Spears clashed, and embers of firewood flew above the confused cries of struggling men. Yoshimoto, still standing under the huge camphor tree, seemed to have lost his ability tospeak. He chewed his lip with his black teeth, apparently unable to believe what was happening right before his eyes. Yoshimoto's generals stood around him with grim faces, yelling back and forth.

"Is this a rebellion?"

"Are these men rebels?"

There was no answer except for cries, and despite the alarmed shouts coming from all over the camp, they could not believe it was the enemy attacking. But they could not doubt their own ears for long. The Oda warriors appeared right in front of them, their harsh war cries in the strange Owari dialect piercing the ears of Yoshimoto's retainers. Two or three of the enemy rushed in their direction.

"Hey! Lord of Suruga!"

When they saw the Oda men coming, screaming like demons, jumping and slipping over the mud, brandishing spears and halberds, they were finally shocked into recognizing the true situation, "The Oda!"

"A surprise attack!"

The confusion was more terrible than if they had been attacked at night. They had underestimated n.o.bunaga. It was lunchtime. This, in addition to the violent storm, had allowed the enemy to enter the camp completely undetected. But it was their own advance guard that had really put Yoshimoto's headquarters totally at ease.

The two generals detached to guard the headquarters were stationed less than a mile from the hill, but suddenly, and without warning from their own lookouts, the enemy was rushing in unchecked, right before the eyes of Yoshimoto and his generals.

From the very beginning, n.o.bunaga had avoided the camps of the vanguard. As they went through Taishigadake and straight to Dengakuhazama, n.o.bunaga himself brandished a spear and fought Yoshimoto's soldiers. Very likely the soldiers speared by n.o.bunaga had had no idea who their adversary had been. Severely wounding two or three men as he advanced, n.o.bunaga galloped toward the curtained enclosure.

"The camphor tree!" n.o.bunaga yelled out as one of his men ran past him. "Don't let the lord of Suruga escape! He's probably in the enclosure under the big camphor tree!" n.o.bunaga had guessed instantly where Yoshimoto would be, just by looking at the layout of the camp.

"My lord!" In the confusion of the battle, n.o.bunaga nearly rode over one of his soldiers kneeling in front of him, a b.l.o.o.d.y spear at his side.

"Who are you?"

"Maeda Inuchiyo, my lord."

"Inuchiyo? Well, get to work! Fight!"

The rain fell onto the muddy paths, and the wind swept along the earth. Branches of the camphor tree and surrounding pines snapped off and were sent crashing to the ground. Water dripped off the branches onto Yoshimoto's helmet.

"My lord, over here! This way." Four or five of Yoshimoto's retainers formed a protective ring around him and hurried him from one enclosure to the next, trying to avoid a disaster.

"Is the lord of Suruga in here?" The instant Yoshimoto had left, an Oda warrior brandishing a spear challenged one of the generals who had stayed behind.

"Come here, I'll give you a fight!" the general yelled, checking the soldier's spear with his own.

The intruder identified himself, breathing heavily, "I am Maeda Inuchiyo, retainer to Lord n.o.bunaga!" The general replied, giving his own name and rank. He lunged forward, but Inuchiyo stepped to the side, and the spear struck into the void.

Inuchiyo had his opening, but not enough time to pull back his long spear, and so he simply struck the man full on the head with the spear shaft. The bowl of the helmet rang like a gong, and the injured man crawled out into the rain on all fours. Just then, two more men yelled out their names. When Inuchiyo adjusted his stance, someone fell on his back. Inuchiyo tripped and stumbled over the corpse of a soldier.

"Kinos.h.i.ta Tokichiro!" Somewhere his friend was identifying himself. Inuchiyo smiled, the wind and rain striking his cheeks. He was blinded by the mud. There was blood wherever he looked. The moment he had slipped and fallen, he had seen that there were neither enemies nor allies in the immediate vicinity. Corpses were piled on top of corpses, and the rain made little splashing sounds on their backs. His straw sandals were dyed crimson as he kicked his way through a river of blood. Where was the lord with blackened teeth? He wanted Yoshimoto's head.

The rain called. The wind called.

