by Nogami Yaeko
Usually Hidenaga liked tea with a full body, and when Rikyū made tea for him, he used two big scoops of powdered tea leaf. But today, because of Hidenaga’s delicate state, he used only half that amount.
“Weak tea tastes excellent with chestnuts boiled in broth,” Hidenaga said, praising the sweets that Rikyū had served him before preparing the tea. Inexplicably, Hidenaga suddenly thought about Kokei, who had been exiled to Kyūshū in September. “Where is Kokei now?”
“I heard he is in Hakata.”
“Hakata. I see. Is he at a temple there?”
“I’m told he’s at Daidōan Hermitage. It’s a smaller sub-temple connected to the main temple complex in the city.”
“Do you ever hear from him?”
“Since he was the one who upset Hideyoshi, who is my lord, we do not correspond with each other. But Sōtan occasionally sends a note when it’s convenient.”
Kamiya Sōtan, a wealthy merchant, was also one of Rikyū’s students. He was permitted to visit Hideyoshi occasionally through tea gatherings. But when Kamiya had begun supplying munitions for attacking Shimazu, he and Hideyoshi had grown closer. Hidenaga had begun to socialize more with Kamiya also. Before his health started to deteriorate, Hidenaga had gone to the battles in Kyūshū, so he was familiar with the Hakata area. Unlike the remote region of Hyūga, where Hidenaga had camped during the campaign against Shimazu, the city of Hakata was a thriving port like Kyōto, Sakai, or Ōsaka. It was a world unto itself. If Kokei was there and Kamiya was taking care of him, his exile might not be too miserable.
Those thoughts ran through Hidenaga’s head as he watched Rikyū gracefully rinse the tea bowl, and at the appropriate moment he gave Rikyū permission to formally conclude the tea ceremony. But Rikyū’s mind was focused on a more active solution: Kokei must be brought back to Kyōto, by any means necessary. But it had to be done at the right time, neither too early nor too late. Hideyoshi’s unpredictable anger never lingered long. As long as people remembered and talked about someone who had been exiled, Hideyoshi would remember that person, and think about their good points. However, once people forgot about someone who had been banished, Hideyoshi would also forget, and that person was less likely to be forgiven. Sōji’s exile was a good example.
To get Kokei out of exile, Rikyū had to rely on Hidenaga. If Hidenaga was willing to intervene, everything else would fall into place. Rikyū knew that Hidenaga was sympathetic to Kokei, but Kokei was a criminal who had been exiled, so Rikyū couldn’t display any of his personal affection for Kokei in front of Hidenaga. It had only been two months since September, when Kokei had left for Kyūshū, and plans for his return must be laid gradually.
Even though Rikyū often saw Hidenaga around Jurakudai, it was rare for the two of them to be alone together. Tonight would be the right time to broach the subject of Kokei’s return, and the tearoom was the perfect place to have such a conversation.
There were no servants waiting outside the room, and the room was enclosed with heavy paper screens. The golden screens surrounding the tea space gave their conversation an extra layer of privacy. Rikyū put away the tea utensils.
“Since you brought up the topic of Kokei,” Rikyū began, “I mentioned before that Kamiya and Shimai Sōshitsu are helping Kokei secretly, but since he has been exiled, they cannot be too open about it. They are anxious to know if there is anything they could do to help release him from this punishment. I told them that, as we all know our lord’s temper, there may be a chance for Kokei if we beg our lord to forgive him. But it’s not like setting up trade with a European ship; we can’t choose the date. We just have to wait patiently. I was thinking, though, that these merchants in Hakata are anxious to see this situation resolved. If our lord were to decide to forgive Kokei quickly, they would be thankful for his generosity to the marrow of their bones.”
Rikyū said no more. He knew he could get farther by stressing the interests of the wealthy merchants who were taking care of Kokei rather than the interests of Kokei himself. Hideyoshi’s will to expand his power was not limited to Japan any longer. Ever since he attacked Lord Shimazu, his determination to send troops overseas had grown. Odawara still remained to be dealt with. Although Hideyoshi did not openly discuss the possibility of sending troops to China once Odawara was defeated, rumors were spreading. When the time came, Hakata would be important not only for launching ships, but as a source of weapons, armor, food, and munitions imported from Europe and elsewhere. The good will and cooperation of the influential merchants in that city would be crucial. If that connection were emphasized to Hideyoshi, things would work out naturally.
