"What! Was that it?"

"I knew that if I told you that now, it would be hard to accept. I had truly hoped to tell you when it wouldn't add to your unhappiness."

"This is the world of men." Then he added, "It makes no difference."

Mitsuhide laughed. At least it was something like a laugh. Then he abruptly waved toward the rear of the camp and impatiently called out for his horse.

Mitsuhide had sent most of his troops to the front, but there should have been at least two thousand men in the camp with his senior retainers. Leading this force, Mitsuhide was ready to join up with what was left of Sanzaemon's corps and attempt one last battle. Mounting his horse, he yelled out the orders for the attack in a voice that resounded through Onbozuka. Then, without waiting for the soldiers to assemble, he turned his horse around and started to gallop down the hill, accompanied by a few mounted samurai.

"Who are you?" Mitsuhide asked, bringing his horse to a stop. Someone had suddenly rushed out of the camp, run down the slope, and stood blocking the way, his arms stretched out wide.

"Tatewaki, why are you stopping me?" Mitsuhide asked sharply. It was one of Mitsuhide's senior retainers, Hida Tatewaki, and he quickly grabbed the bridle of Mitsuhide's horse. The unruly animal stamped the ground, unable to control itself.

"Yojiro! Sanjuro! Why didn't you stop him? Get off your horses, my lord," Hida Tatewaki said, scolding Mitsuhide's attendants. Then bowing in Mitsuhide's direction, he said, “The man before me is not the Lord Mitsuhide I serve. The war is not lost after one defeat. It is not like you to think about throwing away your life right after one battle. The enemy is going to ridicule us for having lost self-control. Even though you've been defeated here, you have a family in Sakamoto and several generals dispersed in the provinces just waiting for word from you. Surely you must not be without a plan for the future.  First withdraw to Shoryuji Castle."

"What are you talking about, Tatewaki?" Mitsuhide shook his head almost in time with his horse's mane. "Are all the men we've lost going to rise up once again and regain their high spirits? I cannot abandon my men to the enemy and let them be killed. I'm going to deal one good blow to Hideyoshi and punish Tsutsui Junkei's treachery. I'm not looking for a place to die in vain. I'm going to show them who Mitsuhide is. Now let me pass!”

"Why are my wise lord's eyes so wild? Our army received a blow today, and at least three thousand men died while countless others were wounded. Our generals were struck down, and our new recruits have been scattered. How many soldiers do you think are left this camp now?"

"Let me go! I can do exactly as I please! Let me go!"

"It's exactly that kind of irresponsible talk that proves you're only rushing off toward death, and I'm going to do my best to stop you. It would be one thing if there were still three or four thousand obstinate men here, but I suspect there are only four or five hundred who will be trailing behind you. All the others have slipped out of camp since morning and fled," Tatewaki said, his voice filled with tears.

Is a man's intellect so frail? And once that intellect fails, does he simply become a madman? Tatewaki gazed at Mitsuhide's frenzy and wondered how the man could have changed so much. Shedding bitter tears, he could not help remembering how prudent and intelligent Mitsuhide had once been.

Other generals now stood in front of Mitsuhide's horse. Two of them had already been on the front lines, but, concerned for their lord's safety, they had come back to the camp. One of them said, "We all agree with Lord Hida. Shoryuji is nearby, and it's certainly not too late to go there first and work out a strategy for our next step."

"As long as we're here, the enemy forces will be drawing closer and closer, and everything could come to an end right in this spot. We should whip our horses and move on to Shoryuji as fast as we can."

Tatewaki no longer asked what his lord's intentions were. He had the conch shell blown and quickly ordered a retreat to the north. Yojiro and another retainer abandoned their own horses and walked, each grasping the bridle of their master's horse and leading it to the north. The other soldiers and commanders on the hill followed them. But, just as Tatewaki had said, they numbered no more than five hundred men.

Miyake Tobei was the commander of Shoryuji Castle. Here, too, there were nothing but omens of defeat, and a desolate mood of doom filled the castle. Surrounded by faintly flickering lanterns, all present deliberated over how to save themselves. As they searched for some rational conclusion, even Mitsuhide realized that there was nothing to be done.

The sentries outside the castle had repeatedly reported the approach of the enemy, and the castle itself was not strong enough to resist the crushing force of Hideyoshi’s army. Even Yodo Castle had been in this condition when he had ordered its repair some days ago. It was not unlike beginning to build a dike only after hearing the sounds of the billowing waves.

Perhaps the only thing Mitsuhide did not regret at this point was that a number of his generals and soldiers had remained loyal and fought a furious battle, poignantly demonstrating their loyalty. It was, in one sense, paradoxical that there were men within the Akechi clan—the clan that had struck down their own lord—who would still not break the bond between lord and retainer. Clearly Mitsuhide was a virtuous man, and those men were manifesting the ironclad law of the samurai.

For that reason, the number of dead and wounded was unusually high, even though the battle had lasted no more than three hours. It was later estimated that the Akechi had suffered more than three thousand casualties, while Hideyoshi's forces had lost more than three thousand three hundred. The number of wounded was incalculable. Thus one might understand the great spirit of the Akechi forces, which was in no way inferior to that of their general. Considering the small size of Mitsuhide's force—nearly half the size of his enemy's—and the disadvantageous ground on which it fought, his defeat was not one that could be ridiculed by the world.

*  *  *

The moon of the thirteenth day of the Sixth Month was blurred by thin clouds. One or two mounted warriors rode separately on ahead, while others followed a little behind. Thirteen mounted men rode in scattered groups from north of the Yodo River toward Fushimi.

When they had finally entered a dark trail in the depths of the mountain, Mitsuhide turned and asked Tatewaki, "Where are we?"

"This is Okame Valley, my lord."

Speckles of moonlight spilling through the branches fell on Tatewaki and the men who followed behind.

"Do you plan on crossing to the north of Momoyama and then coming out to the Kanshu Temple Road from Ogurusu?" Mitsuhide asked.

"That's right. If we pursue this course and get close to Yamashina and Otsu before it gets light, we won't have to worry."

Shinshi Sakuzaemon suddenly stopped his horse a little in front of Mitsuhide's and signaled them to be quiet. Mitsuhide and the horsemen following him also stopped.  Without so much as a whisper, they watched Akechi Shigetomo and Murakoshi Sanjuro as they walked ahead as scouts. The two riders had stopped their horses next to a stream and signaled for the men behind them to wait. They stood there for some time, listening.

Was it an enemy ambush?

Finally, a look of relief appeared on their faces. Following the signals of the two men motioning ahead of them, they once again quietly moved forward. Both the moon and the clouds appeared to be hanging in the middle of the midnight sky. But no matter how stealthily they advanced, when the horses started up the slope, they kicked up stones or stepped on rotten wood, and even the echoes of such little sounds awakened the sleeping birds. Each time it happened, Mitsuhide and his followers quickly restrained their horses.