"Yes, well…"

"She's even pleaded with me. She said that when she was married, she resolved that this castle would be her grave. Even little Chacha seems to understand what is happening to her mother and father, and she's crying pitifully, asking why she has to leave her father and why he has to die. General Hideyoshi… forgive me, I'm being rude." He dabbed his eyes, cleared his throat, and broke down crying.

Hideyoshi sympathized with what Mikawa was going through and could understand only too well Nagamasa and Oichi's grief. Hideyoshi was more easily moved to tears than other men, and now they quickly streaked down his face. He sniffled repeatedly and looked up toward the ceiling. But he did not forget his mission and reprimanded himself -he must not be led astray by mere emotion. He wiped away his tears and pressed ahead.

"I promised to wait, but we can't wait forever. I would like to request that a time limit be put on their leave-taking. You might say until what hour, for example."

"Of course. Well… I'll make this my own responsibility, but I'd like to ask you to wait until the Hour of the Boar. I can declare that mother and children will have left the castle by then."

Hideyoshi did not refuse. Yet there was no time for such leisure: Nobunaga was determined to take Odani before sunset. The entire army was waiting expectantly. Although Hideyoshi had flown the banner signaling that the rescue attempt had been successful, too much time was passing. There was no way for Nobunaga or any of his generals to now what was going on inside the castle. During this time, Hideyoshi could imagine their perplexity, the various opinions going around headquarters, the indecision and confusion on Nobunaga's face as he listened to the voices of doubt.

"No, that's not unreasonable," Hideyoshi agreed. "So be it. Let them make their unhurried farewells until the Hour of the Boar."

Cheered by Hideyoshi's consent, Mikawa went back to the keep. By that time the colors of evening were already deepening. Servants and the tea master served Hideyoshi del­icacies and sake that would not ordinarily have been found inside a besieged castle.

When the servants withdrew, Hideyoshi drank by himself. It seemed as though his entire body was soaking up the autumn from the thin-edged lacquer cup. It was a sake on which you could not get drunk—cold and slightly bitter. Well, I should drink this with gusto, too. How much difference is there between those going to their deaths and those left behind? I suppose you could say only an instant, when you take the long-term philosophical view, considering the flow of thousands of years. He did his best to laugh out loud. But every time he drank, the sake chilled his heart. Somehow, he felt as if sobbing were pressing in on him in the oppressive silence.

Oichi's sobs and sorrow; Nagamasa; the innocent faces of the children: he could imagine what was taking place in the keep. What would it be like if I were Asai Naga­masa? he asked himself. After thinking this way, his emotions took a sudden swing, and he remembered his last words to Nene:

"I am a samurai. I might die in some battle this time. If I am killed, you should marry again before you are thirty years old. After you reach thirty, your beauty is going to wane, and the possibility of a happy match is going to be dim. You are capable of discre­tion, and it is better for a human being to be prepared with discrimination in this life. So if you've passed thirty, choose a good path with your own sense of discrimination. I'm not going to order you to remarry. And again, if we have a child, plan a future for that child to be your mainstay, whether you're young or on in years. Don't give yourself up to the complaints of women. Think as a mother, and use your mother's discrimination in everything you do."

At some point Hideyoshi had fallen asleep. Which is not to say that he had lain down; he just sat there and looked as though he were practicing meditation. From time to time he nodded his head. He was good at sleeping. He had developed this ability during the unfavorable circumstances of his youth, and was so disciplined that he could nod off whenever he wanted to, regardless of time or place.

He awoke to the sound of a hand drum. The food trays and sake had been taken away. Only the lamps still flickered with a white light. His lightheadedness had cleared away, and the fatigue had left his body. Hideyoshi realized that he must have slept for quite a while. At the same time he somehow felt a sense of cheer wrapping his entire being. Before he had gone to sleep, the atmosphere in the castle had been one of gloom and melancholy; but now it had changed with the sounds of the drum and laughing voices, and strangely, a genial warmth seemed to be floating in from somewhere.

He couldn't help feeling as though he had been bewitched. He was clearly awake, however, and everything was real. He could hear the sound of a hand drum, and some­one was singing. The sounds were coming from the keep and were far away and indis­tinct, but he was sure someone had burst out laughing.

Hideyoshi suddenly wanted to be with people and went out onto the veranda. He could see a great number of lamps as well as people in the lord's residence on the other side of the wide central garden. A light breeze carried the smell of sake, and when the wind blew in his direction, he could hear the samurai beating time and singing.

The flowers are crimson,

The plums are scented.

The willows are green,

And a man's worth is decided by his heart.

Men among men,

Samurai that we are;

Flowers among flowers,

Samurai that we are.

Human life passes like this.

What is it without some pleasure?

Even if you'll never see tomorrow.

No, especially if you'll never see tomorrow. This was Hideyoshi's cherished theory.   He, who despised the dark and loved the light, had found something that was a blessing in this world. Almost unconsciously he ambled in the direction of the gaiety, pulled along by the singing voices. Servants went running by in a hurry. They were carrying large trays piled high with food, and a barrel of sake.

They hurried with the same kind of eagerness they would probably show in the battle for the castle. It was certainly a gay party, and the vigor of life appeared on every face. It s enough to make Hideyoshi a little doubtful. "Hey! Isn't that Lord Hideyoshi?"

"Oh, General Mikawa."

"I wasn't able to find you in the guest room and was looking all over for you." Mikawa had the blush of sake on his cheeks too, and he no longer looked so haggard.

"Why all this gaiety in the keep?" Hideyoshi asked.

"Don't worry. As I promised you, it will end at the Hour of the Boar. It is said that since we must all die, the manner of our dying should be glorious. Lord Nagamasa and all his men are in high spirits, so he opened up all the sake vats in the castle and let it be known that there would be an Assembly of the Samurai. This way they're going to drink their farewells to each other before they leave this world."

"What about his farewell to his wife and children?"

"That's been taken care of." Through his intoxication, tears once again began to well up in Mikawa's eyes. An Assembly of the Samurai—this was a common affair in any clan, a time when the iron-clad divisions between classes and between lord and retainers were relaxed, and everyone enjoyed themselves with drunken song.

The assembly served a dual purpose: it was Nagamasa's farewell to his retainers, who were going to their deaths, and to his wife and children, who would live.

"But it's going to be boring for me just to hide away until the Hour of the Boar," Hideyoshi said. "With your permission, I'd like to attend the banquet."