Tales from Old Japanese Dramas/The Treason of Mitsuhidé

by Chikamatsu Yanagi

The Treason of Mitsuhidé

From

The Yehon Taikō-Ki

By

Chikamatsu Yanagi

The Treason of Mitsuhidé

I

OWARD the end of the sixteenth century there lived a brave warrior named Akéchi Mitsuhidé. He was in the service of Oda Nobunaga, under whose command he distinguished himself in several battles. In appreciation of his exploits, General Nobunaga conferred on him extensive fiefs in the provinces of Tamba and Ōmi, and created him one of the chief daimios. He was so grateful for his promotion, that he served his prince with even greater loyalty than before.

Nobunaga had been born a lesser daimio in the province of Owari, during the Dark Age of Japanese history. He had subjugated almost all the powerful chieftains in the different provinces who were contending against one another, and restored peace and order throughout the greater part of the Empire. The Emperor thereupon appointed him Minister of the Right, in recognition of his achievement. He never assumed the title of Shogun, but he practically ruled Japan in the name of the Emperor.

Notwithstanding his valour and sagacity, Nobunaga was hot-tempered, arrogant, and capricious, and often resorted to violence and despotism. Mitsuhidé deeply deplored this, and frequently remonstrated with his prince. But, as the proverb says, "Faithful advice sounds harsh to the ear," Nobunaga was offended at his loyal retainer's suggestions, and began to keep him at a distance. Another reason made the estrangement of lord and retainer even more pronounced. There was a handsome youth named Mori Rammaru, a favourite page of Nobunaga. He happened to harbour ill feelings towards Mitsuhidé in consequence of a dispute about their fiefs. This young man therefore lost no opportunity of slandering Mitsuhidé to Nobunaga, who gradually came to look upon Mitsuhidé with greater and greater hatred, until at last he thought of dismissing his loyal retainer. But Mitsuhidé served his master with such unswerving loyalty, and obeyed any of his commands, however unreasonable, without showing any signs of discontent, that Nobunaga was at a loss to find any ground for discharging him.

It happened that Nobunaga's eldest son, Nobutada, was promoted in his official rank. Therefore an Imperial messenger bearing the writ of appointment was sent to Nobunaga's castle at Azuchi on Lake Biwa. Nobunaga commanded Mitsuhidé and Rammaru to receive and feast the envoy. Mitsuhidé, who was well-versed in etiquette, took the whole responsibility of the affair upon his shoulders, and was assiduously engaged in making the necessary arrangements. Rammaru was displeased with this, and watched for an opportunity to pick a quarrel with him. The time drew near for the honourable guest's entertainment, and Mitsuhidé and his son, Jūjirō, were busy giving orders for the banquet. The former was quite unsuspicious of what was passing in Rammaru's mind. Suddenly Rammaru walked up to him, and asked angrily: "I think it is very strange that you are making all the arrangements without consulting me. Why do you never ask my opinion? If you don't give me a satisfactory explanation, I shall take steps against you."

"Oh, don't take it amiss, Rammaru," replied Mitsuhidé, looking up with surprise. "How can I take much notice of you? The time for the banquet is drawing near, and I am busy attending to my duties."

"Silence! We were both appointed to the office of feasting the Imperial envoy. You behave as if you were the sole officer. I consider that is a personal insult. I suppose you think me a useless nuisance! You are an arrogant old wretch!"

Rammaru was not satisfied with this, so he heaped gross abuse on Mitsuhidé. At last the latter lost his patience and flew into a passion.

"You are an insolent youngster," he roared, clapping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Speak another word, and it shall be your last!"

Rammaru was not daunted at this, and he crossed to Mitsuhidé, saying: "Kill me if you can!" and they were on the point of cutting at each other, when the fusuma, or sliding paper partition, was suddenly slid open and Nobunaga appeared on the scene.

He rushed at Mitsuhidé, and, seizing him by the collar of his kimono, held him on to the floor, crying: "You are insolent to protest against Rammaru's words. His authority is as great as my own. Wretch! Beat him on the face, Rammaru! Be quick! Quick!"

On hearing this peremptory order, Rammaru uplifted an iron fan which he chanced to carry in his hand.

"This is my lord's command," he cried, beating Mitsuhidé on the forehead with it. His blows were so violent that the other's head was bruised, and his eyes were blinded with the flowing blood. But Mitsuhidé bore the pain with great fortitude, compressing his lips and drawing in his cheeks. Nobunaga looked into his face with a sarcastic smile.

"How do you like it, Mitsuhidé? Don't Rammaru's blows fill you with resentment? He is chastising you in my stead, and at my commands."

"I feel no such resentment, my lord," replied Mitsuhidé calmly. "My life is devoted to the service of your lordship. If my bones are crushed, or my flesh mangled by your wishes, I shall never utter complaints against you. My obligations to you are too great. But my sorrow is unbounded when I hear people call you a cruel, unfeeling general. I fed that it is my duty to tell you this frankly!"—he burst into tears—"It is my earnest hope and prayer, that your lordship should change your ways, and be generally esteemed as a benevolent ruler. If you do so, you should leave a lasting fame to posterity. Oh, do not ignore my words, my dear lord."

This speech only enraged Nobunaga the more.

"Stop!" he roared. "Your insolence is intolerable. Henceforth you will be refused audience. Leave me at once! Come, Rammaru, turn Mitsuhidé and his son out of the gate!"

"If you hesitate to go any longer," cried Rammaru, threateningly, "I will kick you out!"

Mitsuhidé made no reply. He pressed his hand to his wounded forehead and departed ruefully with his son, who was weeping bitterly.

