The little garrison besieged in the Castle of Nagashino, in the
province of Mikawa, was in desperate straits.
Okudaira Sadayoshi, Governor of the castle, was away at a distance on
business of importance, and his son, Sadamasa, was left in command with
a small company of but eight hundred men. These fought with the courage
of despair; but having been taken at unawares, the castle was ill
provided with ammunition and provisions, and at the end of a fortnight
death, from starvation, or the alternative of surrender, stared them in
the face.
It was at the close of April in the third year of Tensho (1575). Takeda
Katsuyori, Lord of Kai, knowing his feudal enemy, Sadayoshi, to be
absent, deemed it a good opportunity to attack his stronghold; and,
therefore, at the head of 28,000, suddenly swooped down and surrounded
the castle. Stationing his head-quarters on a hill opposite the main
entrance, he invested it on all sides, day and night continuing
the assaults on the walls, so that, if possible, it might fall into his
hands before either Sadayoshi’s liege lord, Tokugawa Iyeyasu, or the
latter’s powerful ally, Oda Nobunaga, could come to the rescue.
By the end of two weeks some three hundred of the defenders had been
killed, or so seriously wounded as to be incapable of rendering further
aid; and sparing though they had been of it, food remained for barely
two days more. In this sore strait Sadamasa summoned all his men and
with calm courage and determination addressed them as follows:—
“My men,” he said, “I cannot speak too highly of your bravery and
devotion, and I thank you. But the odds against us are too great and
the castle must be given up. Our ammunition has almost run out and we
have food for but two days more. To send for help is impossible, so
closely does the enemy watch every outlet. I will send an envoy to
Takeda requesting that you may all depart unmolested, while I myself
will commit _seppuku_. It may be in your hearts to fight to the end
rather than surrender the castle, but of what avail would it be for you
thus to sacrifice your lives. It would do no good to me nor to anyone
else. It is my wish that you should all live to join my father and
hereafter fight again for him and it may be recover the castle that we
are now forced by wholly unforeseen and unavoidable circumstances to
yield. There is nothing else to be done. Save yourselves and allow me
to commit _seppuku_.”
Sadamasa ceased speaking, but before the sound of his grave tones had
died away, a ringing voice from the rear took up his words.
“Commit _seppuku_, my lord! It is too soon to talk of such a desperate
measure! With your permission I will steal my way through the enemy’s
lines and summon reinforcements before it is too late.”
“Is it Katsutaka who speaks? My brave fellow, I appreciate your desire,
but the idea is quite impracticable. How could a rat, much less a giant
like you over six feet, get through the enemy’s lines unobserved, and
supposing such a miracle accomplished, how could an army reach us
in time to avert our dying from starvation? It is not without deep
consideration that I have come to the conclusion that I have just made
known to you. Your project is impossible.”
“Not so, my lord,” Katsutaka spoke quietly like a man who has fully
made up his mind and knows what he is about. “As you know, I am a
good swimmer, and I am strong. I will cross the river in the dark and
hurrying at utmost speed to His Excellency Lord Tokugawa lay before him
our need and request the instant despatch of troops to disperse the
besiegers. I have thought the matter over; I can do it.”
“Bravely conceived and bravely spoken, Katsutaka! Well, desperate
diseases call for desperate remedies. You can but fail and we shall be
no worse off than before. Go, my friend, and may luck attend you!” He
paused, for emotion made it difficult to speak; then recovering his
voice, he went on:—“Should you effect your escape, as you hope, it is
necessary that we should know of it that we may hold out to the last
minute. How can you inform us of the fact!”
“Easily, my lord. I will climb to the summit of Mt. Funatsuki and
cause smoke to rise by way of a signal. From thence to Okazaki where
Lord Tokugawa is in residence is a distance of only twenty-three miles
or so. I shall arrive at his castle by noon to-morrow, and having
delivered my message shall return without delay.”
“And how can you tell us of the coming of reinforcements?”
“At midnight, the day after to-morrow, I shall be back on the mountain,
and again I will signal to you by smoke. One column of smoke will
mean that His Excellency Lord Tokugawa’s troops are coming alone; two
will mean that they are accompanied by those of Lord Oda; and three
will signify that His Excellency’s army has been joined by both Lords
Oda,—an allied army of three divisions.”
“Can you by any possibility inform us of the number of troops?”
“Nothing easier, my lord. One shot will tell you that 10,000 troops are
on their way; two shots, 20,000; three shots 30,000. Have no fears, my
lord. I am confident that I shall succeed.”
“Heaven aid your heroic spirit, Katsutaka! When do you propose to
start?”
