Pagoda, Skull & Samurai Read online

  "Her face was even worse, as abominable as a melting statue of a copper lion. Her browless forehead bulged prominently and was full of purplish hollows oozing a gray-yellow liquid just like rotten oysters filthier than gutter sludge. Any part of her flesh not coated with pus was exposed mercilessly, as red as a baby's tongue. Her sunken nose was an infected sore, and her upper lip had melted away, baring sparse yellow teeth in horrible contrast to her shriveled colorless gums. The mouth had festered toward the right side, leaving her cheek ripped halfway open and the molars glaring out. Her hairless head glistened weirdly like a well-polished red gourd or a ripe persimmon about to break. Her right eye was merely a wet crater, and the left underlid was turned inside out vividly displaying red veins. Her remaining eyeball protruded out of the socket, its glazed umber pupil almost immobile, glaring up at men, the gods, and Buddhas. From time to time she would heave a sigh as if to vent a bodyful of venomous air —so repulsive that even dogs and birds fled. One look at her and we all felt sick. Even just recalling her foul odor at mealtimes, we were unable to enjoy our bean soup; reminded of her loathsome condition, we were forced to throw away the delicious salted fish guts. So we avoided her, no one offering her as much as a riceball.

  "We heard her pitifully groaning out something like a song—she seemed to repeat under her feeble breath, 'Abandoned by the world, I abandon the world.' She would glower at the heavens, wildly swing her bamboo cane, and strike stones and trees by the wayside in a crazed frenzy.

  "Seared by the flames of fury in her heart, she vanished, raving, into thin air."

  Selected Allusions

  BASHŌ (Matsuo Bashō, 1644-94): poet, one of the most renowned haiku masters of Japanese literature.

  BRAHMADEVA: in ancient Indian religion, the main deity and the creator of all things; the personification of the essence of the universe. Known as "Bonten" in Japanese Buddhism, he is the lord of the Pure Realm and guardian of the Sacred Laws.

  CH'Ü YÜAN (340-278 B.C.): a southern Chinese aristocrat and poet known for his serious poems and tragic life, which ended in a suicide by drowning.

  CONSCIOUSNESS ONLY Doctrine: the Buddhist ontology that holds that the only real existence is the mind, for everything in the universe is a mere reflection of the mind. By extension, the spirit of a dead person can communicate with the living.

  EGUCHI, LADY OF (c. 1200): a courtesan and poet whose given name was Tae. It is said that when the renowned monk-poet Saigyō (1118-90) visited Eguchi, the following poetic conversation took place:

  It would not be difficult

  To forsake the world,

  Yet how you begrudge me

  A temporary lodging. (Saigō)

  Since I understand that

  You have forsaken the world

  I can only say that

  You must not leave your heart

  At a temporary lodging. (Tae)

  FUDŌ: the head of the Five Divine Kings serving the Sun Buddha. Their duty is to subjugate evil and desire.

  GENJI: the hero of The Tale of Genji, a prince who loved numerous ladies. He is generally regarded as a paragon of mono no aware (the pathos of things) with the aesthetic capacity to be moved by the quintessential beauty of all things and people.

  HŌRAI, MT.: in Taoist legends, a holy mountain inhabited by immortals.

  IKKYŪ (1394-1481): poet and priest of Rinzai Buddhism, the forty-sixth head of Daitoku Temple in Kyoto. He is the subject of legends containing humorous and epigrammatic episodes.

  JIZŌ: a bodhisattva who manifests himself in the form of a child, and therefore believed to be the guardian of children. Jizo also came to be identified with local deities, thereby taking on the power to make travel safe.

  KOGŌ, HOTOKE GOZEN, GIŌ, Gijo: twelfth-century courtesans who, according to The Tale of the Heike, became nuns after the deaths of their samurai lovers.

  KUME, WIZARD OF: according to several old Japanese legends, a hermit who lost his ability to fly when he caught sight of the legs of a woman who was washing her clothes on the bank of a river.

  LIU HSIA-HUI: a wise man of ancient China who is said to have proved himself impervious to women's amorous advances.