II

Mitsuhidé returned home sadly with his son. His wife, Misao, and his chief retainer Shiōden met them at the porch. Misao was astonished to see the bruises on her husband's forehead.

"You look pale and dispirited, my dear," said she, "and how did you get that ugly wound on your forehead?"

Mitsuhidé did not reply, being wrapped in thought. Jūjirō, whose mind was also deeply preoccupied, raised his drooping head and gave an account of what had happened. How Mitsuhidé had been insulted by Rammaru, on the occasion of the Imperial messenger's entertainment; how Nobunaga had ordered Rammaru to beat him on the forehead, and how both father and son had been driven out of the castle.

Misao was overcome with grief at hearing this, and her thoughts instantly passed on to the future of her husband. But the fiery Shiōden could not remain passive. He said nothing, but flushed with anger rushed silently out of the house. Misao bade him stop.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "What are you going to do, Shiōden?"

"An ancient sage says, 'When one's master is insulted, one fights to the death.' I will break into the castle, even if I lose my life, and take the head of Rammaru, who has insulted my lord. Do not stop me!"

With these words Shiōden again prepared to run out. Misao caught him by the sleeve.

"Your anger is right," she said. "But if you act rashly, you may bring trouble on your lord and disgrace on our house. Think again, before you act hastily."

Shiōden refused to listen, and shaking her off began to start.

"Stay!" said Mitsuhidé reproachfully. "You take too much upon yourself. I gave you no instructions to make such an uproar."

"Why do you stop me, my lord?" said Shiōden excitedly. "Even if you had committed some fault, it would be an impardonable wrong for you, a daimio, governing the two provinces of Tamba and Ōmi, to be beaten. My hatred of Rammaru knows no bounds! How can I help trying to take vengeance on him? I am determined either to kill Rammaru or myself. Don't stop me, my lord!"

Mitsuhidé looked him full in the face.

"You are mistaken, Shiōden," he said. "Rammaru beat me at my lord's order, so the blame is not his. As you know well, Lord Nobunaga is short-tempered and capricious. It is his custom either to shower favours on his retainers, or beat them, as his caprice chooses. Remember that a retainer has no reason to resent any command of his lord, even if he demand his life. Let that thought calm you, Shiōden."

The hot-tempered warrior had no reply to make to these words. He set his teeth and clenched his fists and remained silent. Suddenly a messenger from Lord Nobunaga arrived. Mitsuhidé and Shiōden met him reverentially at the entrance and begged him to be seated.

"Hashiba Hidéyoshi," he said, "proceeded some time ago to the Central Provinces, and has been engaged in the subjugation of the Mōri family. Therefore his Excellency Lord Nobunaga commands that you, Mitsuhidé, shall hasten thither to help Hidéyoshi and fight under him to the best of your ability. If your achievement should prove noteworthy, on you shall be conferred the provinces of Izumo and Iwami. In the meantime, you shall be deprived of your fiefs of Tamba and Ōmi. This is the command of his Excellency Lord Nobunaga."

There was a dead silence. Mitsuhidé and Shiōden looked at each other in amazement. Then Mitsuhidé answered that he respectfully accepted the command, and the messenger departed

Mitsuhidé folded his arms and stood for a few moments buried in reverie. Shiōden was filled with an inexpressible anger.

"What do you think of this command, my lord?" he asked, his hair bristling with wrath. "It is obvious that the merciless Nobunaga intends to destroy you. It is not the time to think of loyalty. Your lordship must raise the banner of chastisement against the cruel tyrant, and conquer Japan, and leave an undying fame to future generations. Such is my earnest wish."

Misao, on hearing these words, approached Mitsuhidé and remonstrated with tears:

"Oh, do not listen to such treasonable words! The faithful Shiōden's suggestion seems at first to be reasonable. But the mere mention of the idea of killing Lord Nobunaga and usurping the Empire, horrifies and disgusts me! My dear husband, I implore you, do not bring disgrace upon our aged mother and beloved children! Do not entertain such a horrible design. Take some other safe and wise course, such as will secure the good reputation of our house. Never, never come to any such evil resolution!"

Mitsuhidé remained silent. Soon afterwards, however, he recited the following versicle in loud tones, with an expression of firm determination on his face.

"Blind calumny may raise a cry
Of witless traitor—What care I?
I little reck of slander's breath
When my own will foredooms my death."

It is unnecessary to say that by this time Mitsuhidé had resolved to hoist the banner of treason. His wife understood the full significance of his poem, and when she heard it she burst into bitter tears and was stupefied with grief. Shiōden, on the other hand, danced for joy and cried out: "Long live the Akéchi family!"

III

Nobunaga and his son Nobutada went to Kyōto to pay homage to the Emperor. Nobutada stayed at the Nijō Castle, and Nobunaga put up at the Honnōji Temple, where he spent some days in enjoyment with his beautiful concubine Ano-no-Tsuboné, his favourite Rammaru, and the latter's younger brother Rikimaru.

One night Ano-no-Tsuboné brought Nobutada's son Sambōshi from the Nijō Castle, and taking the baby in her arms, bore it into Nobunaga's presence. Nobunaga was exceedingly delighted to see his innocent grandson. A feast was immediately given in honour of the child's visit, and Nobunaga ordered the lady to perform a dance. She saluted her lord, and taking a fan in her hand, she rose to her feet, and danced gracefully to the accompaniment of her own voice. Her gay coloured flowing sleeves fluttered in the air, and she looked like a butterfly on the wing. Nobunaga was much delighted, and praised her skill in glowing terms. At the conclusion of her dance, he ordered Rammaru to serve her with saké. Then Nobunaga offered Rammaru a cup, saying that his favourite might ask him for any dish he chose.

