TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN

'Matsubara Takumi.'

They proceeded with heavy footsteps down a wide, dark corridor and into the interior of the house. All along the corridor, the faces of servants, the women of the hous hold, wives and children—the many individuals who made up this extended family-greeted the chief of the clan, come back from the outside world. Koroku returned the greetings, giving each at least a glance, and arriving at the main hall, he sat down heavily on a round straw mat. The light from a small lamp clearly showed the lines on his face. Was he in a bad mood? wondered the women anxiously, while they brought water, tea and black bean cakes.

'Oinosuke?' Koroku said after a while, turning to the retainer sitting farthest away from him. 'We were well shamed this evening, were we not?'

'We were,' Oinosuke agreed.

The four men sitting with Koroku looked bitter. Koroku seemed to have no outlet for his bad mood. 'Takumi, Hannojo. What do you think?'

'About what?'

'This evening's embarrassment! Wasn't the name of the Hachisuka clan shamefully blackened?'

The four men withdrew into a deep silence. The night was sultry, with no hint of a breeze. The smoke from the mosquito-repellent incense drifted into their eyes.

Earlier that day, Koroku had received an invitation from an important Oda retainer to attend a tea ceremony. He had never had a taste for such things, but the guests would all be prominent people in Owari, and it would be a good chance to meet them. If he had turned down the invitation, he would have been ridiculed. People would have said, 'How pretentious they are, putting on airs. Why, he's nothing more than the leader of a gang of ronin. He was probably afraid to show his ignorance of the tea ceremony.'

Koroku and four of his followers had gone to the affair in a very dignified manner. During the tea ceremony, an akae water pitcher had caught the eye of one of the guests and in the course of the conversation, a comment had slipped carelessly from his lips.

'How odd,' he said. 'I'm sure I've seen this pitcher at the house of Sutejiro, the pottery merchant. Isn't it the famous piece of akae ware that was stolen by bandits?'

The host, who was inordinately fond of the pitcher, was naturally shocked. 'That's absurd! I only recentiy bought this from a shop in Sakai for nearly one thousand pieces of gold!' He even went so far as to show a receipt.

'Well,' the guest persisted, 'the thieves must have sold it to a Sakai dealer, and through one transaction after another it finally came to your honored house. The man who broke into the pottery merchant's house was Watanabe Tenzo of Mikuriya. There is no doubt about that.'

A chill went through the assembled guests. Clearly the man who spoke so freely knew nothing about the family tree of his fellow guest, Hachisuka Koroku. But the master of the house and quite a number of the other guests were well aware that Watanabe Tenzo was Koroku's nephew and one of his chief allies. Before he left that day, Koroku swore to investigate the matter fully. Koroku had felt himself dishonored, and had returned home angry and ashamed. None of his dejected kinsmen could come up with a plan. If it had been a matter involving their own families or retainers, they could have dealt with it, but the incident revolved around Tenzo, who was Koroku's nephew. Tenzo's household in Mikuriya was an offshoot of this one in Hachisuka, and he always had twenty to thirty ronin in residence.

Koroku was even angrier because he was related to Tenzo. 'This is outrageous,' he growled, feeling contempt for Tenzo's evil ways. 'I've been stupid, ignoring Tenzo's recent behavior. He's taken to dressing up in fine clothes and keeping a number of women. He's brought the family name into disrepute. We'll have to get rid of him. As it is, the Hachisuka clan will be seen to be no different from a band of thieves or a bunch of shameless ronin. A sad state of affairs for a family that is usually regarded as one of the leading provincial clans. Even I, Hachisuka Koroku, hear in public that I am the leader of bandits.'

Hannojo and Oinosuke looked down at the ground, embarrassed at suddenly seeing tears of grief in Koroku's eyes.

'Listen, all of you!' Koroku looked directly at his men. 'The roof tiles of this man­sion bear the crest of the manji cross. Although it is now covered with moss, the crest has been passed down from the time of my distant ancestor, Lord Minamoto Yorimasa, to whom it was awarded by Prince Takakura for raising an army loyal to him. Our family once served the shoguns, but from the time of Hachisuka Taro, we lost our influence. So now we are merely another provincial clan. Surely we're not going to rot away in the country and do nothing about it. No, I, Hachisuka Koroku, have vowed that the time has come! I have been waiting for the day when I might restore our family name and show the world a thing or two.'

'This is what you've always said.'

'I have told you before that you must think before you act, and protect the weak. My nephew's character has not improved. He has broken into the house of a merchant and done the work of a thief in the night.' Chewing his lip, Koroku realized that the matter had to be settled. 'Oinosuke, Shinshichi. The two of you will go to Mikuriya, tonight. Bring Tenzo here but don't tell him the reason. He has a number of armed men with him. He's not a man, as they say, to let himself be captured with a single length of rope.'

The following dawn came amid the chirping of birds in the forested hills. One house among the fortifications caught the morning sun early.

'Matsu, Matsu!'

Matsunami, Koroku's wife, peeked into the bedroom. Koroku was awake, lying on his side under the mosquito netting.

'Have the men I sent to Mikuriya last night returned yet?'

'No, not yet.'

'Hm,' Koroku grunted, a concerned look on his face. Although his nephew was a villain who did nothing but evil, he had a sharp mind. If this turned ugly, would he sense it and try to escape? They're rather late, he thought again.

His wife untied the mosquito netting. Their son, Kameichi, who was playing at the edge of the net, was not quite two years old.

'Hey! Come here.' Koroku embraced the child and held him at arm's length. As plump as the children in Chinese paintings, the boy felt heavy, even in his father's arms.

'What's the matter? Your eyelids are red and swollen.' Koroku licked at Kameichi's eyes. The boy, turning restive, pulled and scratched at his father's face.

'He must have been eaten up by the mosquitoes,' his mother replied.

'If it's just mosquitoes, it's nothing to worry about.'

'He frets so, even when he's asleep. He keeps slipping out from under the net.'

'Don't let him get cold when he's asleep.'

'Of course I won't.'

'And be careful of smallpox.'

'Don't even talk about it.'

'He's our first child. You might say he's the prize of our first campaign.'

Koroku was young and sturdy. He shook off the pleasure of the moment and strode out of the room, like a man who had some great purpose to achieve. He was not one to sit indoors and peacefully sip his morning tea. When he had changed his clothes and washed his face, he went into the garden, walking with great strides toward the sound of hammering.

Along one side of the narrow path were two small smithies that had been built in a area where huge trees had been fairly recently cut down. This was the middle of a forest where no ax, until now, had touched a tree since the days of Koroku's forefathers.

The gunsmith, Kuniyoshi, whom Koroku had secretly summoned from the city of Sakai, was at work with his apprentices.

'How's it going?' he asked. Kuniyoshi and his men prostrated themselves on the dirt floor. 'No luck yet, eh? Are you still unable to copy the firearm you're using as a model?”

'We've tried this and we've tried that. We've gone without sleep and food, but…'

Koroku nodded. Just then a low-ranking retainer came up to him and said, 'My lord the two men you sent to Mikuriya have just come back.'