"Well, Lord Hideyoshi. Are you not the person who requested Lord Samboshi's pres­ence? I really have no idea, but—"

"You're not mistaken. I'm the one who advocated it of necessity."

"Of necessity?"

Katsuie smoothed the wrinkles from his kimono. It was still before noon so the heat was not too oppressive, but because of the thickness of his garments and his skin condi­tion, he seemed to be very uncomfortable. Such a thing might seem trivial, but it influ­enced the tone of his voice and gave him a grim expression.

Katsuie's view of Hideyoshi underwent a change after Yanagase. Until that time, he had thought of Hideyoshi as his junior, and was of the opinion that their relationship had not been a particularly good one. But the battle of Yamazaki had been a turning point.

Hideyoshi's name was now being mentioned every day with rising authority in connection with the work left undone after the death of Nobunaga. It was unbearable for Katsuie to observe this phenomenon passively. And his feelings were compounded by his reaction to Hideyoshi's having fought the requiem battle for Nobunaga.

That Hideyoshi was viewed on equal terms with him caused Katsuie the greatest unhappiness. He could not bear to have his many years as an elder of the Oda clan overlooked because of this man's few meritorious deeds. Why should Shibata Katsuie be put into a lower position than someone who was now wearing a kimono and headdress so proudly, but who in the old days in Kiyosu was nothing more than a menial risen up from moat cleaner and dung sweeper? Today, Katsuie's breast was like a tightly strung bow, pulled taut by innumerable emotions and strategies.

“I don't know how you're thinking about today's conference, Lord Hideyoshi, but generally the lords seated here are all bearing firmly in mind that it is the first time the Oda clan has met like this to discuss such important matters. Why must we have a two-year old child here?" Katsuie asked bluntly.

Both his speech and his conduct seemed to be asking for a sympathetic response not only from Hideyoshi but from all the great lords there. When he realized that he was not going to get a clear answer from Hideyoshi, he continued in the same tone of voice.

“We have no time to dally. Why don't we ask the young lord to retire before we begin this conference? Do you agree, Lord Hideyoshi?"

Hideyoshi looked undistinguished, even in a formal kimono. There was no mistaking his humble origins when he appeared among the others.

As for his rank, he had been given a number of important titles when Nobunaga was alive.  He had fully demonstrated his real strength both during the western campaign and in his victory at Yamazaki.

But meeting Hideyoshi face to face, you might doubt whether you would side with him in those dangerous times and risk your life for him.

There were men who, at a glance, seemed to be quite impressive. Takigawa Kazumasu, for example, had a stately bearing that no one would deny belonged to a first-rate general. Niwa Nagahide possessed an elegant simplicity and, with his receding hair, he appeared to be a stalwart warrior. Gamo Ujisato was the youngest, but with the respectability of hlis family line and the nobility of his character, he seemed to possess a strong moral sense. In composure and dignity, Ikeda Shonyu was even less imposing than Hideyoshi,  but there was a certain light that shone from his eyes. And there was Hosokawa Fujitaka, who appeared so upright and gentle, but whose maturity made him inscrutable.

So although Hideyoshi's appearance was ordinary, he looked downright shabby when he sat with those men. The men who gathered for the conference that day in Kiyosu were of the foremost rank among their contemporaries. Maeda Inuchiyo and Sassa Narimasa had not  attended because they were still fighting in the northern campaign. And, although he was a special case, if Tokugawa Ieyasu's name were added, it might be said that the men in Kiyosu that day were the leaders of the country. And Hideyoshi was among them, regardless of his appearance.

Hideyoshi himself realized the greatness of his colleagues' rank, and he was discreet and humble. His arrogance after the victory at the battle of Yamazaki was nowhere to be seen. From the beginning he was extremely serious. Even in response to Katsuie's words, he was respectfully reserved. But now it seemed that he could no longer avoid a response to Katsuie's persistent request.

"No, what you're saying is quite reasonable. There is a reason for Lord Samboshi to attend this conference, but because he's still of such an innocent age, and the conference promises to be a long one, he's certain to feel cramped. If it is your wish, lord, let's ask him to withdraw right away." Answering Katsuie with such moderate language, Hideyoshi turned a little and asked the guardian to withdraw.

The man nodded and, taking Samboshi up from his lap, put him into the hands of the wet nurse behind him. Samboshi appeared to be very pleased with the great crowd of fully attired men and strongly rejected the wet nurse's hand. When she held on to him anyway and stood up to go, he suddenly swung his arms and legs and broke out crying. He then threw the folded paper crane into the midst of the seated lords.

Tears suddenly came to every man's eyes.

The clock struck noon. The tension in the great hall was tangible.

Katsuie made the opening address. "The tragic death of Lord Nobunaga has caused us great sadness, but we must now choose a worthy successor to continue his work. We must serve him in death as we did in life. This is the Way of the Samurai."

Katsuie questioned the men about the succession. He sought proposals from those present again and again, but no one would be the first to come forward and express his private opinion. Even if anyone had been rash enough to express his own thoughts on that occasion, if by any chance the man he supported as the Oda successor was not cho­sen in the final selection, his life would have been in certain danger.

No one was going to open his mouth indiscreedy, and they all sat in complete silence. Katsuie patiently let the group's silent modesty pass for exactly that. Perhaps he had fore­seen this course of events. Deliberately he took on a dignified tone and spoke. "If none of you has any particular opinion, for the present I will offer my own humble opinion as se­nior retainer."

At that moment, a sudden change of complexion appeared on the face of Nobutaka, who was seated in the place of honor. Katsuie looked at Hideyoshi, who in turn was look­ing back and forth from Takigawa to Nobutaka.

Those subtle movements set up unseen waves from mind to mind for just an instant. Kiyosu Castle was filled with a silent tension, almost as though it were devoid of human beings.

Finally Katsuie spoke. "It is my view that Lord Nobutaka is of the appropriate age, and has the natural ability and lineage to be the successor to our lord. Lord Nobutaka is my choice."

It was a very well-put statement that came close to being a proclamation. Katsuie thought that he had already taken control.

But then someone spoke up. "No, that's not right." It was Hideyoshi. "In terms of lineage," he went on, "the correct succession is from Nobunaga's eldest son, Lord Nobu-tada, to his son, Lord Samboshi. The province has its laws and the clan has its household regulations."

Katsuie's face flushed darkly. "Ah, wait a moment, Lord Hideyoshi."

“No," Hideyoshi continued, "you're going to say that Lord Samboshi is still an infant.  But if the entire clan—beginning with you yourself, my lord, and all the other retainers and generals—is here to protect him, there should be no discontent. Our devotion should have nothing to do with age. As for me, I believe that if the succession is to be correctly followed, Lord Samboshi must be the heir."