Inuchiyo was not alone in his quest. Kuwabara Jinnai, a ronin from Kai, dressed in armor from the waist down, brandishing a spear smeared with blood, ran around the camphor tree and yelled out in his hoa.r.s.e voice, "I'm coming for the lord of Suruga! Where is this great General Yoshimoto?" A gust of wind lifted the edge of a curtain, lightning flashed, and he saw a man wearing a red coat over his armor, and a crested helmet with eight dragons.

The furious voice rebuking his retainers might well be Yoshimoto's: "Never mind about me! This is an emergency! I don't need a lot of men around me. Chase an enemy who's come here to give you his head. Kill n.o.bunaga! Instead of protecting me, fight!" He was, after all, the commander of three armies and grasped the situation faster than anyone else. Now he was angry with the worthless commanders and warriors who ran aimlessly around him, shouting unintelligibly.

Chastened, several of the soldiers went plodding up the muddy road. When they had pa.s.sed Jinnai's hiding place, he lifted the soaked curtain with the tip of his spear to make sure the man was indeed Yoshimoto.

Yoshimoto was no longer there. The enclosure was empty. A large wooden bowl of rice had been overturned, and the white grains of rice were lying sodden in the rainwater. Other than that, there were only the embers of four or five sticks of smoldering firewood.

Jinnai could see that Yoshimoto had left quickly with only a few men, so now he went from enclosure to enclosure, looking for him. Most of the curtains had either been torn and had collapsed, or were stained with blood and trampled.

Yoshimoto must be trying to escape. Certainly he was not going to flee on foot. And if this was so, he must have hurried to wherever the horses were tethered. In a camp filled with so many curtains and fighting soldiers, however, it was not going to be easy to find out where the enemy kept the horses. And the horses were not just grazing quietly. Amid the rain, the clashing of swords, and the blood, the horses had panicked and several of them were galloping wildly around the camp.

Where could he be hiding? Jinnai stood holding his spear, letting the rainwater run down the bridge of his nose and into his parched throat. Suddenly a warrior who hadn't recognized him as the enemy was yanking an excited gray horse right in front of him.

Red ta.s.sels hung from a mother-of-pearl saddle with a gold-flecked lacquer border; purple and white reins were attached to a silver bit. This must be the steed of a general. Jinnai watched as the horse was led into a dark stand of pine trees. Inside the stand, a curtained enclosure had mostly collapsed, but the part that still stood flapped wildly in the wind and rain.

Jinnai leaped forward and lifted the curtain. There was Yoshimoto. A retainer had just told him that his horse was ready, and Yoshimoto was about to step outside.

"Lord of Suruga, my name is Kuwabara Jinnai. I fight for the Oda clan. I've come to take your head. Prepare to die!" Jinnai thrust at Yoshimoto's back as he called out his name, and the clash of spear and armor resounded in their ears. In a flash, Yoshimoto turned, and his sword split the shaft in half. Jinnai jumped back with a yell, only four feet of the shaft left in his hands.

Jinnai tossed the shaft away and screamed, "Coward! Would you show your back to an adversary who has identified himself?"

Unsheathing his sword, Jinnai leaped toward Yoshimoto, only to be grabbed from behind by an Imagawa warrior. Throwing the man easily to the ground, he was attacked from the side by yet another enemy warrior. He tried to dodge the blow, but the first soldier had grabbed his ankle and prevented him from moving fast enough. The second soldier's sword cut Jinnai neatly in two.

"My lord! Please leave right away! Our men are confused and unable to control the enemy. A retreat is regrettable, but it's only for the present." The soldier's face was smeared with blood. The other soldier, completely covered with mud, jumped up, and the two of them urged Yoshimoto to leave.

"Now! Quickly! My lord!"

But then...

"I have come to see the great Yoshimoto. My name is Hattori Koheita, and I am the service of Lord n.o.bunaga." A huge man stood before them, an iron helmet with black braiding pulled over his eyebrows. Yoshimoto retreated a step as the man's large, red-shafted spear struck out with a whir.

The first soldier intercepted the thrust with his body and fell, pierced through, before he had time to swing his sword. The other man quickly jumped in the way, but he, too, was skewered by Koheita's spear, and crumpled onto his comrade's corpse.

"Wait! Where are you going!" The lightning-quick spear pursued Yoshimoto, who was now circling the trunk of a pine tree.

