Kampaku, p.34
Kampaku, page 34
My father’s killer. Her words surprised and confused Mitsunari until he realised that Lady Tama was none other than the daughter of Akechi Mitsuhide. His third daughter, from his formal wife, Tsumaki Hiroko.
“Yes, it is me, the traitor’s daughter,” said Tama as she knelt, noticing Mitsunari’s eyes widening in recognition. Mitsunari stared at her pale white face, noticing the almost translucent nature of the white Oshiroi makeup she wore. It differed from the heavy applications commonly used by the ladies of Osaka and Kyoto. Tama adjusted the loose plain purple silk kimono she wore, gently sweeping away her unrestrained long black hair to expose her slender neck, also powdered with Oshiroi.
“Yes, I killed your father, my lady, but only because he allowed himself to be killed. Be thankful he died a warrior’s death and escaped the usual fate of traitors who betray their lords,” replied Mitsunari.
“As his lord betrayed him,” said Tama. “Do you have children, Jibu?” she said, addressing Mitsunari by his court rank.
“Yes, I do,” replied Mitsunari, becoming curious.
“May I ask how you would react should your lord order their beheading?” It was a question to which Tama expected no reply and she continued. “My father once spoke of the fall of Arioka Castle, and the escape of its lord, Araki Murashige, a former vassal of Lord Nobunaga. Did you know that his son Muratsugu was married to my sister Shizen? Well, Muratsugu and Shizen, together with his mother and the rest of his family, were rounded up and brought before Lord Nobunaga for judgement. Murashige’s entire family, including my sister Shizen, was sent to Kyoto for execution and all the residents of the castle town were crucified. Shizen died for the crime of being an Araki by marriage,” said Tama.
“The Taiko also spoke of the fall of Arioka,” said Mitsunari. “He used it as an example when he dealt with Hidetsugu’s family. He pointed out that, as is the custom, Murashige’s crimes were also his family’s crimes.” Tama ignored Mitsunari’s rationale for her sister’s death, for it always remained the lord’s prerogative to spare the family. She again thought of her sister. Although raised by different mothers, they shared many common characteristics and were inseparable as children. Tama’s mother was Mitsuhide’s formal wife, Tsumaki Hiroko, while Shizen’s mother was Mitsuhide’s favourite concubine Hachijo-in. When the time came, Shizen was married off to Murashige’s son, Araki Muratsugu, while Tama was married off to Nagaoka Tadaoki of the prestigious Hosokawa clan.
“It was a most regrettable affair, my lady, but as an Araki, she was expected to share their fate,” said Mitsunari.
“Then Lady Oichi, sister of Lord Nobunaga who had married Nobunagas enemy, Azai Nagamasa should have followed his fate when the Azai fortress of Odani Castle fell to Nobunaga. Yet she was spared.” Mitsunari knew what Tama had said to be true, for he now recalled her father’s last words as he stood over Mitsuhide’s body before he ended his life:
She didn’t have to die. I pleaded for her life, but he still insisted on her death. I have nothing more to live for. He held a grudging respect for the traitor who was about to die, and now wondered if it was his daughter’s death caused his betrayal of Lord Nobunaga.
“I could not bring myself to watch her execution,” said Tama, “but later that night I retrieved her head from Sanjo Ohashi bridge where it was displayed and had it buried in secret in the grounds of Sakamoto Castle. After you killed my father, Hideyoshi ordered the immediate execution of any Akechi family member that could be found. Despite the patrols of soldiers looking for any Akechi, I again went to the Sanjo Ohashi bridge and, under the cover of darkness, removed the heads of my mother and brother. As for my father’s head, it could not be found. It was later said that Hideyoshi, afraid of his ghost, had his head sealed in a box and thrown into the depths of lake Biwa. As I was a traitor’s daughter, Hideyoshi ordered my husband Tadaoki to divorce me and hand me over for execution, but he risked his life and defied Hideyoshi by hiding me away in a remote village in the Higashiyama mountains. It was then that I realised the strength of our love.”
“I have some knowledge of this, but I can tell you that after he gave orders for his nephew, Hidetsugu’s family, to be executed, he came to regret those actions and forgave Tadaoki. His divorce was rescinded, and permission was given for you both to be reunited on the condition that should your background as the daughter of an Akechi traitor be made known, you will suffer the fate of your mother and brother,” said Mitsunari.
So, you were aware of who I was, thought Tama. “May I ask where you intend to take me?” said Tama. Mitsunari was surprised by the question, for it was an aspect to which he had given no consideration.
