"As soon as I've eaten, I'll make a round of the camp. Bring my horse out as usual, and have my attendants stand by," he ordered as he dried his face.

Hideyoshi rode under a large red umbrella, preceded by his standard. Swaying slightiy in the saddle, he rode under the new leaves of the flowering cherry trees that grew along the road from the temple gate to the foot of the mountain.

Hideyoshi's daily round of the camp was never at a set time, but it was rarely so early in the morning. Today he seemed in better humor, and from time to time he would joke with his attendants as if everything were perfectly normal. There were no indications that morning that news of the incident in Kyoto had leaked out even among his own men. After confirming this for himself, Hideyoshi returned to his headquarters at a leisurely pace.

Kanbei was waiting for him in front of the temple gate. His eyes told Hideyoshi that

Ekei's mission had ended in failure. The monk had ridden back from the Mori camp a little before Hideyoshi's return, but the response he brought had not changed:

If we allow Muneharu to die, we are not living up to the Way of the Samurai. We will not agree to a peace that does not spare Muneharu's life.

"Have Ekei come here anyway," Hideyoshi ordered. He did not look in the least discouraged; in fact, he actually seemed to be growing more optimistic by the minute.

He invited the monk into a sunny room and made him comfortable. After talking over old times and relating gossip from the capital, Hideyoshi moved the conversation on.  “Well now," he said, broaching the main subject, "it seems as though peace talks have stalled because both sides cannot agree on Muneharu's fate. Couldn't you go privately to General Muneharu, explain the circumstances to him, and recommend that he resign himself? The Mori will never order a loyal retainer to commit seppuku, but if you explained the Mori clan's distress to him, Muneharu would gladly give his life. His death, after all, will save the lives of the men in the castle and save the Mori from destruction." With these words, Hideyoshi abruptly got up and left.

Inside Takamatsu Castle, the fates of more than five thousand soldiers and civilians hung in the balance.

Hideyoshi's generals had brought three large ships, equipped with cannons, over the mountains, and had begun to shell the castle. One of the towers had almost collapsed, and there were many dead and wounded as a result of the bombardment. Added to that, it was  still the rainy season, and more and more people were falling sick and food supplies were spoiling in the damp.

The defenders had collected doors and planking and built light boats with which to attack Hideyoshi's warships. Two or three of the small craft had been sunk, but the survivors had swum back to the castle to lead a second attack.

When the Mori army arrived and their banners and flags were sighted from the castle, the defenders thought they had been saved. But soon after, they understood the impossibility of their situation. The distance between their rescuers and themselves, and the consequent operational difficulties, would not allow for rescue. Although they were discouraged, they never lost the will to fight. On the contrary, after their realization they were clearly resolved to die.

When a secret message came to the castle from the Mori giving Muneharu permission to capitulate in order to save the lives of the men inside, he sent back an indignant response: "We have not yet learned what it is to surrender. At a time like this, we are ready to die."

On the morning of the fourth day of the Sixth Month, the guards on the castle walls spotted a small boat sculling toward them from the enemy shore. A samurai was handling the oar, and his only passenger was a monk.

Ekei had come to ask Muneharu to commit seppuku. Muneharu listened in silence to the monk's arguments. When Ekei had finished, and his entire body was soaked in sweat,

Muneharu spoke for the first time. "Well, today is truly my lucky day. When I look at your face, I know that your words are not fraudulent."

He did not say whether he agreed or disagreed. Muneharu's mind was already far be­yond consent and refusal. "For some time, Lord Kobayakawa and Lord Kikkawa have been worried about me, worthless as I am, and have even advised me to capitulate. But I have not considered surrender just to save my own life, and so I refused. Now, if I can be­lieve what you've told me, the Mori clan will be assured of security, and the people in the castle will be safe. If that's the case, there is no reason to refuse. On the contrary, it would be a great joy to me. A great joy!" he repeated emphatically.

Ekei was trembling. He had not thought that it would be so easy, that Muneharu would welcome death so gladly. At the same time, he felt ashamed. He himself was a monk, yet would he have the courage to transcend life and death in this way when his own time came?

"Then you agree?"

"Yes."

"Don't you need to discuss the matter with your family?"

"I'll inform them of my decision later. They should all rejoice with me."

"And—well, this is difficult to say, but it is a matter of some urgency—it is said thai Lord Nobunaga will be arriving soon."

"It's the same to me whether it's done sooner or later. When is it to be?"

"Today. Lord Hideyoshi said by the Hour of the Horse, and that's only five hours away."

"If that's all the time there is," Muneharu said, "I should be able to prepare for death with ease."

*  *  *

Ekei first reported Muneharu's agreement to Hideyoshi, then rode at full gallop to the Mori camp at Mount Iwasaki.

Both Kikkawa and Kobayakawa were worried about the reason for his sudden return.

"Have they broken off talks?" Kobayakawa asked.

"No," Ekei replied. "There are prospects of success."

"Well then, Hideyoshi has yielded?" Kobayakawa asked, looking a little surprised. Ekei, however, shook his head.

"The person who has prayed more than anyone for a peaceful reconciliation has of fered to sacrifice himself for the sake of peace."

"Who are you talking about?"

"General Muneharu. He said that he would repay with his life Lord Terumoto's protection for all these years."

"Ekei, did you talk to him at Hideyoshi's request?"

"You know I could not have gone out to the castle without his permission."

"Then you explained the situation to Muneharu, and he offered to commit seppuku of his own free will?"

"Yes. He will kill himself at the Hour of the Horse, on board a boat in full view of both armies. At that moment the peace treaty will be concluded, the lives of the defenders will be saved, and the safety of the Mori clan will be assured forever."

Full of emotion, Kobayakawa asked, "What are Hideyoshi's intentions?"

"When he heard General Muneharu's offer, Lord Hideyoshi was deeply moved. He said that it would be heartless not to reward such matchless loyalty. Therefore, while your promise had been to cede five provinces, he would take only three and leave the remaining two, out of regard for Muneharu's sacrifice. If there is no disagreement, he will send a written pledge immediately after witnessing Muneharu's seppuku."

Soon after Ekei had left, Muneharu announced his decision. One after another, the samurai of Takamatsu Castle came before their lord to beg him to allow them to follow him in death. Muneharu argued, cajoled, and scolded, but they would not be mollified. He was at a loss what to do. But in the end he did not grant anyone's request.

He ordered an attendant to prepare a boat. Bitter wailing filled the castle. When the requests of all his retainers had been withdrawn, and Muneharu seemed to have a little breathing space, Gessho, his elder brother, came to speak with him.