Kampaku, p.12
Kampaku, page 12
“Momochi Tanba,” Shigemasa exclaimed. “I would know you anywhere.”
“I hope not,” said Tanba.
“Why did you choose this place to meet?” asked Shigemasa.
“I try to conduct my business here. It is secluded and prying eyes can be noticed in advance, and besides, it encourages me to do what I do,” said Tanba.
“How so,” enquired Shigemasa.
“You see that mound over there? Beneath it lies the heads of nearly ten thousand Iga men, women, and children. It has been ten years since Lord Nobunaga launched his revenge attack on the Iga. On that day, in the nine months of Tensho nine (1581), Lord Nobunaga’s generals led forty-two thousand troops into Iga province. Some forces went through the Nagano pass, but the others used a secret trail over the mountains known only to the Iga inhabitants. We were betrayed and like cattle, they drove the Iga inhabitants towards mount Oike and encircled it. As he did with the monks of the Enryaku-Ji at Mount Hei, he set the entire mountain ablaze, killing everyone who attempted to flee. I watched my children being cut in two and my wife set on fire and burnt alive. I escaped by hiding in the undergrowth and remained silent. Not even the probing spearpoint of an Oda Ashigaru’s Yari, which pierced my thigh, caused me to make a sound.”
“You have not asked why I am here?” said Shigemasa.
“Your presence here is obvious. You want something.”
“The poison you supplied did not work as intended.” Tanba stood passively in the moonlight, scratching his chin.
“Then you had better come with me then,” he said. “But first you will have to wear this.” Shigemasa put on the cloth hood Tanba had given him and rested his hand on Tanba’s shoulder to steady himself as he followed him. He had tripped and fallen several times by the time they had arrived at what he supposed was their destination. At Tanba’s direction, Shigemasa removed the hood and in front of him was a small woodcutter’s hut. A light was visible from its window and the smell of smoke told him a fire was lit. Inside, Tanba removed his wide-brimmed straw hat to reveal a man well into his seventies. With greying hair and a beard to match, Tanba’s leather-like face was etched with wrinkles, but his lean sinewy arms betrayed his past as a swordsman of note. Tanba quickly attended to the fire pit and retrieved a flask of warm sake to offer his guest.
“Now tell me, what can I do for you?” Said Tanba.
“I need a potion that will make you ill but later proves fatal after a brief period. Is there such a thing?”
“Indeed, there is Shigemasa, but it would require three doses. One to induce illness, the second administered a few days after, and the final one to bring about death within hours.”
“How is such a thing possible?” queried Shigemasa.
“There is a hot spring that is known to my people that brings death to any that are foolish to drink from it. Many years ago, we experimented with soldiers of Nobunaga by poisoning them to see how much was needed for them to die. We determined the administering of three doses for the average soldier was sufficient.”
“What is the dose for a child, then?” asked Shigemasa.
“We have not tested for children, so I cannot help you.”
“It does not matter,” said Shigemasa, who removed a pouch of gold coins from his robe and presented it to Tanba.
“You can rest over there,” Tanba said, pointing to a corner of the room near the fire pit. “I will leave and return at first light with your potion.”
Shigemasa was not sure whether it was the call of a cuckoo or the sound of Tanba entering the hut that woke him up. He had brought three bamboo flasks with him and presented them to Shigemasa. Their transaction done, Tanba escorted a hooded Shigemasa to the edge of the forest where he had left his horse. The old man bowed and turned to leave when Shigemasa withdrew his short sword and attacked him from behind, silently slitting his throat. Tanba fell to his knees, his blood pooling around him, and with a gurgling sound, lurched forward and died. Shigemasa searched Tanba’s robes for the gold he had given him earlier, but it was not on him.
He has hidden it somewhere, Shigemasa thought as he cursed himself, knowing Hidetsugu will be most displeased.
#
Koriyama Castle: Yamato Province
Spring: Tensho Nineteen (1591)
The Maisosai interment rites of Hidenaga’s ashes were a private but well-attended affair. The prepared gravesite on the grounds of Koriyama Castle was hidden among the maple trees and decked out in sacred rice-straw ropes attached to bamboo poles. Hidenaga’s wife, Lady Chiun-in and his son Koichiro, along with Hideyoshi, Rikyu and Hidetsugu, had come to Koriyama to bury Hidenaga’s ashes. With the mourning period over, the urn containing Hidenaga’s ashes was removed from its shrine at Koriyama Castle, where it had lain for forty-nine days and taken to the prepared gravesite. As a white-robed priest began his chant, eulogising Hidenaga’s past deeds, a distraught Hideyoshi fell to his knees and wept. When the priest had finished, the urn containing Hidenaga’s ashes was placed into an excavated space between two huge stone vases. The priest stood back as his acolytes placed a heavy stone slab over the space to seal Hidenaga’s last resting place.
