"What kind of difficulties am I going to encounter when I march on Kyoto with all my power and the great armies of Suruga, Totomi, and Mikawa?" Yoshimoto asked again.
He planned a bloodless march on the capital, ascertaining the actual conditions of all the provinces on the way and planning a diplomatic policy ahead of time to avoid as much fighting as possible. But the first battle on the road to Kyoto was not going to be with the strong provinces of Mino or Omi. It was going to be, first and foremost, against the Oda of Owari. They were small fry. But they were not to be conciliated by diplomacy, or bought off.
They were going to be a troublesome enemy indeed. And this was not just today's or yesterday's enemy. For the last forty years the Oda and the Imagawa had been at war. If a castle was taken, another would be captured by the other side, and if a town was burned, ten villages would be set on fire in return. In fact, from the time of Nobunaga's father and Yoshimoto's grandfather, the two clans seemed fated to bury the bones of their men at the border of the two provinces.
When the rumor of the Imagawa march to the capital reached the Oda, they were quickly resolved to fight one great decisive battle. For Yoshimoto, the Oda were the ideal victims for the army advancing on the capital, and he continued to refine his schemes against them.
This was the last council of war. Sessai, Ieyasu, and his attendants left the palace. On their way home it was pitch black; not a light was burning in Sumpu.
“There's nothing we can do but pray to heaven for good luck," Sessai mumbled. With age, even an enlightened mind gets foolish again. "How cold it is," Sessai complained, but it was not a night one would think of as being cold. When people thought about it later, it was from this time that the abbot's illness worsened. That was the last night that Sessai's feet ever trod the earth. In the loneliness of mid-autumn, Sessai died quietiy, unnoticed.
* * *
In the middle of that winter, there seemed to be a lull in the skirmishes at the border, but it was actually the season of building up strength for taking even greater actions. The following year the winter barley in the fertile fields of the coastal provinces grew tall. The cherry blossoms fell, and the smell of the young leaves on the seedlings rose to the sky.
It was early summer. Yoshimoto proclaimed the order from Sumpu for his army to advance on the capital. The huge scale and the resplendent traveling attire of the army of the Imagawa made the entire world open its eyes wide in astonishment. And his proclamation made the small and weak provinces cower in fear. The message was clear and simple:
Those who obstruct the advance of my army will be struck down. Those who welcome it with civilities will be well treated.
After the Boys' Festival, Yoshimoto's heir, Ujizane, was left in charge of Sumpu, and on the twelfth day of the Fifth Month, the main army advanced in fine array amid the cheers of the people. The magnificent warriors, whose radiance rivaled the light of the sun, marched toward the capital, like the unrolling of a gaudy picture scroll—commanders' standards, banners, flags, weapons, and armor. The army probably numbered around twenty-five or twenty-six thousand men, but it was purposely proclaimed to be an army of forty thousand.
The vanguard of the advance troops entered the post town of Chiryu on the fifteenth and, approaching Narumi on the seventeenth, set fire to the villages in that part of Owari. The weather had been continually fine and warm. The furrows of the barley fields and the earth that bloomed with flowers were dried white. In the blue sky here and there rose the black smoke of burning villages. But not a single report of a gun came from the Oda province. The farmers had been commanded beforehand to evacuate, and to leave nothing for the advancing Imagawa.
"At this rate, the castle in Kiyosu will also be empty!"
The officers and men of the Imagawa felt the heaviness of their armor in the tedium of the peaceful, flat roads.
Inside Kiyosu Castle, the lamps blazed this evening in the midst of a hushed world. They seemed, however, to be lamps lit just before the impending onslaught of a violent storm. The trees that stood in unmoving silence on the castle grounds called to mind the uncanny stillness in the eye of a typhoon. And still no instructions were sent from the castle to the townsfolk. There was no command to evacuate or to prepare for a siege, and in the absence of anything else, not even a message of reassurance. The merchants opened their shops as usual. The craftsmen were doing their work as they always did. Even the farmers were cultivating their fields. But the coming and going of traffic on the roads had halted several days before.
The town was a bit lonelier and rumors abounded.
"I've heard that Imagawa Yoshimoto is marching west with an army of forty thousand men."
Wherever the uneasy citizens met, they speculated about their fate:
"I wonder how Lord Nobunaga plans to defend the town?"
"There's just no way to defend it. No matter how you look at it, our troops don't amount to even one-tenth of the Imagawa forces."
And in the midst of this, they saw the clan's generals passing through the town, one after another. Some were commanders leaving the castle and returning to their districts, but several of them appeared to have taken their stand in the castle.
"They're probably discussing whether to capitulate to the Imagawa or risk the survival of the clan and fight." Such perceptions of the common people were concerned with things they could not witness, but they usually did not miss the mark. In fact, that very controversy had been repeatedly gone over in the castle for several days. At every conference, the generals were divided into two factions.
The advocates of "the safe plan" and "the clan first" said that the best policy would be to submit to the Imagawa. But the controversy did not last long. And this was because Nobunaga had already made up his mind.
