Ieyasu had already roused himself to action, completing his plans and making steady progress in his anticipated push from Hamamatsu to Okazaki and then Kiyosu; but Hideyoshi, who had often shocked the world with his lightning speed, was slow to start this time. Or so it seemed.
"Somebody come here! Aren't my pages here?"
It was the master's voice. And, as usual, it was loud.
The young pages, who had intentionally withdrawn to the faraway pages' room, hurriedly put away the game of suguroku they had been surreptitiously playing. From among them, the thirteen-year-old Nabemaru went running off as fast as he could to the room where his lord was repeatedly clapping his hands.
By now Hideyoshi had gone out onto the veranda. Through the front castle gate he could see the tiny figure of Sakichi hastening up the slope from the castle town, and, without looking around toward the footsteps behind him, he shouted out an order to admit him.
Sakichi entered and knelt in front of Hideyoshi.
After he listened to Sakichi's report of the situation at Osaka Castle, Hideyoshi asked, “And Chacha? Are Chacha and her sisters well, too?"
For a moment Sakichi displayed an expression that seemed to indicate that he didn't remember. To answer as though he had been waiting for that question would only make Hideyoshi suspicious (That damned Sakichi has found out), and would undoubtedly make him feel uncomfortable later on. The proof was that in the instant he had asked awkwardly about Chacha, Hideyoshi's lordly expression had crumbled and a blush filled what seemed to be his prevaricating face. He looked extremely self-conscious.
Sakichi alertly saw through his discomfort and could not help feeling amused.
After the fall of Kitanosho, Hideyoshi had cared for Oichi's three daughters as though they were his own. When he had built Osaka Castle, he had had a small, bright enclosure constructed just for them. From time to time he would visit and play with them as though he were taking care of some rare birds in a golden cage.
"What are you laughing about, Sakichi?" Hideyoshi challenged him. But he himself felt slightly amused. Obviously, Sakichi had already understood.
"No, it's nothing at all. I was distracted by my other responsibilities and returned without visiting the three princesses' quarters."
"Is that so? Well, fine." With that, Hideyoshi quickly changed the subject to other gossip. "What rumors did you hear around the Yodo River and Kyoto while you were on the road?"
Hideyoshi inevitably asked a question like that whenever he sent a messenger to a far-off place.
"Wherever I went, war was the only topic of conversation."
When he questioned Sakichi further about conditions in Kyoto and Osaka, he found out that everyone thought that the battle provoked by Nobuo would not actually be fought between Hideyoshi and the Oda heir, but that it would be between Hideyoshi and Ieyasu. After Nobunaga’s death, it was thought that peace would finally be established by Hideyoshi, but once again the nation had been divided in half, and the people's hearts were steeped in anxiety at the specter of a great conflict that would probably extend into every province.
Sakichi withdrew, and as he left, two of Niwa Nagahide's generals, Kanamori Kingo and Hachiya Yoritaka, appeared. Hideyoshi had been going to great lengths to make Niwa his ally because he knew that he would be at a serious disadvantage if he drove him into the enemy camp. Apart from the loss of military strength, Niwa's defection would convince the world that Nobuo and Ieyasu had right on their side. Niwa had been second only to Katsuie among Nobunagas retainers, and he was held in great respect as a man of rare gentility and sincerity.
It was certain that Ieyasu and Nobuo were also offering Niwa every enticement to join them. Perhaps finally moved by Hideyoshi's enthusiasm, however, Niwa had sent Kanamori and Hachiya as the first reinforcements from the north. Hideyoshi was pleased but was nevertheless not completely reassured.
Before nightfall messengers arrived three times with reports on the situation in Ise. Hideyoshi read the dispatches and questioned the messengers in person, entrusted them with verbal replies, and had letters of response written as he ate his evening meal.
A large folding screen stood in the corner of the room. A map of Japan on its two panels had been painted in gold leaf. Hideyoshi looked at the map and asked, "Haven't we heard from Echizen? What about the messenger I sent to the Uesugi?"
