I will send you word and repay you for your kindness.' The name that he left with them was Matsunami Sokuro.
Several years later a letter had arrived, bearing the signature Lord Saito Dosan. To their surprise, it was from the man whom they had known as Sokuro. The alliance was an old one, passed on from one generation to the next. So, as soon as Koroku knew that the secret messenger was from Saito Dosan, he hurried out to meet him.
There in the shadows of the forest, the two men exchanged greetings, then, looking each other in the eye, each man raised his open palm to his chest, as if in prayer.
'I am Hachisuka Koroku.'
'I am Namba Naiki of Inabayama.'
As a young man, Dosan had studied Buddhism at Myokakuji Temple. This experience had led him to use the secret Buddhist terms and signs he had learned in temples and monasteries as passwords among his men.
Once they had finished these formalities and authenticated their identities, the two men felt more at their ease and talked freely. Koroku ordered Hiyoshi to stand guard and to let absolutely no one pass, and he and Naiki walked deeper into the forest. Whatever the two men talked about, or whatever secret documents Naiki might have brought with him, were, of course, not revealed to Hiyoshi, nor did he want to know. He stood faithfully at the edge of the forest, keeping watch. When he had a task to perform, he did it: if he was to sweep the garden, he swept it; if he was to stand guard, he stood guard. He did a thorough job, whatever it was. Unlike other men, he was able to find pleasure in any job that he was given, but this was not simply because he was born poor. Rather, he saw the work at hand as a preparation for the next task. He was convinced that this was the way he would one day realize his ambitions.
What do I have to do to become somebody in the world? This was a question often asked himself. Some had pedigree and lineage, but not he. Others had money and power, but Hiyoshi did not have these, either. Well, how am I going to make my fortune? The question depressed him because he was so short, and no healthier than the next man. He had no learning to speak of, and his intelligence was only average. What in the world did he have going for him? Faithfulness—that was all he could come up with. He wasn't going to be faithful in some things and not in others, he was determined to be faithful in all things. He would hold on to his faithfulness because he had nothing else to give.
All or nothing! That was how far he had to go. He would pursue any job to the end, just as though the gods themselves had given him a mission. Whether it was sweeping the garden, being a sandal bearer, or cleaning out the stables, he would put everything he had into it. For the sake of his ambitions, he resolved not to be idle now. To try to separate himself from the present was nonsense in terms of the future.
The small birds of the forest chirped and twittered above Hiyoshi's head. But he did not see the fruit in the trees at which the birds were pecking. When Koroku finally emerged from the forest, he was in high spirits. His eyes were fired by ambition. And his face, which would become strained when he heard about problems, was still flushed by some important news.
'Where is the monk?' asked Hiyoshi.
'He took another path out of the forest.' Koroku looked hard at Hiyoshi and said, 'Keep this to yourself.'
'Of course, sir.'
'By the way, Namba Naiki praised you to the skies.'
'Really?'
'Someday I'm going to promote you. I hope you decide to stay with us forever!'
Night fell, and the principal members of the clan met in Koroku's residence. The secret council lasted into the small hours. That night, too, Hiyoshi stood beneath the stars in the role of faithful guard.
The strictest secrecy was maintained about the contents of the message from Saito Dosan, the substance being revealed only to the key men. But in the days following the nighttime council, several of Koroku's retainers began to disappear from Hachisuka. They were a select group, the ablest and shrewdest, and they left the village in disguise—bound for Inabayama, it was whispered.
Koroku's younger brother, Shichinai, was one of those chosen to go undercover in Inabayama. Hiyoshi was ordered to accompany him.
'Are we going on a scouting mission? Is there going to be a battle?' he asked.
'Never mind,' was the curt reply. 'Just keep quiet and come along with me.' Shichinai would say nothing more. Lower-ranking members of the household, even the kitchen workers, called him 'Master Pockmark,' but only behind his back. He made them feel ill at ease, and they detested him. He drank heavily, was arrogant, and had none of the warmheartedness of his elder brother. Hiyoshi quite frankly felt the man was disgusting, but he did not complain about the assignment. He had been chosen because Koroku trusted him. Hiyoshi had not yet asked to become a member of the clan, but he had agreed to follow orders faithfully. He was ready and willing to serve Shichinai—even this Master Pockmark—to the end, if need be.
On the day of their departure, Shichinai changed his appearance right down to the way he tied his hair. He would be traveling incognito, disguised as an oil merchant from Kiyosu. Hiyoshi changed back into the itinerant needle peddler of the previous summer The two of them were going to be chance traveling companions on the road to Mino.
'Monkey, when we come to the checkpoints, we'd better go through separately.'
'All right.'
'You're a blabbermouth, so try to keep your mouth shut, whatever they ask you.'
'Yes, sir.'
'If you give yourself away, I'll pretend I don't know you and leave you there.'
There were many checkpoints along the road. Despite the close ties of kinship that should have made the Oda and the Saito allies, in reality they were exactly the opposite. As a result, both sides were particularly vigilant at their common border. But even when they had crossed into Mino proper, the atmosphere of suspicion did not dissipate, and Hiyoshi asked Shichinai why.
'You're always asking the obvious! Lord Saito Dosan and his son Yoshitatsu have been at odds for years.' Shichinai did not seem to be surprised by the enmity between two factions within a single family. Hiyoshi was tempted to question Shichinai's intelligence. It was not as though examples were lacking, even in ancient times, of fathers and sons in the warrior class taking up arms against one another, but there had to be good reasons.
'Why is there a bad relationship between Lord Dosan and Lord Yoshitatsu?' Hiyoshi asked again.
'Don't be a nuisance! If you want to know, ask somebody else.' Shichinai clucked his tongue and refused to say anything more. Before arriving in Mino, Hiyoshi had worried that he would be forced to do something against his better judgment.
Inabayama was a picturesque castle town nestling among small mountains. The autumn tints of Mount Inabayama were misty under a fine rain, but there was a hint of sunlight shining through. Autumn was deepening, and one could look at the mountain from morning till night and never tire of it. It looked as if the cliff had been covered with a golden brocade, a phenomenon that had given Inabayama its second name: the Mountain of the Golden Flower. It soared up from the Nagara River, a splendid backdrop the town and fields, and Hiyoshi's eyes grew wide when he saw on its peak the white walls of the castle, small in the distance, crouching like a solitary white bird.
The only way up from the town below was by a tortuous path, and the castle had a plentiful supply of water. Hiyoshi was impressed. It was the kind of stronghold that was difficult to attack and unlikely to fall. Then he reminded himself that a province was not held by castles alone.
Shichinai took a room in a merchants' inn on a street in the prosperous part of town. He gave Hiyoshi only a little money and told him to stay at one of the cheap lodging houses in the back streets.
'After a while I'll give you your orders,' he said. 'People are going to be suspicious if you're idle, so until I'm ready for you, go out every day with your needles.'
Hiyoshi gave a respectful bow, took the money, and did as he was told. The lodging house was not very clean, but he was more at ease being on his own. He still could not imagine what he was going to be ordered to do. There were many different kinds of travelers staying at the lodging house: actors, mirror polishers, and loggers. He was familiar with their unique smell and with the fleas and lice they boarded with.
