"Ah! So that's why we didn't see any flames or smoke."

"If flames had been rising from the first enclosure, then you would have sent reinforcements, or you might have set fire to this castle and committed suicide with your wife and children when your father perished. I think this is what the enemy feared and planned against."

Suddenly, Kyutaro dug his nails into the ground and said, "My lord… I am dying…" With his palms pressed down in obeisance, his head dropped to the floor. He had fought and won a far more bitter battle than on the field.

"Another brave soul gone," someone lamented behind Nagamasa, and then softly intoned a prayer.

The sound of prayer beads clicked in the silence. When Nagamasa turned, he saw that it was the head priest, Yuzan—another refugee from the war.

"I was sorry to hear that Lord Hisamasa met his end early this morning," Yuzan said.

"Your Reverence, I have a request," Nagamasa said in a steady voice. His words were calm, but there was no concealing their plaintive tone. "It will be my turn next. I would like to gather all of my retainers together and hold a funeral service, at least in form, while I am still alive. In the valley behind Odani, there is a memorial stone carved with the Buddhist death name you yourself gave me. Would you please have the stone moved in­side the castle? You're a priest, and surely the enemy would let you through."

"Of course."

Yuzan left immediately. As he did so, one of Nagamasa's generals nearly ran into him as he hurried in.

"Fuwa Mitsuharu has come to the castle gate."

"Who is he?"

"A retainer of Lord Nobunaga."

"The enemy?" Nagamasa spat. "Chase him away. I don't have any use for Nobunaga's retainers. If he won't go away, feed him some rocks from the castle gate."

The samurai obeyed Nagamasa's command and dashed off immediately, but soon another commander arrived.

"The messenger from the enemy is still standing at the castle gate. He won't leave, no matter what we say. He protests that war is war, and negotiations are negotiations, and asks why we lack the proper etiquette toward him as a representative of his province."

Nagamasa ignored these complaints, and then berated the man who had repeated them. "Why are you explaining the protests of a man I told you to chase off?"

Just then, yet another general came forward. "My lord, the rules of war dictate that you should meet with him, even for just a moment. I would not have it said that Asai Nagamasa was so distracted that he lost his composure and refused to grant an audience to an enemy envoy."

"All right, let him in. I'll see him, at least. Over there," Nagamasa said, pointing to the guard room.

More than half of the soldiers in the castle of the Asai hoped that peace was walking in through the gate. It was not that they lacked admiration or devotion for Nagamasa, but the “duty" that Nagamasa preached and the reasons for this war were entwined with his relationship with Echizen and his resentment of Nobunaga's ambitions and achievements.  The soldiers understood this contrast only too well.

And there was more. Although Odani Castle had held out steadfastly until then, both the first and second enclosures had already fallen. What chance of victory did they have, entrenched in an isolated and desolate castle?

Thus, the arrival of the Oda envoy was like the clear blue sky they had been waiting for.  Fuwa entered the castle, went into the room where Nagamasa awaited him, and knelt in front of him.

The men inside fixed Fuwa with hostile stares; their hair was disheveled, and they had wounds on their hands and heads. The kneeling Fuwa spoke so gently that one might have doubted that he was a general at all.

“I have the honor of being Lord Nobunaga's envoy."

“Formal greetings are not necessary on the battlefield. Let's get to the point," Nagamasa said peremptorily.

“Lord Nobunaga admires your loyalty to the Asakura clan but today, the Asakura have already fallen, and their ally, the shogun, is in exile. Both favors and grudges are now far in the past, so why should the Oda and Asai clans be fighting? Not only that, but Lord Nobunaga is your brother-in-law; you are the beloved husband of his sister."

“ I’ve heard this all before. If you're asking for a peace treaty, I absolutely refuse. It won’t make any difference how persuasive you are."

“With all due respect, there's nothing left for you to do but to capitulate. Your behavior so far has been exemplary. Why not give up the castle like a man, and work for your clan’s future? If you agree, Lord Nobunaga is willing to give you the entire province of  Yamato."

Nagamasa let out a scornful laugh. He waited until the envoy had finished. "Please tell Lord Nobunaga that I am not going to be fooled by such clever words. What he is re­ally concerned about is his sister, not me."

“That's a cynical view."

“Say whatever you like," he hissed, "but go back and tell him that I'm not considering saving myself through my ties with my wife. And you had better tell Nobunaga to persuade himself of the fact that Oichi is my wife and no longer his sister."

“Well then, I take it you plan to share the fate of this castle, no matter what?"

“I’m resolved on that not only for myself but for my wife, too."

“Then there's nothing more to be said." With that Fuwa returned directly to Nobunaga’s camp.

After that, hopelessness—or, more properly, emptiness—filled the castle with gloom.  Soldiers who had expected peace from the Oda messenger could only assume that the talks had broken down. They were now openly despondent, because they had briefly hoped that their lives would be spared.

There was another reason for gloom to settle on the castle. Although there was a battle going on, the funeral for Nagamasa's father was taking place, and voices intoning the sutras drifted out from the interior of the keep until the following day.

Oichi and her four children wore white silk garments of mourning from that day on.

The cords that held up their hair were black. They seemed to possess a purity that was not of this world, even though they were yet alive, and even those retainers who were re­solved to die in the castle quite naturally felt their fate was too pitiful for words.

Yuzan now returned to the castle, accompanied by workmen carrying the stone monument. Just before dawn, incense and flowers were placed in the main hall of the castle for the funeral service for the living.

Yuzan addressed the assembly of the Asai clan's retainers. "Valuing his name as a member of the samurai class, Lord Asai Nagamasa, the master of this castle, has passed away like a beautiful fallen flower. Therefore, as his retainers it is proper for you to pay your last respects."

Nagamasa sat behind the stone monument as though he had really died. At the beginning, the samurai looked as though they did not understand. They asked themselves if all this was necessary and fidgeted in the strange atmosphere.

But Oichi and the children and other members of the family knelt in front of the monument and put incense into the burner.

Someone began to weep, and soon everyone was affected. Filling the broad room, the armored men hung their heads and averted their eyes. Not one of them could look up.

When the ceremony was over, Yuzan took the lead, and several samurai shouldered the monument and carried it out of the castle. This time they went down to Lake Biwa, took a small boat, and at a place about one hundred yards from Chikubu Island, sunk the stone to the bottom.

Nagamasa spoke fearlessly, facing the death that pressed in on him, and he had not overlooked the laxity of the martial spirit of those soldiers who had put their hopes on peace talks. His "funeral for the living" had a salutary effect on the faltering morale of the defenders. If their lord was resolved to die in battle, they too were resolved to follow him. It was time to die. Nagamasa's pathetic determination thus inspired his retainers. But al­though he was a gifted general, he was not a genius. Nagamasa did not know how to make his men die gladly for him. They stood, waiting for the final assault.