Seven Japanese Tales Read online

  In the meantime, the year 1582 had drawn to a close and we were well into the next year. But it was still bitterly cold in the North; there was not the least sign of a thaw. Lord Katsuie was always irritated, sometimes railing at “that insolent monkey,” and sometimes at his other enemy: “That damned snow!” Naturally, the New Year festivities had been a mere formality, you would hardly have thought we were celebrating the holidays. It seems that Hideyoshi intended to conquer all our allies before the snows were gone: with the coming of the new year we began to get reports that he had led another huge army into the field, invaded Isé and taken the lands of one of our supporters, and was going on from battle to battle. So, even though our province was quiet at the moment, we knew for certain there would be a struggle with him as soon as the spring thaw came. The whole castle was busy with preparations for war, everyone was in a turmoil.

  I was useless at a time like that, so I spent the days crouching alone by the fireside, feeling depressed. But it was my mistress that I worried about from morning till night. Alas, I thought, as things are now she probably never even has a chance for a quiet talk with her husband — maybe she should have stayed at Kiyosu if this is what marriage means for her. Of course, I hoped that our side would win, but might not this castle become another scene of bloodshed and suffer the same fate as Odani? I wasn't the only one who had such thoughts: the ladies in waiting talked of nothing else. “Don't be afraid!” they would say, trying to comfort each other. “Surely our lord won't be defeated! There's no use worrying about the future!”

  One day, just as we were all so distraught, Lord Kyogoku Takatsugu came to Kitanosho to seek Lady Oichi's protection. Earlier, at Kiyosu, he was only a boy; but since then he had grown up into a splendid young man, one who in the ordinary course of events would by now have been a full-fledged general. However, because he had betrayed Lord Nobunaga and gone over to the side of the rebel Mitsuhide, he was a hunted criminal. Pursued relentlessly by Hideyoshi, he had been in hiding first in one place and then another, all over Omi. Finally, with the spreading warfare in that region, he must have become desperate and decided to throw himself on the mercy of his aunt Oichi. Fleeing across the snowy mountains in a peasant's straw raincoat, he reached Kitanosho so haggard and emaciated that he could scarcely be recognized. When he was brought before Lady Oichi, he humbly appealed to her: “I beg you to give shelter to this poor fugitive. Whether I am to live or die depends entirely on my aunt.”

  Lady Oichi fixed her eyes on him for a moment. All she said was: “I am ashamed of you!” Then she sat there quietly weeping.

  Later, she must have made an eloquent plea on his behalf, for Lord Katsuie allowed him to remain at the castle. But perhaps our master forgave him because he took pity on anyone — even a traitor — who was being hunted down by Hideyoshi.

  Not long after, Takatsugu and Ohatsu were quietly engaged to be married. I heard something interesting about that from one of the maidservants: according to her, Takatsugu really wanted to marry Ochacha, but she refused him, saying: “I don't like outcasts,” and so he reluctantly decided on Ohatsu. Now, from the time she was a little girl Ochacha had had a great deal of pride; also, having been brought up in the sole care of her mother, she was badly spoiled. I wouldn't be surprised if she did say such a thing — and I'm sure Takatsugu would have resented being scorned as an “outcast.” Was it because the insult still rankled that years later, at the time of the Battle of Sekigahara, he turned traitor once more and went over to Ieyasu's side? Maybe I'm being suspicious again, but I have a notion that the real reason why he came to hide at Kitanosho was that he was longing to see Ochacha, the girl he fell in love with at first sight when he was at Kiyosu. Otherwise, why come all the way to Echizen, when his own sister was the wife of the powerful Lord Takeda? My mistress was only his aunt by her first marriage. It was absurd for a rebel like him to seek the protection of Lord Katsuie: one slip, and he might have ended with his head stuck on a pike. So I imagine it was because of Ochacha that he came fleeing to us through the snow, risking his life. It seems a great shame that such an ardent desire should come to nothing. Of course, this was still only a pledge of betrothal — a simple exchange of cups within the family circle — but I wonder if he turned to Ohatsu on the spur of the moment, rather than from any long-standing intention.

