Kampaku, p.22
Kampaku, page 22
“Are you planning to deceive the Taiko?” said Mitsunari, entering the room and catching Yukinaga’s attention.
“The answer to your question is yes, Jibu,” said Yukinaga, angrily slapping the tabletop with his hand. “You know as well as I do that the Taiko’s demands will never be met or even considered, and this war will go on. At the moment we have a peace of sorts while the Ming wait for the Taiko’s response.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Mitsunari.
“If we were to write a favourable answer to the Ming’s demands and not mention the Taiko’s demands? We could show it to the Ming officials accompanying Shen Weijing. They would then leave to report back to the Ming court. In the meantime, one of our envoys would leave to deliver our formal response to the Ming court, with an expectation that both envoy and letter get lost or destroyed on the way,” said Yukinaga.
“All this will do is delay the inevitable,” said Mitsunari. “But I agree, lives will be spared on both sides. Be careful Konishi if you are discovered, the Taiko will have your head.”
“Come back at sunset,” said Yukinaga. “Shen and I will have something to show you.” Mitsunari nodded and left the room. In the dusk hour of the rooster, Mitsunari returned to the room and was handed a letter by Yukinaga.
“If you agree, Keitetsu will transcribe this into Chinese, said Yukinaga.”
The opening line read: Your Majesty’s subject, Toyotomi no Hideyoshi, submits this document to express his gratitude. The letter stated Hideyoshi had hoped to become a vassal of the dragon emperor and it was the Koreans who are preventing him from marching across Korea to reach China and submit. In doing this, the Koreans have forced Hideyoshi to attack them. It added that Hideyoshi had shown sincerity by retreating and giving back the Koreans their land. The closing line read, I prostrate myself and beg Your Majesty to give me the title of a vassal king of Nihon. Mitsunari whistled through his teeth.
“The Taiko will see this as treasonous Yukinaga, but I agree it should delay the war. How will you send it to Beijing?” said Mitsunari.
“With my trusted servant, Naito Tadatoshi. I will accompany Shen Weijing and the two officials back to Pusan on the morning tide, along with Tadatoshi. Once in Pusan, Tadatoshi will proceed independently for the Ming court. The journey should take Tadatoshi a full year assuming he takes his time getting there,” said Yukinaga.
Mitsunari had risen early to watch the early morning departure of Yukinaga’s Atakebune, and by the time he had reached his offices in the castle, new reports from Pusan were waiting for him.
Unknown to Mitsunari, Hideyoshi had already despatched fifty thousand reinforcements to Pusan with orders for Kiyomasa to retake the fortress city of Jinju city, which they had failed to take earlier. The report from Pusan stated that the Koreans at Jinju resisted bravely for a week before it finally fell. A victorious Kiyomasa then boasted of taking over sixty thousand heads. It was a massacre. The entire population of Jinju was put to the sword.
Why? Why? screamed Mitsunari in his mind. Yukinaga’s efforts are now wasted. To commit such an atrocity while peace negotiations are in place. The Chinese will surely retaliate. Mitsunari reported to Hideyoshi that Yukinaga and the Ming envoys have departed for China to deliver his letter and relayed the news of the fall of Jinju.
“Now they will know we mean business, Jibu,” said a grinning Hideyoshi.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Autumn: Second Year of Bunroku (1593)
A letter had arrived for Hideyoshi, and it was the news Hideyoshi had been waiting for. He immediately recognised the distinctive brush strokes as being those from his wife Nene and carefully unfolded the letter to read its contents. The seriousness of his expression quickly melted away to be replaced by a wide, beaming smile.
“I have a son,” Hideyoshi shouted. “Ocha has given me a son.” Such was the Taiko’s excitement that he completely ignored the visiting Kyushu daimyo, Shimazu Yoshiro, and Chosokabe Motochika seated in front of him. The daimyo had petitioned Hideyoshi for their forces to be recalled from Korea to attend to the havoc on their estates caused by last season’s Taifu. Mitsunari, who sat on the sides of the hall, smiled and felt a sense of joy, but his heart felt heavy. He had a son he could never acknowledge. All he could ever hope to do was to watch him grow and protect him.
“Jibu, have my ship ready to sail. We leave for Osaka immediately,” Hideyoshi called out. Although only fifty-seven years of age, Hideyoshi was becoming frailer with each passing year, but the news of his son’s birth invigorated him. He left the hall with a newfound spring in his step, casually dismissing the Kyushu daimyo and officials on his way out.