  MAHESVARA: also called Siva, the supreme deity of Brahmanism. In Buddhism, he is depicted with eight arms and three eyes, holding a three-pronged spear and riding a white ox.

  NARIHIRA (Ariwara-no-Narihira, 825-80): nobleman, poet, the hero of The Tales of Ise. He is considered to be one of the models for Prince Genji.

  RANDEN, MT.: a mountain in China famous as a source of beautiful precious stones.

  T'AO YÜAN-MING (376-427): a southern Chinese poet noted for his idyllic nature poems depicting a Taoist paradise called the Realm of Peach Blossoms.

  TEN THOUSAND SPHERES: a Buddhist term for the entire universe.

  Usuyuki, Sumiyoshi, Ise, Taketori, Genji, Sagoromo: tenth- and eleventh-century works of fiction; properly cited, all have Monogatari (tale) after the title given here. The Tale of Genji is noted as one of the earliest novels in existence.

  WEN OF WEI (r. 220-26): founder of the Kingdom of Wei (220-65) of China, he wrote a highly acclaimed book of literary criticism, which includes the famous passage "Literature is a great feat of living, an immortal accomplishment."

  Footnotes

  * See Eguchi, Lady of, in Selected Allusions (p. 146).

  THE BEARDED SAMURAI

  [1]

  ON FOREGIN SOIL thousands of miles away, our troops a hundred thousand strong demonstrate their valor by winning glorious victories. Within our empire, however, not a speck of dust is disturbed. Dogs slumber untroubled beside willow trees, and chickens cluck idly under thatched eaves. A picture of halcyon peace itself.

  In contrast to our wondrous Meiji period, all sixty-four provinces of Japan writhed in chaos in the mid-sixteenth century, a scant three hundred years ago. Avarice-bred squabbles and blood feuds knew no end, and a darkness as murky as the night of the fifth month blotted out the light of universal justice and humanity. From the cream of the population down to born mediocrities, men were totally villainous and women thoroughly shameless. A man's pledge was not to be trusted unless he submitted his own father as a hostage, and even the black robe of the Buddhist nun assured women no protection from ravishment. The virtues of loyalty and benevolence were nothing but relics, and the teachings of compassion went unheeded. Consequently, no one listened to the will of Heaven, observed the Sacred Law, or endeavored to correct and perfect himself. Men competed for fame and fortune by any means available—the sharp-witted by their wits, the strong by their strength, estate owners by the strategic advantage of their castles or the solid defenses of their domains, nobles by the prestige of their lineage or the privilege of their titles, and the plain samurai by a three-foot sword and his own two hands. They feared no god other than the blazing fire of their lust and let no needless Buddha stand in the way of their obsessive delusions. They staked their lives upon the ceaseless, desperate contention that "if I lose, I give up my life, no more than sixty years at the most; but if fortune rides with me, I can savor glories and riches that would satiate any man's appetite." Alas, it was a veritable scene from the Sphere of Asura.

  Yet the cherry tree, even in a chaotic age with no one to cultivate it or appreciate its beauty, bursts into magnificent bloom in this wondrous country of ours. It is our pleasure, therefore, to find in such times of hopeless moral chaos a few men and women who left indelible marks through their uncorrupt hearts and noble conduct—shining stars to brighten that part of our history shrouded in black clouds.

  The story I am about to unfold concerns one such man, unknown until now, but quite intriguing, nevertheless. The events might not have taken place in actuality, but I hope the reader will allow that the sentiments could very well have played their role at a given time in history, for a mere reiteration of historical facts is not my intention here.

  [2]

  Long ago, in the summer of 1575, Takeda Shirō Katsu-yori was angry. Whi
le he was resting in imperious arrogance upon the hegemony established by his late father, Shingen, a certain Okudaira family in the Mikawa border area had had the audacity to declare its rebellious intentions. If he let them go unpunished, he would be courting open disrespect from other ambitious warlords, while undermining the confidence and reliance of lesser allies. Almost certain that Nobunaga, and Ieyasu in particular, would lose no time in building a cause around this incident to raise an army against him, Katsuyori promptly made an object lesson of the Okudaira by executing their youngest son, who had been kept as a token of their homage in the Takeda domain of Kōshū.