"Many thanks, my lord," said Rammaru, with a serious look. "I do not wish for any delicate dish, but may I be so bold as to ask for an army of four or five thousand men?"

"An army?" asked Nobunaga surprised. "For what purpose do you require an army, Rammaru?"

"I intend to march on Mitsuhidé's castle at Kaméyama in Tamba, and overthrow him in a single battle. He is a curse to your lordship, and I wish to rid you of him!"

"That is indeed well said," said Nobunaga smiling. "But that is a needless fear. It would be impossible for such a man as Mitsuhidé to 'strike his lance' against me, who am a hero, governing Japan. Set your mind at ease and fill another cup. 'Saké is the best broom to sweep away sorrow.' I will join you."

So saying, Nobunaga drained two or three cupfuls in rapid succession. Ano-no-Tsuboné warned him, saying: "'Remissness is a great enemy,' my lord. You would do well to ponder over what Sir Rammaru said just now."

By this time Nobunaga was quite intoxicated.

"You too!" he said, "you are also filled with such useless fears! It is very annoying! I fear my Sambōshi is sleepy.—I have drunk enough. Let us now forget our joys and sorrows in sweet sleep."

As he spoke, he rose to his feet, and retired to the inner chamber, and Ano-no-Tsuboné, with the baby prince in her arms, followed him.

Then Rammaru and all the others retired to their respective rooms, and were soon drowned in sleep.

The night was far advanced, and "even the grasses and trees were wrapt in sleep." The effects of liquor had passed away from Nobunaga's brain, and he could not longer sleep. He got up and slid open the shōji. Suddenly he was startled to hear a confused noise of the crows in their roosts in the garden trees. They were flapping and crying in alarm through the dark night. He bent his head in wonder, and the sound of bells and drums smote on his ear from far away. The sounds seemed to draw nearer and nearer. He called to the men on night duty.

"Say! There's danger! Climb to the lookout!"

Hearing the alarm, Ano-no-Tsuboné rushed out with a halberd in her hand. "Rammaru! Rammaru!" she cried. "Here is a great danger to our lord! Look out at once!"

She ran to the entrance of the temple. Rammaru heard her cry and, starting up, rushed up the balcony. He cast his eye round in every direction. The night was black, but from his observations in the darkness he made sure that Mitsuhidé's troops were advancing. He ran down and reported it to Nobunaga. "What! Treason on the part of Mitsuhidé?" exclaimed Nobunaga in astonishment. "Your warning was wonderfully prophetic. I deeply regret that I did not listen to it. But regrets are useless. Our only course is to defend ourselves as well as possible."

"Yes, that's most important, my lord," answered Rammaru. Unfortunately Nobunaga's retinue numbered scarcely more than three hundred. It was quite impossible for his tiny band to make any headway against a large army. When the lord and retainer thought of this they gnashed their teeth in mortification.

At this moment Rikimaru rushed back from a reconnaissance

"It appears," he cried, "that Mitsuhidé has marched against us with a troop of about four thousand men. So we must, all of us, be on our guard."

Rammaru turned to Nobunaga. "Rikimaru and I," he said, "will fight the enemy in front of the gate. In the meantime, I hope that your lordship will be ready to defend yourself with bow and arrows." With these words he and his brother ran out.

Nobunaga sighed bitterly. He realized that there was no fighting against such tremendous odds. He made up his mind to help his grandson to escape, and then to commit suicide. He was just ordering the child to be brought to him when Ano-no-Tsuboné, wounded in several places and carrying the blood-stained halberd, staggered into the room.

"The enemy have already broken through the gate, my lord," said she. "I will go and rejoin the fight. In the meantime, you must make rapid preparations for flight. The sooner you are able to do so, the better, my lord."

"I am grateful to you for your kind words, Tsuboné," said Nobunaga resignedly. "I am, however, fully prepared to die. If I should be killed by an unknown soldier, in an attempt to escape, it would be an everlasting disgrace. But I am troubled about the safety of Sambōshi. I want you to take the child and hasten to Hidéyoshi's camp at Takamatsu, in the province of Bitchū. When you arrive there, tell him to take care of Sambōshi, and to revenge my death on the accursed traitor. I earnestly request you to do this for me."

The lady burst into tears. "Oh, my lord!" she sobbed. "You must forgive me if I disobey your orders. I cannot forsake you on the eve of your death. Permit me to share your fate, dear lord."

But Nobunaga turned a deaf ear to her entreaty, and peremptorily commanded her to leave his presence. At that moment Rammaru came back, after having cut down many of the enemy. He prostrated himself before Nobunaga.

"I have received a report," he said, "to the effect that Mitsuhidé has sent another army to the Nijō Castle. Lord Nobutada's retainers have fought bravely, but in vain. He has, alas! made up his mind to kill himself. The enemy have already forced their way into our temple, and I fear that all is lost. Your lordship's obvious duty is to commit seppuku, and I'll follow you to the Meido!"

"I am quite prepared to do so," said Nobunaga calmly. "Tsuboné, you must take Sambōshi, and leave at once. Why do you hesitate to obey my commands?"

Urged by this repeated order, the lady summoned a retainer and, sorrowfully taking her leave, stole out of the postern.

Nobunaga was now freed from the only cause of his solicitude. He was about to take his life, when a large number of the foes, under the command of Shiōden, burst into the courtyard. Nobunaga seized a bow and arrow, and cried angrily:

"Where is the traitor Mitsuhidé? Let him appear, so that he may die by my arrow."

