But when they came to the Mii Temple, there was not an enemy soldier to be seen. They had climbed Mount Hiei with all the speed of flight.
Looking up at the mountain, they saw that the huge enemy army of more than twenty thousand men, in addition to the warrior-monks, stretched as far as Suzugamine, Aoyamadake, and Tsubogasadani. Their fluttering banners almost seemed to say, We haven't run away. This battle array will speak for itself from here on.
Nobunaga looked at the towering mountain and thought, It's here. It's not the mountain that is my enemy; it's the mountain's special privileges. He saw it in a new light now. From ancient times, through the reigns of successive emperors, how much had the tradition and special privileges of the mountain troubled and pained the country's rulers and the common people? Was there even the faintest glimmer of the real Buddha on the mountain?
When the Tendai sect had been introduced to Japan from China, Saint Dengyo, who had built the first temple on Mount Hiei, had chanted, "May the light of the merciful Buddha give its divine protection to the timbers that we raise up in this place." Was the lamp of the Law lit on this holy peak so that the monks could force their petitions on the Emperor in Kyoto? Was it so that they could interfere with government and grow ever more powerful with special privileges? Was it so they could ally themselves with warlords, conspire with laymen, and throw the country into confusion? Was the lamp lit so that the Law of Buddha might be accoutered with armor and helmet, and line the entire mountain with warriors' spears, guns, and war banners?
Tears of rage ran from Nobunaga's eyes. It was clear to him that this was all blasphemy. Mount Hiei had been established to protect the nation, and so had been granted special privileges. But where was the original purpose of Mount Hiei now? The main temple building, the seven shrines, the monasteries of the eastern and the western pagodas were nothing more than the barracks of armed demons in monks' robes.
All right! Nobunaga bit his lip so hard that his teeth became stained with blood. Let them call me a demon king who destroys Buddhism! The magnificent beauties of the mountain are nothing more than the false allures of an enchantress, and these armored monks are nothing more than fools. I'm going to burn them with the flames of war and let the true Buddha be called forth from these ashes!
On the same day he gave the order for the entire mountain to be surrounded. Naturally, it took several days for his army to cross the lake, pass over the mountains, and join him.
"The blood of my brother and Mori Yoshinari has not yet dried. Let their unswervingly loyal souls sleep in peace. Let their blood be like lanterns that will light up the world!"
Nobunaga knelt on the earth and folded his hands in prayer. He had made an enemy of the holy mountain and had ordered his army to surround it. Now, on a lump of earth, Nobunaga put his hands together in prayer and wept. Suddenly he saw one of his pages crying, with his hands together in the same way. It was Ranmaru, who had lost his father, Mori Yoshinari.
"Ranmaru, are you crying?"
"Please forgive me, my lord."
"I'll forgive you. But stop crying, or your father's spirit will laugh at you."
But Nobunaga's own eyes were becoming red. Ordering his camp stool moved to the top of a hill, he looked out over the disposition of the besieging troops. As far as the eye could see, the foothills of Mount Hiei were filled with the banners of his own men.
Half of the month passed by. The siege of the mountain—an unusual strategy for Nobunaga—continued. He had cut off the enemy's supply of provisions and was going try to starve them out. His plan was in fact already working. With an army of over twenty thousand men, the granaries of the mountain had quickly been emptied. They had already started to eat the bark off the trees.
Winter set in, and the cold weather on the mountaintop caused more suffering for the defenders.
“It's about the right time, don't you think?" Hideyoshi said to Nobunaga.
Nobunaga summoned a retainer, Ittetsu. Receiving Nobunaga's instructions and accompanied by four or five attendants, he climbed up Mount Hiei and met with Abbot Sonrin of the western pagoda. They met at the main temple, the warrior-monk’s headquarters.
Sonrin and Ittetsu had known each other for some time, and as a mark of that friendship, Ittetsu had come to persuade him to surrender.
“I’m not sure what your purpose was in coming here, but as a friend, I advise you not to carry this joke too far," Sonrin replied, shaking with laughter. "I agreed to meet you because I thought you had come to ask permission to surrender to us. How stupid to ask us to give up and leave! Don't you see that we are resolved to resist to the end? You must be mad to come here to talk such foolishness!"
Excitement burned in the eyes of the other warrior-monks, and they glared at Ittetsu. Having allowed the abbot his say, Ittetsu began to speak deliberately. "Saint Dengyo established this temple for the peace and preservation of the Imperial House and the tranquillity of the nation. I suspect it is not the monks' most fervent prayer to put on armor, to marshal swords and spears, to involve themselves in political strife, to ally themselves with rebel armies, or to make the people of the Empire suffer. The monks should return to being monks! Drive the Asai and Asakura from the mountain, throw down your weapons, and return to your original roles as disciples of the Buddha!" He spoke this from the very depths of his body, not giving the priests a moment to put in a single word. “Moreover," he went on, "if you do not follow his orders, Lord Nobunaga is determined o burn down the main temple, the seven shrines, and the monasteries, and kill everyone on the mountain. Please give this careful thought, and put away your stubbornness. Will you turn this mountain into an inferno or sweep away the old evils and preserve the single lamp of this hallowed ground?"
