"What? You got this from Myoko?" Nobunaga suddenly fixed an unusual stare on Ranmaru. "She's a nun, so it's natural that she should be going back and forth to a number of the temples, but she shouldn't be deceived by the spies of the warrior-monks who are still chanting curses against me. Perhaps you should look for the right time and then give her a warning."

“She's always been very careful. Even more so than I, my lord."

Nobunaga stooped down and studied the map of Azuchi intently. It was here that  he would build a castle as his new residence and seat of government.

This was something of which Nobunaga had spoken only just recently, a decision he had made because the location of Gifu Castle no longer suited his purposes.  The land that Nobunaga had really wanted was in Osaka. But on it stood the Honganji, the stronghold of his bitter enemies, the warrior-monks.

After studying the foolishness of the shoguns, Nobunaga did not even consider setting up a government in Kyoto. That had been the old state of affairs. Azuchi was closer to his ideal: from there he could guard against the provinces to the west as well as check the advances of Uesugi Kenshin from the north.

“Lord Mitsuhide is in the waiting room, and says he would like to speak with you before his departure," a samurai announced from the door.

'Mitsuhide?" Nobunaga said good-humoredly. "Show him in." And he continued studying the map of Azuchi.

Mitsuhide came in with a sigh of relief. There was no smell of sake in the place, after all, and his first thought was, Hideyoshi got me again.

“Mitsuhide, come over here."

Nobunaga ignored the man's courteous bow and beckoned him over to the map. Mitsuhide edged forward respectfully.

"I hear that you've been thinking of nothing but plans for a new castle, my lord," he said affably.

Nobunaga may have been a dreamer, but he was a dreamer who was second to none in executive ability.

"What do you think? Isn't this mountainous region facing the lake just right for a castle?"

Nobunaga, it seemed, had already designed the structure and scale of the castle in his head. He drew a line with his finger. "It's going to stretch from here to here. We'll build a town around the castle at the bottom of the mountain, with a quarter for the merchants that will be better organized than in any other province in Japan," he said. "I'm going to devote all the resources I have to this castle. I've got to have something here imposing enough to overawe all the other lords. It won't be extravagant, but it's going to be a castle that will have no equal in the Empire. My castle will combine beauty, function, and dignity."

Mitsuhide recognized that this project was not a product of Nobunaga's vanity nor some high-flown amusement, so he expressed his feelings honestly. His overly serious answer, however, did not suffice; Nobunaga was too accustomed to showy responses in total agreement with him and to witty statements that only echoed his own.

"What do you think? No good?" Nobunaga asked uncertainly.

"I wouldn't say that at all."

"Do you think this is the right time?"

"I'd say this is very timely."

Nobunaga was trying to bolster his self-confidence. There was no one who regarded Misuhide's intelligence more highly than he did. Not only did Mitsuhide have a modern intelligence, but he had also faced political problems too difficult to surmount on conviction alone. Thus, Nobunaga was even more aware of Mitsuhide's genius than was Hideyoshi, who praised him so highly.

"I've heard that you're quite conversant with the science of castle construction. Could you take care of this responsibility?"

"No, no. My knowledge is not sufficient to build a castle."

"Not sufficient?"

"Building a castle is like fighting a great battle. The man in charge must be able to use both men and materials with ease. You should really assign this duty to one of your vet­eran generals."

"And who would that be?" Nobunaga asked.

"Lord Niwa would be most suitable because he gets along so well with others."

"Niwa? Yes… he'd be good." This opinion seemed to agree with Nobunaga's own intentions, and he nodded vigorously. "By the way, Ranmaru has suggested that I build a donjon. What do you think of the idea?"

Mitsuhide did not answer. He could see Ranmaru out of the corner of his eye. "Are you asking me about the pros and cons of building a donjon, my lord?" he asked.

"That's right. Is it better to have one or not to have one?"

"It's better to have one, of course. Even if only from the standpoint of the dignity of the structure."

"There must be various styles of donjon. I've heard that when you were young, you traveled through the country extensively and acquired a detailed knowledge of castle construction."

"My knowledge of such things is really very shallow," Mitsuhide said humbly. "On the other hand, Ranmaru over there should be quite well versed in the subject. When I toured the country, I only saw two or three castles with donjons, and even those were of extremely crude construction. If this is Ranmaru's suggestion, he certainly must have some thoughts on the subject." Mitsuhide seemed to be hesitant to speak further.

Nobunaga, however, did not even consider the delicate sensitivities of the two men, and went on artlessly, "Ranmaru, you're no less a scholar than Mitsuhide, and you've done some research in castle construction, it seems. What are your thoughts on the build­ing of a donjon? Well, Ranmaru?" After an embarrassed silence from the page, he asked, "Why don't you answer?"

"I'm too confused, my lord."

"Why is that?"

"I'm embarrassed," he said and prostrated himself with his face over both hands as though he had been deeply shamed. "Lord Mitsuhide is unkind. Why should I have any original ideas about donjon construction? To tell the truth, my lord, everything you heard from me—even the fact that the castles of the Ouchi and Satomi both have donjons— was told me by Lord Mitsuhide one night on guard duty."

"Well then, it wasn't your idea after all."

"I thought you would be annoyed if I confessed that every bit of it was someone else's idea, so I just rambled on and suggested building a donjon."

"Is that so?" Nobunaga laughed. "That's all there is to it?"

"But Lord Mitsuhide didn't take it that way," Ranmaru went on. "His answer just now made it sound as if I had stolen someone else's ideas. Lord Mitsuhide himself told me that he had some valuable illustrations of the Ouchi and Satomi donjons and even a rare sketchbook. So why should he be so reserved and shift the onus to an inexperienced person like me?"

Although Ranmaru looked like a child, it was clear that he was a man.

"Is that right, Mitsuhide?" Nobunaga asked.

With Nobunaga looking directly at him, Mitsuhide was unable to remain calm. He stammered out, "Yes." Neither was he able to control his resentment of Ranmaru. He had purposely withheld his own opinions and spoken up for Ranmaru's erudition because he knew of Nobunaga's affection for the young man and was secretly expressing his own goodwill toward him. He had not only been letting Ranmaru hand the flower to his lord but had taken pains not to embarrass him.

Mitsuhide had told Ranmaru all he knew of donjon and castle construction during the leisure hours of a night watch. It was absurd that Ranmaru had related it all to Nobunaga as though it were his own idea. If he plainly said that now, however, Ranmaru would be all the more embarrassed, and Nobunaga would really be disgusted. Thinking that avoiding such an unhappy situation would also be to his own benefit, he had given the credit to Ranmaru. But the result had been exactiy the opposite of what he had planned. At this point he could not help feeling a chill move down his back at the perversity of this adult in child's clothing.