Two days had passed before Hideyoshi departed Nagoya aboard his new flagship. The single-masted Sekibune had just been built and was still undergoing sea trials on the inland sea when the Taiko’s summons was received. Hideyoshi left behind the gloomy grey skies blanketing Nagoya to arrive three days later in Osaka under clear skies and glorious sunshine. He felt the warmth on his face and thought of his late mother, the Omandokoro Naka, who had given him his childhood name Hiyoshimaru and how she told of him being a child of the Kami, a bounty of the sun.
Today, as he passed through the south Sakuramon Gate of Osaka Castle, and onto the bridge spanning the inner moat, he again turned his face to the sun and thought, The Kami seems favourably disposed today.
His thoughts turned to those of Tsurumatsu, and suddenly he became fearful for his new son. Hideyoshi was convinced that the Kami had seen fit to replace poor Tsurumatsu. With the birth of his new son, Hideyoshi, without warning, halted his palanquin in the middle of the bridge and demanded ink and paper to be brought. Whereupon he put pen to paper and ascribed the characters that would make up his new son’s name ‘Hiroimaru’—the circle of a long life.
Within the Taiko’s old quarters, Ocha lay resting on the floor, her mind drifting in and out of sleep. Her wet nurse, Kunaikyo no tsubone, knelt by her side suckling the baby Hiroimaru, while his milk sibling, the three-week-old daughter of Kunaikyo, lay swaddled at her feet sleeping off her feed. A translucent white curtain separated the birthing chamber from the rest of the Taiko’s old quarters. Gone were the priests whose chants echoed across the castle as they warded off any lurking evil spirits attempting to possess the mother. Gone also was the dais of white tatami mats upon which Ocha gave birth, the entire room now refreshed with new matting and the doors opened to receive the morning sunshine.
Hatsume no Tsubone, Ocha’s new maidservant bowed deeply and opened the curtain to allow Hideyoshi and Lady Nene to pass through into the chamber. Hideyoshi looked at Hatsume, allowing his gaze to linger more than it should. It was a look that had not gone unnoticed by Nene.
“This is Lady Hatsume no Tsubone, Ocha’s new companion and maidservant,” said Nene, introducing her to Hideyoshi.
“What happened to her other maidservant, Yuki, wasn’t it said Hideyoshi?”
“Hush,” said Nene, Ocha might hear you. I am told she was found slain by bandits on her way to visit her parents’ home.” Hideyoshi and Nene knelt alongside Ocha, with Hideyoshi taking her hand. At his touch, Ocha slowly woke from her light sleep and searched for her infant, before noticing it was still at the breast of Kunaikyo.
“Your son is as greedy as you are, my lord,” said Ocha, eliciting a big smile from Hideyoshi.
“I think he has had his fill Kunaikyo,” said Ocha. “Let the Taiko hold his son for a moment.” An eager Hideyoshi rose and cradled the young Hiroimaru in his arms, and Nene looked on wishing, it was her that could have been the one to have given her husband a son.
“Where is Hatsume?” Ocha cried out.
“I am here, my lady,” said Hatsume from the other side of the room.
“Sit with me,” Ocha pleaded. Hatsume knelt alongside Ocha and took her hand, gently squeezing it. Such was the length of her long black hair that it practically carpeted the floor surrounding her. Only two crimson ribbons, tied on either side of her hair, prevented it from covering her face entirely.
“I am so glad I found you,” said Ocha. “It was as if the Kami had sent you to me.” Hatsume smiled and reminded herself of the purpose of her mission.
#
Spring: Edo Castle: Musashi Province
Hatsume, of course, was not her real name. In another life, she was known as Kensho-in, the widow of Takeda Shingen’s revered general, Anayama Nobutada. She was also the second daughter of Shingen. Nobutada, having become disillusioned with Shingen’s son and heir Katsuyori, defected to the Tokugawa following Katsuyori’s crushing defeat at Nagashino. Ieyasu, who embraced Anayama’s defection, remained suspicious and Kensho-in was held as a hostage at Hamamatsu to ensure his loyalty.
It was only after the death of Nobutada by disgruntled Takeda loyalists who horribly murdered him that Ieyasu took Kensho-in under his protection. His retainer, Hanzo Hattori, then seized the opportunity to induct her into the mystic world of the shinobi and cultivate her as a spy and assassin.
“Hatsume, you have a new assignment,” said Hanzo as he slid open the door to her quarters and stepped in. Hatsume, who had been practising her calligraphy, immediately put down the large Fude brush of weasel hair and turned from her writing table to address Hanzo.
