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

Tokichiro went on severely, 'I'm going to assign you your posts and duties. Listen carefully.' Their attitude had improved. No one looked as if he was only half listening. They were quiet, though not reconciled. And even though they were not really cooperating, they looked scared.

'I've divided the two hundred yards of the wall into fifty sections, giving each group responsibility for four yards. Each group will consist of ten men: three carpenters, two plasterers, and five masons. I'm going to leave those assignments to the foremen. You foremen will each be supervising from four to five groups, so make sure that the workmen are not idle and pay attention to the distribution of men. When any of you have men to spare, move them to a station that is shorthanded. Don't leave an instant for idling.'

They nodded but looked restive. They were irritated by this sort of lecture, and unhappy at being assigned to work stations.

'Ah, I almost forgot,' Tokichiro said in a louder voice. 'Along with the division of ten men for every four yards, I'm assigning a reserve corps of eight coolies and two workmen to each group. When I look at the way the work has been done so far, workers and plasterers are apt to leave the scaffolding and spend the day doing work that is not their own, like carrying lumber. But a worker at the workplace is the same as a soldier on the fied. He should never leave his post. And he shouldn't abandon his tools, whether he be a carpenter, a plasterer, or a mason. That would be the same as a soldier throwing away his sword or spear on the battlefield.'

He allocated the posts and divided the men, and then shouted with authority enough to start a battle, 'Let's begin!'

Tokichiro also found work for his new subordinates. He ordered one of them to beat a drum. When he commanded the workers to begin, the man beat the drum as though they were marching into battle, one beat to every six paces.

Two beats of the drum sounded a break.

'Rest!' Tokichiro gave the order standing on top of a boulder. If someone didn't rest, he scolded him.

The construction site had been swept clean of the indolence that had prevailed until then; it was replaced by an intensity of activity more common on the battlefield, and by the sweat of excitement. But Tokichiro looked on silently, satisfaction never showing in his face. Not yet. Not like this, he thought.

Taught by their many years of labor, the workmen knew how to use their bodies in crafty ways. They gave the impression of working hard, but in fact they were not wringing out real sweat. Their resistance was such that they took a little comfort by showing obedience on the surface, but not truly working hard. Tokichiro's past life had been drowned in sweat, and he knew the true value and beauty of that sweat.

It is untrue to state that labor is a thing of the body. If labor is not filled with the spirit, there's no difference between the sweat of men and that of cows and horses. Keeping his mouth shut, he thought about the true nature of sweat and work. These men were working in order to eat. Or they were working in order to feed parents, wives, and children. They worked for food or pleasure, and they did not rise above that. Their work was small. And it was mean. Their desires were so limited that pity welled up inside Tokichin and he thought, I was like that too, before. Is it reasonable to expect great works from people with little hope? If he couldn't imbue them with a greater spirit, there was no reason for them to work with greater efficiency.

For Tokichiro, standing silently on the construction site, half a day passed quicky.

Half a day was one-sixth of his allotted time. Looking at the site, however, he could see no signs that they had made any progress since morning. Both above and below the scaffolding, the men seemed to be full of eagerness, but it was nothing more than a sham. On the contrary, they anticipated Tokichiro's complete and overwhelming defeat in three days.

'It's noon. Beat the drum,' Tokichiro ordered. The noise and uproar of the construc­tion site came to a halt all at once. When Tokichiro saw that the workers had taken out their lunches, he sheathed his sword and went off.

The afternoon ended with the same atmosphere at the construction site, except that discipline had broken down and indolence was more evident than it had been during the morning. It was no different from the day before, when Yamabuchi Ukon had been in charge. Even worse, the workers and coolies had been ordered to work without rest or sleep from this evening on, and knew that they were not going to be let out of the castie grounds for three days. Thus they begrudged their labor even more and did nothing but think of more ways to cheat as they worked.

'Stop your work! Stop your work! Wash your hands and meet in the square!' It was still light, but the official suddenly made the rounds beating the drum.

'What's going on?' the workers asked each other suspiciously. When they asked the foremen, they were answered with shrugs. They all went to the square where the lumber was kept, to see what this was about. There in the open, sake and food had been put into piles as high as mountains. They were told to be seated, and sat on straw mats, stones, and lumber. Tokichiro sat down in the very center of the workmen and raised his cup.

'Well, this isn't much, but we have three days before us. One day has already passed quickly, but I would like you to work and try the impossible. So, just tonight, please drink and rest to your hearts' content.'

His manner was completely different from what it had been that morning, and he himself set an example by drinking a cup. 'Come on,' he shouted, 'drink up. For those of you who don't like sake, there's food and sweets.'

The workers were amazed. Suddenly they began to worry about finishing the project by the third day.

But Tokichiro was the first to get tipsy.

'Hey! There's plenty of sake. And it's the castle's, so no matter how much we drink, there'll be more in the storehouse. If we drink, we can dance, sing, or just sleep until the beat of the drum.'

The workers soon stopped complaining. Not only were they being released from work, but they were also unexpectedly receiving food and sake. More than that, the over­seer himself was relaxing and mixing with them.

'This gentleman has a sense of humor, doesn't he?'

When the sake began to take effect, they started to tell jokes. But the foremen still looked at Tokichiro coolly.

'Huh! He's being clever, but it's transparent.' And this made them even more hostile. With looks on their faces that questioned the propriety of drinking sake in the workplace, they didn't touch their cups.

'Foremen! What's the matter?' Tokichiro got up, cup in hand, and sat down amid

their cold looks. 'You aren't drinking anything at all. Maybe you're thinking that foremen have responsibilities much like generals and therefore shouldn't drink, but don't be so anxious. What can be done, can be done. What can't be done, can't be done. If I was wrong, and we can't do this in three days, the matter will be closed with my suicide. Forcing the foreman who had the bitterest look to take a cup, Tokichiro poured from the flask himself. 'Well, if we're talking about anxiety, it's not so much this particular construction project or even my own life that concerns me. I worry about the fate of the province in which you all live. But taking over twenty days to do just this little bit of construction—with that kind of spirit, this province is going to perish.'

His words were charged with emotion. Suddenly the workers fell quiet. Tokichiro looked up at the evening stars as though in lamentation. 'I imagine that all of you seen the rise and fall of provinces, too. And you know the misery of the people who lived in fallen provinces. Well, it's something that cannot be helped. Naturally enough, His Lordship, his generals, and those of us who are the lowest samurai do not forget about the defense of the smallest part of the province, even when we sleep.

'But the rise and fall of a province is not in its castle. It's right here, in you. The people of the province are its stone walls and moats. Working on the construction of this castle, you may feel as though you're plastering the walls of somebody else's house, but you’re wrong. You're building your own defenses. What would happen if this casste was burnt to the ground one day? Surely it would not be the fate of the castle alone. The castle town, too, would be engulfed in flames, and the entire province would be destroyed. It would be like a scene from hell: children ripped away from their parents, old folks looking for their children, young girls screaming in panic, the sick burnt alive. Ah, if the province were to fall, it would really be the end. You all have parents, children, wives, and sick relatives.  You must always, always remember.'

Even die foremen stopped sneering and looked serious. They too had property and families, and