Rikyū did not make an open appeal to Hidenaga. There was no need to. Although Hidenaga had a gentle demeanor, his wits were as keen as his brother’s, and having tuberculosis made him rely more on his mind. He knew what Rikyū was asking him to do. And just as Rikyū did not need to plead to him in words, Hidenaga would not need to speak directly to his brother. If there was a rumor that Hidenaga was interested in forgiving Kokei, that would be enough.
The small, spindle-shaped flame of the oil lamp near the alcove lit half of his face, and cast his shadow as a big, black, unmoving dot on the back of the screen. He sat still and quiet, listening to what Rikyū said, not showing any sign of whether he was interested in helping Kokei or not.
The truth was that Hidenaga wasn’t thinking of Kokei or of forgiveness. He was contemplating how Rikyū had introduced the topic. Hidenaga’s mind kept going back to the idea of sending troops to China. His brother, who thought of his rise to become the most powerful man in Japan as a big gamble, longed for an even bigger gamble, with an even bigger reward. Even the shōguns Yoritomo and Takauji, Japan’s greatest warriors, had never gained any power beyond their own borders. Invading a country across the ocean would be a heroic task for Hideyoshi to accomplish, even with his ambition, passion, and vanity. Once Odawara was defeated, the task of unifying Japan would be complete. This new project would focus Japan’s military power—and the attention of its warriors—outside its borders. This was the best way to keep the lords of Japan from fighting among themselves or, worse, turning on Hideyoshi. The bigger aim was to reopen trade with Ming China, which had ceased long ago. Hidenaga knew that sending troops to China was one way of accomplishing that goal, but he couldn’t help but think that there was a limit to everything. And now, with his health declining, he valued safety and tranquility even more.
Hidenaga admired his brother’s achievements and his desire to live to the fullest in spite of his age—a desire that was so completely opposite Hidenaga’s own. But Hidenaga worried that Hideyoshi was already past fifty, and was pushing himself too hard. That fear was the root of Hidenaga’s negative reaction.
Hideyoshi often described the details of his plan to attack Odawara. Whether it was juggling politics or strategies for positioning troops, it was as if he were moving miniatures around on a table. He didn’t have such precise plans for sending troops to China. Was it more of a wonderful dream and therefore hard to plan concretely? Was it simply an idea that had yet to gel? Surely Hideyoshi must be aware of the problems that Hidenaga foresaw.
Sitting in its sunken hearth, the otogoze kettle sang quietly in the short silence that fell between Rikyū and Hidenaga. On the surface, Hidenaga was listening vacantly to the sounds of the kettle. The noise, like a breeze rustling through pine trees, resonated in his mind, stirring something inside of him. What did Rikyū think about Hideyoshi’s plans? Hidenaga had always thought highly of Rikyū’s discernment, precise judgment, and multifaceted talents. He thought Rikyū’s talents went beyond those of a mere tea master, and the temptation to say so rose from the bottom of his chest like the blood he had coughed up earlier. Instead, he said, “Sōeki, could you find a good tea bowl for me?”
“Certainly. What kind of tea bowl do you wish for?”
“I leave it up to you. It could be a new Raku. I would like something red and bright.”
“I’ll keep th
at in mind.”
In that brief exchange, there was no Kokei, no sending troops to China. In those moments, Hidenaga was there only to enjoy the tea made by Japan’s best tea master, to sit inside the space contained within the golden screen that glimmered in the cold, dull light—so perfect for a night in autumn—and to enjoy talking about tea utensils.
