Hideyoshi only said this after the mounted men carrying torches had started to lead the procession. Almost all of the soldiers, then, were to stay behind.

"That's dangerous," Kyutaro said. "Fifty horsemen are too few. The road you'll take tonight passes close by Mount Ibuki, and enemy forces may still be hiding there."

Both Kyutaro and Shonyu were especially vociferous in cautioning him, but Hideyoshi seemed convinced that there was no need for such concern. Answering that it was not worth worrying about, he ordered the men with the torches to lead the way. Leaving the castle gate, they went along the tree-lined road toward the northeast. Riding through the night until about the fourth watch, Hideyoshi progressed five leagues down the road without too much haste.

The group arrived at Sanjuin Temple at midnight. Hideyoshi had thought the monks would be taken completely by surprise, but to his amazement, when they opened the main gate, he saw that the inside of the temple was brilliantly lit with lanterns, water had been splashed over the grounds, and the entire area had been swept clean.

"Somebody must have come ahead and announced that I was coming."

"It was me," Sakichi announced.

"You?"

"Yes. I thought that you would probably be stopping here to rest, my lord, so I had a young man who is a fast runner come ahead and order meals prepared for fifty men."

Sakichi had been an acolyte at Sanjuin Temple, but at twelve years of age he had been accepted by Hideyoshi as a page at Nagahama Castle. That had been eight years ago, and he had since become a twenty-year-old samurai. Sakichi had excellent good sense and was more quick-witted than most people.

At dawn, the outline of Mount Ibuki could be seen against the rose and pale blue hues of the sky, while nothing could be heard but the chirping of tiny birds. The dew was deep on the road, and darkness hung beneath the trees.

Hideyoshi looked happy. He knew that with every step he was getting closer to his mother and wife, and he seemed to mind neither the steep slope of the road nor his own fatigue. Now, the closer he approached Nishitani as the light increased on Mount Ibuki, the more he had the feeling of being held to his mother's breast.

No matter how long they climbed upstream along the Azusa River, they never seemed to come to its source. On the contrary, it opened up and they came out into a valley so wide that they might have forgotten they were in the middle of the mountains.

"That's Mount Kanakuso," announced the monk who was acting as guide, and he pointed to a steep peak directly in front of them. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun had climbed to the center of the sky, and the heat of midsummer was rising.

The monk walked on ahead again on the narrow path. After a while the path became so narrow that Hideyoshi and his attendants had to dismount. Just at that moment the men around Hideyoshi stopped.

"It looks like the enemy," they said with alarm.

Hideyoshi and his small force had just climbed around the peak. There appeared to be a group of soldiers stationed on the mountainside in the distance. Those soldiers, too, seemed surprised, and they all stood up together. One of them seemed to be giving out commands while soldiers scattered in disorder.

"They could be remaining enemy soldiers," someone said. "I've heard that they've fled as far as Ibuki."

That was, indeed, a possibility, and the gunners immediately ran forward. The order was quickly given to get ready for battle, but the two monks who were acting as guides called them back.

"It's not the enemy. They're the lookouts from the temple. Don't shoot!"

They then turned toward the mountain in the distance and made themselves understood by gesturing and yelling at the top of their voices.

With that, the soldiers began to descend the mountain like stones tumbling down a cliff. Very soon, an officer with a small banner affixed to his back ran down to them. Hideyoshi recognized him as a retainer from Nagahama.

The Daikichi Temple was nothing more than a small mountain temple. When it rained, water leaked through the roof. When the wind blew, the walls and beams shook. Nene lived and waited upon her mother-in-law in the main temple, while the ladies-in-waiting lived in the priests' quarters. The retainers who came later from Nagahama built small huts in the area or lodged in farmhouses in the village. So in those wretched conditions, a large family of over two hundred had lived for over two weeks.

By the time news of Nobunaga's murder reached them, the advance guard of the Akechi army was already in sight of the castle, and there was hardly time to think of what to do. Nene had written a letter to her husband in the far-off western provinces, but it was truly at the last moment. Taking her mother-in-law, she had abandoned the castle and fled, leaving everything behind. All she was able to do was load a packhorse with a change of clothes for her mother-in-law and the presents her husband had received from Nobunaga.

In that situation Nene felt the tragic resolve and the great responsibility of a woman’s lot. She was in charge of the castle in Hideyoshi's absence, and she had to serve his aged mother and run the large castle household. She must have wanted with all her heart the happiness of hearing her husband tell her that she had done well. He, however, was far

away on the battlefield. Until recently she had lived in the safety of a castle while her husband was on the battlefield, but now, suddenly, there was no distinction between them.

During a war, this situation was no cause for despair, but Nene was pained by the question of where to move Hideyoshi's mother. Even if the castle was abandoned to the enemy, she was certain that Hideyoshi would quickly retake it. But as his wife, if she had allowed her mother-in-law to be injured, she would never have been able to face him again.

“Please just worry about protecting my mother-in-law. Don't think about me. And no matter how much you may regret leaving something behind, don't let yourselves be distracted by possessions." Thus Nene encouraged the women servants and everyone in the household as they moved desperately along the road to the east.

Nagahama was bordered on the west by Lake Biwa, the north was checked by hostile clans and activity in the direction of the Mino Road was unclear. There was no recourse, then, but to flee toward Mount Ibuki.

When her clan was victorious, the warrior's wife would be filled with happiness. But once her husband had become the loser—or they were driven from his castle as fugitives—the pathetic wife must feel a wretchedness that could not be imagined by a man who n the fields or sold his wares in town.

From that that day on the members of Hideyoshi's household went hungry, lay down to sleep in the open, and were frightened by the enemy patrols. During the night it was difficult to avoid the dew; during the day their white, bloodied feet pressed on in flight.

Through these difficulties there was one thing they kept in mind: when we're captured by the enemy, we'll show them. That was almost everyone's secret promise. The women were of one mind. The feeling among them was that if the fragrance that drifted from their rouge and the loveliness of their black hair did not project from their hearts on that day, they should be disdained and condemned as nothing but shams to hide their uglinesss.

The village was an excellent refuge. Sentries had been posted at a distance, so there was no fear of a surprise attack. As it was midsummer, the bedding and provisions were made to last. Their greatest discomfort was only a matter of isolation. Being so far from human habitation, they had no idea of what was going on.

The messenger should return soon. Nene let her thoughts run toward the western sky.  The night before she fled Nagahama she had hastily written a letter to her husband.  She had heard nothing from the messenger since then. Perhaps he had fallen into the hands of the Akechi on the way, or had been unable to find their hiding place. She had about those possibilities day and night.