Nobunaga's mood was improving. And, although the attendants came to trim the wicks of the lamps a number of times, he simply sipped water and went on, oblivious of the passage of time.

It was a summer night, and the temple's shutters and doors were all open. Perhaps for that reason, the flames in the lamps were continually flickering and were capped by halos of evening mist.

If one had been able to read the future in the light of the lamps that evening, one might have divined an evil omen in the halos of mist or in the shades of light passing through the wicks of the lamps.

Someone knocked at the front gate of the temple. After a while an attendant an­nounced that a dispatch had arrived from the western provinces. Taking advantage of the moment, Nobutada stood up and Soshitsu also begged to take his leave. Nobunaga then stood up also, to accompany them as far as the bridged corridor.

"Sleep well," Nobutada said, turning once more and looking at the figure of his father from the corridor.

Nagato and his son were standing next to Nobutada, holding lanterns. The halls of the Honno Temple compound sank back into a darkness as black as ink. It was the sec­ond half of the Hour of the Rat.

*  *  *

Mitsuhide was standing at a crossroads: a right turn would take him westward; a left turn would lead him through the village of Kutsukake and across the Katsura River, and to the capital. He had reached the crest of the hill he had been climbing all his life. The two roads before him represented a turning point and a finality. But the view that presented itself to his eye that night did not compel him to reflection of any sort. Instead, the broad sky showing him the twinkling of peaceful stars seemed to promise a great change in the world, one that would begin with the new dawn.

No order had been given to rest, but Mitsuhide's horse had stopped, and he sat in the saddle, silhouetted against the starry sky. Perceiving that he was not going to move for the moment, the generals around him, clad in glittering armor—and the long lines of armored men, banners, and horses behind him—waited restlessly in the dark.

"There's a spring bubbling up over there. I can hear water murmuring, I think."

"There it is. Water!"

Groping along in the undergrowth of the precipice bordering the road, one of the men finally discovered a little stream in the rocks. One after another, the soldiers pushed forward to fill their canteens with the clear water.

"This will us get as far as Tenjin."

"Maybe we'll eat at Yamazaki."

"No, the night's so short, it'll probably get light when we get to the Kaiin Temple."

"The horses will get tired if we march during the daytime, so His Lordship is probably thinking that we should make as much progress as we can through the night and morning hours."

"That would be best until we get to the western provinces."

The foot soldiers, quite naturally, and even the samurai above them—with the exception of their commanders—still knew nothing at all. The whispers and laughing voices at did not quite reach the ears of the commanders manifested their assumption that the battlefield was still far away.

The line began to move. From that point, the commanders carried spears and advanced alongside of their troops with watchful eyes and a quickened pace.

To the left. To the left. The men began to descend the divide of Oinosaka to the east. Not one soldier turned off on the road to the west. Doubt reflected from eye to eye. But even those who were suspicious hurried on. The men behind simply looked up to the banners that fluttered in front of them; there was no mistake that this was the road on which their banners proceeded. The horses' hooves clattered on the steep slopes. From time to time the sound of the falling rocks became almost deafening. The army resembled a waterfall that would allow nothing to stand in its way.

Both men and horses were soaked with sweat, and their breath came in fiery gasps. Meandering through the deep mountain gorges, they once again descended. Quickly turning toward the babbling mountain stream, they pressed on toward the sheer slopes of Mount Matsuo.

"Take a rest."

"Break out the provisions."

"No fires are to be lit."

Orders were passed down, one after another. They were still only at Kutsukake, a village on the mountainside that was made up of no more than ten or so woodcutters’ houses. Nevertheless, the warning of the central command had been strict, and patrols were quickly set in the area of the road that went down to the foothills.

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the valley to get some water."

"You're not allowed to separate from the ranks. Borrow some water from somebody else."

The soldiers opened up their provisions and silently started to eat. A good bit of whispering was heard as they chewed their food. A number of the men wondered why they were fortifying themselves with a meal at this apparently inopportune time, halfway down the mountain. They had already eaten a meal before they had left the Hachiman Shrine that night.

Why weren't they to eat when the sun came up, at Yamazaki or Hashimoto where they could tether their horses? Though they were puzzled, they still assumed that they were on their way to the western provinces. The road to Bitchu was not the only way that led to their destination. If they turned to the right at Kutsukake, they could pass through Oharano and come out in the direction of Yamazaki and Takatsuki.

But when they started off once again, the entire army descended straight ahead to Tsukahara without turning to either side, and went on to the village of Kawashima. By the fourth watch, the greater part of the army looked down at the unexpected sight of the Katsura River under the night sky.

The soldiers suddenly became agitated. As soon as they felt the cool breeze of the river, the entire army stopped in its tracks in fear.

"Settle down!" the officers ordered the men.

"Don't make so much noise! And don't talk to each other unnecessarily!"

The clear water of the river shimmered, and in the breeze from the river the nine standards with their blue bellflowers swayed like long poles bent into bows.

Amano Genemon, whose command was on the edge of the army's right wing as, was summoned by Mitsuhide. He jumped off his horse and ran toward his commander.

Mitsuhide was standing on a dry part of the riverbed. The penetrating eyes of the generals all turned in Genemon's direction. There were Saito Toshimitsu, his face rimmed with frost-white hair, and Mitsuharu, whose tragic face now appeared like a mask. Along with these two men, the many armored members of his field staff surrounded Mitsuhide like an iron barrel.

"Gengo," Mitsuhide said, "it will soon be light. You take a company and cross the river first. On the way you are to cut down anyone who might be able to run through our lines to warn the enemy. Also, there may be merchants and other travelers who are passing through the capital in the early dawn, and it will be necessary to take care of the people. This is extremely important."

"I understand."

"Wait." Mitsuhide called the man back. "As a precaution, I've sent some men to guard the road through the mountains from Hozu, down from northern Saga, and along the Nishijin Road from the Jizoin. Don't attack our own men by mistake." Mitsuhide's voice was cuttingly sharp; it was easy to see that his mind was now working at full speed and that his blood vessels were so filled with tension they were close to bursting.

Watching Genemon's troops splash across the Katsura River, the remaining men felt increasingly uneasy. Mitsuhide remounted and, one after another, the men under his command followed his example.

"Give out the orders. Make sure no one misses a word."

One of the commanders at Mitsuhide's side cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Take off your horses' shoes and throw them away!" The shrill command from the first ranks could be heard clearly. "The foot soldiers should all put on new straw sandals. Don't wear sandals with cords that are loose from walking on the mountain roads. If the cords have loosened, tie them firmly enough so that if they get wet, they won't chew up your feet. Gunners, cut your fuse cords to lengths of one foot and tie them in bundles of five. Unnecessary things, like the wrapping for provisions and personal effects, or anything that will be a burden to the free movement of your arms and legs, should be thrown into the river. Don't take anything but your weapons."