“With your permission, as soon as it is dark, my lord. There is no time
to be lost. Farewell!”
“Stay, my friend. I will give you something before you go. See here.”
Katsutaka approached nearer and his master gave into his hands a case
of costly incense and a valuable sword.
“This incense is a family treasure, having been handed down from
our ancestor, Prince Tomohira, the seventh son of the Emperor Murakami;
and this sword is another heirloom—a noted blade by Sadamuné. Take
these articles as some small recognition of your bravery and loyalty.”
With deep reverence the soldier received the precious gifts.
“Your lordship is too good to his humble servant. I accept your
generosity with profound gratitude.”
“Stay yet again, Katsutaka! I must pledge you in a parting cup.”
Two cups were brought and a bottle of _saké_. Katsutaka then executed a
war-dance singing a martial strain the while. Then he departed to make
the few preparations necessary for his perilous undertaking, leaving
all those assembled, both officers and men, full of admiration for his
heroism.
Clad in the lightest attire and with a small packet wrapped in
waterproof oil-paper in his hand, in the stillness of night, Katsutaka
stole out of a postern gate and crept to the bank of the River Iwashiro
which flowed at no great distance past the castle. The rainy season
having already set in, the stream was much swollen and the swift
current in its windings dashed furiously against either bank in
turn. Katsutaka hid himself among the tall reeds growing on the edge
and cast a searching eye in every direction. The full moon, breaking
out of a heavy bank of clouds, made the night almost as bright as day;
and to his dismay the adventurer saw that a web of large and small
ropes to which were fastened innumerable clappers was extended over the
stream, and that a close line of sentinels was on guard on the opposite
shore. When anything happened to touch the ropes the clappers would
rattle loudly “gara-gara, gara-gara,” and at each rattle the sentinels
were on the alert with torches to discover the cause of the noise.
At this unexpected difficulty Katsutaka was greatly taken aback.
How could he swim across the river in the face of such vigilant
precautions? To add to his dismay he saw waving lazily in the gentle
night breeze an _umajirushi_ or “horse-badge” and a flag, both bearing
a coat of arms that he knew belonged to Baba Nobufusa who was esteemed
the ablest of all the veteran generals of the opposing army.
“I am certainly under an unlucky star,” groaned Katsutaka. “With Baba
Nobufusa in charge of this side it is well-nigh impossible for me to
cross the river and effect a landing. But I will not give up
without doing my best, and it may be I shall yet find a way to elude
their vigilance.”
He tore up a reed and was about to hurl it into the river when it
struck him that if the root had earth on it the sagacious Nobufusa
would conclude that some one was hiding in the vicinity and order
his soldiers to make a strict search. That would be fatal to his
enterprise. He, therefore, washed the mud off the reed and then threw
it into the stream. Immediately it got entangled in the network
of ropes and set all the clappers clattering loudly, “gara-gara,
gara-gara.”
On the instant two sentinels leapt into the water and drew the reed to
land. It was taken to Nobufusa who carefully examined the root by the
light of a torch.
“There is nothing suspicious about this reed,” said the general. “It is
of no consequence.”
Katsutaka, peering intently from his hiding place on the other side,
felt his heart sink.
“It is hopeless to think of crossing,” he said to himself.
After a few moments of despondency he once more uprooted a reed and
washing off the mud as before cast it into the river. Again the
clappers were set a-going and again some of the men plunged into
the water to seek the cause.
“Another reed, my lord,” said the man who handed it to the general.
“The reeds are being washed off the bank by the flood,” he remarked
after examining the reed. “It is nothing; but nevertheless do not relax
your vigilance, my men.”
Katsutaka now picked up a dead branch that had been washed ashore, and
threw it at the ropes, and after that another reed. So he went on,
throwing now one thing, now another, keeping the clappers rattling
so unintermittingly that in time Nobufusa’s soldiers ceased to take
notice of the sound and no longer dashed into the river at every fresh
repetition. Still, however, Katsutaka could not venture to enter the
river himself, for watchful eyes never left off scanning the dark
waters. Time was passing. What could he do? Katsutaka was well-nigh in
despair. To return and confess he had failed at the very outset was
insupportable—unthinkable even!
Just then he heard the roll of a drum—the guard was being relieved.
Nobufusa’s men retired and Atobé Ōinosuké’s took their place.
Katsutaka’s spirits rose. Ōinosuké was noted for his subtlety, he knew,
but could not be compared with Nobufusa in patient strategy. Once more
Katsutaka began throwing things into the river, but the fresh sentinels
were very much on the alert and examined everything that set the
clappers rattling. Poor Katsutaka was feeling indeed hopeless when the
heavy clouds that had been coming up unobserved, obscured the moon and
there was a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Then with appalling
swiftness the storm was upon them. The noise was terrific. The heavy
rush of the rain that came down in sheets, the roar of the wind and the
roll and rattle of thunder made a pandemonium of the erstwhile peaceful
night.