"Here I am!" His sword poised to strike, Yoshimoto glared fixedly at Koheita. Koheita's spear jabbed out and struck the side of Yoshimoto's armor. But the armor was well-tempered, and the wound was not deep, leaving Yoshimoto undaunted.

"Knave!" Yoshimoto yelled and sliced through the spear.

Koheita was resolute. Tossing away the shaft, he leaped forward. But Yoshimoto dropped to his knees and swung at Koheita's leg with his sword. His blade was an excellent one. Sparks flew from the chain-mail shin guard, and Koheita's kneecap was split open like a pomegranate, his shinbone protruding from the wound. Koheita fell backwards, and Yoshimoto fell forward, his crested helmet striking the ground.

Just as Yoshimoto raised his head, a man cried out, "I am Mori Shinsuke!"

Mori grabbed Yoshimoto's head from behind and the two men tumbled to the ground. As they grappled, Yoshimoto's breastplate was pulled forward, and blood spurted from the spear wound he had just received. Pinned underneath, Yoshimoto bit through the index finger of Mori's right hand. Even after his head had been cut off, Mori's white finger was still protruding from Yoshimoto's purple lips and elegantly blackened teeth.

Had they won or lost, Tokichiro asked himself, breathing hard.

"Hey! Where are we?" he yelled to anybody who might be within earshot, but n.o.body knew exactly where they were. Only about half of his men were still alive, and they were all in a daze.

The rain had let up and the wind had abated. The intense rays of the sun spilled through the scattering clouds. When the storm had spent itself, the h.e.l.l of Dengakuhazama faded away with the retreating lightning, and now nothing remained but the cries of the cicadas.

"Line up!" Tokichiro ordered.

The soldiers lined up as best they could. Counting his men, Tokichiro found that his command had been reduced from thirty to seventeen, four of whom he did not recognize at all.

"Whose unit are you from?" he asked one of the men.

"Toyama Jintaro's, sir. But when we were fighting at the western edge of the hill, I slipped over the bluff and lost my unit. Then I found your men chasing the enemy, so I fell in with them."

"All right. What about you?"

"It's the same with me, sir. I thought I was fighting alongside my own comrades, but when I looked around, I was here in Your Honor's group."

Tokichiro did not bother to question the others. It was probable that some of his men had been killed in battle, while others had got mixed up with other units. But it wasn't just the individual soldiers who had lost their bearings in the middle of the battle. Tokichiro's unit had become separated from the main body of the army and Mataemon's regiment, and he had no idea where he was.

"It looks like the battle is over," Tokichiro muttered as he led his men back the way they had come.

The muddy water running from the surrounding mountains into the marsh had increased since the sky had cleared. When he saw how many corpses were lying in the streams and piled up on the slopes, Tokichiro was filled with a sense of wonder that he was still alive.

"We must have won. Look! All the dead around here are Imagawa samurai." Tokichiro pointed here and there. From the way the enemy corpses were sprawled along the road, he could see the route the defeated army had taken.

His men, however, just grunted in their stupefied state, and were too tired even to sing a victory song.

They were only a few and they were lost. The battlefield was suddenly very quiet, and this could mean that n.o.bunaga's army had been completely wiped out. The fear that they might be surrounded by the enemy and ma.s.sacred at any moment was very real.

Then they heard it. From Dengakuhazama rose three victory cheers that were loud enough to shake heaven and earth. Shouts in their own Owari dialect.

"We won! We won! Let's go!" Tokichiro ran ahead. The soldiers, who up until now had been barely conscious, somehow recovered completely. Not wanting to be left behind, they stumbled and tripped after Tokichiro toward the cheering.

Magomeyama was a low, circular hill a little beyond Dengakuhazama. A black ma.s.s of soldiers stained with blood, mud, and rain now covered the area from the hill to the village. The battle was over and the men had regrouped. The rain had stopped, the sun had come out, and now a hazy white steam rose from the closely packed a.s.sembly.

"Where's Master Asano's regiment?" Threading his way through the ma.s.s of warriors, Tokichiro rejoined his original regiment. Wherever he turned, he b.u.mped and sc.r.a.ped someone's b.l.o.o.d.y armor. Although he had fully intended to fight bravely, he now felt ashamed. Certainly he had done nothing to make people notice him.

