"Yes, my lord?" This time, the guard was quick.

"Call a war council. Tell Nobumori to summon the general staff immediately," Nobunaga said on his way out of his bedroom.

The pages and attendants ran after him. They were still half asleep and could hardly tell whether it was midnight or dawn. Certainly it was still dark, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky.

"I'm going to light the lamps," said an attendant. "Please wait just a moment, my lord."

But Nobunaga had already stripped. He stepped into the bathroom and began to pour water over himself and wash.

In the outer citadel, the confusion was even worse. Men like Nobumori, Tadatsugu, and Hideyoshi were in the castle, but many of the other generals had been staying in the castle town. As messengers were sent to summon them, the hall was cleaned and the lamps lit.

At length the generals were all gathered for the war council. The white lamplight shone on Nobunaga's face. He had decided to ride out at dawn against Asai Nagamasa of Odani. Although this meeting was meant to be a war council, its purpose was not the air­ing of different opinions or discussion. Nobunaga simply wanted to hear if anyone had any suggestions as to tactics.

When it was clear just how determined Nobunaga was, a deathly silence fell over the assembled generals. It was as though something had struck them deep in their hearts. Nobunaga's relationship with Nagamasa, they all knew, was more than that of a political ally. Nobunaga was truly fond of his brother-in-law, and he had invited him to Kyoto and per­sonally shown him the sights.

If Nobunaga had not told Nagamasa of his attack on the Asakura clan, it was because he knew that the Asai and Asakura were bound by an alliance much older than the Asai clan's ties with the Oda. Thinking of his brother-in-law's delicate position, he tried his best to keep him neutral.

However, once Nagamasa knew that Nobunaga's army was deep in enemy territory, Nagamasa had betrayed Nobunaga, cut off his retreat, and forced him into an inevitable defeat.

Nobunaga had been thinking about his brother-in-law's punishment ever since his return to Kyoto. A secret report had been handed to Nobunaga in the dead of night. It in­formed him that Sasaki Rokkaku had fomented a peasant uprising with the support of Kannonji Castle and the warrior-monks. Taking advantage of the chaos and acting in concert with the Asai, Rokkaku was aiming to crush Nobunaga with a single blow.

When the war council had ended, Nobunaga went into the garden with his generals and pointed to the sky. In the distance the flames of the insurrection turned the sky a brilliant red.

On the following day, the twentieth, Nobunaga led his army into Omi. He crushed the warrior-monks and broke through the defenses of Asai Nagamasa and Sasaki Rokkaku. Nobunaga's army moved with the speed of a storm sweeping the clouds from the plain, and struck with the suddenness of lightning.

On the twenty-first, the Oda were pressing in on the main castle of the Asai at Odani. They had already laid siege to Yokoyama Castle, a branch castle of Odani. For the enemy, it was a complete rout. They had had no time to prepare themselves, and their resistance crumbled, giving them no time to set up new positions.

The Ane River was only a few feet deep, so, although it was quite broad, a man could ford it on foot. Its clear waters, which flowed from the mountains of eastern Asai, were, however, so cold that they cut into the body even in summer.

It was just before dawn. Nobunaga, leading an army of twenty-three thousand men, with a further six thousand Tokugawa troops, deployed his men along the east riverbank.

From about midnight on the previous day, the combined forces of the Asai and the Asakura —numbering about eighteen thousand—had gradually moved in from Mount Oyose. Hiding behind the houses along the west bank of the river, they waited for the right moment to attack. The night was still dark, and only the sound of the water could be heard.

"Yasumasa," Ieyasu called one of his commanders, "the enemy is approaching the riverbank thick and fast."

"It's difficult to see anything through this mist, but I can hear the horses neighing in the distance."

"Any news from downstream?"

"Nothing so far."

"Which side is heaven going to bless? Half a day should see the turning point."

"Half a day? I wonder if it will take that long."

"Don't underestimate them," Ieyasu said as he walked into the woods at the river's edge. Here were his own silent troops, the flower of Nobunaga's army. The atmosphere in the forest was one of total desolation. The soldiers had spread out into a firing line, crouching in the undergrowth. The spearmen grasped their weapons and looked out over the river, where still nothing stirred.

Would it be life or death today?

The eyes of the soldiers shone. Untouched by life or death, they silently imagined the outcome of the battle. Not one looked as if he had confidence that he would see the sky again that evening.

Accompanied by Yasumasa, Ieyasu walked along the line, his clothes making only a slight rustling noise. No light shone, except for the smoldering fuse cords of the muskets. A man sneezed—perhaps a soldier with a cold, whose nose was itchy from the smoke of the fuses. Still, it made the other soldiers tense.

The surface of the water began to turn white, and a line of red clouds silhouetted the branches of the trees on Mount Ibuki.

"The enemy!" a man shouted.

The officers around Ieyasu immediately signaled the gunners to hold their fire. On the other bank just a little downstream, a mixed corps of mounted samurai and foot sol­diers, numbering perhaps twelve or thirteen hundred, was fording the river at a diagonal. Kicking up a white spray with their feet, they looked like a white gale crossing the river.

The formidable vanguard of the Asai was ignoring the Oda vanguard and even the second and third lines of defense, and was preparing to strike at the center of the Oda camp.

Ieyasu's men swallowed hard and exclaimed all at once, "Isono Tamba!"

"Tamba's regiment!"

The famous Isono Tamba, the pride of the Asai clan, was a worthy opponent. His crested banners could be seen fluttering through the splashes and spray.

Gunfire!

Was it covering fire for the enemy, or the rifles of their own troops? No, the firing had begun from both banks at the same moment. Echoing over the water, the noise was al­most deafening. The clouds began to part, and the cloudless summer sky displayed its hue. Just then the second Oda line, under Sakai Tadatsugu, and Ikeda Shonyu's third line suddenly struck out into the river.

"Don't let the enemy put one foot on our side! Don't let a single one of them return to their own!" shouted the officers.

The Sakai corps attacked the enemy's flank. In an instant, hand-to-hand fighting broke out in the middle of the river. Spear clashed against spear, sword rang against sword. Men grappled and tumbled from horses, and the waters of the river ran with blood.

Tamba's regiment of crack troops pushed Sakai's second line back. Shouting, "We have been shamed!" so loudly that he could be heard on both sides of the river, Sakai's son, Kyuzo, dashed into the middle of the fight. He achieved a glorious death in battle, with more than one hundred of his men.

With unstoppable force, Tamba's soldiers broke through the third Oda line. Ikeda's spearmen readied their spears and tried to break the enemy onslaught, but they could do nothing.

Now it was Hideyoshi's turn to be amazed. He muttered to Hanbei, "Have you ever seen such intimidating men?" But even Hanbei had no tactics to deal with this attack. This was not the only reason for Hideyoshi's defeat. Within his line were a great number men who had surrendered at enemy castles. These new "allies" had been put under Hideyoshi's command, but they had once received their stipends from the Asai and Asakura. Quite naturally, their spears were rarely accurate, and when they were ordered to charge the enemy, they were more likely to get in the way of Hideyoshi's own men.