Sitting squarely in front of Ekei, Hikoemon said with deep feeling, "When you think about it, the two of us must be bound by a common karma."
Ekei nodded solemnly. The two men silently recalled their meeting in Hachisuka some twenty years before, when Hikoemon was still the leader of a band of ronin, and went by the name of Koroku. It was during his stay at Hikoemon's mansion that Ekei first heard about an extraordinary young samurai by the name of Kinoshita Tokichiro, who had lately been taken into Nobunaga's service at Kiyosu Castle. In those early years, when Hideyoshi still ranked far below Nobunaga's generals, Ekei had written to Kikkawa Motoharu: "Nobunaga's rule will last for a little while longer. When he falls, Kinoshita Tokichiro will be the next man with whom to reckon."
Ekei's predictions were astoundingly accurate: twenty years ago, he had perceived Hideyoshi's ability; ten years ago he had guessed Nobunaga's fall. That night, however, there was no way he could have known how right he was going to be.
Ekei was not an ordinary monk. When he was still a young acolyte studying in a temple, Motonari, the former lord of the Mori, had ordered him to enter his service. During Motonari's lifetime, his "little monk," as he affectionately called Ekei, had accompanied him on all his military campaigns.
After Motonari's death, Ekei had left the Mori and wandered throughout the empire. When he returned, he was made abbot of Ankokuji Temple, and served Terumoto, the new lord of the Mori, as a trusted adviser.
Throughout the war with Hideyoshi, Ekei had consistently argued for peace. He knew Hideyoshi well and did not think that the west would be able to endure his onslaught. Another factor influencing him was his long friendship with Hikoemon.
Ekei and Hikoemon had met any number of times before, but each time they had parted ways at the same impasse: Muneharu's fate. Hikoemon thus addressed Ekei:
"When I spoke to Lord Kanbei earlier, he told me that Lord Hideyoshi was far more generous than he has been perceived to be. He suggested that if just one more concession were made by the Mori, peace would surely ensue. Lord Kanbei said that if we were to lift the siege and spare Lord Muneharu's life, it would seem to the world as if the Oda army had been forced to conclude a peace treaty. Lord Hideyoshi could not present those terms to Lord Nobunaga. Our only condition is Muneharu's head. You should have no trouble bringing the matter to a conclusion."
Hikoemon's terms had not changed, but he himself seemed a different man since their last meeting.
"I can only restate my position," Ekei replied. "If the Mori clan cedes five of its ten provinces, and Muneharu's life is not spared, they will have failed to abide by the Way of the Samurai."
"Nevertheless, did you verify their intentions after our last meeting?"
"There was no need to. The Mori will never agree to Muneharu's death. They prize loyalty above all else, and no one, from Lord Terumoto to his most lowly retainer, would berudge the sacrifice, even if it means the loss of the whole of the western provinces."
The sky was beginning to grow paler; a rooster was heard in the distance. Night was turning to the dawn of the fourth day of the month.
Ekei would not agree, and Hikoemon would not give in. They were deadlocked.
"Well, there's nothing more to be said," Ekei concluded fatalistically.
"With my limited abilities," Hikoemon apologized, "I haven't been able to find common ground with you. With your permission, I'd like to ask Lord Kanbei to take my place."
"I'll be happy to speak with anyone," Ekei replied.
Hikoemon sent his son to get Kanbei, who soon arrived on his litter. He alighted and sat down clumsily with the other two men.
"I was the one who encouraged Hikoemon to trouble you once more for a final discussion," Kanbei said. "So, what is the outcome? Haven't the two of you worked out a compromise? You've talked half the night."
Kanbei's frankness had the effect of raising their spirits. Ekei's face brightened in the morning light. "We tried," he said, laughing. With the excuse that he had to prepare for Nobunaga's arrival, Hikoemon took his leave.
"Lord Nobunaga will stay for two or three days," Kanbei said. "Except for the time we have now, it's going to be difficult to meet again for peace talks."
Kanbei's diplomacy was simple and straightforward. It was also extremely highhanded: if the Mori wanted to argue about terms, no outcome but war was possible.
"If you can help the Oda clan today, surely you will be guaranteed a great future," Kanbei said.
With this change of adversary, Ekei lost his former eloquence. His expression, however, appeared to be far more buoyant than it had been when he was negotiating with Hikoemon.
"If there is a definite promise that Muneharu will commit seppuku, I will ask His Lordship about the condition of ceding the five provinces, and I'm sure he'll agree to a compromise. At any rate, won't you ask Lord Kikkawa and Lord Kobayakawa to reconsider the matter once more this morning? I suspect it will make the difference between peace and war."
