Azuchi Castle was a true monument to Nobunaga, built by Nobunaga. He’d tasked his loyal retainer lord, Niwa Nagahide, with overseeing the building, but attended to many of the intricate details himself. It was the first of its kind, and Nobunaga’s inspirations drove the resulting masterwork.
On the peak of the mountain, upon a colossal stone foundation, nearly eighty feet in height, there were seven stories to the donjon. The five lower floors were lacquered black, but the sixth rose up a brilliant vermillion red and then the seventh and last was pure gold. They shone in the light of day and would have looked almost as if the top of the castle itself were the sun, emanating glory over the surrounding world. It took the breath away.
The finest artisans available from Japan and China had labored on the intricate details, the carvings and the tiling using only the best materials known, challenging and pushing their skills to the extreme. Other castles Yasuke had seen had been affairs of plain undecorated wood and mud, simple weapons of war, strongholds to control tiny domains. This ostentatious magnificence was a palace as well as a weapon, built to make the world take a step backward and then genuflect to its lord. A building to control men’s minds as much as the landscape. The mountain base was encircled with moats and walled in smooth stone ramparts topped with tiled walkways which were repeated at different levels ascending the steep slopes, providing multiple levels of defense but also space for dwellings, storehouses, stables and temples. It had been designed with guns in mind. The location of the castle above the lake and upon the open plains afforded better visibility and lines of fire, while the numerous inner citadels gave defenders ample protection to shoot down on exposed attackers even if they had scaled the first wall and were forcing their way up the mountain. Yasuke was told that teams of thousands had toiled to pull the largest of the stones into place.
All visitors ascended the mountain up the wide steep, twisting stone stairs and cobbled roads, surrounded by high stone walls. Periodically each side opened on to wide plots of land, also surrounded with high stone ramparts, where senior lords kept their households. Each did their best to display the ultimate in elegance and beauty, thus forming a gilded winding avenue up the mountain to the peak where Nobunaga himself had his residence. Nearing the top, the plots of land became smaller; these were the abodes of Nobunaga’s wife, Nōhime, mother, Dota Gozen, sister Oichi, various concubines and high-ranking pages. Close at hand should the lord desire to call upon them. Here also were the administrative buildings and temples that served the center of power, the main stable and the guardhouses to protect them.
And above it all was Nobunaga’s yakata, his seven-story palace.
Upon entering and climbing through the first five floors, visitors were faced with myriad rooms decorated with gorgeous artwork. Each chamber had a different theme. Some were scenes of nature: wild geese on the wing, doves, pheasants feeding their young, a roundup of wild horses, trees, cliffs, bamboo and pine. Others were adorned with images of ancient Chinese scholars and stories from legend. Still more were painted in gold, while the tea room was simply done in flakes of gold dust on white. These were the audience and dining chambers where Nobunaga received guests and supplicants. Different themes for different moods, seasons and occasions. The most strikingly unusual and novel feature of these five stories, however, was that the center was hollow, a great chamber that stretched from bottom to top with a stage at the bottom from which audiences on all five floors could be entertained.
The sixth floor was in the shape of an octagon, about thirty feet in diameter. It was painted vermillion red with scenes from Buddha’s life and gorgeously carved balustrades adorned its curves. The top floor was a square box of gold, both inside and outside. An audience chamber for the emperor on his planned future visit. The pillars were painted with dragons and the walls decorated with pictures of ancient rulers and sages from Chinese history. It told the world Nobunaga was a modern-day incarnation of those revered sages, the wise, virtuous and rightful ruler of this Japanese realm, and perhaps the world.
* * *
After the first week, Yasuke was finally called to work.
Standing guard, his old weapons in hand for the first time in his lord’s presence, he watched as Nobunaga got on with his public business and diplomatic machinations in whichever of the audience rooms suited his mood and his guests’ rank that day. Yasuke’s responsibilities were not so different from much he’d done for Valignano. He was a bodyguard, yes, but even more so than with Valignano, his role was to impress, entertain and intimidate as much as fight. Nobunaga wanted someone who would, by looking good, make him look good too. Yasuke was the ideal choice.