She cannot go to Osaka. That would implicate Ocha and Hideyori. She must return with me to Sawayama.
“You will be my guest at Sawayama Castle,” replied Mitsunari.
“So, you intend to dishonour my husband then,” said Tama. “To have his wife taken hostage will shame him and he will be forced to commit seppuku. Perhaps that is your intention?”
“Tadaoki is an ally of Lord Ieyasu. You are hostage only because I need assurances he will not attack and interfere with the Tiaro’s impeachment of Lord Ieyasu.”
“But should I or my husband die, you will lose those assurances,” said Tama.
“Then I must take great care of you then. Lord Ieyasu would forbid his seppuku,” said Mitsunari. Tama knew Mitsunari was correct. Despite her husband’s shame, as Ieyasu’s vassal, he would need his lord’s permission to commit seppuku. She noticed the wry grin showing on Mitsunari’s face and grew angry.
“Would you permit me to write to my husband and allow me to arrange with my servant’s my preparations for departure?” said Tama. Mitsunari agreed and bowed towards Tama, who promptly left the room and went to summon her servants to bring paper and ink and her gardener, Hidekiyo Shosai.
Shosai had known Tama since the Hosokawa lord, Tadaoki, first established the Tamatsukuri mansion. Tama felt a kinship with the old man who would often amuse her with tales of demons and spirits. At sixty years of age, he showed no signs of slowing down, for he would toil in the garden in just his fundoshi underwear, while his exposed weather-beaten skin developed the texture of leather. One day Tama caught Shosai praying in a secluded spot in the garden, and for a moment, he was unrecognisable. He wore a simple but clean cotton kosode, and his untidy grey unkempt hair was groomed and neatly tied back. His focus was not on the pantheon of gods worshipped by most Japanese, but on a barbarian god he called Deus. At first, Tama was shocked, and then she became frightened. She knew it was dangerous for a Japanese to practice Christianity without permission, but instead of Shosai, Tama kept returning to his secluded spot and secretly listened to his Christian prayers. One day, she followed him to the house of a Jesuit priest, Father Gregorio de Sespedes, who enjoyed the patronage of Konishi Yukinaga.
It was not long before curiosity got the better of Tama, who later approached Father Gregorio de Sespedes to better understand this god called Deus. At the proper time, the priest performed a secret baptism for her, where she received her Christian name, Gracia. Along with Tama, many of the household maidservants had also secretly converted, and it was not long before their faith was discovered by the furious lord of the Hosokawa manor, Nagaoka Tadaoki. Fearful of the Taiko’s anger, Tadaoki promptly purged his household and beheaded all those servants that confessed to being Christians. Tama, along with her gardener Shosai, and maidservant Mariko somehow escaped Tadaoki’s wrath, but were warned that the same fate will befall anyone else caught practising Christianity in his household.
Upon leaving Lady Tama’s room, the gardener, Hidekiyo Shosai, quietly closed the screen door and wiped away the tears that ran from his reddened eyes down his weathered cheek.
You know it must be done, Shosai—they would be the last words he would hear from her again. Inside the room, Tama knelt at her writing table, finishing the simple sentence she had written, but one that had taken some time to complete. The carefully crafted application of her brush strokes conveyed a poignant meaning. Her maidservant Mariko, who had waited patiently for Tama to finish, now unpacked a small, lacquered box containing gifts from Father Gregorio; a necklace of plain beads with a small but heavy wooden cross attached and a small, framed portrait depicting the ‘Madonna of the Rosary’. Mariko then placed these within the tokonoma alcove in the room, along with the letter Tama had written, and both knelt before it to pray. After the prayers, Tama reached for the letter she had written and handed it to Mariko.
“Take this to the Sawayama lord in the reception room,” said Tama. “You know what to do.” As Mariko left the room, Tama rose, retrieved her necklace with the cross, and quietly muttered a prayer to herself before opening the screen door to the room.
Holy Mary, pray for me.
Saint Joseph, pray for me.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph assist me in my last agony.
As she slid the door open, Tama faced a red-eyed Shosai. Tears streamed down his face as he thrust a Yari spear into her chest and Tama quickly collapsed with the spear still embedded as her blood pooled around her. A distraught Shosai removed the kama sickle he carried on his back for the garden and drew it across his throat to join Tama’s lifeless body on the floor.
Mariko had just entered the reception room as Tama’s and Shosai’s lives were being extinguished and handed Mitsunari Tama’s letter.
