The children tagged along behind, and ran around ahead of them. While the priests were thus surrounded, one of the children ran to the edge of the moat and fell in, making a sound just like a frog. The moat was empty, so there was no danger of the boy drowning, but the bottom of the moat was as muddy as a swamp. The child squirmed in it like a mudfish. The sides of the moat were made of stone, so even an adult would have had trouble climbing out. Indeed, sometimes a poor drunk would fall in and drown on a night when rainwater had filled it to overflowing.

Someone immediately notified the boy's family. The curious neighbors of Sewer Street clamored out of their houses like water boiling out of a pot, and the parents came running out barefoot. It was a calamity. But by the time they had arrived, the little boy had already been rescued. He looked like a lotus root plucked from the mud, and he was sobbing loudly.

He and two of the missionaries had mud splattered all over their hands and clothes, the third missionary had jumped into the moat after the boy, and he was completely covered in mud.

When the children looked at the missionaries, they ran around happily, hooting, clapping their hands, and shouting, "The missionary has turned into a catfish! His red beard all muddy!"

But the parents of the boy thanked them and praised their god, even though they were not Christians. They bowed at the priests' feet and shed tears of thankfulness with their hands folded in prayer. In the black mountain of people that had formed behind them, words of praise for the missionaries went from mouth to mouth.

The missionaries showed no regret at having come this far only to have to turn back the way they had come, carrying their now useless presents. In their eyes, Nobunaga and the boy from the slums were exactly the same. Moreover, this incident had become talk that would spread from house to house, and the missionaries knew very well what a large and inspiring wave it might grow into.

"Sotan, did you see that?"

"Yes, I was impressed."

"That religion is frightening."

"Yes, it is. It really makes you think."

One of the speakers was a man of about thirty, while the other was much older. They looked like father and son. There was something about them that set them apart from the important merchants of Sakai—a part of their character, perhaps, that spoke of a liberal breadth and depth of upbringing. Nevertheless, looking at them, one knew at once they were merchants.

With Nobunaga in residence, the Honno Temple was no longer a simple temple.  From the night of the twenty-ninth on, at the main gate of the temple there was a tumult of carts and palanquins, and the din of people going in and out. The audiences Nobunaga was now granting seemed matters of grave concern to the entire nation.  Thus, a man might withdraw after having obtained at least a word or smile from Nobunaga and go home with the happy feeling that he had gained something worth a hundred or a thousand times the value of the rare utensils, fine wines, delicacies, or other gifts he had presented.

"Let's wait here for a moment. It looks as though a courtier is going through the gate."

"It must be the governor. Those look like his attendants."

The governor, Murai Nagato, and his attendants had stopped at the main gate and seemed to be waiting discreetly as the palanquin of an aristocrat was brought out. Very soon afterward, a few samurai led two or three bay and dappled horses behind a small procession of palanquins and litters. When the samurai recognized Nagato, they bowed as they went by, taking the horses' reins in one hand.

As soon as the crush was over, Nagato entered the gate. And when the two merchants had assured themselves that he was inside, they turned their steps in the same direction.

Naturally, the guards at the front gate were exceptionally severe. The people who passed in and out were not used to seeing the wartime glitter that shone from the spear halberds, and even the eyes of the warriors stationed there. The guards all wore armor and if anyone looked suspicious, they stopped that person with loud shouts and yells.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going?" the guard asked the two merchants.

"I am Soshitsu of Hakata," the older man said courteously. When he bowed his head the younger man did the same

"I am Sotan, also of Hakata."

The guards looked as though they couldn't understand anything from that introduction alone, but their captain, who was standing in front of the guardhouse inside, motioned them through with a smile.

"Please, come in."

The Omotemido Hall was the main building of the temple compound, but the real center was Nobunaga's quarters. Outside of the room from which Nobunaga's voice could be heard, a brook murmured from a spring in the garden, and from the buildings a little farther beyond, the bright laughter of women occasionally wafted over on the breeze.

Nobunaga was speaking to a messenger from his third son, Nobutaka, and Niwa Nagahide: "That will be of some help to my old hand, Nagahide. Have him informed that everything is secure. I'll be going to the western provinces in a few days myself, so we'll be meeting there soon."

Nobutaka and Niwa's army was to sail for Awa the next morning. The messenger had come to give that report along with the information that Tokugawa Ieyasu had traveled from Osaka to Sakai.

Nobunaga looked around at the color of the sky as though he had just noticed it, and said to a page, "It's dusk. Roll up the blinds on the western side." Then he asked Nobutada, "Is it hot where you're staying too?"

Nobutada had come to the capital a little before his father and had taken lodgings at the nearby Myokaku Temple. He had been stationed there the evening his father had entered the capital, which was yesterday, and today as well, and he seemed a little tired. He had thought he would announce his leave, but his father said, "Why don't we have tea tonight in private? For the last two nights we've had guests, and it saddens me when there's not enough leisure. I'll invite some interesting people for you." Nobunaga was going to entertain his son, and he was not about to take no for an answer.

If he had been allowed to express what was really on his mind, Nobutada might have

Said that he was only twenty-five years old and did not understand tea as his father did.

He had an especially strong aversion to those tea masters who wasted their leisure hours during wartime. If he was going to have the pleasure of being with his father, a tea master was not welcome. To be honest, in his heart he wanted to leave for the campaign right away. He did not want to be behind his younger brother, Nobutaka, by even an hour.

It seemed that Nobunaga had also invited Murai Nagato, not in his official capacity of governor of Kyoto, but as a friend. But Nagato was unable to forget the stiff formality that was usual between lord and retainer, and the conversation remained awkward. Awkwardness was one of the things Nobunaga detested. With daily events, the pressures of administering the government, guests coming in and out, and lack of sleep—when he was able get away from public duties for a moment, he could not stand to be confronted with such formality. These situations always made him think fondly of Hideyoshi.

"Nagato?" Nobunaga said.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Isn't your son here?"

"He came with me, but he's a bit of an ignoramus, so I had him wait outside."

"That kind of reserve is really boring," Nobunaga muttered. When he had asked the man to bring along his son, obviously it was in order to talk lighfheartedly, not in order have a formal interview between lord and retainer. He did not order Nagato to call his son in, however.

"I wonder what happened to our guests from Hakata," Nobunaga said. He stood up and walked into the temple, leaving Nobutada and Nagato where they were.