When he found his regiment and stood among the press of soldiers, he finally realized that they had won. Looking out from the hill, it struck him as odd that the vanquished enemy was nowhere to be seen.

Still spattered with mud and blood, n.o.bunaga stood on the hillock. Just a few steps from his camp stool, a number of soldiers were digging a large hole. Each of the enemy heads was inspected and then tossed into the hole. n.o.bunaga looked on, his palms pressed together, while the warriors around him stood by in silence.

No one said a prayer. But this was the highest etiquette followed when warriors buried fellow warriors. The heads buried in the hole would serve as a lesson to those who were alive and would fight again. Even the head of the most insignificant enemy treated with the utmost solemnity.

With the mysterious boundary between life and death at his very feet, a samurai could not help thinking about what it meant to live as a warrior. Everyone stood reverently, hands joined in prayer. When the hole had been filled in and a mound built ovver it, they looked up to a beautiful rainbow that arched across a clear sky.

As the men stood looking at this scene, a party of scouts who had been reconnoitering the area around Odaka pulled into camp.

Tokugawa Ieyasu commanded Yoshimoto's vanguard in Odaka. Considering the skill with which Ieyasu had demolished the fortresses of Washizu and Marune, n.o.bunaga could not afford to underestimate him.

"When the Tokugawa heard that Yoshimoto had been killed, the camp at Odaka seemed to have panicked. They sent out scouts a number of times, however, and as learned the facts, they quickly calmed down. At this point they are preparing to retreat to Mikawa by nightfall, and they don't seem to be inclined to fight."

n.o.bunaga listened to the reports and, in his own way, announced their triumphaal return. "Well, then," he said, "let's go home."

The sun had still not set, and now the rainbow, which had begun to fade, stood out clearly once again. A single head was fastened to the side of n.o.bunaga's saddle, as a memento. It was, of course, the head of the great Imagawa Yoshimoto.

When they reached the gate of Atsuta Shrine, n.o.bunaga swung off his horse and went into the sanctum, while his officers and men pressed in as far as the central gate and prostrated themselves. A hand bell was ringing somewhere in the distance, and bonfires filled the forest of the shrine with a red glow.

n.o.bunaga presented a sacred horse to the shrine stable. This done, he was once again ready to hurry on his way. His armor had become increasingly heavy, and he was exhausted. Leaving the moonlit path to his horse, however, his spirits seemed as light as if he were wearing a thin summer kimono.

Compared with Atsuta, Kiyosu was in an uproar. Every door was festooned with lanterns, bonfires burned at the crossroads, and old folks, children, and even young girls stood excitedly in the streets, looking at the triumphant soldiers and shouting their congratulations.

Dense crowds pushed together at the roadside. Women watched to see if their husbands were among the men marching solemnly toward the castle gate. Old people called out their sons' names, and girls searched for the faces of their sweethearts. But all of them raised a cheer when they caught sight of the mounted n.o.bunaga, silhouetted against the night sky.

"Lord n.o.bunaga!"

n.o.bunaga meant more to them than their own children, husbands, and lovers.

"Take a look at the head of the great lord of the Imagawa!" n.o.bunaga announced to the crowd from horseback. "This is the souvenir I have brought back for you. From tomorrow on, the troubles at the border will be over. Be diligent and work hard. Work hard and enjoy yourselves!"

Once inside the castle, n.o.bunaga called for his lady-in-waiting, "Sai! Sai! Before anything else, a bath! And some rice gruel."

As he emerged from his bath, he proclaimed the rewards for more than one hundred twenty men who had fought in the battle that day. Even the deeds of the lowest-ranking soldiers had not escaped n.o.bunaga's eyes. Last of all he said, "Inuchiyo is granted permission to return." This news was transmitted to Inuchiyo that very night, for when the entire army had entered the castle gates, he alone had stopped outside, waiting for word from n.o.bunaga.

Tokichiro received no praise whatsoever. And, of course, he expected none. Nevertheless, he had received something far more precious than a stipend of a thousand kan: for the first time in his life, he had straddled the line between life and death, he had lived through a battle, and he had seen firsthand n.o.bunaga's grasp of human nature and his great capacity for leadership.