“Lady Tama instructed me to give you this,” said Mariko before leaving the room to set fire to the mansion, as arranged with Tama. Mitsunari carefully unfolded the letter and read it.
A flower is most beautiful when it knows the time to fall. People are like flowers; I will die without hesitation.
She has written a death poem, Mitsunari thought. Picking up his swords, he hurried out of the room with his bodyguards. Ahead of him, laying in the corridor, he saw the partial body of a man, his legs sticking out from an open door, and sprinted towards it. Inside the room, Mitsunari is confronted with the lifeless body of Tama lying on the floor with a spear embedded in her chest. He knelt alongside her and felt a great sadness. Her face was at peace, and he thought he could discern a smile.
Did she welcome death? Mitsunari wondered as he caressed her long, shining hair, the ends now matted in blood. He turned his attention to the body of Shosai and the bloodied kama lying on the floor next to him. His bloodshot eyes were still open, and his face was one of sadness, not of shock.
He killed her, then killed himself, Mitsunari thought. Noticing something still in Tama’s hand, he prised open her fingers and retrieved the crucifix she had gripped so tightly.
“So, you were a Christian. I think I now understand.” Mitsunari had suspected Tama of being a Christian and he took comfort in knowing that as a hostage she was unlikely to attempt seppuku, as, for Christians, suicide is a mortal sin. He had not, however, considered that she might arrange with others to take her life.
Mitsunari and his bodyguards had just ridden out of the Hosokawa compound to re-join the rest of his men when they noticed black smoke enveloping the mansion behind them.
“Kiyomasa’s mansion is close to here,” said Mazume, one Mitsunari’s bodyguards. “We can still take Kiyomasa’s family hostage.” Mitsunari remained silent for a time as he focussed on the flames licking the roof of the mansion.
“It is Karma, Mazume, Karma,” Mitsunari finally replied. He remembered the Go board and the solitary but vulnerable stone he had placed.
I must strike quickly before Tadaoki and Ieyasu discover what has happened. Having abandoned the idea of taking Kiyomasa’s wife hostage, Mitsunari spurred his horse forward, adding.
“We go to Osaka Castle to decide our destiny.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Seventh Month: Fifth Year of Keichoi (1600)
For the fifth day in a row, a storm front from the western highlands battered Hikone and Sawayama castles. Low-lying valleys were flooded, and roads became impassable, delaying Mitsunari’s planned offensive to seize Kyoto. Mitsunari had been trapped in Sawayama Castle by floods, along with the Lord of Tsuruga, Otani Yoshitsugu, a lifelong friend, the Sohei warrior monk Ankokuji Ekei, and fellow Go-Bugyo commissioner, Mashita Nagamori. They had arrived at Sawayama five days earlier to meet with Tairo, elder and lord of the Chugoku region, Mori Terumoto, to invite him to lead their new forty thousand-strong army. Having seized control of Osaka Castle the very moment Lord Ieyasu left for Edo, Mitsunari played the opening gambit of his plan to attack the Tokugawa army from the rear as it marched into Aizu to punish Uesugi Kagekatsu in the north. It was a plan Mitsunari knew to be risky, especially as he doubted the loyalty of some of the daimyo he had cobbled together to ally with. As he was often reminded, Ieyasu was a renowned military man. He was not.
“I dislike your plan,” said Yoshitsugu as he sought help from the others to help him stand up and move towards the large map Mitsunari had pinned up on a wall.
“You see this? This is Fushimi, the late Taiko made it impregnable,” said Yoshitsugu, pointing to its location on the map with a tanto knife. “Ieyasu controls Fushimi, which means he controls the gateway to the capital and Osaka. Unless you take Fushimi, your plan will fail.” Pleading for help to resume his seat, Yoshitsugu staggered forward and lost his balance, only to be caught by Ankokuji Ekei. At only forty-two, a relatively youthful age for a daimyo, Yoshitsugu was already nearly blind and had great difficulty standing. His face was covered in white Oshiroi makeup, which masked the deathly pallor of his translucent skin. A malady of the liver that had recently plagued him.
“I accept your concerns, old friend, but I intend to take Fushimi and attack Ieyasu in the rear and take his head back to his home province of Mikawa,” said Mitsunari.
“Fine,” said Yoshitsugu, “But the Tokugawa control not only Fushimi but also Kiyosu Castle. This means they control the central mountain route of the Nakasendo, as well as the Tokaido, eastern sea road. Ieyasu could attack us from both directions.”