  Katsuyori reflected, "The youth has been transported directly to his own native province of Mikawa and crucified there at Hōrai Temple, but I have yet to see the severed head of his brother, Sadamasa. I shall lead our army into Mikawa in a show of force, for I must impress upon my potential enemies that I am no less a leader than my father. If Ieyasu comes to their rescue, I'll be glad to cut off his head; if he doesn't have the courage, that's just as well also. My campaign will still serve a dual purpose: to carry on my father's ambition to cut a swath all the way to the capital, and to secure the fealty of all other warlords with the gibbeted head of that hateful Sadamasa."

  On such a reckless impulse, Katsuyori led his fifteen thousand men through the northern tip of Enshū Province and set up camp in Mikawa. His grand scheme went awry, however, when a certain Ōga, a retainer of Ieyasu's who had agreed to conspire against his master and help Katsuyori, was betrayed by a double agent. Oga was subjected to the extreme penalty of slow execution by the bamboo saw, and his family of eight was crucified. Frustrated and enraged by the collapse of his plot, Katsuyori ordered a raid on a small nearby fort, which was hardly enough to sate his aggressive appetite. By the first of May, he had laid siege to Nagashino Castle, which was under the control of the Okudaira. He deployed his generals along the Iwashiro River, installed his uncle atop Hawk's Nest Hill, fortified such strategic spots as Inner Mountain, Lord's Chamber, and Crone's Bosom, and positioned his field headquarters on Medicine King Ridge. Expecting little trouble in taking the modest castle, he mounted simultaneous assaults on a few other targets as well. Katsuyori then brazenly challenged Ieyasu to come out and rescue his confederates besieged within the latter's own domain of Mikawa.

  Tokugawa Ieyasu, widely acclaimed to be the ablest lord in the region, had no intention of ignoring Katsuyori's challenge, yet he found himself restrained by a rational assessment of the situation. The Takeda army had earned its formidable reputation through numerous battles fought under Shingen's leadership. The Tokugawa legion was outnumbered three to one; furthermore, it had tended to be unmanned by the mere mention of the Takeda name ever since its defeat in the battle of Mikata-ga-hara in Enshū in 1572. Even if his men were inspired enough to make a desperate charge to save Sadamasa in the name of justice and samurai honor, such a move would be nothing short of suicidal, like eggs throwing themselves against a boulder. Attack was out of the question. On May 6 and 7, he had risked skirmishes with five eager Takeda regiments commanded by the feared General Yamagata, and even there he had narrowly averted a distinct defeat.

  As a last resort Ieyasu decided to turn to Nobunaga for help. Twice he dispatched a messenger to explain the situation and request military aid under their mutual assistance pact. But Nobunaga procrastinated, understandably reluctant to sally forth against the Takeda army. Ieyasu finally sent Sadamasa's aged father, Sadayori, to plead for help; along with him went an emissary who was to convey the implied threat that if Nobunaga refused to honor the pact, Ieyasu would have no choice left but to give Enshū Province to Katsuyori as a tribute and join forces with him in attacking Nobunaga's domain of Owari instead. Fully prepared to take further action should Nobunaga fail to respond to his veiled ultimatum, Ieyasu waited anxiously.

  [3]

  In the meantime, Oda Nobunaga was doing some busy thinking of his own:

  "Now that the redoubtable Shingen is dead and buried, leaving that callow and reckless boy Katsuyori to carry on his ambition, I can afford to feel much more at ease, but the Takeda are still a mighty power to contend with, boasting loyal generals and a horde of valiant and seasoned warriors. If I fail to come to Ieyasu's aid, however, my cowardice will be held up for ridicule, and I might as well abandon my cherished ambition of conquering the entire nation. It's common knowledge that I owe Ieyasu a favor for his crucial assistance at the battle of Anekawa back in 1570. Worse yet, the Okudaira rebellion was touched off by my suggestion to have one of Ieyasu's daughters marry Sadamasa. When I am to blame for the death of the young hostage, how can I ignore the father's plea, leaving his other son to die, alone and helpless? It was indeed crafty of Ieyasu to have sent me the father of the very man who is suffering at this moment in the besieged Nagashino Castle. Ieyasu must have also instructed his emissary to tell one of my vassals that my refusal to help him would lead to a Tokugawa-Takeda alliance. Although still a lesser power, Ieyasu is clever enough to use the old man Okudaira to play on my emotions, and he is highly ambitious to boot. I don't doubt that he'd consider allying with Katsuyori against me. Katsuyori's raw courage combined with Ieyasu's military acumen would certainly pose a threat. Having survived through all those battles, I'm not foolish enough to let such an alliance take place.