A more composed, Hideyoshi bowed before the stone slab marking his brother’s resting place and led the mourners back to the castle to receive the final purification rites. A customary banquet followed the rites to thank the priest and his acolytes for their services.
“Jibu,” Hideyoshi shouted from across the banquet hall. “Move over here.” Mitsunari immediately left his seat alongside Rikyu to join the Kampaku and Hidenaga’s wife, Chiun-in. This time he approached Hideyoshi more cautiously, scrutinising the movements of Hideyoshi’s bodyguards, and bowed. Any sudden or clumsy movement at this stage would invite certain death, as the late chamberlain of Koriyama Castle would attest. Earlier on, the eager castle chamberlain rushed to Hideyoshi to inform him of the banquet arrangements as he entered the banquet hall. He had got as far as two paces towards the Kampaku before his head left his body. Mitsunari had witnessed the event and was determined not to share the chamberlain’s fate.
Mitsunari waited until Chiun-in had replenished Hideyoshi’s sake and as she offered him a new delicacy of narezushi, slivers of bonito fish wrapped in vinegared rice, he introduced himself.
“Ah Jibu, sit down,” said Hideyoshi. Mitsunari took a seat in front of Hideyoshi and Chiun-in. The two bodyguards flanking the Kampaku knew Mitsunari well, but their hands rested firmly on the hilts of their swords.
“I take it you know Lord Hidenaga’s wife, Chiun-in,” said Hideyoshi, reintroducing her. “As Lord Hidenaga had not named an heir, his estate will now pass to Lady Chiun. Have the details recorded?” Mitsunari looked at Chiun-in, a lady in her mid-forties with long unbound black hair that swept across the polished floor like an incoming tide.
“And what an estate it is,” said Hideyoshi. “At last count, it was worth about five hundred thousand koku.” Mitsunari nodded in acknowledgement as Hideyoshi smiled at Chiun-in and continued.
“As long as Chiun-in devotes her life to praying for Hidenaga’s wellbeing in the afterlife, the estate is hers to do as she sees fit, but should she forget her chastity or remarry, the estate is to pass on to his children. Do you understand Jibu?” said Hideyoshi.
“Yes, my lord,” replied Mitsunari.
“I have suggested to Chiun-in that you should conduct an inventory of the estate and record its true value,” said Hideyoshi.
“Yes, my lord. If my memory of the Shikimoku law serves me correctly, the Lady Chiun-in as the late lord’s goke—widow—is to assume all rights and powers over the late lord’s fiefs.”
“Yes, of course, what of it?” said Hideyoshi.
“As you had exempted Lord Hidenaga from the land survey edict. Is it also your intention to exclude the late lord’s estate from the annual register of rated crop yields by domain?” Hideyoshi frowned and paused for thought.
“Lady Chiun-in is to have a full accounting of the fiefs under her control, and then we can decide,” said Hideyoshi. Over the next several weeks, Mitsunari meticulously inventoried the late lord’s holdings using the newly agreed system of standardised weights and measures. It was later reported to Hideyoshi that the crop yield of the late lords’ fiefs now amounted to well over a million koku. A fact that led Hideyoshi to covet Lady Chiun-in’s new estate.
Several weeks later, Hidetsugu visited Koriyama to see Mitsunari at the Kampaku’s direction.
“Ah Jibu, uncle has ordered my presence here to report on your findings,” said Hidetsugu with a wry grin. A fact that Mitsunari found odd given the Kampaku’s obvious mistrust of Hidetsugu.
“So, what have you found out?” Asked Hidetsugu. Mitsunari looked at Hidetsugu, immediately resenting the smug look on his face.
“What I have found out is that castle records show substantial payments were made to Rikyu from invoices you have submitted. By that I mean, the invoices were raised by you, but payment was made to Rikyu.”
“And what of it?” snapped Hidetsugu.
