In the end, Mitsuharu had rethought his position before starting out. He felt that it would be best not to oppose Mitsuhide, but rather to come along with him for the day to nake sure he made no mistakes.

As he brought up his horse alongside of his cousin, he smiled brightly. "You're too fast for me, my lord. I was taken by surprise this morning, and not a little shaken up. I didn't think you would leave at such an early hour."

"I didn't think you were planning to come with me. You wouldn't have had to chase us like that if we'd made arrangements last night."

"I was negligent. Even if you are traveling in disguise, I thought that you would be accompanied by at least ten mounted men carrying along a picnic, and that you would be traveling at a more leisurely pace."

"I would have liked that if this had been a normal excursion," Mitsuhide said. "But the only purpose of today's trip is to pray for those who went through hellfire years ago and to hold at least one memorial service for their bones. I hadn't thought about carrying up fine sake and delicacies."

"I may have said something that offended you yesterday, but I'm just prudent by na­ture. It was really nothing more than my not wanting you to do something that might be taken the wrong way in Azuchi. Given the way you're dressed, and that your intention is to say a mass for the dead, I'm sure Lord Nobunaga couldn't blame you even if he were to hear about it. The fact is that even though I reside in a castle close to Sakamoto, I haven't made one trip to the mountain. So I thought that today would be a good opportunity to visit the place. Well, lead on, Genemon."

Spurring his horse, Mitsuharu rode up next to Mitsuhide and began to make conversation as though he were afraid Mitsuhide might become bored. He discussed the plants and flowers they saw along the roadside, explained the habits of the different birds as he distinguished them by their calls, and generally carried on with the solicitude of a kind woman trying to cheer up an sick person.

Mitsuhide could not reject such a display of true feelings, but Mitsuharu talked al­most exclusively about nature, while Mitsuhide's mind was immersed in human concerns whether he was asleep or awake or even holding a brush over a painting. He lived in human society, in the midst of contending demons and within the flames of wrath and malice. Even though the song of the cuckoo filled the mountain air, the hot blood that had risen to his temples during his retreat from Azuchi had not yet been calmed.

As Mitsuhide climbed Mount Hiei, his heart was not at peace even for a moment. How desolate the place looked, when contrasted with its former prosperity. Following the Gongen River up toward the Eastern Pagoda, the party saw no signs of human life. Only the birdsong hadn't changed. The mountain had been famous as a sanctuary for rare birds since ancient times.

"I don't see a single monk," Mitsuhide said as he stood in front of a ruined temple. He appeared to be surprised at Nobunaga's thoroughness. "Isn't there a single living soul on this mountain? Let's try the main temple."

He looked more than a little disappointed. Perhaps he had thought he would see the latent power of the warrior-monks come back to life on the mountain, in spite of Nobunaga's supremacy.

But when they finally arrived at the former location of the main temple and lecture hall, nothing remained but mounds of ashes. Only in the area of the monastery had a number of huts been erected. The scent of incense drifted from that direction, so Gen­emon went to investigate. He found four or five mountain hermits, sitting around a pot of rice gruel that was cooking over a fire.

"They say the Abbot of Yokawa isn't here," Genemon said.

"If the abbot is not there, is there not perhaps a scholar or elder from former times?"

Genemon inquired a second time, but his answer was not encouraging. "It seems there's no such person on the mountain. They're not allowed to come here without the permission of either Azuchi or the governor of Kyoto. Moreover, even now the law does not recognize any permanent residences on the mountain other than for a limited num­ber of monks."

"The law is the law," Mitsuhide said, "but religious zeal is not like a fire that can be doused with water and disappear forever. Come to think of it, the elders probably thought that we're warriors from Azuchi, and they probably hid. The abbot and the elders who survived are probably somewhere on the mountain right now. Genemon, explain to those men that they should have no such worries, and ask them once again."

As Genemon started to walk off, Mitsuharu said to Mitsuhide, "I'll go. They are not likely to tell us anything, with Genemon's stern way of asking questions."

While he was waiting for Mitsuharu, however, Mitsuhide unexpectedly encountered someone he hadn't planned on meeting at all.

The man was dressed in a greenish brown hood and a monk's robe of the same color and wore white leggings and straw sandals. He was over seventy years of age, but his lips were a youthful red. His eyebrows were pure white, and he looked like a crane dressed in a monk's robe. He was accompanied by two servants and a child.

"Lord Mitsuhide? Well, well, I never thought I'd meet you here, my lord. I heard that you were in Azuchi. What brings you to this deserted mountain today?"

He hardly spoke like an old man; his voice was exceptionally resonant, and his lips formed a constant, untroubled smile.

On the contrary, it was Mitsuhide who appeared to be confused. Distracted by the sharp eyes beneath the old man's clear brow, his response was hesitant.

"It's Doctor Manase, isn't it? I've been staying at Sakamoto Castle for a few days, and thought a little walk through the mountains might cheer me up from the gloom of the rainy season."

"There's no better medicine for the body or the mind than an occasional cleansing of the ch'i by walking through the hills and getting in touch with nature. At a a glance, I'd say you've been tired for some time. Are you returning to your home province on sick leave?" the doctor asked, narrowing his eyes to the size of needles. For some reason Mitsuhide found it impossible to deceive a man who had eyes like that. Manase had been practicing medicine at the time Yoshiaki's father, Yoshiteru, was shogun. The two men had not met for quite a while, but Mitsuhide had sat in the company of the great doctor a number of times at Azuchi Castle. Nobunaga had often invited Manase to be his guest at tea ceremonies, and whenever he was sick, he would call him immediately. He had more confidence in this man than in his own physicians.

By nature, however, Manase did not enjoy being employed by the powerful and, as he lived in Kyoto, traveling to Azuchi was a chore, despite his robust health.

At that point Mitsuharu returned without having gone to the hut, as Genemon had quickly run to call him back.

"We've bumped into someone, and it's an awkward situation," Genemon whispered to him as they walked back. But when Mitsuharu saw that it was Manase, he happily joined the conversation, indicating clearly that he had long been on friendly terms with he doctor.

"What a treat! It's Doctor Manase. You always look healthier than a man in his prime. Did you climb up from Kyoto today? Off on a mountain excursion?"

Manase enjoyed conversation and was happy to run into friends on the mountain.

"I climb Mount Hiei every year in the spring or early summer and again in the fall,.  But you know, there must be a lot of herbs that we haven't discovered yet right here."

As Manase talked, he did not seem to be paying particular attention to Mitsuhide, though he had been casting his doctor's eye over the man from time to time. Eventually he turned the subject to Mitsuhide's health.

"I've heard from Lord Mitsuharu that you'll soon be leaving to take part in the campaign in the west. Be sure to take good care of your health. When a man passes fifty, it's difficult to deny his age, no matter how strong he may be."