I have a good master, he thought. I'm the luckiest man alive, after Lord n.o.bunaga. From that time on, Tokichiro did not just look up to n.o.bunaga as his lord and master. He became n.o.bunaga's apprentice, studying his master's strong points and concentrating his whole mind on the task of improving himself.

The Go-between For the last five or six days, Tokichiro had been truly bored. He had been ordered to accompany n.o.bunaga on a secret journey to a distant province and to make preparations for the trip. They were to leave within ten days, and until then he was to stay indoors Tokichiro sat around and waited.

He sat up and thought how strange it was for n.o.bunaga to be setting out on a journey. Where were they going?

Gazing at the tendrils of the morning glories on the fence, he suddenly thought of Nene. He had been ordered to go out as little as possible, but when the evening breeze picked up, he pa.s.sed by the front of Nene's house. For some reason he had been hesitant to visit there recently, and whenever he met her parents, they looked right through him. So he simply walked past the house like any other pa.s.serby and returned home.

The morning glories were blooming also on the fence of Nene's house. The evening before, he had gotten a glimpse of her lighting a lamp, and had returned home as though he had achieved his purpose. Now he suddenly recalled that her profile had been whiter than the flowers on the fence.

The smoke from the firewood wafted through the house from the kitchen. Tokichiro bathed, put on a light hempen kimono, and, slipping on a pair of sandals, walked out through the garden gate. Just then a young messenger hailed him, handed him an offical summons. Tokichiro hurried back inside, changed quickly, and hurried to the residence of Hayashi Sado.

Sado handed him his orders in person: Be at the residence of the farmer Doke Seijuro, on the western highway outs: Kiyosu, by the Hour of the Rabbit.

That was all. n.o.bunaga was traveling to a distant province incognito, and Tokichiro was one of his attendants. When he thought about it, he thought he understood n.o.bunaga's plans, even though he knew so little about them.

He realized that he would be separated from Nene for some time, and the desire to catch just a glimpse of her under the summer moon, there and then, welled up in his chest. It was his nature that nothing could stop him once he got an idea into his head, Tokichiro was a child of pa.s.sion, and the uncontrollable pa.s.sions and desires that dwelt in his heart dragged him to Nene's house. Then, just like a delinquent boy who peeps into lighted windows, Tokichiro peeked in from outside the fence.

Mataemon lived in the archers' district, and almost all of the people who pa.s.sed through the neighborhood knew one another. Tokichiro was conscious of the footsteps of the pa.s.sersby and was terrified that he was going to be discovered by Nene's parents. This cowardly spectacle was laughable. If Tokichiro himself had seen someone acting like this, he would have despised the man. But at that moment he did not have time to reflect on a man's dignity or reputation.

He would have been satisfied with a single glimpse through the fence of her profile and of whatever she was doing that evening. I'll bet she's already taken her bath and is putting on her makeup, he thought. Or could she be with her parents eating dinner?

Three times he went back and forth, trying to look as innocent as possible. It was evening, so few people were on the street. It would have been horribly embarra.s.sing if somebody had called out his name just as he was peeping through the fence. No, worse than that, it could ruin the slim chance he had of marrying Nene. After all, his rival Inuchiyo had withdrawn from the compet.i.tion, and after that, Mataemon had started to reconsider. For now, he should let things be. It seemed as though both Nene and her mother had made up their minds, but her father would not come to a decision so easily.

The smoke from the mosquito incense wafted by. The sound of someone putting out dishes came from the kitchen. It seemed that the evening meal had not yet been served. She's working hard, Tokichiro imagined. In the dim light of the kitchen, Tokichiro finally saw the woman he had determined would become his wife. The thought occurred to him that a woman like Nene would manage her household well.

Her mother called, and Nene's answer rang in his ears, even though he was crouching outside the fence, looking in. Tokichiro stepped aside. Somebody was coming up the street.

She works hard and she's gentle. Surely my mother would be happy with her. And Nene wouldn't mistreat my mother just because she's a farm woman. His love was transformed into lofty thoughts right through his pa.s.sion. We'll endure poverty. We won't be caught by vanity. She'll help me from behind the scenes, look after me with devotion, and excuse my faults.