“Is it necessary to be so rude?” said Hatsume.
“I have little time for niceties,” replied Hanzo. “I need you to visit the Lady Ocha at Osaka Castle and deliver a birthing gift from Lord Ieyasu. While you are there, befriend her and gain her confidence.”
“Lady Ocha!” exclaimed Hatsume. “She is the Taiko’s concubine.”
“That is correct, but she is also the mother of the new Toyotomi heir. You are to become her new maidservant,” said Hanzo.
“A maidservant!” Hatsume exclaimed. “Is she expecting me?”
“No, her maidservant has been called away to attend to an ill parent and will, unfortunately by now, have met an untimely death. There is now a vacancy for a maidservant which you are about to fill.”
“So, I am to be a spy then?” said Hatsume.
“More than that,” said Hanzo. “I want you to gain her confidence and sow a seed in her mind and help nurture it,” Hanzo explained how Ocha’s son now creates a problem for the Taiko, in that he now has two heirs, having already designated his recently adopted son, Hidetsugu as heir. “It is also rumoured that the Taiko may not be the father of the child. Find out what you can.”
“Why would this be a problem?” asked Hatsume. “It is only natural that the son has precedent. Surely even the Kampaku can see that and willingly step down when he comes of age.”
“If only it were so simple,” said Hanzo, sighing. “I suspect the Taiko has already a plan of his own in place for the child to succeed him, but I fear much blood will be spilt by the Kampaku to prevent that happening. It would help if you were to plant an idea in Lady Ocha’s mind that you have heard rumours of a plot by the Kampaku to eliminate the child.”
“Is this true?” queried Hatsume.
“I am certain that the Kampaku would plot something, but I have heard of no such rumours. You are to create those rumours and suggest to her that the Taiko needs to investigate these rumours. Meanwhile, we will anonymously forewarn the Kampaku of the Taiko’s intentions to get rid of him,” said Hanzo.
#
Nene, who had taken over cradling Hiroimaru from Hideyoshi, moved to place the now-sleeping child back into his mother’s arms.
“Hiroimaru is sleeping,” said Kunaikyo. “I shall leave you and return at the next feeding.”
“Let us leave them to sleep,” said Nene, nudging Hideyoshi. Hatsume bowed and opened the curtain for the Taiko and Nene to leave.
“Have they gone yet?” Ocha whispered to Hatsume.
“Yes, my lady, we are alone.” Ocha quickly sat up and placed the swaddled Hiroimaru at the foot of her futon.
“Look at him, Hatsume, the young heir at peace with the world,” said Ocha, beaming with pride. “The Taiko is gifting Osaka Castle to Hiroimaru, and he has even been given estates in Kyushu?” Ocha looked at Hatsume and was surprised by her frowning look. “Why do you look so worried?”
“My lady, does not the fact that the Taiko has two heirs worry you?”
“What do you mean, Hatsume?”
“The Taiko has already named his successor, the Kampaku, Hidetsugu.”
“Yes, I know that, but surely now he has his bloodline to succeed him, he will make him heir?”
“You are quite right, my lady; I am sure that is what the Taiko intends but surely, you can see that until he comes of age, his life remains in danger.” Driven by both fear and anger, Ocha leant over and picked up the sleeping Hiroimaru and cradled him tightly.
“My lady, already the rumours are spreading around Kyoto. People fear for young heirs’ life,” said Hatsume.
“What can I do?” implored Ocha.
“Talk to the Taiko, tell him about the rumours and demand the situation be investigated to put such thoughts at rest.”
#
Jurakutei Palace: Kyoto
News of Hiroimaru’s arrival into the world was eagerly awaited and celebrated, but in the Kampaku’s quarters, the mood was sombre. Hidetsugu and Shigemasa sat in silence. The platters of fish, rice, and pickles on the small table before them remained untouched.
“I take it you have heard the news,” said Hidetsugu, breaking the silence.
“Yes, my lord, I have,” said Shigemasa, who now called out for the untouched dishes to be cleared away. “I will have sake brought in; you need cheering up.” Hidetsugu ignored Shigemasa as he closely watched the servants who had arrived with two bowls and several flasks of warm sake.
“I am sure the Taiko felt thrilled today,” said Shigemasa as he filled Hidetsugu’s bowl, avoiding the glare of his hate-filled eyes.
“Have you lost your mind, Shigemasa,” said Hidetsugu, quickly gulping down his sake? “He now has a son. What do you think will become of me?” Shigemasa moved to refill the Kampaku’s bowl.