“What you say is true,” said Mitsunari, “but both Gifu and Ogaki Castles are nearby and still in our hands. Once we take Fushimi, we can reinforce Ogaki and Gifu. They will be our front line of defence, just in case Ieyasu moves on the capital.” Yoshitsugu nodded as if in agreement while Mitsunari unrolled a scroll of paper and laid it out on the floor.
“Gentlemen, we are not rebels, said Mitsunari, pointing to the open roll of paper. These are thirteen articles of impeachment for which we accuse the acting Kampaku, Lord Ieyasu, of wilfully disregarding the late Taiko’s laws and decrees that he promised to abide by. You notice it is signed by the Tairo elder, Ukita Hideie. It is a condition of his signature that the Tairo elder, Lord Terumoto, also appends his signature. The other elder, Maeda Toshinaga, has already thrown in his lot with Ieyasu.”
“What about Uesugi Kagekatsu,” said Terumoto “as an elder, he must also sign off on this.”
“We don’t have time to get this to Kagekatsu and we cannot afford to delay, we must strike now,” said Mitsunari. “Once lord Terumoto has signed, copies of this indictment will be sent to all the daimyo. As Kagekatsu is openly fighting against Ieyasu in the north, his commitment to our cause is not in question.” Mitsunari handed Terumoto an inked brush and awaited his signature. The Mori lord hesitated, nervously tapping his fan on his thigh, and stepped backwards.
“My lord,” said Ankokuji Ekei, addressing Terumoto. “We cannot stand idly by and allow Ieyasu to disinherit Hideyori. Mitsunari’s plan is good, and with your illustrious signature on this paper, I am sure many of the daimyos currently supporting Lord Ieyasu will realise the error of their ways.” Terumoto squinted as he looked at Ekei, grumbling, “You had better be right, Ekei, or we will all lose our heads,” and begrudgingly penned his signature alongside that of Ukita Hideie.
“As head of the noble Mori clan and protector of Hideyori, I now invite you to become commander-in-chief of our forces,” said Mitsunari, who knew full well Terumoto lacked any military ability. What he could offer instead were his respected name and a forty-thousand-strong army. Sensing Terumoto’s unease, Mitsunari quickly suggested that Ukita Hideie could be enticed to take up the position of Terumoto’s second in command, thus relieving him of the burden of military responsibilities. Mitsunari expected Terumoto’s vacillation on this appointment and had earlier offered the role of deputy to Ukita Hideie, which he accepted. Feeling more relaxed and absolved from having to make military decisions, Terumoto accepted the position.
“A question, if I may,” said Nagamori, who had remained silent for the entire discussion, and who now addressed Mitsunari. “I understand you intend to use Kobayakawa Hideaki to attack Fushimi?”
“Yes, what of it?” said Mitsunari.
“I seem to remember that Kinoshita Nobutoshi is a commander at Fushimi and is also his brother. Can we trust him?” said Nagamori.
“That is why I am using him, and we will know soon enough where his loyalties lie,” said Mitsunari. Nagamori grinned and excused himself. It was soon after that discussion that Nagamori sat at his writing table to pen a letter to Ieyasu, outlining his thoughts on these deliberations at Sawayama.
#
Oyama Castle: Shimotsuke Province
The Ninth Day of the Ninth Month
Below the rugged hilltop castle of Oyama, where the fast-flowing Omoi river ran, a large assembly of people had gathered. Lord Ieyasu had taken the day out to enjoy his favourite pastime of Takagari—falcon hunting. Scores of peasants wearing only their fundoshi underwear and Kasa straw hats for protection against the harsh midday sun were put to work, beating the ground of the surrounding rice paddies with sticks to flush out the prey for the circling hawks above.
On the banks of the river, Ieyasu had erected a large Akunoya—tented pavilion where he and his guests would shelter from the harsh sun and enjoy the many refreshments that were laid on. A much smaller Akunoya was erected nearby to house the many mallards, geese, and quail taken by the hawks of Ieyasu and his guests. Within the large Akunoya, Ieyasu sat on his campstool, trying to coax his large female sparrow hawk back onto its perch. Still restrained by a leash, the highly agitated hawk continued to flap her wings in defiance. The sudden arrival of a messenger from the castle with news of a visitor aggravated the hen even more. The unsettled hawk still resting on Ieyasu’s deerskin glove cocked her head at Ieyasu and her large predatory yellow eyes looked into his soul before launching herself at the messenger. Skilfully, Ieyasu immediately pulled on the hen’s leash, halting her lunge, but not before her talons opened up the messenger’s cheek.