He shot many arrows with such skill and promptitude, that a number of the hostile soldiers fell dead on the spot. The rest were frightened, and did not dare to approach. Taking advantage of the lull, Nobunaga retired to the inner room and committed seppuku. Then Rammaru, Rikimaru, and all the other survivors drew their daggers and stabbed themselves to death.

IV

Hashiba Hidéyoshi, the ablest of Nobunaga's generals, was now engaged in the conquest of Mōri Terumoto, who was the prince of a large part of the Central Provinces, and who had not yet submitted to the supremacy of Nobunaga. Hidéyoshi had for some weeks been carrying on an attack upon the Castle of Takamatsu, in the province of Bitchū, which was one of Terumoto's strongholds. The garrison defended themselves with great courage. The castle was protected on one side by a river, and on the other three sides by swamps; so it was impossible for a large force to approach it by land. Hidéyoshi's character was marked by a wonderful genius for strategy. He saw that the one way to capture the fort was to flood it out with water. With this intent, he commanded his troops to dam up the river below the fortress. This was gradually accomplished. The water rose by degrees, and the higher it rose the more uncomfortable became the occupants of the castle.

One day a female warrior, having a halberd in her hand, forced her way through the ranks of the besieging army and rushed to the entrance of Hidéyoshi's headquarters and cried, with gasps:

"Is General Hidéyoshi within?"

Hidéyoshi, wondering who it could be, went to the door. He was astonished to see Ano-no-Tsuboné, exhausted, pale as death, and covered with wounds, supporting herself by the shaft of a blood-stained halberd. He grasped the fact that she had brought some momentous news; so he softly arranged her clothing, and gave her a stimulating draught, and urged her to tell him her message. The lady fixed her eyes sadly on the general's face and burst into a torrent of tears. But she controlled herself with a great effort, and told between gasps all that had happened. She informed him how Mitsuhidé had treasonably marched on the Honnōji; how Nobunaga and Rammaru and all the other retainers had come to a tragic end; how the nobleman, before his death, had ordered her to communicate to Hidéyoshi his ardent wish that he should be avenged on the traitor. She also told how she had cut her way through the enemy's ranks with Nobunaga's grandson under her care, how she had left the child under the protection of General Hosokawa, and found her way alone thither, through all manner of perils to bring the tidings. At the conclusion of her narration, she gave one choking gasp and fell prostrate on to the ground, dead.

When he heard this pathetic story, Hidéyoshi was seized with grief and amazement. He feared that if the news of Nobunaga's untimely end should spread, it might dishearten his troops and lead to a defeat. He therefore cried at the top of his voice: "I have killed a woman who has tried to deceive me."

He then returned to an inner room, where he burned incense, and read the sutras, and prayed to the soul of his departed liege lord. When he had finished, he began to ponder how he might best deal with the traitor Mitsuhidé.

At this moment messengers from Terumoto arrived, bearing proposals of peace. Hidéyoshi promptly consented to them, and a treaty was at once concluded. Thereupon he raised the siege and hastened towards the Capital in order to chastise Mitsuhidé. Hidéyoshi was so eager to reach his destination that he hurried on, regardless of the army which accompanied him. A small body-guard kept up as well as they could with their impatient chief.

On the second day of their forced march, Hidéyoshi and his body-guard found themselves at Amagasaki in the province of Settsu. There he rested in a farmer's house, to await the arrival of his army. While he was there, a peasant and a Buddhist priest came and begged for an interview with him. Hidéyoshi's soldiers threatened them, and said that it was very presumptuous for a mere peasant and a humble priest to ask for such a privilege. But the two visitors earnestly repeated their entreaty. They stated that they were well acquainted with the general and had come on purpose to see him. When Hidéyoshi heard of their petition he summoned them to his presence. He scrutinized them closely, but could not recall their faces. He asked them who they were, and what was their business.

"Excuse me, sir," said the rustic peasant, with a look of wonder, "but your memory seems to be very poor. Have you forgotten Chōbei in the village of Imazato, near Ōsaka? He had the honour of sheltering you two or three years ago, when you and Lord Nobunaga fled there, after losing a battle."

"I am Kenketsu, the priest of the Kwannonji Temple in the province of Ōmi," said the priest familiarly. "When you visited my temple some time ago, I had the pleasure to serve you with tea. Have you forgotten that? When I heard that your honour had come back from the Central Provinces to punish the traitor Mitsuhidé, I was filled with joy. I have therefore come with Chōbei, to pay you respects. It gives me great pleasure to see you well and in good spirits."

Hidéyoshi racked his memory, but he could not call them to mind; so he thought that their visit must have some significance. But the sagacious general gave them a nod of recognition.

"Ah!" he said. "I remember both of you. I am glad to see you again, and to have this opportunity of thanking you for past favours."

"I have important news to tell you," said Chōbei seriously. "The traitor Mitsuhidé has stationed the main body of his army at my village, and his vanguard is ambuscaded on the main road to Kyōto. It is therefore very dangerous for you to proceed to the Capital. We have been thinking carefully and, in the humble opinion of both of us, we consider that you had better summon your body-guard and hasten to my village by a bypath, and give Mitsuhidé a surprise attack. If you do this, you can easily destroy him. Our sole intention in coming here was to suggest this plan to you. But I must not forget to offer you this small present"—he took two musk-melons out of a straw basket he was carrying in his hand—"These melons were grown in my field. Kindly do me the honour to accept them."

When he heard these words, Hidéyoshi's suspicions were aroused still more. But he said with an air of confidence, "Thanks, my friends! I deeply appreciate your kindly thoughts."

