Thereafter, whether Hanbei was given an audience or simply went to Azuchi, Nobulaga always treated him as though he were one of his own direct retainers.
Hanbei now climbed to Azuchi Castle, bringing with him Kanbei's son, Shojumaru.
Because of his illness, his fatigue showed on his face, but, dressed in his best clothes, he went step by step in a dignified manner up into the tower where Nobunaga sat. Nobunaga had received notice of their arrival the night before, and was waiting.
"I so rarely see you," Nobunaga said in high spirits as soon as he saw Hanbei. "I'm glad you're here. Come closer. You have permission to take a cushion. Someone give Hanbei something to sit on." Showing exceptional sympathy, he spoke to Hanbei, who remained prostrate at a distance in deep respect. "Are you better now? I imagine you were exhausted both mentally and physically by the long campaign in Harima. According to my doctor, it would be dangerous to send you to the battlefield right now. He said you need at least one or two more years of complete rest."
For the past two or three years it had been rare for Nobunaga to use such gentle words when speaking to a retainer. Hanbei felt some disorientation in his heart that was neither happiness nor grief.
"I do not deserve such sympathy, my lord. Going to the battlefield, I become ill; returning, I do nothing more than receive your kind favors. I'm just a sick man who's done nothing of service for you at all."
"No, no! I'll be in real difficulty if you don't take care of yourself. The first thing we must think of is not to discourage Hideyoshi."
"Please don't say such things, my lord, you make me blush," Hanbei said. "Originally, the reason I dared to show my face asking for an audience was that last year Sakuma Nobumori delivered your orders concerning Shojumaru's execution. But until now—"
"Wait a minute," Nobunaga interrupted. Ignoring Hanbei for the moment, he looked at the youth kneeling by Hanbei's side. "Is that Shojumaru?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Hm, I see. He resembles his father, and he looks a little different from other children. He's a promising young man. You should be good to this boy, Hanbei."
"Well then, what about sending his head?" Hanbei tensed and gazed steadily at Nobunaga. If Nobunaga insisted on cutting off the child's head, he was resolved to risk his own life by admonishing his lord. But, from the beginning of the audience, that did not seem to be Nobunaga's intention, Hanbei now began to realize.
Feeling Hanbei's direct stare, Nobunaga suddenly burst out laughing and spoke a though he could no longer hide his own foolishness. "Forget all that. I myself regretted that order almost immediately after I gave it. Somehow, I'm just a very suspicious person. This has been awkward for both Hideyoshi and Kanbei. But the wise Hanbei resisted my orders and did not slay the child. In fact, when I heard about how you had dealt with this, I was relieved. How am I going to blame you? The blame is mine. Forgive me, I didn't act very well." Nobunaga didn't hang his head or bow to the ground, but he looked as though he wanted to change the subject quickly.
Hanbei, however, was not so easily contented with Nobunaga's forgiveness. Nobunaga had said to forget the matter, to let it flow downstream, but Hanbei's expression displayed no joy at all.
“My having disobeyed your order may reflect on your authority at a later time. If you’ve spared Shojumaru's head because of Kanbei's innocence and merit, allow this young man to prove himself worthy of your mercy. Also, you could do me no better favor, my lord, than to command me to do some meritorious deed to atone for the crime of having ignored your order." Hanbei spoke as though he were opening his heart, once gain prostrating himself and waiting for Nobunaga's benevolence. This was what Nobunaga had wanted from the beginning.
When Hanbei had once again received his lord's pardon, he told Shojumaru in a whisper to thank Nobunaga courteously. He then turned to Nobunaga again. "This may be the last time the two of us will meet in this life. I pray that you will prosper even more in the fortunes of war."
"That's sort of a strange thing to say, isn't it? Does that mean you're going to disobey me yet again?" Nobunaga pressed Hanbei for his meaning.
"Never." Hanbei shook his head as he looked down at Shojumaru. "Please look at the way this child is dressed. He is leaving here to fight in the Harima campaign beside Kanbei; he is resolved to distinguish himself no less than his father, gallantly ready to leave everything to destiny."
"What? He wants to go to the battlefield?"
"Kanbei is a famous warrior, and Shojumaru is his son. My request is that you enourage him in his first campaign. It would be a great blessing if you would tell him to exert himself in a manly way."
"But what about you?"
"As a sick man, I doubt that I can complement the strength of our men much at all, but I think it is the right time for me to accompany Shojumaru to the campaign."
"Are you all right? What about your health?"
"I was born a samurai, and to die peacefully in my bed would be mortifying. When it's time to die, one cannot do otherwise."
"Well then, go with my blessing, and I wish Shojumaru good fortune in his first campaign, too." Nobunaga beckoned the youth with his eyes and gave him a short sword made by a famous swordsmith. Then he ordered a retainer to bring sake, and they drank together.
Hanbei's Legacy
No one could have predicted that Bessho Nagaharu would hold out in Miki Castle for so long. The castle had been besieged for three long years, and it had been completely blockaded by Hideyoshi's troops for more than six months. What were its occupants eating? How had they managed to survive?
Hideyoshi's troops were amazed each time they observed the activity and heard the hearty voices of those inside the castle. Was some sort of miracle taking place? Sometimes they believed the enemy's survival was almost supernatural. The battle of endurance was being lost by the attacking troops. It seemed that no matter how they beat, struck, kicked, or choked the enemy, he was still moving.
The garrison of three thousand five hundred men had had their provisions cut off and their water routes blocked. They should have been on the brink of starvation in the middle of the First Month, but at the end of the month the castle still had not fallen. It was now the beginning of the Third Month.
Hideyoshi saw the weariness of his troops but forced himself to hide his concern. The scraggly beard on his chin and the hollowness of his eyes were clear symptoms of the anxiety and fatigue caused by the long siege.
I've miscalculated, Hideyoshi realized. I knew they would hold out, but I never thought it would be this long. He had learned the lesson that war is not simply a matter of numbers and logistical advantages.
The morale of the men inside the castle had actually strengthened; there was not even a hint that they might capitulate. Of course, there could have been no food. The besieged soldiers must have eaten their cows and horses, even tree roots and grass. All of the things that Hideyoshi had thought would decide the castle's fall were only strengthening the morale and unity of the defenders.
In the Fifth Month the rainy season began. This was a mountainous region of the western provinces, so, adding to the misery of the constant rain, the roads turned into waterfalls and the empty moats overflowed with muddy water. Now, as the men slipped in the mud while going up and down the mountain, the siege—which had seemed at last to be having some effect—was once again turned into a stalemate by the power of nature.
Kuroda Kanbei, whose knee—which had been injured during his escape from Itami Castle—had never completely healed, inspected the front lines from a litter. He would force a smile at the thought that he would probably be limping for the rest of his life.