"When I checked, his room was very quiet," the page replied.
When he heard this, Mitsuharu's eyes brightened as though he too were really at peace for the first time that day.
The days passed. Mitsuhide spent the time in Sakamoto Castle, doing nothing. He had already received Nobunaga's command to depart for the western provinces, and should have returned as quickly as possible to his own castle to mobilize his retainers. Mitsuharu would have liked to tell him that spending such a long time in idleness was not going to be good for his reputation in Azuchi. When he thought about Mitsuhide's feelings, however, he was unable to speak out. The discontent that Dengo and Masataka had expressed so bitterly would naturally be in Mitsuhide's heart as well.
If that was so, Mitsuharu thought, a few days of peace and quiet would be the best preparation for the forthcoming campaign. Mitsuharu had complete faith in his cousin's intelligence and common sense. Wondering how Mitsuhide was passing the time, Mitsuharu visited his room. Mitsuhide was painting, copying from an open book.
"Well, what are you doing?" Mitsuharu stood at his side and watched, pleased at Mitsuhide's composure and happy that they could share something.
"Mitsuharu? Don't look. I still can't paint in front of others."
Mitsuhide put down the brush and displayed a bashfulness not often seen in men over fifty. He was so embarrassed that he hid the sketches he had discarded.
"Am I disturbing you?" Mitsuharu laughed. "Who painted the book you're using as a model?"
"It's one of Yusho's."
"Yusho? What's that fellow doing these days? We don't hear anything at all about him around here."
"He unexpectedly visited my camp one evening in Kai. He left the following morning before dawn."
"He's a strange fellow."
"No, I don't think he can be summed up simply as strange. He's a loyal man, and his heart is as upright as bamboo. He may have given up being a samurai, but he still seems like a warrior to me."
"I've heard he was a retainer of Saito Tatsuoki. Are you praising him because he remains faithful to his former lord even today?"
"During the construction of Azuchi, he was the only one who refused to participate, even though he was invited to do so by Lord Nobunaga himself. He won't bend for either fame or power. It seems that he had more self-respect than to paint for the enemy of his former lord."
Just then, one of Mitsuharu's retainers came in and knelt behind them, and the two men stopped talking. Mitsuharu turned and asked the man what his business was.
The samurai looked embarrassed. In his hand was a letter and what seemed to be a petition written on thick paper. As he spoke, he was obviously worried about Mitsuharu's reaction. "Another messenger from the Abbot of Yokawa has come to the castle gate, and he pressed me to deliver this letter once more to the lord of the castle. I refused, but he said he had come on orders and would not go away. What should I do?"
"What? Again?" Mitsuharu lightly clicked his tongue. "I sent a letter to the Abbot of Yokawa some time ago, carefully explaining to him that I could not possibly agree to the contents of his petition, so that it was useless for him to ask. Still he persisted, sending me letters two or three times after that. He's certainly headstrong. Just refuse to take it and sent him off."
"Yes, my lord."
With that, the messenger hurried off with the petition still in his hand. He looked as though he himself had been reprimanded.
As soon as the man had left, Mitsuhide spoke to his cousin.
"Would that be the Abbot of Yokawa from Mount Hiei?"
"That's right."
"Years ago, I was ordered to take part in the burning of Mount Hiei. We then made war not only on the warrior-monks, but also on the holy men, and on women and children—without distinction—cutting them down and tossing their bodies into the flames. We so utterly destroyed that mountain that trees could not have been expected to thrive there again, much less men. And now it seems that the priests who survived the massacre have gone back and are trying to make the place live again."
"That's right. From what I've heard, the mountaintop is just as desolate and ruined as it was before, but men of profound learning are calling together the scattered remnants of the believers and using every means possible to restore the mountain."
"That will be difficult while Lord Nobunaga is alive."
"And they're well aware of that. They've turned a great deal of their energy toward the Court, trying to get an edict from the Emperor to persuade Lord Nobunaga, but the prospects are dim, so recently they've looked for support from the common people. They're roaming every province, seeking contributions, knocking on every door, and I've heard that they're even constructing temporary shrines on the sites of the old temples."
"Well then, the errand of the messenger who was sent to you two or three times by the Abbot of Yokawa had something to do with that petition?"