  "Even during Shingen's heyday, it was not fear of the Takeda army but my own discretion that had kept me from advancing into Kōshū. My policy is never to make a move before I am dead sure of favorable answers to a few critical questions: Is it worthwhile to engage in battle right now? Do I forfeit anything by backing out? Will the enemy retreat before my advance, leaving me empty-handed? Will my move guarantee definite profits? Judging the extent of Ieyasu's present predicament as well as Katsuyori's maneuvers from the repeated entreaty of Ieyasu's emissaries, I probably stand to gain from a battle at this point. But if the dauntless Takeda warriors are effectively deployed under experienced field commanders, our side can't expect to come out unscathed, even if we ultimately win because of Katsuyori's recklessness. If the enemy retreats too fast, my own reward probably won't be worth my effort."

  Thus agonizing and deliberating, Nobunaga postponed his reply to Ieyasu until the last possible moment. At last deciding to take to the field for now and put a certain operational tactic into effect later if need be, Nobunaga ordered the mobilization of soldiers from all his provinces. Each man was to bring a fence post and a rope with him. For his commanders, who were eager to slay their leonine counterparts in the Takeda camp, Nobunaga hosted a party to compose linked verse in celebration of the anticipated victory.

  Nobunaga recited his opening composition:

  Matsu takaku

  Take tagu(h)inaki [Takeda kubinaki]

  Satsuki kana

  Pine is tall and

  Bamboo incomparable [Takeda is headless]

  In the fifth month.

  One called Sekian carried the theme into the second link:

  Shiō wa mienu

  U no hana no kaki

  Not visibly white [Shirō is nowhere to be seen]

  Is the deutzia flower fence.

  The poet Jōha added the third, wishing the demise of General Yamagata, known as the Demon:

  Iru tsuki mo

  Yamagata usuku

  Kiehatete

  The setting moon

  Vanished, [Yamagata

  Pale behind the mountain. faded away.]

  And Oda Nobunaga concluded the sequence:

  Oda wa sakari to

  Miyuru akikaze

  The small field (oda) seems

  To thrive in the autumn wind.

  Nobunaga meanwhile had adopted a secret plan proposed by one of his commanders, Sakuma Nobumori, whereby a false promise was made to a certain Chōkan, a retainer of Katsuyori's.

  On May 13, the massive Oda army marched out along the Owari road; they boasted countless commanders with illustrious military records, including Akechi Mitsuhide, Hashiba Hideyoshi, and N
obunaga's two sons. Some fifty thousand troops radiated the fighting spirit of twice that number, uplifted all the more by the blare of conch horns and the stirring flourish of drum beats.

  [4]

  From May 10 to 14, the Takeda's continuous assault on Nagashino Castle steadily increased its ferocity. The garrison commander, Okudaira Sadamasa, remained resolved never to yield to the hateful enemy who had sent his wife, children, and young brother to their excruciating deaths. Expecting no quarter upon surrender, even the rank and file had no intention of awaiting their end without resistance. Determined to display their last acts of bravery with the sword before sharing the fate of the castle, they succeeded in repulsing charge after charge. As the siege dragged on, however, dwindling provisions threatened to render the garrison untenable. Sadamasa dispatched Torii Sune-emon to deliver a message to Ieyasu, who was then at Okazaki Castle in Mikawa. Slipping through enemy lines, the messenger reached Okazaki on the fifteenth of the month and gained an audience not only with Ieyasu but also with Nobunaga, who had just arrived. After accomplishing his mission, however, the ill-fated Torii fell into enemy hands and was crucified.