He did his job well. He could see it in the eyes of the men who came to kneel before Nobunaga, whether they wished to curry favor or whisper of war. He could feel their startled gazes, hear their hushed questions. He might never be called to defend his master in his own home, but that didn’t matter. He was a strange and mysterious blade Nobunaga could wield at will, and that was enough.
When Nobunaga took the fancy, Yasuke and the warlord’s young samurai pages accompanied their lord on trips, galloping along dusty roads; visiting castles, temples and shrines; bathing in rivers, lakes and hot springs; and feasting on succulent trout, ice-cold noodles, and luscious fruits of the forest. They also hunted with hawks and bows, and engaged in contests of strength and speed. And, where strength was concerned, wrestling or weightlifting contests, Yasuke swept all opposition before him, no matter what he was challenged to do.
But Nobunaga clearly not only took a delight in Yasuke’s strength and body, but also his brain, speaking with him of the Jesuits, far-off lands, foreign tongues, hunting, and—Nobunaga’s favorite topic, and Yasuke’s foremost trade—warfare. Yasuke was an adept warrior with myriad stories and experiences to share with Nobunaga. His talks with Nobunaga grew over informal meals, or on walks and rides, when Yasuke was taken ostensibly as a weapon bearer, but fulfilled the role of confidant and tale teller as much as carrier. Nobunaga clearly reveled in talking with him. As the weeks went by, Yasuke became less of an exotic accessory and, increasingly, a useful member of Nobunaga’s inner circle. He provided a kind of companionship and familiarity that a Japanese person, tied up with cultural obligations and etiquettes, could not readily perform.
He was able to give Nobunaga a new view of warfare in terrains wildly different from Japan’s, with exotic tactics and weapons such as elephants and great cannon. Nobunaga, who’d successfully pioneered handheld guns and massed volley warfare in Japan, was just starting experiments in large gun use, having obtained a few pieces of ordnance through the Jesuits, and ached for a chance to try these out. However, the need for Nobunaga to govern his newly won territory as much as fight, meant most actual battles these days were done by senior underlings, themselves commanding many tens of thousands of their own retainers.
As Yasuke understood it, Nobunaga’s only serious competition for mastership of the main Japanese island of Honshu was now down to two enemies. First, there was Takeda Katsuyori, the lord of Kai in the extensive mountain ranges to the northeast, leader of a clan who’d fought the Oda for generations. Weakened by a decade of Oda victories, but never fully defeated, Takeda was one lord Nobunaga genuinely hated. And, second, was the powerful Mori clan in the far west, who were slowly being pushed back by Nobunaga into their distant heartlands. Yasuke could tell Nobunaga was itching to follow them all the way home. The Mori—the same clan who’d made sailing with pirates the best option a month earlier—were wealthy and had a formidable military. To continue his rise, Oda Nobunaga next needed these two foes out of the way.
* * *
One morning, two months after he began serving Nobunaga, Yasuke was called again to attend his new lord. They’d met in the second-highest level of Azuchi Castle, and Yasuke was not surprised when Nobunaga suggested a walk. Often, the warlord enjoyed a stroll to clear his mind and hear another of Yasuke’s childhood stories or of
the things he’d seen in India. By now there was nothing Nobunaga didn’t know about him—his strength had been proven, his mind and body had been tested, his loyalty was unquestioned. But Yasuke stood straight and still, ready for anything his lord commanded.
Yasuke and Nobunaga ambled out together, descending several flights of stairs until they were halfway down the castle mount. A fresh lake breeze cooled the early summer air and flowering plum blossoms and magnolia lined their path in snowy white. Wild hawks drifted overhead. And the warlord seemed in a peculiar mood today.