The two men showed signs of satisfaction and happiness when they heard his thanks. At that moment a company of soldiers rushed forth from a thick forest close by. "We are Mitsuhidé's troops," they cried and, uttering loud shouts, attacked Hidéyoshi's body-guard. Katō Kiyomasa, a brave officer of the guard, immediately rushed at them, and his mighty strokes put them to rapid flight. The hero at once pursued them to the seashore.

The peasant seemed to be amazed at this sudden attack.

"Your honour," he cried, "you are in great danger! You must not stay here any longer! Hasten, I implore you, to my village! Come with us! We will be your guides! We will go first, and show you the way."

Chōbei and the priest took a few steps forward. Hidéyoshi promptly seized the opportunity, and cut down the priest from behind.

"Villain!" he roared, "you cannot deceive me! I recognize you as Mitsuhidé's retainer Shiōden!"

It was useless for Shiōden to conceal his identity any longer, so the hero, who was impersonating the peasant, turned round and threw off his disguise.

"Your shrewdness fills me with admiration, Hidéyoshi," he said. "You have said truly, that I am Shiōden. I regret that my attempt to lure you to destruction has failed, but I intend, nevertheless, to let you sample the sharpness of my sword."

As he spoke he unsheathed a sword, which he was carrying concealed in a straw wrapper, and made a furious lunge at Hidéyoshi. The soldiers of the latter rushed to his rescue. Shiōden cut and hewed with Herculean strength. It did not take many minutes for several of the soldiers to be slain. The rest took to their heels. In the meanwhile, Hidéyoshi, with his characteristic quick-wittedness, stripped the dead priest of his robe and donned it over his armour. In this disguise, he leapt into his saddle and, spurring the horse, galloped away. Shiōden gave chase, but found it impossible to overtake him. However, he ran at full speed, stumbling over stones, and trampling on cornfields, when Katō Kiyomasa appeared and barred his way. The two heroes closed in a severe contest, and fought for a good while, with equal success. It seemed impossible to tell to whom the victory would fall. But at last Kiyomasa dropped a mighty blow which Shiōden failed to ward off, and the latter was cut down. Kiyomasa then cast a searching eye in all directions to discover the whereabouts of his chief. To his regret and anxiety, Hidéyoshi had ridden into the forest some distance away, and there were no signs of him to be seen.

V

A few days after he had caused the murder of Nobunaga, Mitsuhidé took possession of Kyōto and the neighbouring provinces. The usurper induced the Emperor to bestow upon him the title of Shogun, and declared his authority throughout the land. He selected the Myōshinji Temple as his headquarters at the Capital, and made extensive arrangements to defend himself against Hidéyoshi's revengeful attack.

Mitsuhidé's old mother, Satsuki ("Azalea"), was filled with regret at his heinous crime of having slain his lord. An intense hatred of her son sprang up in her heart, and she declined to live under the same roof with him. At last, in spite of the earnest opposition of her family, she left the temple in the garb of a humble Buddhist pilgrim.

She went to the before-mentioned Amagasaki, and rented a small house. Here she led a solitary life, passing her days and nights in devotion and prayers and the perusal of the sutras. Mitsuhidé kept her constantly supplied with money and provisions.

One day Mitsuhidé's wife Misao ("Chastity") called at Satsuki's cottage, accompanied by her son Jūjirō's fiancée Hatsugiku ("Early Chrysanthemum"), to inquire after her health. The old woman welcomed them heartily. After they had talked on various topics for some minutes, she asked anxiously: "By the by, Misao, is Jūjirō still safe in the headquarters?"

"He is still there," answered Misao. "He ardently wishes to join in today's battle, and to cover himself with glory. He has obtained permission from his father, but his sense of duty prevents him from going to battle without gaining your permission also. He begged me therefore to ask for your consent. Are you willing to allow him to go to war, mother?"

"Jūjirō's idea is indeed admirable," said the old lady, bursting into tears of joy. "I cannot understand how a real samurai such as Jūjirō could have possibly been born to such a vile wretch as Mitsuhidé. Of course I will grant his request."

At this moment a Buddhist priest wearing sandals on his feet, and carrying something on his back wrapped in a furoshiki, knocked at the door.

"I am a priest," he said, "on a pilgrimage to various temples in different provinces. I am afraid that you will think I am asking too much, but can you give me lodging for the night?"

"I am afraid I can only offer you very poor accommodation," answered the old woman, "but you are welcome to spend the night under my roof."

"Many thanks, my dear madam."

With this he immediately entered, and began to untie his sandals. Misao and Hatsugiku brought him a tub of water in which to wash his feet.

"You are very kind, ladies," said the shaveling.

"Please do not put yourselves to so much trouble. A travelling priest always has to do everything for himself. I can sleep soundly anywhere, even in the corner of a shed. I need neither a mosquito net nor bedding. Please leave me to myself, and ——"

Theres one thing I must tell you, priest," broke in the old lady. "There is a bath-room just beside the entrance. The bath-tub is luckily filled with water. You are at liberty to light the fire, and warm it for a bath. I'll take a bath when you have finished."

"Most certainly. I'll do so gladly."

With these words he went out to the bath-room.

Soon afterwards Jūjirō arrived. He was accompanied by a retainer carrying his armour-chest. It was the young samurai's intention to make his start for the battle from his grandmother's dwelling.

"I am very glad to see you in such good health, grandmother," he said, bowing politely. "Has mother communicated my request to you? Will you grant it?"

"I am indeed glad to see you, Jūjirō," answered Satsuki almost overcome with joy, "of course I will permit you to go to the battle! Hatsugiku is fortunately here, so it is my ardent wish that before you set out for your first battle, you will celebrate your marriage with her. Your joy, dearest girl, must be very great! I will at once fetch some saké so that you can exchange the nuptial cups."

