incredible. He then sang an introduction to the play. Then another actor introduced a stanza from a chorus and some chants from the Christian mass, which had recently been gaining favor among the lords of the western provinces.
He played an instrument that resembled the viola used in church services, and his clothes were embroidered with a Western-style design and trimmed with lace, dazzlingly harmonized with a traditional Japanese kimono.
The audience was impressed and fascinated. There was no doubt that what pleased the common man also gave pleasure to the great lords and samurai.
“Lord Nobuo, Lord Ieyasu says that he's getting sleepy," Okudaira said to Nobuo, who had been completely taken by the play.
Nobuo quickly got up to see Ieyasu off, walking him to his apartments himself. The Kabuki performance had not yet finished, and the viola, flutes, and drums could still be heard.
The following morning Nobuo arose at what was for him an exceptionally early hour and went off to Ieyasu's apartments. There he found Ieyasu ready with the fresh face of dawn, discussing some matter with his retainers.
“What about Lord Ieyasu's breakfast?" Nobuo inquired.
When a retainer told him that breakfast had already been served, Nobuo looked a little embarrassed.
At that point a samurai on guard in the garden and a soldier up in the reconnaissance tower yelled back and forth about something going on in the distance. That caught the attention of both Ieyasu and Nobuo, and as they sat silently for a moment, a samurai came up to make a report.
:Black smoke has been visible for a while now in the sky far off to the northwest. At first we thought it was a forest fire, but the smoke gradually changed its location, and then a number of other smoke clouds started rising into the sky."
Nobuo shrugged. If it had been the southeast, he might have thought of the battlef
ields in Ise or other places, but his expression indicated that he didn't understand at all.
Ieyasu, who had heard reports of Nakagawa's death two days earlier, said, "Isn't that the direction of Inuyama?" Without waiting for an answer, he gave orders to the men around him. "Okudaira, go take a look."
Okudaira ran down the corridor with Nobuo's retainers and climbed the reconnaissance tower.
The footsteps of the men hurriedly descending the tower clearly indicated that a disaster had already occurred.
It could be Haguro, Gakuden, or Inuyama, but whichever it is, it's in that area for sure,”Okudaira reported.
The castle had become as agitated as a boiling teakettle. The conch shell could be heard outside, but most of the warriors who immediately rushed around collecting their weapons did not notice that Ieyasu was already there.
When Ieyasu was informed for certain that the flames were coming from the direction of Inuyama, he yelled, "We've bungled it!" and hurried off in a way that was not typical of him.
He whipped his horse to a gallop and rode off toward the smoke in the northwest. His retainers rode at his right and left, not wishing to be left behind. It was no great distance from Kiyosu to Komaki, or from Komaki to Gakuden. From Gakuden to Haguro was another league; and finally, from Haguro to Inuyama, the same distance. By the time they arrived at Komaki, they knew the entire story. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the castle at Inuyama had fallen. Ieyasu reined in his horse and gazed steadily at the smoke rising from a number of places between Haguro and the neighborhood of Inuyama.
"I'm too late," he muttered bitterly. "I shouldn't be making mistakes like this."
Ieyasu could almost see the face of Shonyu in the rising black smoke. When he had heard the rumor that Nobuo had sent Shonyu's son back to his father, he had had misgivings about the consequences of Nobuo's good-natured act. Nevertheless, he did not think that Shonyu could have hidden his true posture and committed such an underhanded act with such cynicism and speed.
It's not that I didn't know Shonyu is such a crafty old fox, Ieyasu thought. There was no need to consider once again the strategic importance of the stronghold of Inuyama. Close as it was to Kiyosu, its importance in the war against Hideyoshi's army would only increase. Inuyama controlled the upper reaches of the Kiso River, the border between Mino and Owari, and the all-important crossing to Unuma. It was in a position worth a hundred ramparts, and now it had been lost to the enemy.
"Let's go back," Ieyasu said. "The way those flames are rising, there's no doubt that Shonyu and his son have already withdrawn to Gifu."
Ieyasu suddenly turned his horse around, and at that moment the expression on his face returned to normal. The feeling that he imparted to the retainers around him was one of confidence; he was certain he would more than make up for this loss. As they talked vehemently about Shonyu's ingratitude, deplored the cowardice of his surprise attack, and threatened to teach him a lesson on the next battlefield, Ieyasu seemed not to hear them. Grinning silently, he turned his horse back toward Kiyosu.
On the way back they ran into Nobuo, who had left Kiyosu a good bit later at the head of his army. Nobuo stared at Ieyasu as though his return were something completely unexpected.
"Was everything all right at Inuyama?" he asked.
Before Ieyasu could respond, laughing voices were heard among the retainers behind him. As he explained the situation to Nobuo, Ieyasu was truly kind and courteous. Nobuo was crestfallen. Ieyasu brought his horse alongside Nobuo's and comforted him.
"Don't worry. If we have had one defeat here, Hideyoshi will have an even bigger one. Look over there."
With his eyes he indicated the hill at Komaki.
Long before, Hideyoshi had made the acutely strategic observation that Nobunaga should move from Kiyosu to Komaki. It was really nothing more than a round hill only two hundred and eighty feet high, but it dominated the plain on which it stood and would be a convenient base from which to mount an attack in any direction. In a battle on the Owari-Mino plain, if Komaki was fortified, the western army would be impeded in its advance, and thus it would make an excellent location for strategies of both attack and defense.
There was really no time to explain all that to Nobuo, and Ieyasu turned around and pointed, this time speaking to his own retainers. "Start building fortifications on Mount Komaki right away."