“I am sure you have a good reason, but I cannot help wondering why the payments would go to Rikyu and not you, since you invoiced them. I am also sure the Kampaku would also find it odd, prompting more questions.”
“Rikyu, is having cash flow issues, he needed to receive quick payment, and it was suggested to me that were I to raise the invoice, it would carry more weight and speed up the payment process,” said Hidetsugu, attempting to provide a plausible answer.
“Yes, I can see how that might work,” said Mitsunari, “but there is also another problem. I have inventoried the late lord’s tea ware and can find no items that justify the high value paid for them,” said Mitsunari.
“Are some of the tea wares missing, then?”
“No. the descriptions and quantities match the invoices and are all accounted for, but by my estimation, they do not match the value paid for them,” said Mitsunari.
“Surely that is just your opinion, Jibu,” said Hidetsugu. “I am sure a noted tea master such as Rikyu would have a better idea of their true worth.”
“You are, of course, quite correct, but I do have some idea of the value of teaware. Let us take this example,” said Mitsunari, picking up a chawan tea bowl off a nearby table. “Your invoice here states, this is one of three pale yellow korai chawan you have supplied the estate. They are recorded as being valuable Ido tea bowls from Korea,” said Mitsunari, pointing to the other two pale yellow tall-footed bowls on the same table. “Ido ware, as you know, is highly prized and commands a fair price. Your invoice charge, therefore, represents excellent value.” Hidetsugu eyed Mitsunari suspiciously.
“So, you agree then?” said Hidetsugu.
“Not quite, Sir Hidetsugu,” said Mitsunari, pointing to the inside of the bowl. “You will notice how perfect the glaze is.” Mitsunari then turned the bowl over, exposing its base. “Again, you see the flawlessness of the glaze.” Hidetsugu’s suspicions intensified.
“Enough of these games Jibu, is it worth the price or not?” said Hidetsugu.
“If it were a genuine Ido Korai chawan, then I would agree, but it is not. It is a fake.”
“How would you know that?” sneered Hidetsugu.
“Simply, its perfection gives it away. In Korea, these are used by commoners as cheap rice bowls. The glaze does not cover the base, leaving the original finish of fired sandy white clay. And in all Ido tea bowls, there is a small indentation at the bottom of the bowl, from the cheap mould used to make it. As you can see here, there are none. It is perfect.” Hidetsugu’s mind raced.
“I also know that the Sakai merchants sell these in their hundreds for a fraction of what you have charged, Lord Hidenaga.”
That idiot Rikyu has been taking a much bigger cut of the profits, Hidetsugu thought.
“So, it appears I have been duped,” said Hidetsugu. “Uncle Hidenaga asked me to get some notable tea ware suitable to host the Kampaku at a tea ceremony, so I asked Rikyu to get some. It appears he has also been duped by some unscrupulous merchant. I shall have to have strong words with Rikyu and sort this out,” said Hidetsugu. He knew Mitsunari would soon report this to the Kampaku, but first, he needed to get to Jurakutei Palace and deal with Rikyu before more questions are asked.
Chapter Fourteen
Spring/Summer/Autumn: Tensho Nineteen (1591)
By mid-morning, the approaching storm front quickly enveloped Kyoto, and the heavens opened up over Jurakutei Palace. Torrents of water ran off the roof of Rikyu’s modest but well-appointed villa within the palace grounds. The hemp ropes of the Kusari-toi rain gutters used to channel water from the roof gutter to the ground failed to cope and a continuous curtain of water cascading from the roof fell, trapping Hidetsugu and Rikyu inside.
The two had just taken an informal tea on the villa’s veranda when the rains came, forcing them back inside. Hidetsugu removed from his robes a heavy pouch of gold coins and placed it on the floor in front of Rikyu.
“There, I have repaid the money you loaned me at the Kitanosho. A receipt would be in order if you don’t mind.” Rikyu looked at the pouch on the floor between them. His eyes sparkled. If there was one thing that could arouse his passion more than tea, it was money.
“I am grateful for your repayment Sir Hidetsugu even though you agreed that the debt would be repaid in full by the Hatsumode which has now passed,” said Rikyu. Ignoring Rikyu’s barb, Hidetsugu leant forward.
“We have more important things to discuss, Rikyu, namely your life.” A startled Rikyu quickly pocketed the coins, placing them within his robe.