Hatsugiku's face was so crimson with blushes that it resembled a frost-bitten maple leaf. She could not restrain her joy. But Jūjirō sat in melancholy silence. He brooded over the obvious fact that his father's army was doomed to extinction. He had therefore resolved to die fighting. It filled him with pity to see his grandmother and Hatsugiku, who were ignorant of his determination, in such high spirits. The old woman, Misao, and Hatsugiku went into the kitchen to prepare the saké and arrange the cups and other articles necessary for the marriage ceremony.

Jūjirō continued his meditations. His head drooped like a withering flower, unable to draw up water. After a time, he wiped away his tears and said to himself: "This is my last farewell in this life, to my dear mother and grandmother. My request has been granted, so I leave this world without any regrets. With what kindness they have brought me up during eighteen long years! Their favours are indeed 'deeper than the ocean and higher than the mountain!' I hope they will bear in mind that it is the common lot of every warrior to die in battle, and forgive me for leaving this life ere they do. And now my thoughts turn towards Hatsugiku. It is fortunate for us that we have not yet exchanged nuptial cups. I hope that she will give me up and wed another warrior. Poor girl! She will grieve bitterly when she hears the news of my death!"

In the meantime, Hatsugiku had been listening in the adjoining room to this soliloquy which was overflowing with filial piety and love. She rushed in and burst into loud weeping. Jūjirō was astonished, and placed his hand over her mouth.

"Hush, Hatsugiku!" said he reproachfully. "Don't weep so loud. Did you overhear what I said?"

"Yes, I heard everything. How can it be kept a secret from a wife, that her husband is going to die in battle? I thought that you and I were to be husband and wife for two existences,—nay, even three; but alas! dear Jūjirō, how unkind of you to say that it is fortunate for us that we have not yet exchanged nuptial cups! What a pity it is you are going to die in battle, before we are married!"—the girl clung to him and wept—"I would not for all the world have you slain! I implore you to give up all idea of going to the battle-field, dear Jūjirō."

"You are a warrior's daughter. I intended from the first to fight to the death. If grandmother discovers you weeping, and perceives my resolve, I will divorce you for all time and eternity!"

"What is that you say?"

"Oh! we are wasting time in useless conversation. Bring me that armour-chest. Quick!"

"Very well," was the girl's sobbing reply.

"Quickly," said Jūjirō with irritation. "The longer you are, the worse it will be! Do not be so unreasonable."

"It is not possible for me to make haste in helping my beloved husband don his armour, when I know he is bent upon dying on the battle-field."

With these words she took out a suit of armour made of red threaded plates. Its sleeves were besprinkled with a shower of her tears. Jūjirō promptly clothed himself in the beautiful armour and a graceful helmet. Thus equipped, he looked a perfect warrior. His mother and grandmother entered at this moment with saké-cups and a wooden stand on which to place them, a saké holder with a long handle, and other articles of ceremony. They gazed at his gallant appearance with admiration.

"How fine you look!" exclaimed the old woman,

"Bring me that armour-chest. Quick!"

her face wreathed in smiles. "How manly! I feel as if I could behold you fighting a glorious fight! This cup is intended both as your wedding cup and Jūjirō's farewell cup. Take it quickly, bride! What a joyful occasion it is!"

The more the old lady rejoiced the more Hatsugiku felt the grief of farewell. Her husband was a handsome warrior, and yet now she must exchange the last farewell cup with him!

"You must fight bravely and achieve many glorious deeds, dear husband," she said, smiling bravely to disguise her grief. "But I hope you will return in triumph this evening——"

She could not breathe another word. Her bosom was so wrung with grief that it choked her utterance. When Jūjirō perceived this, he wept also, his tears moistening the string of his helmet. At that moment a sound of battle drums was heard, borne in upon a gust of wind. He summoned up his courage and sprang to his feet.

"And now," he cried, "I must bid farewell to all of you!"

He shook the sleeves of his armour from the grasp of his wife, and darted for the battle-field. Hatsugiku fell to the ground.

"My heart is broken!" she wailed amid a torrent of tears. The old woman and Misao looked ruefully at each other.

"Oh, mother!" said Misao tearfully.

"Misao!" said the old woman, her voice broken with sobs. "I have cruelly allowed Jūjirō to go to his death. Hatsugiku, I knew that he had resolved to fight to the end. I desired to let him die manfully, rather than see him executed under the brand of 'traitor.' I made you exchange nuptial cups partly for the sake of a last farewell, and partly that you should both separate without any feelings of regret. My thoughts are too deep for expression!" When they heard her confession, both Hatsugiku and Misao fell to crying convulsively. At that moment, the above mentioned priest came in with an air of innocence. "The bath is ready, good ladies," he said, "will one of you take it?"

"Thanks for your trouble," said Satsuki, turning away her tearful face. "But a fresh bath is harmful to an old woman. The others are younger than I. You had better take it first, sir priest."

"Well, while you are busy declining the bath, it

Mr. Nizayemon as Mitsuhidé

is no doubt getting cold, so I will take the liberty to bathe before you."

The priest then went to the bath-room, whilst the three women entered the inner room.

The moon was shedding its pale beams on the projecting roof of the bath-room, and the only sound that broke the stillness of the night was the croaking of the frogs in the rice-field near by. Suddenly Mitsuhidé appeared at the trellis of bottle-gourds close by the bath-room.