While his retainers made some excuse about the distances involved, Hideyoshi counted on his fingers. He had sent messages to the Kiso and to the Satake. The net of his diplomacy had been carefully thrown over the length and breadth of the country shown on the screen. By his very nature, Hideyoshi considered war to be the last resort. It was an article of faith with him that diplomacy itself was a battle. But it was not diplomacy for its own sake. Nor did it have its source in military weakness. His diplomacy was always backed up by military strength and was employed after his military authority and troops had been completely provided for. But diplomacy had not worked with Ieyasu. He had said nothing about it to anyone, but long before the situation had reached this pass, Hideyoshi had sent a man to Hamamatsu with the following message:
If you will take into consideration my petition to the Emperor last year for your promotion, you will understand my warm feelings toward you. Is there any reason we should fight? It is generally accepted throughout the nation that Lord Nobuo is weak-minded. No matter how much you wave the flag of moral duty and embrace the remnants of the Oda clan, the world is not going to admire your efforts as those of a man of virtue commanding a righteous army. In the end, there is no value in the two of us fighting. You are an intelligent man, and if you come to terms with me, I will add the provinces of Owari and Mino to your domain.
The outcome of such proposals depends on the other party, however, and the answer that was returned to Hideyoshi had been clearly negative. But even after he had cut off relations with Nobuo, Hideyoshi still sent messengers with even better conditions than before, trying to persuade Ieyasu. The envoys only incurred Ieyasu's indignation, however, and returned utterly discomfited.
"Lord Ieyasu replies that it is Lord Hideyoshi who does not understand him," the envoy reported.
Hideyoshi forced a smile and retorted, "Ieyasu doesn't understand my genuine feelings, either."
No matter what else he did, however, the time he spent in Sakamoto was consumed entirely by work. Sakamoto was both his military headquarters for Ise and southern Owari and the center of a diplomatic and intelligence network that stretched from the north to the western provinces. As the center for secret operations, Sakamoto was much more convenient than Osaka. Also, messengers could come and go to and from Sakamoto hout attracting undue attention.
On the surface, the two spheres of influence seemed to be distinctly drawn: Ieyasu from the east to the northeast, and Hideyoshi from the capital to the west. But even in Hideyoshi's stronghold of Osaka, there were innumerable people in collusion with the Tokugawa. Nor could it be said that there was no one at court who supported Ieyasu and waited for Hideyoshi to stumble.
Even among the samurai clans, there were fathers and mothers in the service of provincial lords in Osaka and Kyoto whose children served generals of the eastern army. Brothers fought on separate sides. Thus the tragic stage was set for bloody conflicts to erupt within families.
Hideyoshi knew the bitter hardships that war brought. The world had been at war from the time he was growing up in his mother's dilapidated house in Nakamura. It had been the same throughout the many years of his wanderings. With Nobunaga's appearance on the stage, society's suffering had become even more severe for a while, but it had been accompanied by a brightness and joy in the lives of the common people. People believed that Nobunaga was going to usher in an era of lasting peace. But he had been cut down halfway through his work.
Hideyoshi had vowed to overcome the setback of Nobunaga's death, and the effort he had made—almost without sleep or rest—had brought him within one step of his goal. Now that final step he needed to take to achieve his ambition was near. It could be said that he had traveled nine hundred leagues of a thousand-league journey. But those last hundred leagues were the hardest. He had presumed that at some point, as a matter of course, he would have to confront the last obstacle—Ieyasu—and either remove it from his path or destroy it. But when he approached, he discovered it was going to be more unyielding than he had imagined.
During the ten days Hideyoshi spent in Sakamoto, Ieyasu moved his army as far as Kiyosu. It was clear that Ieyasu planned to stir up war like a hornet's nest in Iga, Ise, and Kishu and advance westward, entering Kyoto and pressing in on Osaka in one blow, like the path of a typhoon.
