Tohachiro crept out to inform the samurai in the guard room. The guards were feeling gloomy, thinking that it was the end. And what was absolute, of course, was that there was nothing for them other than death. The men inside the castle stared directly at death, the hours already passing midnight.

“I don't mind dying. The question is, how are we going to die?" This was the basis of their uneasiness, and it had still not been settled in anyone's breast. Therefore, there were some men among them who had not yet gathered their courage.

“He shouldn't catch cold," Sai, his lady-in-waiting, said, and put a coverlet over Nobunaga. After that, he slept for two hours.

The oil in the lamps was now almost consumed, and the dying wicks made little sputtering sounds. Nobunaga suddenly lifted his head and called out. "Sai! Sai! Is anyone there?"

The Lord with the Blackened Teeth

The cedar door slid open noiselessly. Sai bowed reverentiy to Nobunaga and gently closed the door behind her.

"Are you awake, my lord?"

"What time is it?"

"The Hour of the Ox."

"Good."

"What are your orders?"

"Bring me my armor and have my horse saddled. And make me some breakfast."

Sai was an efficient woman, and Nobunaga always called upon her to look after his personal needs. She accepted what was to come and did not make a fuss. After shaking awake the page who was asleep in the next room, she told the samurai on guard duty to fetch Nobunaga's horse, then she took in her master's meal.

Nobunaga picked up his chopsticks. "When dawn comes, this will be the nineteenth day of the Fifth Month."

"Yes, my lord."

"This must be the earliest breakfast being eaten in the entire country. It's delicious. I'll have another bowl. What else is there?"

"Some dried kelp and chestnuts."

“Well, you've done me proud." Nobunaga cheerfully finished his gruel and ate two or three chestnuts. "That was a feast. Sai, give me my hand drum." Nobunaga treasured the drum, which he had called Narumigata. He put it to his shoulder and tried out two or three beats. "It sounds good! Maybe because it's so early in the morning, but it sounds much clearer than usual. Sai, play a section from Atsumori for me to dance to."

Sai obediently took the small drum from Nobunaga's hands and began to play. The

sound of the drum under her lithe fingers rang clearly through the wide rooms of the cas­tle, almost as if it were singing: Wake up! Wake up!

To think that a man

Has but fifty years to live under heaven…

Nobunaga stood up. He began to take graceful steps as smooth as water, and sang in time with the rhythm of the drum.

Surely this world

Is nothing but a vain dream.

Living but one life,

Is there anything that will not decay?

His voice was both unusually resonant and loud. And he sang as though he had reached the end of his life.

A samurai was hurrying down the corridor. His armor clanked noisily on the wooden floor as he knelt down. "Your horse is ready. We await your orders, my lord."

Nobunaga's hands and feet stopped in the middle of the dance, and he turned to the speaker. "Aren't you Iwamuro Nagato?"

"Yes, my lord."

Iwamuro Nagato was in full armor and was wearing his long sword. Yet, Nobunaga had not yet put on his armor and was dancing to the beat of a lady-in-waiting's drum. Nagato seemed dismayed and looked around doubtfully. The messenger who had brought the command to prepare the lord's horse for battle was his page. Everyone was exhausted from lack of sleep, and the page's nerves were on edge. Wasn't this some sort of mistake? Nagato had dressed in a hurry, but he was bewildered to find the leisurely figure of Nobunaga. Usually, when Nobunaga said, "Horse!" he would fly out before his retain­ers had time to get ready, so Nagato thought that this was more than unusual.

"Come in," said Nobunaga, his hands still in the correct posture of the dance. "Na­gato, you're a lucky man. You're the only one able to observe my farewell dance to this life. That should be quite a sight."

When Nagato understood what his lord was doing, he was ashamed of his own doubts and edged over to a corner of the room.

"That I should be the only one among my lord's many retainers to witness the most important dance of his lifetime is good fortune far beyond my lowly position. Still, I would ask permission to sing my own farewell to this world."

"You can sing? Good. Sai, from the beginning." The lady-in-waiting was silent and dropped her head a little with the drum. Nagato had realized that when Nobunaga had said dance, he meant Atsumori.

To think that a man

Has but fifty years to live under heaven.

Surely this world

Is nothing but a vain dream.

Living but one life,

Is there anything that does not decay?

As Nagato chanted, his many years of service, dating from Nobunaga's youth, unfolded in his mind. The minds of the dancer and the singer became one. Sai's tears shone in the lamplight on her white face while she beat the hand drum. She played it with more skill and intensity than usual that morning.

Nobunaga threw down his fan and called out, "It's death!" As he donned his armor he said, "Sai, if you hear that I've been killed, set the castle on fire immediately. Burn it until there's nothing left to see."

She put down the drum, and with her palms together on the floor, she replied, "Yes, my lord," without raising her head.

"Nagato! Blow the conch!" Nobunaga turned toward the inner citadel, where his lovely daughters lived, then to the mortuary tablets of his ancestors. "Farewell," he said with intense emotion. The he fastened the cords of his helmet and ran out.

The conch calling the troops to battle sounded in the quiet of the predawn darkness. The light of tiny stars shone brilliantiy through the rifts in the clouds.

"Lord Nobunaga is going to war!" Word was carried by an attendant, surprising the samurai who ran into him in their hurry.

The men who worked in the kitchens and the warriors who were too old to fight and would stay to guard the castle rushed to the gate to see their comrades off. To count them would have been a fair estimate of the men left in Kiyosu Castle—less than forty or fifty. This was how short of men they were, both inside the castle and riding with Nobunaga.

The horse that Nobunaga rode that day was called Tsukinowa. At the gate, the rustling of the young leaves could be heard in the dark wind, and lights flickered in the lanterns. Nobunaga leaped up onto the horse, into a mother-of-pearl saddle, and galloped to the main gate, the tassels of his armor and his long sword jangling as he rode.

Those staying behind in the castle forgot themselves and shouted as they prostrated themselves. Nobunaga spoke a few words of farewell to these old men who had served him for so many years. He felt sorry for these warriors and for his daughters, who were losing both a castle and a master. Without his being aware of it, Nobunaga's eyes moistened with tears.

In the time it had taken Nobunaga to shut his hot eyelids, Tsukinowa had already galloped like a squall out of the castle, into the dawn.

"My lord!"

"My lord!"

"Wait!"

Master and attendants were no more than six mounted men. And as usual, his retainers strained to keep from being left behind. Nobunaga did not look back. The enemy was to the east; their allies were also on the front lines. By the time they reached the place where they would die, the sun would already be high in the sky. As he galloped along, Nobunaga thought that, from the perspective of eternity, to be born in this province and to return to its soil meant nothing.

"Ho!"

"My lord!" someone suddenly called out from a crossroads in the town.