"That priest must be Hidéyoshi," he thought to himself. "I'll dispatch him at a single blow!" He cut down a bamboo from the grove, intending to use it as a spear. He then slowly approached the bath-room with soft stealthy steps. Hearing a sound within he thrust his spear in at the window with great dexterity. Immediately a woman's voice was heard, shrieking in agony. He thought this was very strange, so opening the door, he dragged out the wounded person from within. To his horror and consternation, he discovered that it was not Hidéyoshi, but his own mother Satsuki, who lay before him, writhing in intense pain.

"Great Heavens!" cried Mitsuhidé. "Is it you whom I have killed, mother?" He was so stupefied with amazement, that he could utter no other words. Hearing the sounds, Misao and Hatsugiku rushed out and clinging to the dying woman wept bitterly.

"Mother!" cried Misao. "What has brought you to this pitiful plight?"

"Your tears are useless," said the old woman opening her dim eyes. "It is natural that such a misfortune should befall a relative of Mitsuhidé. He has murdered his master, Lord Nobunaga, the Minister of the Right. By committing the horrible crime of treason, he has compromised our house which has, up to this time, been free from infamy. He is an undutiful son,—nay, more,—he is an unspeakable wretch. There are no words that can fully express his wickedness. Wealth and rank gained by unrighteous means are like floating clouds. He boasts of having slain his lord. He forgets that even if a man becomes Emperor or Shogun by such wicked means, he is far worse than the most miserable beggar. On the other hand, if a man has a mere pittance to live upon, it is worth more than the income of a great daimio, if he serves his master and parents faithfully, and duly fulfils the duties of benevolence and justice; of loyalty and filial piety. The baseness of your heart has caused all this misery, Mitsuhidé. There are various weapons with which to kill a samurai, and yet I am killed with a bamboo spear, which is generally used only for butchering wild boars! The punishment of Heaven, for your having assassinated your lord, is now visited on your mother."

With these words she seized the end of the spear and with great courage thrust it deeper into her wound.

"Oh, think of it, my dear husband!" said Misao, choked with tears. "Why did you not listen to my earnest remonstrances against your evil plan? Had you done so, this misfortune would not have happened to us! I know you did it unwittingly, but think of the horror of having killed your mother with your own hand! Before our mother dies, I beseech you to express sorrow for your deed!"

The true and faithful wife clasped her hands, and urged this entreaty with bitter tears.

"Your reproaches are too bold!" roared Mitsuhidé, with inflexible determination written upon his fierce countenance. "Cease to talk such nonsense! Have you forgotten how often that tyrant of Oda Nobunaga insulted me? I was under no great obligations to him. In spite of my faithful remonstrances, he destroyed Shinto and Buddhist temples. His evil deeds increased day by day, so I took his life in accordance with a warrior's duty and for the sake of the Empire. My deed covers me with honour and glory. King Bu of China slew the tyrant Chū and in our own country Hōjō Yoshitoki exiled an Emperor. These illustrious examples show that it is the desire of all Japanese and Chinese heroes to relieve the people of their grievances, by destroying their tyrants. What can women such as you know about such matters? You had better keep away."

There suddenly arose a deafening sound of battle drums. Mitsuhidé and the others strained their eyes to see what was happening. At this moment Jūjirō returned, and tottered up to the house, leaning on his sword, with the blood flowing like a torrent from his wounds.

"My parents! Are you here?" he gasped, in the agony of approaching death. Misao and Hatsugiku were struck with sorrow and despair at his ghastly plight. The girl ran up to him.

"Oh, what misery, Jūjirō!" she said with sobs.

"First grandmother, and now you are in such a terrible condition! Have courage, my dear!"

"Why are you so downhearted?" cried Mitsuhidé, in order to stir up the sinking youth. "What is it? Tell me all that has happened."

Jūjirō pulled himself together and gasped out the news:

"In accordance with your command, I and my army of three thousand horsemen encamped on the seashore, where we lay in ambuscade. The enemy were quite unsuspicious of this, and rowed up to the shore. There they landed in order to march for the Capital. We did not neglect such an opportunity, so we suddenly fell upon them, uttering loud yells and cries, and cut and hewed in all directions. The enemy were completely taken by surprise, and ran in confusion. We pursued them, and fought with all our strength. Suddenly from behind us a loud voice was heard to cry, 'Stay! Look at me! I am Katō Kiyomasa, a retainer of Hashiba Hidéyoshi. You, the son of the traitor Mitsuhidé, and your followers shall now feel the sharpness of my sword.' Kiyomasa cut at us with his great sword, and raged with demoniacal fury. His soldiers were so encouraged by this, that they fell upon us with renewed vigour. So powerful was their attack, that in a few minutes my troops were killed to a man. I am the sole survivor of the battle, left to tell you that tale, dear father."

"What cowardice!" cried Mitsuhidé, his hair bristling with desperate anger. "What has become of Shiōden?"

"Shiōden's one aim was the destruction of Hidéyoshi. He fought by himself since yesterday morning, and I missed him in the mêlée. I do not know for certain whether he is alive or dead. I was anxious about father's safety, and so I cut my way through the enemy's ranks, and have come back here. It is dangerous to stay here any longer. Do not lose a moment in hurrying back to our province, father!"

Although he was rapidly losing strength on account of his wounds, Jūjirō only thought of his father. His grandmother so admired his filial piety, that she burst into tears.

"Listen, Misao," she said, "Jūjirō is fatally wounded, and yet he thinks only of my wicked son. He is a splendid example of filial piety! Mitsuhidé, have you no feelings of pity or love for your son? Alas! my dearest grandson has lost his life in the infamous name of a vile traitor, instead of dying honourably in the cause of loyalty and justice. This is the result of your wicked heart! Oh, what have I done to deserve such a fate?"