  It was around the end of February or the beginning of March when this happy event took place, in the midst of so much trouble and confusion. Already Sakuma Gemba had set out at the head of more than twenty thousand horsemen as Lord Katsuie's advance force, driving into northern Omi through the melting snowdrifts.

  Hideyoshi hurried up to Nagahama from his camp at Isé; and early the next morning, disguising himself as an ordinary foot soldier, climbed to the top of a mountain along with a few of his most trusted retainers and carefully studied Gemba's various outposts. “They look as if they won't be easy to take,” he said. “All we can do is fortify our own positions as strongly as possible, and then settle down to a long siege.” Intensifying his preparations, he made no attempt to go on the attack immediately.

  So another month went by, as the two armies confronted each other. Finally, in May, Lord Katsuie set out toward Nagahama. The cherry blossoms had fallen, even in the North: it was the time of year when one regrets the passing of spring. As this was her husband's first campaign since their marriage, Lady Oichi gave a farewell celebration for him in the main hall, ordering all sorts of auspicious delicacies. Lord Katsuie drank his saké cheerfully, and declared: “I'll destroy the enemy in a single battle and put Hideyoshi's head on display in the capital within the month. You'll have good news soon!” Then he got up to leave, and my mistress went to see him off at the inner gate. But they say that just as he was mounting his horse, using his bow as a staff to help himself up, the horse gave a sudden ominous neigh, and Lady Oichi blanched.

  However, it seems that this time Lord Nobutaka at Gifu had a secret agreement with us, and would once more turn against Hideyoshi's forces, and that another ally of the enemy would come over to our side in a few days. Besides, though Hideyoshi was a shrewd, resourceful general, Lord Katsuie was unsurpassed for his bravery and fighting ability. Above all, as the chief retainer of the Oda family he had the allegiance of a number of powerful men. Who could have imagined he would suffer such a stunning defeat?

  The battles of Yanagase and Shizugatake are so familiar that there's really nothing more to say about them, but I still can't get over Gemba's reckless insubordination. If he had listened to Lord Katsuie's orders, withdrawn immediately, and gone on the defensive, our Mino allies would have struck the enemy from the rear. Of course, no one knows how the battle would have turned out even so. But the fact is, Gemba called his uncle Katsuie a senile old man and paid no attention to his orders — for all the repeated warnings dispatched to him by high-ranking samurai. That is why his large army was routed. Still, the distance between Lord Katsuie's headquarters and Gemba's fortress was only a few miles, not more than fifteen or sixteen even by a roundabout way. They say that Lord Katsuie flew into a terrible rage, but why, in that case, didn't he rush over there himself and drag Gemba back with him? It wasn't like him to be so slow to act. Even if you couldn't say he was in his dotage, wasn't he a little slack, after all, now that he had a beautiful wife? I hate to say such a thing about him, but I'm afraid he was partly to blame for what happened.

  News reached Kitanosho on the twentieth of May that Gemba had taken an enemy fortress and cut off the head of one of Hideyoshi's allies. Everyone rejoiced at this, and considered it a very good omen. But that night enemy torches flared on the road from Mino and on all the hills and mountains along the way: they reddened the sky, outshining the waning moon, and gradually their number increased till the whole countryside looked like an enormous lantern festival. Hideyoshi must have galloped back from Ogaki all through the night; for we were told that fighting broke out on the other side of Lake Yogo around dawn, and that Gemba's camp was in danger. It was mid
-afternoon when a courier arrived with that news, and before long little bands of fleeing soldiers came running back to the castle. They said that our forces had suffered total defeat and that Lord Katsuie himself seemed to be in a hopeless situation. All of us were shocked and horrified, and wondered how it could be possible. That evening Lord Katsuie returned, looking miserable. Summoning his most trusted leaders, he said to them: “I have come to grief because Gemba disobeyed my orders, and the accomplishments of my whole life have been in vain. I suppose this is retribution for some past misdeed.” He seemed resigned to his fate, with all the calm one would expect of such a great warrior.

  No one knew whether or not his son Gonroku had survived the heavy fighting; Lord Katsuie himself was going to fight to the death at Yanagase, but Kekke Katsunosuke had strongly urged him to withdraw. “At least, go back to the castle and commit suicide in peace!” he pleaded. “I will take charge here.”

