But Sessai had used his talents for the Imagawa. As soon as he had seen the signs of defeat for the Imagawa in a war against the Hojo, the monk had helped Suruga to negotiate a peace treaty without disadvantage to Yoshimoto. And when he had arranged the marriage of Hojo Ujimasa to a daughter of Takeda Shingen, lord of Kai, the powerful province on their northern border, and the marriage of Yoshimoto's daughter with Shingen’s son, he had demonstrated great political skill by tying the three provinces into a alliance.

He was not the kind of monk who went about in splendid isolation with a staff and atattered hat. He was not a "pure" Zen monk. It could be said that he was a political monk, a military monk, or even an unmonkish monk. But whatever he was called, it did not affect his greatness.

Sessai spoke sparingly, but something he had told Ieyasu on the veranda of the Rizai Temple  had stuck in Ieyasu's mind: "Hiding in a cave, roaming about alone like the wandering clouds and the flowing water—being a great monk is not in these things alone. A monk's mission changes with the times. In today's world, to think only of my own enlightenment and live like one who 'steals the tranquillity of the mountains and fields,' as if I despised the world, is a self-indulgent kind of Zen." They crossed the Chinese Bridge and passed through the northwestern gate. It was difficult to believe that they were inside the walls of a castle. It was as though the palace of the shogun had been transported here. Toward Atago and Kiyomizu, the majestic cone of Mount Fuji was darkening in the evening. The lamps were lit in the niches along the corridors that stretched as far as the eye could see. Women so lovely they could have been miitaken for court ladies passed by, cradling koto or carrying flasks of sake.

"Who's that in the garden?" Imagawa Yoshimoto held a fan in the shape of a ginkgo leaf over his slightly reddened face. He had crossed over the garden's red half-moon bridge. Even the pages who followed him wore elaborate clothes and swords.

One of the pages went back along the bridged corridor and hurried into the garden. Someone was screaming. It sounded like a woman's voice to Yoshimoto, so, thinking it strange, he had stopped.

"What's happened to the page?" Yoshimoto asked after a few minutes. "He hasn't come back. Iyo, you go."

Iyo went down into the garden and ran off. Although the place was called a garden, it was so large that it looked as if it led to the foothills of Mount Fuji. Leaning against the pillar where the bridged corridor angled away from the main walkway, Yoshimoto beat a rythm with his fan and sang to himself.

He was pale enough to be mistaken for a woman, because he used light makeup. He was forty years old and in the prime of manhood. Yoshimoto was enjoying the world and was at the height of his prosperity. He wore his hair in the style of the nobility, his teeth were elegantly blackened, and a mustache sprouted beneath his nose. For the last two years he had put on weight, and, being born with a long trunk and short legs, he now looked a little deformed. But his gilded sword and his richly brocaded clothes mantled him with an aura of dignity. Someone finally came back, and Yoshimoto stopped humming.

"Is it you, Iyo?"

"No, it's Ujizane."

Ujizane was Yoshimoto's son and heir, and looked like someone who had never known hardship.

"What are you doing out in the garden when it's almost dusk?"

"I was beating Chizu, and when I unsheathed my sword she ran away."

"Chizu? Who is Chizu?"

"She's the girl who looks after my birds."

"A servant?"

"Yes."

"What could she have done that you had to punish her with your own hands?"

"She's hateful. She was feeding a rare bird that had been sent to me all the way from

Kyoto, and she let it escape," Ujizane said seriously. He was inordinately fond of songbirds. It was well known among the nobility that if someone found a rare bird and sent it to him, Ujizane would be absurdly happy. Thus, without lifting a finger, he had become the owner of a collection of extravagant birds and cages. So here, it was said, a human being could be killed for the sake of a bird. Ujizane was furious, as if the matter had beer an important affair of state.

An indulgent father, Yoshimoto muttered in disappointment at his son's foolish anger. And this was in front of his retainers. Even though Ujizane was his heir, having demonstrated this kind of imbecility, Yoshimoto's retainers were unlikely to think much of him.

"You fool!" Yoshimoto shouted violently, intending to show his great love. "Ujizane, how old are you? You had your coming-of-age ceremony a long time ago. You're the heir of the Imagawa clan, but you do nothing but amuse yourself by raising birds. Why don't you do a little Zen meditation, or read some military treatises?"

Being spoken to like this by a father who almost never scolded him, Ujizane turned pale and fell silent. He generally considered his father easy to deal with; however, he was already of an age when he could look at his father's behavior with a critical eye. Now, instead of arguing, he simply pouted and sulked. Yoshimoto felt that this too was a weak point. Ujizane was very dear to him, and he knew that his own conduct had never pro­vided a good example for his son.

"That's enough. Restrain yourself from now on. All right, Ujizane?"

“Yes.”

"Why are you looking so disgruntled?"

"I'm not disgruntled about anything."

"Well then, be off with you. These are not the times for raising birds."

"Well, but…"

"What do you want to say?"

"Are these times for drinking sake with girls from Kyoto and dancing and beating the drum all afternoon?"

"Hold your tongue, know-it-all!"

"But you—"

"Silence!" Yoshimoto said, throwing his fan at Ujizane. "Rather than criticizing your father, you should know your place. How can I proclaim you as my heir, if you take no interest in military matters and learn nothing about administration and economics? Your father studied Zen when he was a young man, went through all sorts of difficulties, and fought countless battles. Today I am the master of this small province, but I will rule the entire country one day. How could I have had a child with so little courage and so few ambitions? There's nothing I can complain of now except dissatisfaction with you."

At some point, Yoshimoto's retainers found themselves cowering in the corridor, Struck by his words, every one of them silently stared at the floor. Even Ujizane hung his head and stared at his father's fan at his feet.

Just then, a samurai came in and announced, "His Reverence Master Sessai, Lord Ieyasu, and the senior retainers are waiting for Your Lordship in the Mandarin Orange Pavilion."

The Mandarin Orange Pavilion was built on a slope dotted with mandarin orange trees, and it was here that Yoshimoto had invited Sessai and his other advisers, ostensibly for a nighttime tea ceremony.

'Ah! Really? Is everyone there? As the host, I shouldn't be late." Yoshimoto spoke as though he had been saved from the confrontation with his son, and walked down the corriidor in the opposite direction.

The tea ceremony had been nothing but a ruse from the start. Appropriately for an evening tea ceremony, though, the flickering shadows cast by the lanterns, combined with the chirping of insects, seemed to envelop the place an in air of elegance. But as soon as Yoshimoto had entered and the door was shut, soldiers patrolled the grounds so tightly that water could not have leaked in unnoticed.

"His Lordship." A retainer announced his master as though he were heralding royalty.  In the large room, built in the manner of temples, a faint light flickered. Sessai and the senior retainers were all seated in a line, with Tokugawa Ieyasu at the far end. The line of men bowed to their master.