The dying warrior heard the voice of the old woman.

"Ah! Are you indeed killed, grandmother?" he asked in faint tones. "Is this our last farewell? I should like to see your face once more before I die, but I can see no longer. Farewell, father, mother, and Hatsugiku."

With these words he breathed his last, with his hand fast held by Hatsugiku.

"It is true that it is the common lot of every warrior to die in battle," said his mother bursting into bitter tears—"but oh! the pity of it! For eighteen years he has never known a moment of enjoyment. All his days have been passed in the din and noise of war. He has devoted all his life to the art of the bow and arrow. This morning, when he was on the point of starting for the battle-field, he said with a smile, 'Dear mother, I expect to distinguish myself in my first battle today. I shall be praised for it by father and grandmother.' His bright smile as he spoke still lingers in my vision. I can't forget it."

Hatsugiku wept bitterly. "Is there any one in all the wide world more unhappy than I?" she sobbed. "Only this morning I was married to him, and now we are parted for ever! We have bidden each other a sad farewell, and have never placed our pillows side by side even once. What sin have I committed that Heaven should punish me thus? My only wish is that I should accompany my husband to the Meido. Oh, let me die with him!"

The girl took the hand of the dead warrior, and looked tenderly at his pale face. At this touching sight, Misao and Satsuki burst again into loud weeping.

The filial love and paternal affection of the brave Mitsuhidé were now stirred to their depths. He could restrain his grief no longer, but burst into floods of tears. At that moment a confused noise of battle cries, neighing horses, and the whiz of darting arrows, was heard near at hand. Mitsuhidé sprang to his feet.

"Do those sounds come from the enemy or from my troops?" he cried. "Is it victory or defeat?"

He climbed a knotted pine-tree in the front of the yard, and stared fixedly on the villages below.

"See!" he cried. "A large number of war vessels are sailing up one after the other from the left of the Wada promontory. Ah! I can see among them the banner of 'A Thousand Gourds.' I am sure it is Hidéyoshi's army! He has managed to escape from this house, and is now marching against me."

With these words he jumped down. "Well," he cried. "I'll strike the 'ape-faced sandal bearer'^[1] down with a single blow." He ran out with a determined countenance.

At that moment a voice cried: "Wait one moment, Akéchi Mitsuhidé. Hashiba Hidéyoshi wants to meet you."

With these words, the hero himself appeared on the scene, dressed in a brilliant war-coat and beautiful armour instead of the priest's robe in which he had been disguised. Mitsuhidé looked back in amazement and, retracing his steps, cried with a fierce look:

"I am glad to see you, Hidéyoshi. Akéchi Mitsuhidé will now celebrate your funeral rites. Prepare for your last moments." Mitsuhidé was ready for an attack, but the dying mother intercepted them.

"Lord Hidéyoshi," she said, "look at me. I have been killed with this bamboo-spear, as a divine punishment for my son's crime of having murdered his master. I don't regret dying by the hand of my son, because I hope that my death may be a means of extenuating his vile crime. Lord Hidéyoshi, I beseech you to place it upon record that Mitsuhidé's mother was crucified for the sake of her son's crime. Mitsuhidé will then be freed from the infamy of matricide. I beg you to do this out of my foolish affection for my wicked son. I die contented, for I would rather hasten to the other world after my grandson than stay in this wearisome universe. Farewell! Farewell!"

So saying she passed peacefully away. Misao and Hatsugiku flung themselves on the body with loud protestations of grief. Struck with sympathy for Mitsuhidé's mother, Hidéyoshi was silent for awhile. Then he said:

"Mitsuhidé, you are my sworn enemy. It would be an easy matter for me to kill you now that you are defenceless. But I am incapable of such an unmanly deed. This is what I propose to do. I will meet you on an appointed day at Yamazaki, in the province of Yamashiro, and our conflict shall be decided by a fight to the death. Do you agree to this?"

"If you wish it," answered Mitsuhidé, "so be it. I will return to the Capital, gather together my troops, and meet you at Yamazaki in two or three days."

After making this promise the two heroes bowed courteously to each other and parted.

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The battle of Yamazaki was fought two days afterwards. In the beginning, both armies fought with equal success, but, later on, Mitsuhidé's troops lost ground, little by little, until at last most of them fell. Mitsuhidé with great difficulty, succeeded in cutting his way through the enemy's ranks, and took a road by a bamboo grove, near the village of Ogurusu. Suddenly a company of Hidéyoshi's horsemen, who had overtaken him by a short cut, fell upon him. He fearlessly encountered them, and cut thirteen of them down, the rest taking to flight.

Mitsuhidé alighted and, resting in the shade of the bamboos, began to think of his past and present fortunes, good and bad. He recognized that all hope was now gone, so he made up his mind to commit suicide. He knelt with signs of despair, and made ready to perform the melancholy deed. At that moment, however, several peasants thrust at him with bamboo-spears from inside the grove. The wounded warrior sprang to his feet with a roar of rage and furiously cut at them. They were immediately filled with terror and beat a hasty retreat. Then Mitsuhidé again resumed his former position, and with calm determination committed seppuku. On the second of June he had assassinated Nobunaga, and it was on the thirteenth of the same month that he met his tragic end. So that his glory as Shogun had lasted only ten days.

Misao and Hatsugiku entered a nunnery, where they took life vows, and for the remainder of their days prayed for the departed souls.

1. In his younger days, Hidéyoshi served Oda Nobunaga as sōri tori or sandal bearer, and his face somewhat resembled that of an ape.