Katsutaka had no fear of the elements; he only thought that now his
course was clear. He danced and shouted for joy, knowing that he could
be neither seen nor heard through the tumult and pitchy darkness. But
no time was to be lost. The storm might pass over as rapidly as it had
come. Stripping himself bare and tying his oil-paper package round his
neck he slipped into the turbid waters and with his dagger cut some
of the ropes that crossed it. The noisy clappers sounded faintly to
the watchers on the opposite bank, but as some men were about to
investigate their general stopped them.
“It is unnecessary, my men,” he said. “The clappers are moved by fish
coming down the flood from the upper reaches of the river. None of the
garrison opposite would be so mad as to attempt to cross in such a
storm—it would mean instant death. Therefore be reassured.”
“You speak truly, my lord,” assented one of the men. “It can only be
fish as your honour says.”
Tossed and whirled about by the current, Katsutaka struggled to the
opposite bank at a point about half a mile from where he had started.
He found this part also well guarded, but hoped that under cover of the
darkness and noise he might get through. Stealthily he was making his
way when suddenly his foot slipped on the wet ground and he fell with a
slight thud.
“Who goes there?” rang out the quick challenge in his ear.
Startled, Katsutaka scrambled to his feet and laid his hand on the hilt
of his dagger.
“One of the patrol, sir,” he answered readily.
“Is that all? I pity you out in the storm. Pass on!”
“Thank you, Captain. Good-night, sir.”
“Good-night. Do not relax your care. The enemy may take advantage of
the storm.”
“I will take care, sir.”
Thus his presence of mind saved the situation when all seemed lost, and
the first and most difficult part of his enterprise was accomplished.
* * * * *
By the time Katsutaka had ascended to the summit of the mountain from
whence he intended to signal, the rain had almost ceased and the rumble
of thunder was barely audible in the growing distance. As he paused
to take breath the moon shone out again and bathed the landscape
in silvery loveliness. With material brought in his little package
he managed to make a small blaze, trusting it would be seen by the
watchers at the castle who would be anxious to know of his escape. Then
once more resuming his journey he hastened down the declivity and with
no further adventure arrived at the town of Okazaki about 10 o’clock
the following morning.
As he drew near the castle he met an officer on horseback attended by
a few men on foot. To his great joy he recognized his own chief,
Lord Okudaira Sadayoshi. Placing himself in the way and bowing with due
reverence:—
“I am Torii Katsutaka, my lord,” he said, “and I have come on an urgent
errand from your honourable son at present beleaguered in the Castle of
Nagashino.”
“Beleaguered! My son beleaguered! What mean you by such strange
tidings? Follow me; I will return to the castle instantly.”
Turning his horse and followed closely by his retinue and Katsutaka,
Sadayoshi cantered quickly back the way he had come and dismounting in
the courtyard demanded of the messenger a more explicit and detailed
account of how matters stood. He was indignant beyond measure at what
he heard.
“This is wholly unexpected and unwelcome news,” he exclaimed. “My brave
fellow, your daring deed is beyond all praise. I came here two days ago
with Lord Tokugawa, on my way home intending to stay a short time. Now
I must proceed instantly. Wait here while I go to tell His Excellency;
it may be he will wish to question you himself.”
In a very short time an attendant summoned Katsutaka to the presence of
the famous statesman.
“Torii Katsutaka,” said he kindly, “you are a brave man, and have done
a wonderful thing. Let me know exactly how matters stand at the Castle
of Nagashino. You have my permission to speak to me directly.”
Expressing his sense of the honour shown him, Katsutaka, in the simple
words of a plain soldier, gave a detailed account of the state of
affairs within and without the castle when he had left it.
“If reinforcements be not instantly despatched, Your Excellency,”
he concluded, “the garrison will starve to death. I entreat, Your
Excellency, let no time be lost.”
“Reinforcements shall be sent with all possible speed,” said Iyeyasu.
“By a happy chance both Lords Oda are now in this province with their
troops, and they can reach the besieged castle in two, or at the most,
three days. But for you we should have known nothing till too late. You
are a hero indeed. Now go and get food and rest before you start on
your return journey.”
* * * * *
The afternoon of the same day, Iyeyasu, at the head of 20,000 men
proceeded to the castle of Ushikubo, where he was joined by the two
Lords Oda with their combined forces of 50,000 men. Arrangements were
set on foot for an early start the next morning.