Nobunaga suddenly turned right, down a short path, through an opened gate and into a courtyard. Inside was a modest house, brand new, judging by the sweet resin smell of the fresh timber and the pale look of the unaged wood. Into the house they went; it was dim inside, but they passed from the entrance hall into a large room. Tree-dappled light entered through the open shutters and shone on the tatami nearest to him, so that it looked like dim gold.
The first thing Yasuke noticed was that the ceiling felt higher than normal. He hardly needed to stoop at all.
At the far end of the room was a simple black stand with a short sword cradled upon it. The artwork on the scabbard was exquisite, lacquered black with a gold inlaid Oda mokkou crest.
Yasuke wondered what it was all about. He imagined for one terrible moment that he was about to be ordered to take his life, but quickly disregarded this. He’d done nothing wrong. He and Nobunaga were still conversing pleasantly. How would he—
Nobunaga lifted his hands and indicated the dwelling. “It’s yours,” he said simply, and then laughed at Yasuke’s stunned expression. “I had it specially made for a giant!”
Yasuke eyed the building again, as if seeing it for the first time. He could hardly breathe.
“You are my black warrior,” Nobunaga said, reaching up to grip Yasuke’s shoulder. “The demon who will ride beside me into battle, the dark angel who protects me and my family up in my home.” He pointed. “The sword is a symbol of this. You are my samurai now. A member of the Oda clan.” And with that, he turned and walked out, indicating Yasuke should stay where he was.
Yasuke was dumbfounded. He did not yet fully understand what was going on or how to respond. But Nobunaga was already gone, so it was too late to say anything anyway. The African warrior just stood there.
In what may have been a long time later, or it may have been only a minute, the near silence of the room was broken by the rustle of socked feet on the tatami. Yasuke awoke from his dream to discover two people kneeling, their heads bowed and faces to the floor.
Servants. Awaiting his command.
A member of the Oda clan?
And something else Nobunaga had said. The words turning in Yasuke’s mind like someone trying to pick a lock somewhere deep inside him, fumbling for the precise combination.
You are my samurai now.
Seven thousand miles from the village he’d been born, it seemed he’d finally been welcomed home.
Chapter Thirteen
The Way of Warriors
After Nobunaga’s decree, and the short moment with the sword, there were no other formalities required. Yasuke was a samurai.
The samurai today are one of the most renowned groups of warriors in human history. Famous throughout the world for their fighting might and artistic prowess. At Yasuke’s time the samurai formed the ruling class and almost anybody of note in Japanese society was a samurai. The rest, for the most part, aspired to be. Much more than warriors, samurai also oversaw vast estates, commissioned huge building projects, engaged in learning, philosophy, social innovation, made laws, wrote poetry, enforced justice and patronized the arts.
Their status afforded them great respect from the people, and when a samurai rode or swaggered by, his two swords thrust into the sash at his waist, peasants and rich merchants alike would kneel and bow in the mud of the street.
The samurai, as an identifiable class, had not started out this way.
They began around the tenth century as guards and armed bailiffs tasked with guarding imperial property, and enforcing rents and servility among the tax-paying peasants. The tax code in Japan, based on a Chinese-inspired legal system depended, for the most part, upon rice collection. Other crops were generally not taxed, and wily farmers tried countless ways to reduce their rice crop and increase production of other useful plants, such as cotton or vegetables. That the peasants were not even allowed to eat their own rice—as it was too valuable for mere farmers to enjoy—only increased the need for enforcement of constant production and levies.
It took a nationwide conflict for them to advance from simple instruments of war and tax-collection muscle to the ruling class. From 1180 to 1185, Japan fought the Taira-Minamoto War (or Genpei War), named for the two imperial court factions who formed the primary belligerents. The Minamoto samurai clan emerged victorious and managed to turn their victory into a total usurpation of national power. The imperial family became rulers in name only, and entrusted governance to a shogun, a samurai military ruler. The samurai were now on top.
