'Lord Ieyasu replies that it is Lord Hideyoshi who does not understand him,' the envoy reported.
Hideyoshi forced a smile and retorted, 'Ieyasu doesn't understand my genuine feelings, either.'
No matter what else he did, however, the time he spent in Sakamoto was consumed entirely by work. Sakamoto was both his military headquarters for Ise and southern Owari and the center of a diplomatic and intelligence network that stretched from the north to the western provinces. As the center for secret operations, Sakamoto was much more convenient than Osaka. Also, messengers could come and go to and from Sakamoto hout attracting undue attention.
On the surface, the two spheres of influence seemed to be distinctly drawn: Ieyasu from the east to the northeast, and Hideyoshi from the capital to the west. But even in Hideyoshi's stronghold of Osaka, there were innumerable people in collusion with the Tokugawa. Nor could it be said that there was no one at court who supported Ieyasu and waited for Hideyoshi to stumble.
Even among the samurai clans, there were fathers and mothers in the service of provincial lords in Osaka and Kyoto whose children served generals of the eastern army. Brothers fought on separate sides. Thus the tragic stage was set for bloody conflicts to erupt within families.
Hideyoshi knew the bitter hardships that war brought. The world had been at war from the time he was growing up in his mother's dilapidated house in Nakamura. It had been the same throughout the many years of his wanderings. With Nobunaga's appearance on the stage, society's suffering had become even more severe for a while, but it had been accompanied by a brightness and joy in the lives of the common people. People believed that Nobunaga was going to usher in an era of lasting peace. But he had been cut down halfway through his work.
Hideyoshi had vowed to overcome the setback of Nobunaga's death, and the effort he had made—almost without sleep or rest—had brought him within one step of his goal. Now that final step he needed to take to achieve his ambition was near. It could be said that he had traveled nine hundred leagues of a thousand-league journey. But those last hundred leagues were the hardest. He had presumed that at some point, as a matter of course, he would have to confront the last obstacle—Ieyasu—and either remove it from his path or destroy it. But when he approached, he discovered it was going to be more unyielding than he had imagined.
During the ten days Hideyoshi spent in Sakamoto, Ieyasu moved his army as far as Kiyosu. It was clear that Ieyasu planned to stir up war like a hornet's nest in Iga, Ise, and Kishu and advance westward, entering Kyoto and pressing in on Osaka in one blow, like the path of a typhoon.
But Ieyasu did not think the road was going to be an easy one. He was anticipating one huge engagement on his advance toward Osaka, and Hideyoshi was expecting that as well. But where would it be? The only place of sufficient size to be the site of this all-or-nothing battle between east and west was the broad Nobi Plain that bordered the Kiso River.
A man of initiative would gain the advantage by constructing fortifications and holding the high ground. While Ieyasu had already attended to that and was fully prepared, Hideyoshi could be said to have made a belated start. Even on the evening of the thirteenth day of the month, he still had not moved from Sakamoto.
Despite appearances, however, his seeming tardiness was not the result of negligence. Hideyoshi knew Ieyasu could not be compared with either Mitsuhide or Katsuie. He had to delay in order to complete his own preparations. He waited to win over Niwa Nagahide; he waited to make sure the Mori could do nothing in the western provinces; he waited to destroy the dangerous remnants of the warrior-monks in Shikoku and Kishu; fi nally, he waited to split the opposition of the generals in nearby Mino and Owari.
The stream of messengers was unending, and Hideyoshi received them even while he ate. He had just finished his meal and put down his chopsticks when a dispatch arrived. He reached out to take the letter box.
It was something he had been waiting for: the answer from Bito Jinemon, whom he had sent as the second messenger to Ikeda Shonyu's castle at Ogaki. Would it be good or bad news? There had been no news at all from the envoys he had sent to win over other castles. Hideyoshi opened the letter, feeling as though he was cutting open the envelope of an oracle, and read it.
'Fine,' was all he said.
Late that night after he had gone to sleep, he suddenly got up as though he had just thought of something and called for the samurai on night watch.
'Is Bito's messenger returning tomorrow morning?'
'No,' the guard replied, 'he was pressed for time, and after a short rest he returned to Mino, taking to the road at night.' Sitting on top of his bedding, Hideyoshi took up his brush and wrote a letter to Bito.
Thanks to your great efforts, Shonyu and his son have pledged their solidarity with me, and nothing could give me greater joy. But there is something I must say right away: If Nobuo and Ieyasu know that Shonyu is going to support me, they will surely become threatening in every manner conceivable. Do not react. Do nothing rash. Ikeda Shonyu and Mori Nagayoshi have always been brave and proud men with great contempt for the enemy.
As soon as he put down his pen, he sent the note to Ogaki.
Two days later, however, on the evening of the fifteenth, another message was delivered from Ogaki.
Inuyama Castle had fallen. At the same time Shonyu and his son had made their decision, they had captured the most strategic stronghold on the Kiso River and presented it as a gift of their support for Hideyoshi. It was good news.
Hideyoshi was pleased. But he was troubled as well.
On the following day Hideyoshi was in Osaka Castle. During the next few days omes of failure multiplied. After the happy victory at Inuyama, Hideyoshi learned that Shonyu’s son-in-law, Nagayoshi, wanting to achieve a great military exploit of his own, had planned to make a surprise attack on the Tokugawa fortifications at Mount Komaki. His army had been intercepted by the enemy near Haguro, and it was rumored that he had perished with many of his troops.
“We lost this man because of his fighting spirit. Such foolishness is unpardonable!' Hideyoshi's bitter lament was aimed at himself.
Just as Hideyoshi was ready to leave Osaka on the nineteenth, another piece of bad arrived from Kishu. Hatakeyama Sadamasa had rebelled and was pressing in on Osaka from both land and sea. Nobuo and Ieyasu were most likely behind this. Even if they were not, the discontented remnants of the warrior-monks of the Honganji were always-watching for an opportunity to attack. Hideyoshi was obliged to postpone the day of his departure, in order to complete the defenses of Osaka.
It was early in the morning of the twenty-first day of the Third Month. The wrens sang their high-pitched songs in the reeds of Osaka. Cherry blossoms fell, and in the streets, the fallen blooms swirled around the long procession of armored men and horses, making it appear as though nature itself were sending them off. The townspeople who had come to watch formed an endless fence along the roadside.
The army following Hideyoshi that day numbered more than thirty thousand men. Everyone strained to catch a glimpse of Hideyoshi in their midst, but he was so small and ordinary-looking that, surrounded by his mounted generals, he easily escaped notice.
But Hideyoshi looked at the crowd and secretly smiled with assurance. Osaka is going to prosper, he thought. It seems to be flourishing already, and that's the best omen of all. The crowd wore bright colors and bold patterns, and there were no indications of a town in decline. Was it because they had faith in the new castle at its very center?
We'll win. This time we can win. That is how Hideyoshi divined the future.
That night the army camped at Hirakata, and early on the following morning, the thirty-thousand-man army continued east, following a serpentine path along the Yodo
When they arrived in Fushimi, about four hundred men came forward to meet them at the river crossing.
“Whose banners are those?' Hideyoshi asked.
The generals narrowed their eyes suspiciously. Nobody could identify the huge banners of black Chinese characters on a field of red. There were also five golden pendants commander's standard with insignias of eight smaller circles around a large central one on a golden fan. Beneath those banners thirty mounted warriors, thirty spearmen, thirty gunners, twenty archers, and a corps of foot soldiers waited in full formation, their clothing rustling brilliantly in the river breeze.
“Go find out who they are,' Hideyoshi ordered a retainer.