As soon as he had given the orders, he began to trot alongside Nobuo, exchanging pleasant conversation with him as they rode back to Kiyosu.
At the time everyone thought Hideyoshi was in Osaka Castle, but he had been in Sakamoto Castle since the thirteenth day of the Third Month, the day Ieyasu was talking with Nobuo in Kiyosu. That kind of tardiness was not typical of him.
Ieyasu had already roused himself to action, completing his plans and making steady progress in his anticipated push from Hamamatsu to Okazaki and then Kiyosu; but Hideyoshi, who had often shocked the world with his lightning speed, was slow to start this time. Or so it seemed.
"Somebody come here! Aren't my pages here?"
It was the master's voice. And, as usual, it was loud.
The young pages, who had intentionally withdrawn to the faraway pages' room, hurriedly put away the game of suguroku they had been surreptitiously playing. From among them, the thirteen-year-old Nabemaru went running off as fast as he could to the room where his lord was repeatedly clapping his hands.
By now Hideyoshi had gone out onto the veranda. Through the front castle gate he could see the tiny figure of Sakichi hastening up the slope from the castle town, and, without looking around toward the footsteps behind him, he shouted out an order to admit him.
Sakichi entered and knelt in front of Hideyoshi.
After he listened to Sakichi's report of the situation at Osaka Castle, Hideyoshi asked, “And Chacha? Are Chacha and her sisters well, too?"
For a moment Sakichi displayed an expression that seemed to indicate that he didn't remember. To answer as though he had been waiting for that question would only make Hideyoshi suspicious (That damned Sakichi has found out), and would undoubtedly make him feel uncomfortable later on. The proof was that in the instant he had asked awkwardly about Chacha, Hideyoshi's lordly expression had crumbled and a blush filled what seemed to be his prevaricating face. He looked extremely self-conscious.
Sakichi alertly saw through his discomfort and could not help feeling amused.
After the fall of Kitanosho, Hideyoshi had cared for Oichi's three daughters as though they were his own. When he had built Osaka Castle, he had had a small, bright enclosure constructed just for them. From time to time he would visit and play with them as though he were taking care of some rare birds in a golden cage.
"What are you laughing about, Sakichi?" Hideyoshi challenged him. But he himself felt slightly amused. Obviously, Sakichi had already understood.
"No, it's nothing at all. I was distracted by my other responsibilities and returned without visiting the three princesses' quarters."
"Is that so? Well, fine." With that, Hideyoshi quickly changed the subject to other gossip. "What rumors did you hear around the Yodo River and Kyoto while you were on the road?"
Hideyoshi inevitably asked a question like that whenever he sent a messenger to a far-off place.
"Wherever I went, war was the only topic of conversation."
When he questioned Sakichi further about conditions in Kyoto and Osaka, he found out that everyone thought that the battle provoked by Nobuo would not actually be fought between Hideyoshi and the Oda heir, but that it would be between Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. After Nobunaga’s death, it was thought that peace would finally be established by Hideyoshi, but once again the nation had been divided in half, and the people's hearts were steeped in anxiety at the specter of a great conflict that would probably extend into every province.
Sakichi withdrew, and as he left, two of Niwa Nagahide's generals, Kanamori Kingo and Hachiya Yoritaka, appeared. Hideyoshi had been going to great lengths to ma
ke Niwa his ally because he knew that he would be at a serious disadvantage if he drove him into the enemy camp. Apart from the loss of military strength, Niwa's defection would convince the world that Nobuo and Ieyasu had right on their side. Niwa had been second only to Katsuie among Nobunagas retainers, and he was held in great respect as a man of rare gentility and sincerity.
It was certain that Ieyasu and Nobuo were also offering Niwa every enticement to join them. Perhaps finally moved by Hideyoshi's enthusiasm, however, Niwa had sent Kanamori and Hachiya as the first reinforcements from the north. Hideyoshi was pleased but was nevertheless not completely reassured.
Before nightfall messengers arrived three times with reports on the situation in Ise. Hideyoshi read the dispatches and questioned the messengers in person, entrusted them with verbal replies, and had letters of response written as he ate his evening meal.
A large folding screen stood in the corner of the room. A map of Japan on its two panels had been painted in gold leaf. Hideyoshi looked at the map and asked, "Haven't we heard from Echizen? What about the messenger I sent to the Uesugi?"
While his retainers made some excuse about the distances involved, Hideyoshi counted on his fingers. He had sent messages to the Kiso and to the Satake. The net of his diplomacy had been carefully thrown over the length and breadth of the country shown on the screen. By his very nature, Hideyoshi considered war to be the last resort. It was an article of faith with him that diplomacy itself was a battle. But it was not diplomacy for its own sake. Nor did it have its source in military weakness. His diplomacy was always backed up by military strength and was employed after his military authority and troops had been completely provided for. But diplomacy had not worked with Ieyasu. He had said nothing about it to anyone, but long before the situation had reached this pass, Hideyoshi had sent a man to Hamamatsu with the following message:
If you will take into consideration my petition to the Emperor last year for your promotion, you will understand my warm feelings toward you. Is there any reason we should fight? It is generally accepted throughout the nation that Lord Nobuo is weak-minded. No matter how much you wave the flag of moral duty and embrace the remnants of the Oda clan, the world is not going to admire your efforts as those of a man of virtue commanding a righteous army. In the end, there is no value in the two of us fighting. You are an intelligent man, and if you come to terms with me, I will add the provinces of Owari and Mino to your domain.
TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN Page 132