Nobunaga was strangely amused. As he looked at this impertinent, charming youth educated in the flower garden of Christian culture, he could only envision the reckless and bewhiskered figure of the boy's father, Ito Yoshimasu. The castle towns along the coastline of Kyushu in western Japan were ruled by lords like Otomo, Omura, Arima, and Ito. Recently they were becoming heavily influenced by European culture.
Whatever was brought in from Europe—firearms, gunpowder, telescopes, medicines and medical equipment, leather, dyed and woven goods, and everyday utensils— Nobunaga accepted with gratitude. He was especially enthusiastic about—and even desirous of—innovations connected with medicine, astronomy, and military science.
However, there were two things that his digestion absolutely rejected: Christianity and Christian education. But if these two things had not been allowed to the missionaries, they would not have come with their weapons, medicines, and other wonders.
Nobunaga was aware of the importance of fostering different cultures and had given permission for the establishment of a church and school in Azuchi. But now that the shoots he had let grow were beginning to bud, he worried about the future of these students. He realized that if the situation was recklessly ignored for a long time, it would lead to trouble.
Nobunaga left the class and was led by the priests to a well-appointed waiting room. There he rested on a colorful, glittering chair reserved for noble visitors. The fathers then brought out the tea and tobacco from their own country, which they valued so highly, and offered them to their guest, but Nobunaga did not touch a thing.
"The son of Ito Yoshimasu just now told me that Valignani was sailing from Japan this month. Has he already left?" he asked.
One of the fathers answered, "Father Valignani is accompanying a mission from Japan."
"A mission?" Nobunaga looked suspicious. Kyushu was not yet under his control, so friendship and commerce between Europe and the provincial lords of that island concerned him more than a little.
"Father Valignani believes that if the children of influential Japanese do not see the civilization of Europe at least once, true commerce and diplomatic relations will never really begin. He communicated with the various kings of Europe and His Holiness the Pope and persuaded them to invite a mission from Japan. The oldest person among those chosen for the mission is sixteen years old."
He then listed the boys' names.
Almost all of them were sons of the great clans in Kyushu.
"That's quite courageous of them." Nobunaga actually rejoiced that a mission of young men, whose oldest member was only sixteen, had journeyed to faraway Europe. Inwardly, he thought that it would have been good to meet with them and, as a parting gift, talk a little about his own spirit and faith.
Why would the kings of Europe and someone like Valignani so enthusiastically want the children of provincial lords to visit Europe? Nobunaga understood their intentions, but he also saw through their ulterior motives.
"When he departed from Kyoto for this mission, Valignani expressed his regrets… about you, sire."
"Regrets?"
"That he was returning to Europe without having baptized you."
"Is that so? He said that?" Nobunaga laughed. He stood up from the chair and turned around to his attendant. The man had a hawk perched on his fist. "We've tarried too long. Let's go."
Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he was descending the stairs in great strides. He quickly called for his horse outside the door. Ito Jerome—the student who had been playing the violin—and all of the others were lined up in the school playground to see him off.
* * *
The castle at Nirasaki, the new capital of Kai, had been completed up to as the kitchens and the quarters of the ladies-in-waiting.
Regardless of the fact that it had been the twenty-fourth day of the Twelfth Month and at the very end of the year, Takeda Katsuyori had moved from Kofu, the old provincial capital for generations of his ancestors, to this new capital. The grandeur and beauty of the move itself was still the talk of the farmers along the roadside, even now during New Year's.
Beginning with the palanquins for Katsuyori and his wife and for the many ladies who waited upon them, and continuing with those for his aunt and her daughter, the lacquered litters for the various nobles and ladies must have numbered into the hundreds.