“Well, thank you for the tea,” he said, and shortly afterward, he excused himself. As he went into the hall, he heard a voice singing a line from a Noh play: “Sharing cups of sake, we brave warriors join together in a banquet …”
It was the beginning of Rashōmon, and Hidenaga recognized the loud, energetic voice as Konparu Hachirō’s. Hideyoshi must have asked him to sing. He’d probably asked Shundō Rokuemon to dance, too, thought Hidenaga. Hidenaga had studied with Hachirō before Hachirō began teaching Hideyoshi, and Hachirō often expressed his gratitude for Hidenaga’s patronage. It was widely acknowledged that Hidenaga was more skilled at Noh than Hideyoshi, although it wasn’t certain whether Hidenaga knew that people said this. Hidenaga never wanted to be on stage with Hideyoshi; it was Hidenaga’s nature not to want to embarrass his brother.
As Rikyū saw Hidenaga off, he thought that it was rare to see such different brothers. He noticed that the imperial regent’s brother had lost quite a bit of weight. Hidenaga’s back was visibly thinner than before, and his skinny neck looked pale against his yellowish-green jacket.
Rikyū hurried back to the tearoom. If Hideyoshi was going to ask him to make tea, it would be soon.
When he compared the younger and older brothers in his mind, Rikyū’s opinion of Hideyoshi was not always positive. But he pushed the thought down to the depths of his mind until it was like a bug squirming in a deep hole, and once again became the modest tea master. He took the kettle off of its trivet and rearranged the charcoal in the sunken hearth to keep the fire burning, taking care to make the arrangement tasteful. When he had finished, he added some water to the kettle. He wouldn’t let anyone else arrange so much as the wick of an oil lamp in the tearoom. Going through these routine preparations, Rikyū’s movements were even more natural and graceful than when he sat down to formally prepare tea. It was a solemn, focused state in which he transcended himself.
At that moment, he was not a retainer preparing to receive his lord for tea, nor was he bowing down in order to receive a three-thousand-koku salary. Rather, in stark contrast to the pitiful gambler who was struggling to dominate the whole of Japan, Rikyū sat in the isolated, modest space created by the golden screen and was divinely transcendent. It was a small, secure cosmos of harmony and order that only he could create.
7
In the fall, a full year later, Kokei was forgiven. Of course, Hidenaga was the main actor behind the covert effort, although publicly he didn’t appear to be involved.
The timing was perfect. Hideyoshi’s mistress Cha Cha had just given birth to a boy. For Hideyoshi, the joy of being a parent at the age of fifty-two, and the satisfaction of now having a successor when he had almost abandoned all hope, eclipsed everything else. Kokei’s problem was nothing compared to that joy. In June, everything was settled, but because Kokei had become ill, he did not return until the fall.
Perhaps to show that he held no grudge, Hideyoshi told Rikyū that he might build a temple for Kokei once he returned. It seemed as likely to happen as Tenshōji Temple had been.
Kokei did not believe that Hideyoshi intended to build him a new temple any more than Hideyoshi had planned to fulfill his earlier promise to build Tenshōji Temple. But this time he was relieved that Hideyoshi was not going to keep his word. Kokei settled back in at Sōkenin as before, with Daitokuji Temple under the leadership of Shunoku Sōen, successor to Abbot Shōrei. In contrast with Kokei, Shunoku’s agile, boyish face showed that he had been open-minded since he was young. As he got older, he put all of his effort into cultivating the detachment of a Zen monk, leaving the practical matters to others.
Because of this, as soon as Kokei returned to Kyōto, he effectively became the head monk of Daitokuji Temple. The lack of firm management during his absence showed in the delayed construction of the main gate. He had tried to finish the construction in one push, but even though it had been close to completion when he left, the work had slowed to a near standstill. Now, because his status as a former exile meant he had to work even harder as penance, he was able to focus on the construction seriously, without any interference.
He was more than the master builder, the plasterer, the stone master, or the lacquer artist. He was an organizer, a commander of each work post. If his life had turned out differently, he could have been a general leading an army. His ability to get the construction back on schedule was just one more bit of proof that under his black robe he had the blood of a warrior.
Because of the unusually good weather that autumn, the workers made excellent progress. By the beginning of November, the gate was almost ready for its official inauguration.