When Kanbei put the matter in this way, Ekei felt compelled to act. Kikkawa's camp at Mount Iwasaki was only one league away. Kobayakawa's camp at Mount Hizashi was a little less than two leagues. Soon after, Ekei whipped his horse into a gallop.
After seeing the monk off, Kanbei went to Jihoin Temple. He looked into Hideyoshi's room and found him asleep. The lamp had gone out, the oil having burned dry. Kanbei shook Hideyoshi awake and said, "My lord, the day is breaking."
"Dawn?" Hideyoshi asked, rising groggily. Kanbei immediately told him of the meeting with Ekei. Hideyoshi scowled but got up quickly.
The pages were waiting at the entrance to the bathroom with water for his morning wash.
"As soon as I've eaten, I'll make a round of the camp. Bring my horse out as usual, and have my attendants stand by," he ordered as he dried his face.
Hideyoshi rode under a large red umbrella, preceded by his standard. Swaying slightiy in the saddle, he rode under the new leaves of the flowering cherry trees that grew along the road from the temple gate to the foot of the mountain.
Hideyoshi's daily round of the camp was never at a set time, but it was rarely so early in the morning. Today he seemed in better humor, and from time to time he would joke with his attendants as if everything were perfectly normal. There were no indications that morning that news of the incident in Kyoto had leaked out even among his own men. After confirming this for himself, Hideyoshi returned to his headquarters at a leisurely pace.
Kanbei was waiting for him in front of the temple gate. His eyes told Hideyoshi that
Ekei's mission had ended in failure. The monk had ridden back from the Mori camp a little before Hideyoshi's return, but the response he brought had not changed:
If we allow Muneharu to die, we are not living up to the Way of the Samurai. We will not agree to a peace that does not spare Muneharu's life.
"Have Ekei come here anyway," Hideyoshi ordered. He did not look in the least discouraged; in fact, he actually seemed to be growing more optimistic by the minute.
He invited the monk into a sunny room and made him comfortable. After talking over old times and relating gossip from the capital, Hideyoshi moved the conversation on. “Well now," he said, broaching the main subject, "it seems as though peace talks have stalled because both sides cannot agree on Muneharu's fate. Couldn't you go privately to General Muneharu, explain the circumstances to him, and recommend that he resign himself? The Mori will never order a loyal retainer to commit seppuku, but if you explained the Mori clan's distress to him, Muneharu would gladly give his life. His death, after all, will save the lives of the men in the castle and save the Mori from destruction." With these words, Hideyoshi abruptly got up and left.
Inside Takamatsu Castle, the fates of more than five thousand soldiers and civilians hung in the balance.
Hideyoshi's generals had brought three large ships, equipped with cannons, over the mountains, and had begun to shell the castle. One of the towers had almost collapsed, and there were many dead and wounded as a result of the bombardment. Added to that, it was still the rainy season, and more and more people were falling sick and food supplies were spoiling in the damp.
The defenders had collected doors and planking and built light boats with which to attack Hideyoshi's warships. Two or three of the small craft had been sunk, but the survivors had swum back to the castle to lead a second attack.
When the Mori army arrived and their banners and flags were sighted from the castle, the defenders thought they had been saved. But soon after, they understood the impossibility of their situation. The distance between their rescuers and themselves, and the consequent operational difficulties, would not allow for rescue. Although they were discouraged, they never lost the will to fight. On the contrary, after their realization they were clearly resolved to die.
When a secret message came to the castle from the Mori giving Muneharu permission to capitulate in order to save the lives of the men inside, he sent back an indignant response: "We have not yet learned what it is to surrender. At a time like this, we are ready to die."
On the morning of the fourth day of the Sixth Month, the guards on the castle walls spotted a small boat sculling toward them from the enemy shore. A samurai was handling the oar, and his only passenger was a monk.
Ekei had come to ask Muneharu to commit seppuku. Muneharu listened in silence to the monk's arguments. When Ekei had finished, and his entire body was soaked in sweat,
Muneharu spoke for the first time. "Well, today is truly my lucky day. When I look at your face, I know that your words are not fraudulent."
He did not say whether he agreed or disagreed. Muneharu's mind was already far beyond consent and refusal. "For some time, Lord Kobayakawa and Lord Kikkawa have been worried about me, worthless as I am, and have even advised me to capitulate. But I have not considered surrender just to save my own life, and so I refused. Now, if I can believe what you've told me, the Mori clan will be assured of security, and the people in the castle will be safe. If that's the case, there is no reason to refuse. On the contrary, it would be a great joy to me. A great joy!" he repeated emphatically.
Ekei was trembling. He had not thought that it would be so easy, that Muneharu would welcome death so gladly. At the same time, he felt ashamed. He himself was a monk, yet would he have the courage to transcend life and death in this way when his own time came?
"Then you agree?"
"Yes."