  So Lord Katsuie entrusted his golden battle-standard to Katsunosuke and galloped off toward Kitanosho. On his way he stopped to have a bowl of rice at Maeda Toshiie's castle at Fuchu. It seems that Toshiie left the castle with him, saying he wanted to be at his side to the end; but Lord Katsuie insisted that he turn back, and told him: “Unlike myself, you have always had good relations with Hideyoshi. Since you have already fulfilled your pledge to me, you should now make peace with him in order to keep your lands safe. I am very grateful for all that you have done in this campaign.” And he parted from him most amicably.

  That was on the evening of the twenty-first, and the next day the initial wave of the southern forces swept in to assault Kitanosho. Soon Hideyoshi arrived and established his command post on Mount Atago. The castle was surrounded.

  By this time everyone in the castle was prepared to die, so there was no panic even at the sight of the ring of enemy soldiers. On the night before, Lord Katsuie had summoned all his retainers and declared to them: “I intend to engage the enemy here, fight one last battle, and then kill myself. Those who want to stay on with me are welcome, but some of you must have parents still living or wives and children; the sooner such men return to their homes the better. I do not wish to see any innocent people suffer.”

  Since he let anyone go who wanted to, even hostages, those warriors who remained at the castle, while few in number, were all men who valued honor more than life itself. I need scarcely mention such illustrious samurai as Lord Wakasa, but think of his only son, Shingoro. Too sick to walk, Shingoro rushed to the castle by palanquin and posted this declaration on the great front gate: “I, Shingoro, seventeen years of age, son of Lord Wakasa, was prevented by illness from going to fight at Yanagase. I now take my place in the castle, and will do all I can to fulfill my obligations.”

  An even younger gentleman was Sakuma Juzo, who was fourteen. Since he was already the son-in-law of Maeda Toshiie, and still so very young, his retainers advised him to leave. “There is no reason why you should feel obliged to stand this siege,” they said. “Lord Toshiie will take you in — leave here and go to Fuchu!”

  But he refused, explaining: “For one thing, I am deeply indebted to Lord Katsuie, who has looked after me since my childhood and even bestowed a large estate on me. Perhaps I should try to escape in order to care for my mother, but I think it would be cowardly to prolong my life by clinging to my father-in-law's protection. Furthermore, if I stain our family name I will have disgraced my ancestors. For these reasons I intend to stay in the castle.” And he was prepared to die in battle.

  Again, Murakami Rokuzaemon took his place in the castle wearing a shroud. When he was ordered to escort Lord Katsuie's sister Suemori and her daughter away, he asked that the mission be given to someone else. But Lord Katsuie said: “No, I want you to do it. This is how you can best show your loyalty to me.” And so, reluctant as he was, Rokuzaemon fled with the two ladies to a nearby village. But at four o'clock on the afternoon of the twenty-second they looked back and saw smoke rising from the castle tower; whereupon all three committed suicide.

  Well, this is about as much as I remember, but I am sure that you have heard of these gentlemen before, since their names were on everyone's lips at the time. Indeed, there were some splendid men among them.

  I suppose you wonder how I escaped. Of course, I couldn't pretend to be helping in the defense, but I stayed on at the castle anyway. My life had been spared once, during the siege of Odani; and now I was ready to die without regret. To tell the truth, though, I intended to wait and see what became of Lady Oichi before giving up all thought of my own survival. That may sound cowardly of me, but I had no idea what she would do. Her married life at Odani lasted for six years, and yet because of her children she allowed herself to be parted from Nagamasa: it seemed quite possible that she would leave this time too. How could Lord Katsuie let her stay? They were man and wife, to be sure, but they had been married less than a year. After releasing even the enemy hostages, was he going to take the sister and nieces of his former master along with him in death? Or was he determined, out of stubborn pride, not to turn his beloved wife over to Hideyoshi? But surely he would urge her to leave before much longer — a man like that would hardly behave selfishly at such a moment. . . So my thoughts ran. It wasn't just because I wanted to save my own life. I had decided to share my mistress's fate.