"No." Mitsuharu quickly shifted his eyes and gazed peacefully into Mitsuhide's face. "The fact is that I thought it was something I needn't trouble you with, so I turned him down myself. Since you're asking me about it now, however, perhaps I should go over it with you. The Abbot of Yokawa knew that you would be staying here, and he wanted to have an audience with you at least once."
"The abbot said that he wanted to meet me?"
"Yes, and he also requested in his petition to have the respected name of Lord Mitsuhide on the subscription list for the restoration of Mount Hiei. I told him that both requests were absolutely out of the question."
"And even though you told him it was out of the question, and refused and then refused again, he still sent messengers to the castle three or four more times? Mitsuharu, I would be apprehensive about signing my name to the subscription list out of deference to Lord Nobunaga, but I wonder if I need to hesitate just to meet him."
"I think it's totally unnecessary for you to meet him," Mitsuharu said. "What purpose today would there be for you—who acted as a general at the destruction of Mount Hiei— to meet with a priest who survived that destruction?"
"He was an enemy at that time," Mitsuhide replied. "But now Mount Hiei has been made completely impotent, and the people there have prostrated themselves and pledged their allegiance to Azuchi."
"Certainly, in form. But how are the fellow priests and relatives of those who were massacred, and the monks whose ancient temples and monasteries were burned, going to forget the resentment that has lived in their hearts for so many years? The dead must have numbered ten thousand, and the buildings had been there since the time of Saint Dengyo."
Mitsuhide let out a long sigh. "There was no way I could avoid Nobunaga's orders, and I too became one of those insane arsonists on Mount Hiei that year. I stabbed to death both the warrior-monks and numberless unfortunate monks and laymen, young and old. When I think of that today, my breast is tortured just as though it were the burnning mountain itself."
"But you've always said that we should take the broad view, and it doesn't sound as though you're doing that now. You destroy one to save many. If we burn one mountain but make the Buddhist Law shine brightly on another five mountains and a hundred peaks, then I think that the killings we samurai commit cannot be called murders."
"Of course that's right. But out of sympathy, I can't restrain a tear for Mount Hiei. Mitsuharu! In public I must hold back, but as an ordinary man I feel that there could be no harm in saying a prayer for the mountain, could there? I'm going to go to the mountain incognito tomorrow. I'll come back right after meeting the abbot."
That night, Mitsuharu stayed awake worrying even after he had gone to bed. Why was Mitsuhide so taken by the idea of going to Mount Hiei? Should he, Mitsuharu, try to stop him, or would it be better to let him do what he wanted? Considering the position
Mitsuhide was in now, it would be better for him to have no connection whatsoever with the restoration of Mount Hiei. And it would not be advisable for him to meet with the abbot, either.
This much Mitsuharu could think through clearly, but why had Mitsuhide looked displeased at his arbitrary rejection of the abbot's messenger and his refusal of the petition? Fundamentally, he did not seem very happy with Mitsuharu's handling of the situation.
What sort of plan was Mitsuhide conceiving, with Mount Hiei as its center? Obviously Mitsuhide's visit would provide good material for slanderous assertions that he was plotting against Nobunaga. And it was certainly a waste of time, just before his departure for a campaign in the western provinces.
"I'm going to stop him. I'm going to stop him no matter what he says." Having made this decision, Mitsuharu finally closed his eyes. In a head-on confrontation he would most likely receive an unpleasant tongue-lashing from Mitsuhide or make him very angry but he was going to do his best to stop his cousin. So resolved, he went to sleep.
The next morning he got up earlier than usual, but as he was washing, he heard the rhythm of running feet hurrying down the main corridor to the entranceway. Mitsuharu called out and stopped one of the samurai.
"Who's leaving?"
"Lord Mitsuhide."
"What!"
"Yes, my lord. He's attired in light dress for the mountain and is accompanied only by Amano Genemon. They're planning to take their horses as far as Hiyoshi. Or that's what Lord Mitsuhide said as he was putting on his straw sandals at the entrance just now."
Mitsuharu never missed his morning prayers in front of the castle shrine and at the family altar, but this morning he neglected both. He dressed with both long and short swords and hurried toward the entrance. But Mitsuhide and his retainer had already gone, and only the attendants who had seen them off remained, looking toward the white clouds on Shimeigatake.