"It seems that you're racking your brains for your verse, my lord," Shoha teased Mitsuhide.

Mitsuhide picked up his brush and wrote:

The whole country knows

The time is now,

In the Fifth Month.

At a party like this, once the first verse was composed, the participants added verses in turn until anywhere from fifty to a hundred linked stanzas had been added. The party had begun with a verse by Mitsuhide. The closing verse that tied the work together was also composed by Mitsuhide:

Time for the provinces

To be at peace.

After the monks had extinguished the lamps and withdrawn, Mitsuhide appeared to fall asleep immediately. As he finally lay his head on the pillow, the mountain wind outside shook the trees and howled through the eaves of the roof as strangely as if that mythical, long-nosed monster, Tengu, were raising a fearful cry. Mitsuhide suddenly recalled the story he had heard from the priest at the shrine of the fire god. In his head he imagined Tengu rampaging through the jet black sky.

Tengu gnaws on fire and then flies up into the sky. A huge Tengu, and smaller Tengus without number, turned into fire and mounted the black wind. As the fires fell to earth, the shrine of the fire god immediately became a mass of firebrands.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted terribly to sleep. But Mitsuhide was not dreaming; he was thinking. And his brain could not stop the illusion in his mind. He turned over and started to think about the coming day. He knew that on the morrow Nobunaga would leave Azuchi for Kyoto.

And then the borderline between wakefulness and dream began to blur. And in this state, the difference between himself and Tengu disappeared. Tengu stood on the clouds and looked over the nation. Everything he saw was to his own advantage. In the west, Hideyoshi was nailed down at Takamatsu Castle, grappling with the armies of the Mori. If he could collude with the Mori and take the advantage, the army under Hideyoshi, which had spent so many wearisome years on the campaign, would be buried in the west and would never again see the capital.

Tokugawa Ieyasu, who was in Osaka, was a clever survivor. Once he saw that Nobunga was dead, his attitude would depend entirely on what Mitsuhide offered. Hosokawa Fujitaka would no doubt be momentarily indignant, but his son had married Mitsuhide's daughter, and he had been a devoted friend for many years. He would not be unwilling to cooperate.

Mitsuhide's muscles and blood were tingling. In fact, his ears burned with such intensity that he felt young again. Tengu turned over. Mitsuhide let out a groan.

"My lord?" In the next room, Shoha rose a little and called out, "What's the matter, my lord?"

Mitsuhide was dimly aware of Shoha's question but intentionally gave no answer. Shoha quickly went back to sleep.

The short night was soon over. Upon arising, Mitsuhide bade farewell to the others and descended the mountain while it was still shrouded in a thick morning mist.

*   *   *

On the thirtieth day of the month Mitsuharu arrived at Kameyama and joined forces with Mitsuhide. Members of the Akechi clan had been coming in from the entire province, swelling the already significant army from Sakamoto. Thus the castle town was crowded with horses and men; carts of military supplies jammed every intersection, and the streets had become nearly impassable. The sun shone down brightly, and it was sud­denly almost like midsummer: porters filled the shops and argued with their mouths full of food; outside, the foot soldiers squeezing between the oxcarts yelled back and forth.  Along the streets, flies buzzed and swarmed over the droppings left by the horses and oxen.

"Has your health held up?" Mitsuharu asked Mitsuhide.

"Just as you see." Mitsuhide smiled. He was much more amiable than he had been at Sakamoto, and the color had returned to his face.

"When do you plan to leave?"

"I've decided to wait it just a little, until the first day of Sixth Month."

"Well, what about Azuchi?"

"I've informed them, but I think Lord Nobunaga is already in Kyoto."

"The report is that he arrived there without incident last night. Lord Nobutada is staying at the Myokaku Temple, while Lord Nobunaga is at the Honno Temple."

"Yes, I've heard that." Mitsuhide's words trailed off into silence.

Mitsuharu suddenly got up. "I haven't seen your wife and children for a long time. Perhaps I'll go pay my respects."

Mitsuhide watched his cousin walk away. A moment later he looked as though his chest were so congested that he could neither spit nor swallow.

Two rooms away, Mitsuhide's retainer Saito Toshimitsu was conferring with other generals, studying military charts and discussing tactics. He left the room to talk with Mitsuhide.

“Are you going to send the supply train to the Sanin ahead of us?"

“The supply train? Hm… well, we don't need to send it ahead."

Suddenly Mitsuhide's uncle, Chokansai, who had just now arrived with Mitsuharu, looked in.

"Hey, he's not here. Where did the lord of Sakamoto go? Anybody here know?"

He looked around, goggle-eyed. Although he was an old man, he was so sunny and cheerful that he drove others to distraction. Even if the generals were about to leave on a campaign, Chokansai seemed as cheerful as usual. He turned in another direction. When he casually showed up at the ladies' apartments in the citadel, however, the women and their many children ran up to him.

"Oh, Lord Jester has come!" the children cried.

"Lord Jester! When did you get here?"

Whether he stood or sat, the happy voices around him did not cease.

"Are you staying overnight, Lord Jester?"

"Lord Jester, have you eaten yet?"

"Lift me up, Lord Jester!"

"Sing us a song!"

"Show us a dance!"

They jumped up on his lap. They played with him. They clung to him. They looked into his ears.

"Lord Jester! There's hair growing out of your ears!"

"One, two."

"Three, four." Singing out the numbers, little girls pulled out the hairs while a little boy sat astride his back, pushing down his old head.

"Play horsy! Play horsy and whinny!"

Chokansai crawled around submissively, and when he suddenly sneezed, the little boy fell off his back. The ladies-in-waiting and attendants laughed so hard they held their sides.

Even as night fell, the laughter and hubbub did not stop. The atmosphere of the ladies' apartments was as different from that of Mitsuhide's room in the main citadel as a meadow in spring might be from a snow-covered moor.

"Uncle, now that you're getting on in years," Mitsuharu said, "I'd be grateful if you'd stay here and take care of the family rather than coming with us on the campaign. I think I should tell our lord that."

Chokansai looked at his nephew and laughed. "My final role may have to be something like that. These little ones just won't leave me alone." Night had fallen, and they were badgering him to tell them one of his famous stories.

This was the last day left before the departure for the campaign. Mitsuharu had expected that there would be a general conference that evening, but as the main citadel was quiet, he went over to the second citadel and slept.

The next day Mitsuharu waited in anticipation all day, but no orders were forthcoming. Even when night fell, there was no movement in the main citadel. When he sent one his retainers to ask about the situation, the answer came back that Mitsuhide had already gone to bed and was asleep. Mitsuharu was suspicious, but there was nothing he could do except go to sleep himself.

At about midnight Mitsuharu was awakened by the sound of whispering coming from the guardroom two doors down the hallway. Footsteps approached, and the door of his room slid open noiselessly.

"What is it?" Mitsuharu asked.