  On the morning of the twenty-second, at about cockcrow, the attackers began to close in. I was told that they had set fire to all the towns along the road, and that a vast cloud of smoke filled the sky, darkening the sun: the castle appeared to be surrounded by a sea of fog. It seems that under cover of this darkness the southern forces began stealing up to the castle as quietly as possible, with only whispered commands, each soldier carrying an arrow shield of bamboo, or whatever he could find to protect himself. As it grew lighter outside they could be seen clinging to the edge of the moat, crawling up like so many ants. But a constant rain of musket fire from the castle walls killed all the enemy soldiers who came that far, and each wave of fresh troops pressed forward only to be beaten back. The defenders were holding out very strongly. As things were going, it seemed that the castle would not easily be taken.

  So the day ended with both sides withdrawing after suffering heavy casualties. But at dawn the next day, the twenty-third, a hush fell over the enemy camp as the drums signaling its attack were silenced. No sooner had we noticed this and wondered what it meant than five or six mounted warriors made an appearance beyond the moat, and shouted as loudly as they could to us: “We regret to inform you that last night we captured Lord Katsuie's son, Gonroku.” At this news, all of us lost heart. After that we left our gates almost unguarded; even our musket fire slackened off.

  Actually, I expected to hear of a message from Hideyoshi soon. If he still loves my mistress, I thought, he will send someone to offer us peace terms. I kept hoping he would, and sure enough an envoy appeared. The message he delivered was this: “By an unavoidable destiny Lord Hideyoshi has been at war with Lord Katsuie since last year, and he has been fortunate enough to carry his attack this far. However, in view of their long association as comrades in the service of their late master, he does not wish to demand his friend's life. Although it was Lord Katsuie who was attacked, will he not remember that victory and defeat are the lot of the warrior, according to the whim of fate, and be willing to let bygones be bygones, hand over the castle, and retire to the foothills of Mount Koya? If so, he will be offered a large domain and a secure income for the rest of his life.”

  But was Hideyoshi really being sincere about this? No one took him at his word; even in the enemy camp there seems to have been a rumor that he issued his proposal as a last resort, out of his desire to capture Lady Oichi alive.

  Of course, Lord Katsuie was furious. “The insolence of telling me to surrender!” he exclaimed to the envoy, at white heat. “It goes without saying that victory or defeat depends on a turn of fate — does he think he has to teach me that? If luck had been with me, I'd be chasing down that monkey-f
aced Hideyoshi now, and I'd see that he was the one who cut open his belly! But Gemba was beaten at Shizugatake because he disobeyed my orders, and so I've had to suffer humiliation at the hands of that damned monkey. All I can do now is set fire to the castle tower and commit suicide. Let the way I meet my end be an example to later generations! One thing more: this castle has a stock of gunpowder built up for over ten years — once the fire reaches it, a great many lives will be lost. Go back, and be sure to tell Hideyoshi to withdraw his troops well to the rear. I say this because I don't want any useless killing.” And he left the room abruptly. The envoy fled from the castle, his mission a complete failure.

  When I heard what had happened, my one hope was dashed and I gave myself up to misery and despair. But then I began to reflect that Lady Oichi's pitiful life would soon end, and I would accompany her across the River of Death, to remain always at her side. I wanted only to be born into the next life able to see, able to gaze on her beauty — for me, that indeed would be the great awakening. My mind was made up, and it gave me a profound sense of calm and well-being. Now death itself seemed to hold more happiness than life.

  After that Lord Katsuie said: “As bitter as it is to be driven to this extremity, there is no use regretting our fate. Let us spend our last night drinking together cheerfully, and disappear with the clouds of dawn.” He ordered various preparations for the banquet, told the servants to bring out all the remaining casks of the best saké, and had bundles of dry grass heaped up in the castle tower and the other strategic points, ready to be set afire at a moment's notice. It was evening before these tasks were finished. Meanwhile the enemy troops — maybe they realized how determined the men in the castle were — gradually drew farther and farther back, loosening the siege lines. “You see, their watch fires aren't so near,” remarked Lord Katsuie calmly. “Hideyoshi knows that I mean what I say.” His voice sounded more noble than ever.