Though his money funded the gate, Rikyū had been too busy to come and see the progress firsthand. Recently, he had complained to his wife that he didn’t even have time to have a bowl of tea. Hideyoshi had spent his days and nights going from one event to the other since the beginning of spring—the restoration of Yodo Castle, the birth of his successor Tsurumatsu, which had brought him many baby gifts and a rain of congratulations at the court—and as his primary tea advisor, Rikyū was called upon more than any of the other tea masters. This showed how important Rikyū was to Hideyoshi.
When Cha Cha—now called Yodo-dono in honor of her new status as the mother of Hideyoshi’s heir—entered Ōsaka Castle holding her newborn baby, there was a celebratory ritual equal to the welcoming ceremony for a new prince. Since the ceremony was held under Hideyoshi’s authority, nothing passed by without involving Rikyū. Hideyoshi’s rapture led to celebration after celebration, which for Rikyū meant tea gathering after tea gathering.
But as autumn stretched on, Hideyoshi began to focus his enthusiasm on the problem of Odawara. The political conflict had now reached the point of open war.
Both sides had tried to play for time. Hōjō Ujimasa had asked Ieyasu to mediate the conflict, since Ieyasu’s daughter had married Ujimasa’s heir, Ujinao. But when Ieyasu arranged a visit with Hideyoshi, Hōjō sent his uncle and his principal retainer instead of coming personally, effectively removing all chance for negotiation. Thus, Hideyoshi, ignoring his own promises to keep the peace, was preparing for war. He had learned that previous attacks by Uesugi and Takeda on Hōjō had failed because of an inadequate food supply, so he mobilized two hundred thousand soldiers and made sure to send enough food for them. He constructed roads, rebuilt bridges, and distributed relay stations and horses on land while keeping his navy and transport ships ready at every possible port to help keep the supply lines open. Even before the battle began, there were skirmishes as he secured transportation routes.
Meanwhile, Hōjō tightened his fortifications. As another delaying tactic, he sent word that he would visit Jurakudai to show his submission, but in exchange, he wanted the land of Ueno. Hideyoshi accepted the terms, and ordered Sanada Masayuki, the lord of that area, to hand the land over to Hōjō. The Sanada family, which drew eighty thousand koku a year in rent, wasn’t happy to lose the land, but they agreed—with a condition of their own: they would not hand over the land that contained their family cemetery at Nagurumi Castle. Both sides accepted that condition, but Hōjō took all of the land at Ueno, including Nagurumi, ignoring the contract. That brought an end to the last round of negotiation, and became a perfect excuse for Hideyoshi to cast blame on the Hōjō clan, saying it was Odawara who was provoking the conflict.
Hideyoshi immediately informed the lords of all of the other provinces about what had happened. He told them that all of his prior actions, including the battles at Yamazaki and Shizugatake and his attacks on western Japan, had been taken in order to preserve the peace and order in Japan. As Kampaku Dajyōdaijin, the imperia
l regent, he was in political charge of the state. Hōjō Ujimasa and Ujinao’s rebellion and the default on their contract were all acts of open defiance of the emperor, a violation of the laws of nature. They must be punished.
In this way, he put the finishing touches on his preparations for war. The Hōjō family became not only Hideyoshi’s enemies, but also traitors whose blood had to be shed in order to keep the peace.
Only half a month before the formal declaration of war, Rikyū finally had the opportunity to take a quick kago palanquin ride to Daitokuji. On that day, Jurakudai was already busy with the comings and goings of lords and warriors, but with a little effort, Rikyū was able to slip out.
A couple of days before, he had received a message that his statue had finally been completed. Hasegawa Tōhaku, the famous painter, had sketched out the design, and Kokei and the others had had Ankei, a sculptor who specialized in images of the Buddha, carve the statue.
The construction area at the main gate was still cluttered with wooden boards, dirt, sand, wood shavings, and empty straw bags. In one corner was a pile of leftover tiles, and nearby were a number of barrels used for kneading lacquer. On the ground was a mangled hat that would have fit better on someone’s foot than on his head. The mess showed the vigor of a construction project near completion. The carpenters were perched on the boards as before, looking like birds in a cage. The details of the gate were finished, but they needed a final shaving, polish, and lacquer.