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

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.'

'Don't you need to discuss the matter with your family?'

'I'll inform them of my decision later. They should all rejoice with me.'

'And—well, this is difficult to say, but it is a matter of some urgency—it is said thai Lord Nobunaga will be arriving soon.'

'It's the same to me whether it's done sooner or later. When is it to be?'

'Today. Lord Hideyoshi said by the Hour of the Horse, and that's only five hours away.'

'If that's all the time there is,' Muneharu said, 'I should be able to prepare for death with ease.'

*  *  *

Ekei first reported Muneharu's agreement to Hideyoshi, then rode at full gallop to the Mori camp at Mount Iwasaki.

Both Kikkawa and Kobayakawa were worried about the reason for his sudden return.

'Have they broken off talks?' Kobayakawa asked.

'No,' Ekei replied. 'There are prospects of success.'

'Well then, Hideyoshi has yielded?' Kobayakawa asked, looking a little surprised. Ekei, however, shook his head.

'The person who has prayed more than anyone for a peaceful reconciliation has of fered to sacrifice himself for the sake of peace.'

'Who are you talking about?'

'General Muneharu. He said that he would repay with his life Lord Terumoto's protection for all these years.'

'Ekei, did you talk to him at Hideyoshi's request?'

'You know I could not have gone out to the castle without his permission.'

'Then you explained the situation to Muneharu, and he offered to commit seppuku of his own free will?'

'Yes. He will kill himself at the Hour of the Horse, on board a boat in full view of both armies. At that moment the peace treaty will be concluded, the lives of the defenders will be saved, and the safety of the Mori clan will be assured forever.'

Full of emotion, Kobayakawa asked, 'What are Hideyoshi's intentions?'

'When he heard General Muneharu's offer, Lord Hideyoshi was deeply moved. He said that it would be heartless not to reward such matchless loyalty. Therefore, while your promise had been to cede five provinces, he would take only three and leave the remaining two, out of regard for Muneharu's sacrifice. If there is no disagreement, he will send a written pledge immediately after witnessing Muneharu's seppuku.'

Soon after Ekei had left, Muneharu announced his decision. One after another, the samurai of Takamatsu Castle came before their lord to beg him to allow them to follow him in death. Muneharu argued, cajoled, and scolded, but they would not be mollified. He was at a loss what to do. But in the end he did not grant anyone's request.

He ordered an attendant to prepare a boat. Bitter wailing filled the castle. When the requests of all his retainers had been withdrawn, and Muneharu seemed to have a little breathing space, Gessho, his elder brother, came to speak with him.

'I heard everything you said,' Gessho said. 'But there's no need for you to die. Let me take your place.'

'Brother, you are a monk, while I am a general. I appreciate your offer, but I cannot let anyone take my place.'

'I was the eldest son, and I should have carried on the family name. Instead I chose to enter holy orders, putting you in the position that I should have taken. So today, when you have to commit seppuku, there is no reason why I should prolong what's left of my own life.'

'No matter what you say,' Muneharu replied, 'I will not let you or anyone else commit seppuku in my place.'

Muneharu refused Gessho's offer but allowed him to accompany him in the boat, Muneharu felt at peace. Calling his pages, he ordered them to put out a light blue cereonial kimono for him to die in.

'And bring me a brush and ink,' he ordered, remembering to write a letter to his wife and son.

The Hour of the Horse was fast approaching. Every single drop of drinking water had been regarded as essential to the lives of the people in the castle, but that day he ordered a bucketfull of water to be brought in, to clean off the dirt that had accumulated on his body during the forty days of the siege.

How peaceful was this lull in the fighting. The sun seemed to climb innocently to the middle of the sky. There was no wind at all, and the color of the muddy water on all sides of the castle was as murky as ever.

The small waves that lapped gently at the castle walls glinted in the sun, and from time to time the cry of the snowy egret could be heard in the silence.

A small red banner was raised at the Nose of the Frog on the opposite shore, indicating that the time had come. Muneharu stood up abruptly. An involuntary sob came from the midst of his attendants. Muneharu walked quickly in the direction of the castle walls, as though he had suddenly become deaf.

The oar made a loose pattern in the water. The boat carried five men: Muneharu,

Gessho, and three retainers. Every single man, woman, and child in the castle was perched on the walls and rooftops. They did not cry out when they watched Muneharu go but either folded their hands in prayer or wiped the tears from their eyes.

The boat sculled peacefully over the surface of the lake. When he turned around, Gessho could see that Takamatsu Castle was a good way behind them, and that the boat was halfway between the castle and the Nose of the Frog.

'This will do,' Muneharu instructed the oarsman.

The man pulled up the oar without a word. They did not have to wait for long.

When the boat had set out from the castle, another had left the Nose of the Frog. That one carried