Suddenly the monks with Sonrin began to shout. "This is pointless!"
"He's just wasting time!"
"Silence!" Sonrin commanded them with a sardonic smile. "That was an extremely boring, worn-out sermon, but I'm going to answer it politely. Mount Hiei is an authority into itself, and has its own principles. You are just meddling unnecessarily. Master Ittetsu, it's getting late. Leave the mountain right away."
"Sonrin, can you say this on your own authority? Why don't you meet with the men of great learning and the elders, and discuss the matter carefully?"
"The mountain is of one mind and one body. Mine is the voice of all of the temples on Mount Hiei."
"Then, no matter what—"
"You fool! We'll resist military aggression to the very end. We'll protect the freedom of our traditions with our very blood! Get out of here!"
"If that's the way you want it." Ittetsu made no move to get up. "This is such a shame. How are you going to protect the infinity of Buddha's light with your blood? Just what is this freedom you're going to protect? What are these traditions? Aren't they nothing more than deceptions, convenient for the temples' prosperity? Well, those charms have no currency in the world today. Take a good look at the times. It is inevitable that greedy men, who close their eyes and obstruct the tide of the times with their selfishness, will be burned up together with the fallen leaves." With that, Ittetsu returned to Nobunaga's camp.
The cold winter wind swirled the dry leaves around the mountain peaks. There was frost both morning and night. From time to time the cold wind was spotted with snow. About this time fires began to break out on the mountain almost every night. One night, fires broke out in the fuel storehouse of the Daijo Hall; the night before that, in the Takimido. This night again, although it was still early, there was a fire in the monks' quarters of the main temple, and the bell rang furiously. Since there were many large temples in the area, the warrior-monks worked frantically to keep the flames from spreading.
The deep valleys of Mount Hiei were dark under the bright red sky.
"What confusion!" one Oda soldier said and laughed.
"This happens every night," another added. "So they must never get a chance to sleep."
The cold winter wind whistled through the branches of the trees, and the men clapped their hands. Eating their meal of dried rice, they watched the nightly conflagrations. These fires were planned by Hideyoshi, so rumor had it, and carried out by the retainers of the old Hachisuka clan.
At night the monks were distressed by fires, and during the day they were exhausted by their preparations for defense. Also, their food and fuel were running low, and they had no protection against the cold.
Winter finally came to the mountain, and the snow flew furiously. The twenty thousand defending soldiers and the several thousand warrior-monks were now drooping like frost-blighted vegetables.
It was the middle of the Twelfth Month. Without armor and wearing only a monk's robes, a representative of the mountain approached Nobunaga's camp, accompanied by four or five warrior-monks.
"I would like to speak with Lord Nobunaga," the emissary said.
When Nobunaga appeared, he saw that it was Sonrin, the abbot who had previously met with Ittetsu. He brought the message that, because the views of the main temple had changed, he would like to plead for peace.
Nobunaga refused. "What did you say to the envoy I sent before? Don't you know what shame is?" Nobunaga drew his sword.
"This is an outrage!" the priest cried. He stood up and tottered sideways as Nobunaga's sword flashed horizontally.
"Pick up his head and go back. That's my answer!"
The monks turned pale and fled back to the mountain. The snow and sleet that blew across the lake that day also blew hard into Nobunaga's camp. Nobunaga had sent Mount Hiei an unmistakable message of his intent, but thoughts of how to deal with yet another great difficulty were taxing his mind. The enemy that appeared before him was nothing more than the reflection of a fire on a wall. Throwing water on the wall was not going to put the fire out, and in the meantime the real flames would be burning at his back. This was a common admonition in the art of war, but in Nobunaga's case, he was unable to fight against the source of the fire even though he knew what it was. Just the day before, an urgent report had come from Gifu that Takeda Shingen of Kai was mobilizing his troops and was about to attack in Nobunaga's absence. And more: there had been an uprising of tens of thousands of the Honganji's followers at Nagashima, in his own province of Owari, and one of Nobunaga's relatives, Nobuoki, had been killed and his castle taken. Finally, every possible evil rumor slandering Nobunaga had been let loose among the people.
It was understandable that Takeda Shingen had broken out. Having arranged a truce with his traditional enemy of many years, the Uesugi of Echigo, Shingen had turned his attention toward the west.
"Hideyoshi! Hideyoshi!" Nobunaga called.
"Yes! I'm here!"
"Find Mitsuhide, and the two of you take this letter to Kyoto immediately."
"To the shogun?"
"Correct. In the letter, I've asked the shogun to mediate, but it would be better if he heard it from your mouth, too."
"But then why did you just decapitate the messenger from Mount Hiei?"