From 1185, the samurai formed the elite in society, but the word itself means “to serve,” and so the samurai warrior was taught from birth to, above all else, serve his master (also a samurai, though of a higher rank). The relationship between samurai great and small was characterized by rigid codes of honor and obligations from both sides in a codified system known as Bushido¯ (the way of warriors). The samurai expected himself, his family and his own retainers and household to be provided for by their lord, through income from fiefs worked by farmers, as well as other income sources such as trade, mining and toll collection. In return, the samurai would obey their lords’ summons to arms and, the higher the samurai’s income, the more men they were expected to bring along with them when their lord’s call for warriors went out. They also served as their lords’ civil servants, overseers and governance advisors.
During the fifteenth century and The Age of the Country at War, the endless battles took their toll on the limited ranks of the traditional samurai families, and many daimyō lords decided they needed to expand their armies. Gone were the days when a few hundred highly trained, magnificently attired samurai squared off against each other with swords in battle. By Yasuke’s era, the armies were tens of thousands strong and the need for cheap soldiers had provisionally overridden the need to keep peasants exclusively growing rice. Many men now regularly dropped their tools and lofted spears when they were called upon, leaving the women, elderly and children to work the fields until they returned, if they ever did. Eventually, as the wars expanded in scope, the distances covered made returning home regularly an impossibility. Many of the peasants now found themselves receiving regular wages and better arms from their lords and they held an ambiguous dual status as farmers and lower-ranking samurai, known as ashigaru. (The key difference from traditional samurai being that ashigaru were not normally permanently retained, nor did they hold fiefs.) This development led in many areas to a more assertive lower class with a sense of their own power and military utility. These farmers had now also been to war, and held a spear or fired a gun. No longer would they be so easily bullied around by the samurai. They wanted a bigger portion of the proverbial rice bowl, perhaps even with some real rice in it.
Thus, following The Age of the Country at War, there was no shortage of “samurai” in Japan. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps up to half a million, could have claimed the epithet, though few would have any real family pedigree beyond the last couple of generations in the elite warrior world.
A daimyō could call upon both direct personal retainers such as Yasuke, and part-time ashigaru warriors to swell his ranks. The direct personal retainers could be classified into four groups. Family members, hereditary vassals, officers of the levies and hatamoto, who were the lord’s personal attendants. Family members and vassals who held their own fiefs were expected to bring
their own samurai and ashigaru with them when called upon to fight.
It is not known exactly which rank Yasuke held, but it would probably have been equivalent to hatamoto. The hatamoto saw to the lord’s needs, handling everything from finance to transport, communications to trade. They were also the bodyguards and pages to the warlord, traveling with him and spending their days in his company.
As the realm became more and more divided during the great age of turmoil and the collapse of centralized power in Kyoto, other players saw an opportunity to enter the world of politics and war the samurai had dominated for hundreds of years. During the first half of The Age of the Country at War, these interlopers included monks from militant temples, self-governing peasant warriors such as ninja, pirate Sea Lords, and even merchant guilds and oligarchies in cities like Sakai. Sometimes these regional powers controlled whole provinces and seas. Vast areas, ruled not from Kyoto or from a samurai daimyō’s castle, but from an island fortress, a temple complex or a mountain village.
By Yasuke’s era, these competing players included the Jesuits, carving out their own domain in Nagasaki. Accordingly, when men like Nobunaga had amassed great power, one of the samurai’s primary responsibilities became not only to fight each other, but to reassert their authority upon these upstart lower-class and religious entities.
Prime among these threats to their power were the warrior monks and their followers. Temples had always been powerful, controlling vast estates of tax-exempt land donated by long-dead nobles or samurai wishing to buy a better deal in the afterlife. Similar to the Catholic Church in Europe, temples engaged in politics and intrigue, and eventually became embroiled in wars. These warrior monks, sohei, might be compared to religious orders like the Knights Templar or Teutonic Knights in Europe, strong warriors who believed they were fighting for their faith. At first, different temples fought among themselves, but as their strength became obvious, samurai would sometimes ally themselves to a temple and make use of the institution’s armed forces. The temples were well rewarded for their military assistance and became richer and more powerful.
Yasuke: In Search of the African Samurai Page 17