“Your scheme of selling tea ware at inflated prices has been uncovered,” said Hidetsugu. Rikyu felt a wave of desperation overcome him, suspecting that Lady Ocha had informed the Kampaku about his dealings at Odawara.
“I only sold a few pieces at Odawara,” replied Rikyu.
“What are you talking about?” said Hidetsugu. “That nosey administrator, Jibu, has been ordered by the Kampaku to inventory uncle Hidenaga’s estate. The result of which is that he has uncovered your scheme to cheat Hidenaga by passing off cheap tea ware as prized valuable pieces.” It did not take long for the severity of the situation to sink in and Rikyu, despite the cool damp air, broke out into a sweat. Desperation again set in as Rikyu searched his mind for a way out.
“Your name is also on those invoices, and you also profited,” said Rikyu, trying to deflect blame.
Hidetsugu stifled his anger before adding, “It is one thing to overcharge, Rikyu, but the Kampaku will not forgive you for trying to cheat his brother.” Rikyu reached inside the sleeve of his robe and withdrew a cloth to wipe away the sweat that was beading on his forehead.
“I have thought of a way out of this, Rikyu, but it comes at a price. I have confessed to being duped and suggested that you, too, have also been duped. We will need to provide the name of the merchant responsible and kill him before he is questioned. Do you have such a merchant in mind?” said Hidetsugu.
“Kill him,” Rikyu exclaimed in a panicked voice.
“Yes. It is his life or yours. Which is it to be?”
“How much will this favour cost me?” asked Rikyu.
“Nothing. Give me the merchant’s name and I will take of it, but I need you to kill someone for me,” said Hidetsugu.
“Who?” said Rikyu, feeling even more worried.
“Tsurumatsu,” said Hidetsugu quite matter-of-factly. “Now I need to see uncle and confess to our being duped before Jibu brings it up.”
The following day, Hidetsugu found Hideyoshi seated with Lady Ocha along with Mitsunari in Jurakutei’s audience hall. He was certain that Mitsunari would have lost no time in briefing the Kampaku on his inventory findings and quickly explained to Hideyoshi how appalled he was to discover that both he and Rikyu had been deceived by the Sakai merchant Masayoshi.
“Hidetsugu, I am glad you have told me this. For a moment I had thought you and Rikyu to be a couple of rogues,” said Hideyoshi, smiling. “Now that you have explained, I will have this merchant Masayoshi arrested and interrogated before he is crucified.”
This will save me the trouble of getting rid of him myself. No matter if he protests his innocence, no one is going to believe him. Satisfied his excuses will stand scrutiny, Hidetsugu excused himself and returned to Rikyu’s villa where an agitated Rikyu was pacing the room.
“All is settled,” said Hidetsugu with a broad grin. “You can relax now. The crows will soon feast on your friend’s head. Now we need to discuss Tsurumatsu.” It was then that a servant interrupted to announce that Mitsunari, along with two of Hideyoshi’s palace guards, waited outside.
“How might I be of help, Sir Jibu?” said Rikyu, offering Mitsunari a seat alongside a suspicious Hidetsugu.
“The Kampaku has ordered me to pass on his instructions that you are to leave for Sakai today and remain there until he has decided what to do with you.” Rikyu’s jaw dropped, and his pleading eyes looked towards Hidetsugu as if searching for answers.
“What is all about Jibu?” said Hidetsugu. “It was only a short while ago that this matter was settled. Uncle seemed happy enough with my explanation.”
“That is so, Sir Hidetsugu, but after you left the Kampaku, the Lady Ocha inadvertently let slip about Master Rikyu’s dealings at Odawara.”
“So, is turning a profit now a crime? Jibu.”
“Not at all, Sir Hidetsugu. The Kampaku understands that without such profits he would find financing some of his projects much more difficult, but when he is made to look a fool by Master Rikyu, he feels somewhat differently about it.” Rikyu, still not understanding what he had done, prostrated himself in front of Mitsunari.
“Master Rikyu,” said Mitsunari. “You remember the Chatsubo, that large earthenware tea jar you recently sold the Kampaku for a great deal of money? It took pride of place in the very audience hall that the Kampaku received Sir Hidetsugu earlier on. Unfortunately, after Sir Hidetsugu left, Lord Ieyasu arrived and noticed the Chatsubo on display. The Kampaku, who was proud of his acquisition, recited its famous history as told by Master Rikyu here.”