In the midst of this endless procession of sights—the samurai and retainers, the personal attendants, the officials with their gold and silver saddles, the mother-of-pearl inlay, the sparkle of gold lacquer, the open umbrellas, the archers with their bows and quivers, the forest of red-shafted spears—what caught everyone's eye above everything else were the banners of the Takeda. Thirteen Chinese characters sparkled in gold on a bright red cloth next to another banner. Two lines of gold characters were displayed on the long anner of deep blue:
Swift as the wind
Quiet as a forest
Ardent as fire
Still as a mountain
Everyone knew that the calligraphy for this poem had been executed by Kaisen, the head priest of the Erin Temple.
"Ah, how sad that the very soul of that banner is leaving the castle at Tsutsujigasaki and moving on today."
Everyone in the old capital seemed sad. Every time the banner with Sun Tzu's words and the one with the thirteen Chinese characters had been unfurled and taken into battle, the brave soldiers had returned with them. At those times, they and the townspeople had shouted themselves hoarse with deeply felt cries of shared victory. Such events had occurred in Shingen's time, and now everyone missed those days.
And although the banner emblazoned with Sun Tzu's words was the same physically, the people could not help feeling that it was somehow different from the one they had looked upon in former times.
But when the people of Kai watched the enormous treasure and the stores of munitions being moved to the new capital, along with the palanquins and golden saddles of the entire clan, and the meandering procession of ox-drawn carts stretching for many leagues, they were reassured that theirs was still a strong province. The same feelings of pride that had been with them since the days of Shingen still lingered in the soldiers and even in the general population.
Not long after Katsuyori moved to the castle in the new capital, the red and white
plum blossoms in the garden were in bloom. Katsuyori and his uncle, Takeda Shoyoken—indifferent to the songs of the bush warblers—walked through the orchard.
"He didn't even come to the New Year's celebrations. He said he was sick. Hasn't he sent some news to you, Uncle?" Katsuyori asked.
He was talking about his cousin, Anayama Baisetsu, who was the governor of Ejiri Castle. Located on the border with Suruga, it was considered by the Takeda to be an important strategic area to the south. For over half a year now, Baisetsu had not come to wait upon Katsuyori, always sending the excuse that he was ill, and Katsuyori was worried.
"No, I think he's probably really sick. Baisetsu's a priest and an honest man; I don't think he would pretend to be ill."
Shoyoken was an exceptionally good-natured man, so this answer did not put Katsuyori's mind at ease.
Shoyoken fell silent.
Nor did Katsuyori say anything more, and the two of them walked on silently.
Between the keep and the inner citadel was a narrow ravine filled with different kinds of trees. A bush warbler dropped almost as if it had fallen, fluttered its wings, and flew away in surprise. At the same time a voice came suddenly from a row of plum trees.
"Are you there, my lord? I have important news."
The retainer's face had lost its color.
"Pull yourself together. A samurai should speak with self-control about important matters," Shoyoken scolded him. Shoyoken was not just disciplining the young man but was also trying to calm his nephew. Quite unlike his ordinary resolute self, Katsuyori had turned pale in surprise.
"This is not some small matter. It's really important, my lord," Genshiro replied as he prostrated himself. "Kiso Yoshimasa of Fukushima has committed treason!"
"Kiso?" Shoyoken's voice expressed a shock that was half doubt, half refusal. As for Katsuyori, he had probably already guessed this would happen. He was just biting his lip and looking down at the retainer prostrated in front of him.
The beating in Shoyoken's breast was not going to be calmed easily, and his lack of composure was echoed in his shaking voice. “The letter! Let’s see the letter!”
"The messenger told me to tell Lord Katsuyori that the matter was so urgent there was not a moment to spare," the retainer said, "and that we are to wait for a letter from the next messenger."
As he walked away in great strides, Katsuyori stepped right past the still prostrate retainer and yelled back to Shoyoken. "It won't be necessary to see Goro's letter. There have been plenty of suspicious signs from Yoshimasa and Baisetsu in recent years. I know it's a lot of trouble, Uncle, but I'm going to need you to lead an army again. I'll be going too."