“The Taiko is determined that an illness shall not befall his son as it did Tsurumatsu,” said Hidetsugu. “No one is allowed anywhere near him, save his mother and her new maid.”
“Lady Ocha has a new maid, then?” Shigemasa asked.
“Yes, her name is Hatsume no Tsubone.”
“The name sounds familiar,” said Shigemasa, pausing while trying to remember where he had heard it. “No, nothing comes to mind, but it will come back to me, eventually.”
“Shigemasa,” said Hidetsugu, holding out his bowl once again for Shigemasa to refill it. “Uncle now has a son, which means he will act soon to get rid of me.”
“Then the solution is obvious, my lord,” said Shigemasa. “Either you get rid of the boy or the Taiko.” An annoyed Hidetsugu fell silent and gulped down the sake Shigemasa had replenished.
“If I may offer an opinion, my lord,” said Shigemasa, “The Taiko’s war in Korea goes badly, with no sign of victory in sight. The war also impoverishes many of the daimyos who are forced to contribute to men and materiel, while others grow rich. The Taiko is breeding resentment, which I suspect is his aim.”
“You are talking in riddles, Shigemasa?” said Hidetsugu.
“Peace is the enemy of the daimyo; without war, they grow restless and dangerous. I believe the Taiko seeks to keep them weak and divided. His war was more about feeding his hungry daimyo with promises of more lands and titles. Eventually, this war must end and if not in victory, there will be no new lands and titles to give all those returning daimyo?” said Shigemasa.
“Shigemasa, are you a fool? What has this to do with the Taiko’s plan to get rid of me?” said Hidetsugu.
“My Lord,” said Shigemasa continuing. “The boy is but a child and poses no threat to you until he comes of age. Meanwhile, the returning daimyo will need loans to rebuild their estates. Already, the rich Kanto daimyo who have been affected by the recent earthquakes have been making discrete overtures to Geni, seeking contacts to get loans. Instead of them going to the merchants for loans, it would be in your interest to offer such arrangements and have them indebted to you.”
“I have already begun such an enterprise Shigemasa, so I say again, what has this to do with the Taiko’s plan to get rid of me?” said Hidetsugu.
“Simply this. To get rid of the Taiko, you need allies, my lord,” said Shigemasa. Hidetsugu stared blankly at Shigemasa before slowly moving towards his sword stand and removing the two swords it held.
“Here,” said Hidetsugu, holding out one of his swords for Shigemasa. “Let us see if your sword skills are as sharp as your mind.” Hidetsugu would often practice his martial skills to work through complex issues in his mind and hone his mental fitness.
The following day, in the far reaches of the palace gardens, Hidetsugu again took to grappling with the problem of two heirs. This time, he would clear his mind by honing his archery skills. It was a humid and overcast day and Hidetsugu, wearing a brightly coloured hitatare with tied sleeves, mounted his short-legged Kiso mare and tightened the straps of his conical straw hat. Hidetsugu then leant over to accept his ornately lacquered long bow and a quiver of four arrows from Shigemasa. Coaxing his horse forward, Hidetsugu rode to the starting point of the mounted archery track he had recently constructed. At two Cho (255mts) long and 1 Jo (about 3 metres) wide, a length of rope ran along either side of the track where Shigemasa had set up four wooden targets at specific intervals. They were placed in such a way as to mimic an enemy in full armour and Hidetsugu’s target was a small red spot situated just beneath the pretend helmet, mimicking an opponent’s eye.
Spurring his horse into a full gallop, Hidetsugu approached the first target, standing up in the stirrups, controlling his horse with his knees. He nocked an arrow and raised the Yumi above his head, pulling its string to a full draw while aligning the arrow with its target. It was at that moment that a young Sika deer broke cover from the nearby bushes and raced across Hidetsugu’s line of sight just as he released his arrow, causing him to miss the target. A furious Hidetsugu pursued the deer into the surrounding woodlands only to have his path blocked by a family of woodcutters delivering wood to the palace. He rose in his stirrups and let loose an arrow that found its mark, removing the lower jaw of the woodcutter. Quickly nocking another arrow, Hidetsugu aimed and shot it at the wailing woman now bent over the woodcutter’s body. She was more fortunate as the arrow glanced off the side of her head, scalping her, and rendered her unconscious, but still alive. Hidetsugu reserved his last arrow for the child accompanying them. Frozen in fear, the young girl, who would have been no older than four years, stood her ground, crying before the top of her head disappeared under the impact of Hidetsugu’s last arrow.
