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

signed and sworn to in front of the altar to Nobunaga.

It was the third day of the Seventh Month. The ceremony marking the first anniversary of Nobunaga's death should have been held the day before. If the conference had gone smoothly, the ceremony might have been conducted on the day itself, but because of Katsuie's reservations, the night had passed by and the memorial service had been postponed until the following day.

Wiping the sweat from their bodies and changing into mourning dress, the generals waited for the appointed hour for the memorial service in the castle's chapel.

The hum of mosquitoes was thick around the eaves, and a thin new moon hung in the sky. Quietly the generals crossed over to the secondary citadel. Red and white lotuses depicted on the sliding doors of the chapel. One by one the men came in and sat down.

Only Hideyoshi did not appear. Eyes were strained in doubt. But as the generals looked in the direction of the faraway altar, among the austere articles such as the shrine, the mortuary tablet, the golden screen, the offertory flowers, and the incense burner, they could see Hideyoshi sitting coolly and smugly beneath the altar, holding the young Samboshi on his lap.

Each one of them wondered what he was doing. When they thought it over, however, they remembered that it had been the judgment of the majority at the conference that afternoon that Hideyoshi would be recognized as an aide to the young lord, along with his two guardians. On those grounds he could not be accused of being presumptuous.

And, simply because he could not find any reason to censure Hideyoshi, Katsuie looked extremely displeased.

'Please go up to the altar in the proper order,' Katsuie growled at Nobuo and Nobutaka, twisting his chin. His voice was low, but it was boiling over with vexation.

'Pardon me, please,' Nobuo said to Nobutaka, and stood up first.

Now it was Nobutaka's turn to look displeased. He seemed to feel that being placed behind Nobuo in front of the assembled generals would place him in a subordinate posi­tion in the future.

Nobuo faced his father's mortuary tablet, closed his eyes, and put his hands to­gether in prayer. Offering incense, he prayed once again in front of the shrine and then withdrew.

Seeing that the man was about to return directly to his own seat, Hideyoshi cleared his throat once as if to bring attention to the child, Samboshi, who was sitting on his lap. Without actually saying 'Your new lord is over here!' he attracted Nobuo's attention.

Nobuo seemed almost startled at Hideyoshi's deliberate gesture, and hurriedly turned in their direction on his knees. He was by nature a weak man, and his alarm seemed al­most pitiful.

Looking up at Samboshi, Nobuo bowed reverently. In fact, he was too polite.

It was not the young lord who nodded his approval; it was Hideyoshi. Samboshi was a fretful, spoiled child, but for some reason, seated on Hideyoshi's lap, he was as quiescent as a little doll.

When Nobutaka stood up, he likewise prayed in front of the soul of his father. But having witnessed Nobuo's precedent and apparently not wanting to be laughed at by the other generals, he bowed reverently toward Samboshi with a truly correct demeanor. He then went back to his seat.

The next was Shibata Katsuie. When his large frame knelt before the shrine, almost hiding it from view, both the red and white lotuses on the partitions and the flickering lamps tinted his figure in what seemed like red flames of wrath. Perhaps he was giving Nobunaga's soul a lengthy report on the conference and pledging his support for his new lord. But with the offering of incense, Katsuie remained a long time in silent prayer with his palms pressed solemnly together. Then, withdrawing about seven paces, he straight­ened his back and turned in the direction of Samboshi.

Since Nobuo and Nobutaka had already bowed reverently to Samboshi, Katsuie could not very well be negligent in that regard. Very likely feeling that it was unavoidable, he swallowed his pride and bowed.

Hideyoshi looked as though he were nodding in approval of Katsuie as well. Katsuie jerked his short, thick neck to the side and returned with a rustle back to his own seat.

After that, he looked angry enough to spit.

Niwa, Takigawa, Shonyu, Hachiya, Hosokawa, Gamo, Tsutsui, and the other generals paid their respects. Then they moved to the banquet room used for such affairs and, at the invitation of Nobutada's widow, settled down to a meal. The tables were set for more than forty guests. The cups were passed around, and the lamps flickered in the cool night breeze. As the men made themselves comfortable with pleasant words for the first time in two days, each was feeling a little drunk.

The banquet that evening was a bit unusual in that it was given after a memorial service, and so no one got very drunk. Nevertheless, as the sake began to be felt, the generals left their seats to talk to others, and laughter and animated conversations could be heard here and there.

A particularly large number of cups and men gathered in front of Hideyoshi. And then one more man stepped into the crowd. 'How about a cup?' asked Sakuma Genba.

Genba's matchless valor in the battles in the north had been highly praised, and it was said that no enemy ever encountered him twice. Katsuie's love for the man was extraordinary. He was fond of describing him as 'my Genba,' or 'my nephew.' In his pride he spoke publicly and freely about Genba's martial virtues.

Katsuie had a great number of nephews, but when he said 'my nephew,' he meant Genba alone.

Even though Genba was only twenty-eight years old, he held Oyama Castle as a general of the Shibata clan and had received a province and rank hardly inferior to the great generals gathered in the banquet room.

'Say, Hideyoshi,' Katsuie said. 'Give a cup to that nephew of mine, too.' Hideyoshi looked around as though he had just noticed Genba. 'Nephew?' Hideyoshi said, studying the younger man. 'Ah, you.' Certainly, he did appear to be the hero everyone talked about, and his sturdy frame overshadowed the short-statured, frail- looking Hideyoshi.

Genba did not, however, have his uncle's pockmarked face. He was fair-skinned but ribust, and at a glance seemed to have the brows of a tiger and the body of a leopard. Hideyoshi presented the man with a cup. 'It's understandable that Lord Katsuie has such fine young men in his clan. Here, have a cup.'

But Genba shook his head. 'If I'm going to receive a cup, I'd like that big one.' The cup in question still contained some sake.

Hideyoshi artlessly emptied it out and called, 'Somebody come serve him.' The mouth of the gold- lacquered flask touched the edge of the vermilion cup, and even though the bottle was quickly emptied, the cup itself was not yet full. Someone brought in another flask, and the cup was finally filled to the brim. The handsome young hero narrowed his eyes, raised the cup to his lips, and drank it in one gulp.

'Well then. What about you?'

'I haven't got that kind of talent,' Hideyoshi said, smiling. At Hideyoshi's refusal to drink, Genba pressed harder. 'Why won't you drink?'

'I'm not a strong drinker.'

'What! Just this little bit.'

'I drink, but not a lot.'

Genba roared with laughter. Then he said, loudly enough so that everyone would hear, 'The rumors that you hear are certainly true. Lord Hideyoshi is good at making ex­cuses, and he's certainly modest. A long time ago—over twenty years—he was an under­ling sweeping up horse droppings and carrying Lord Nobunaga's sandals. It's admirable of him not to have forgotten those days.'

He laughed at his own effrontery. The others must have been startled. The chattering stopped suddenly, and everyone looked back and forth from Hideyoshi, who was still sit­ting across from Genba, to Katsuie.

In an instant, everyone forgot about his cup and suddenly sobered up. Hideyoshi only smiled as he looked at Genba. His forty-five-year-old eyes simply gazed at the youth of twenty-eight. Their dissimilarity was not just a matter of a difference of age. The life Hideyoshi had lived the first twenty-eight years after his birth and the path Genba had followed for his twenty-eight years were extremely different in terms of both environment and experience. Genba might have been considered as just a little boy who knew nothing of hardships in the real world. For this reason he had a reputation for arrogance as well as for bravery. And apparently he was a man who did not employ caution in a place that was more dangerous than any battlefield—a room in which the leading