His only motive in convening a conference of the senior retainers was to let them know his decision, not to inquire about a dependable plan of self-defense or a policy to reserve Owari. When they understood Nobunaga's resolve many of the generals responded positively and, taking heart, returned to their castles.
Thereafter, Kiyosu was as peaceful as usual, and the number of soldiers in Kiyosu did not markedly increase. As might be expected, however, Nobunaga was awakened innulerable times that night to read the reports of messengers from the front.
Again, on the following night, immediately after finishing his frugal evening meal, Nobunaga went to the main hall to discuss the military situation. There, the generals who had not yet taken their leave were still in constant attendance on him. None of them had had sufficient sleep, and their pale features showed their resolve. The retainers who were not involved in the discussion were packed into the next room and the room after that,. Men like Tokichiro were far off, sitting somewhere a number of rooms away. Two nights before, last night and tonight as well, they were anxious and as silent as if they were holding their breaths. And there must have been a number of men that night who looked round at the white lamps and their companions, thinking, This is just like a wake.
In the midst of this, laughter could be heard from time to time. This came from Nounaga alone. Those seated far away did not know the object of this laughter, but it could be heard over and over again, two or three rooms away.
Suddenly a messenger could be heard running down the corridor. Shibata Katsuie, who was to read the report to Nobunaga, turned white before the words could leave his mouth.
"My lord!"
"What is it?"
"The fourth dispatch since this morning has just arrived from the fortress at Marune."
Nobunaga moved his armrest in front of him. "Well?"
"It seems that the Imagawa are marching to Kutsukake this evening."
"Is that so?" This was all Nobunaga said as his eyes stared vacantly at the carved transom in the hall.
Even he seemed confused. Though these men had recently come to rely on Nobunaga's obstinacy, they couldn't help feeling lost. Kutsukake and Marune were within the domain of the Oda clan. And if that line of scattered but essential fortresses had been broken, the Owari Plain had almost no defenses, and the road to Kiyosu Castle could be crossed with one swift effort.
"What are you going to do?" Katsuie asked as if he could not bear the silence any longer. "We've heard that the Imagawa army may number as many as forty thousand men. Our force is less than four thousand. There are only seven hundred men at Marune Castle, at most. Even if the vanguard of the Imagawa, the forces under Tokugawa Ieyasu of Mikawa, number only two thousand five hundred, Marune is a single ship driven before the high waves."
"Katsuie, Katsuie!"
"We cannot hold Marune and Washizu until dawn—"
"Katsuie! Are you deaf? What are you babbling about? There's nothing to be gained by repeating the obvious."
"But—" Just as Katsuie began to speak, he was interrupted by the clattering footsteps of yet another messenger. The man spoke ostentatiously from the entrance of the next room.
"There is urgent news from both the fortresses of Nakajima and Zenshoji."
The reports from those at the front lines who had resolved to die gloriously in battle were always pathetic, and the ones that arrived just now from the two fortresses were no different. Both began, "This is, perhaps, the last dispatch we will be able to send to Kiyosu Castle…."
The last two dispatches contained the same information about the disposition of the enemy's troops, and both predicted an attack on the following day.
"Read the part about the disposition of the troops again," Nobunaga ordered Katsuie, leaning on his armrest. He read the itemized part of the document again, not only to Nobunaga but to all of those who were sitting there in a row.
"The enemy forces approaching the fortress at Marune: about two thousand five hundred men. The enemy forces approaching the fortress at Washizu: about two thousand men. Lateral auxiliary forces: three thousand men. The main force advancing in the direction of Kiyosu: approximately six thousand men. The main Imagawa army: about five thousand men." Reading further, Katsuie went on to comment that beyond what was apparent in these numbers, it was unclear how many small groups of the enemy were traveling undercover. While Nobunaga and all the others listened to Katsuie, he rolled up the scroll and placed it in front of him.
They would fight to the very end. The course was determined. There was no more room to debate. But it was agonizing for all of them to stand idly by and do nothing. Neither Washizu, Marune, nor Zenshoji was far away. If you put the whip to a horse's ribs, you could arrive at any of these places quickly. They could almost see this great army of
The Imagawa's forty thousand men approach like a tide. They could almost hear them.
From one corner of the depressed group came the voice of an old man sunk in grief. “You've made a manly decision, but you shouldn't think that dying gloriously in battle is the only way open to the samurai. Shouldn't you think this over again? Why, even if I'm called a coward, I say there's still room for more deliberation, just in order to save the clan.
It was Hayashi Sado, the man with the longest service among them all. Together with Hirate Nakatsukasa, who had admonished Nobunaga with his suicide, he was one of the three senior retainers ordered by the dying Nobuhide to take care of Nobunaga. And he was the only one of those three who was still alive. Hayashi's thoughts had the sympathy of all the men there. And they all secretly prayed that Nobunaga would take the old man's words to heart.