While this was occurring, Katsuno’s husband was away from home
having gone up to the castle on duty. Two ruffians were caught, but
unfortunately the samurai, being unacquainted with O-Tora’s personality
and evil intentions, did not think of trying to seize her also, though
it would have been quite easy as she ran wildly hither and thither in
her bewilderment and alarm.
Closely questioned, the men confessed that they were spies, and had
been hired by Gemba Morimasa to assassinate Katsuno, O-Tora being decoy.
Iyeyasu, in righteous anger, caused them to be decapitated, and their
heads were exposed in front of one of the castle gates with a notice
which ran as follows:—
“These villains, on a strict examination, confessed that at the
instigation of Sakuma Gemba Morimasa, a high retainer of Oda
Nobunaga, they had come disguised to our castle-town with intent to
murder. However, it may be that they were common thieves and only made
up the above story to conceal their mean purposes. Therefore, we have
judged them as thieves, and expose their heads accordingly.”
At the failure of his plans, Morimasa flew into a terrible passion; nor
could Nobunaga allow the matter to pass without notice. He despatched a
messenger to Iyeyasu with a protest, to which he received the following
reply:—
“If an honourable samurai of Gemba Morimasa’s rank and position really
intended to take his revenge on an enemy he would have come openly and
in person. He would not intrust so important a task to low nameless
assassins! He could not so debase his honour! This was an act worthy of
a peasant, a mere tradesman, or a _rōnin_. So I concluded that those
men were common thieves and in that supposition caused that notice to
be written. Can Lord Oda say anything against it?”
What could Nobunaga or Morimasa urge against this temperate reply? They
could not confess that the would-be murderers were indeed what they had
said, and not the thieves that Iyeyasu affected to believe them.
Thus were they again baffled. But Nobunaga was exceedingly enraged and
determined to go to war with Iyeyasu in order to wipe out his disgrace.
He diligently set about his preparations.
It was not difficult to foretell the issue of a struggle between the
rival lords; Iyeyasu, with his small following, had no chance against
his more powerful enemy. Katsuno was in despair. It was all through
her that this danger threatened Lord Tokugawa, it was because he
had refused to give her up that all this trouble had come. She had
forfeited her life by her act of vengeance at the castle of Inaba, and
but for the mercy of Lady Saitō she would have died long before. Though
her husband loved her devotedly and she was not unhappy, still she had
no desire to live, and if she were to die, there would no longer be any
object in commencing a disastrous war. Therefore she would die.
In the silent watches of a winter’s night when the silver moon flooded
all the land with quiet beauty, Katsuno rose from her bed and with a
dagger put an end to her life,—in the flower of her womanhood, at the
age of twenty-two!
Katsuno left behind her four long letters addressed respectively to
Iyeyasu, her husband, Katsutaka, Lady Saitō, and her former lord, Oda
Nobuyuki, giving the reason for her rash act, and repeatedly thanking
them for all their kindness.
[2] Lines by Hakkyoi, a great poet of ancient China.
[3] On the occasion of Buddhist funeral ceremonies, and at religious
ceremonies held on the anniversary of a death, it is a common custom to
set at freedom caged birds for the peace of the spirit of the deceased.