But Ieyasu did not think the road was going to be an easy one. He was anticipating one huge engagement on his advance toward Osaka, and Hideyoshi was expecting that as well. But where would it be? The only place of sufficient size to be the site of this all-or-nothing battle between east and west was the broad Nobi Plain that bordered the Kiso River.
A man of initiative would gain the advantage by constructing fortifications and holding the high ground. While Ieyasu had already attended to that and was fully prepared, Hideyoshi could be said to have made a belated start. Even on the evening of the thirteenth day of the month, he still had not moved from Sakamoto.
Despite appearances, however, his seeming tardiness was not the result of negligence. Hideyoshi knew Ieyasu could not be compared with either Mitsuhide or Katsuie. He had to delay in order to complete his own preparations. He waited to win over Niwa Nagahide; he waited to make sure the Mori could do nothing in the western provinces; he waited to destroy the dangerous remnants of the warrior-monks in Shikoku and Kishu; finally, he waited to split the opposition of the generals in nearby Mino and Owari.
The stream of messengers was unending, and Hideyoshi received them even while he ate. He had just finished his meal and put down his chopsticks when a dispatch arrived. He reached out to take the letter box.
It was something he had been waiting for: the answer from Bito Jinemon, whom he had sent as the second messenger to Ikeda Shonyu's castle at Ogaki. Would it be good or bad news? There had been no news at all from the envoys he had sent to win over other castles. Hideyoshi opened the letter, feeling as though he was cutting open the envelope of an oracle, and read it.
"Fine," was all he said.
Late that night after he had gone to sleep, he suddenly got up as though he had just thought of something and called for the samurai on night watch.
"Is Bito's messenger returning tomorrow morning?"
"No," the guard replied, "he was pressed for time, and after a short rest he returned to Mino, taking to the road at night." Sitting on top of his bedding, Hideyoshi took up his brush and wrote a letter to Bito.
Thanks to your great efforts, Shonyu and his son have pledged their solidarity with me, and nothing could give me greater joy. But there is something I must say right away: If Nobuo and Ieyasu know that Shonyu is going to support me, they will surely become threatening in every manner conceivable. Do not react. Do nothing rash. Ikeda Shonyu and Mori Nagayoshi have always been brave and proud men with great contempt for the enemy.
As soon as he put down his pen, he sent the note to Ogaki.
Two days later, however, on the evening of the fifteenth, another message was delivered from Ogaki.
Inuyama Castle had fallen. At the same time Shonyu and his son had made their decision, they had captured the most strategic stronghold on the Kiso River and presented it as a gift of their support for Hideyoshi. It was good news.
Hideyoshi was pleased. But he was troubled as well.
On the following day Hideyoshi was in Osaka Castle. During the next few days omes of failure multiplied. After the happy victory at Inuyama, Hideyoshi learned that Shonyu’s son-in-law, Nagayoshi, wanting to achieve a great military exploit of his own, had planned to make a surprise attack on the Tokugawa fortifications at Mount Komaki. His army had been intercepted by the enemy near Haguro, and it was rumored that he had perished with many of his troops.
“We lost this man because of his fighting spirit. Such foolishness is unpardonable!" Hideyoshi's bitter lament was aimed at himself.
Just as Hideyoshi was ready to leave Osaka on the nineteenth, another piece of bad arrived from Kishu. Hatakeyama Sadamasa had rebelled and was pressing in on Osaka from both land and sea. Nobuo and Ieyasu were most likely behind this. Even if they were not, the discontented remnants of the warrior-monks of the Honganji were always-watching for an opportunity to attack. Hideyoshi was obliged to postpone the day of his departure, in order to complete the defenses of Osaka.
It was early in the morning of the twenty-first day of the Third Month. The wrens sang their high-pitched songs in the reeds of Osaka. Cherry blossoms fell, and in the streets, the fallen blooms swirled around the long procession of armored men and horses, making it appear as though nature itself were sending them off. The townspeople who had come to watch formed an endless fence along the roadside.