Hideyori faithfully observed his part of the “Vows of Peace,” and
the outer moat which had constituted the greatest element in the
“impregnability” of his castle was filled up and levelled with the
ground. But Iyeyasu who had never had the least intention of fulfilling
his part of the treaty held back the stipulated provinces in spite of
all the demands of Hideyori. Hence in the spring of the following year
hostilities were resumed, and a great army commanded by Iyeyasu
once more invested the Castle of Osaka.
The garrison made a stubborn resistance for some weeks but the fortress
was now shorn of its main protection, and most unfortunately the
discord between Madame Yodogimi’s favourite generals and the other
officers assumed formidable dimensions. In consequence, the defenders
were severely defeated in more than one engagement, and their numbers
were so greatly reduced that it was impossible for them to hold the
castle much longer.
One night Sanada Yukimura, the Chief of the General Staff, met
Shigenari in secret.
“It is not possible for us to hold out,” he said gloomily. “We must
effect the escape of our lord out of the castle and convey him to a
place of security—he can take refuge in the province of Lord Shimazu.
Through him we may be able to do something to retrieve our losses and
restore the power of our clan. Some of us must go with our chief, but
in order the more easily to get away the enemy must be deluded with
the idea that Hideyori and his bravest warriors have fallen; therefore
we must leave substitutes behind us who resemble us in some degree.
Their bodies will be found, and the enemy will think we are dead and
not try to pursue us as they most certainly would do if they thought
we had fled. I have found my substitute; do you find yours. I must
regret that it is necessary for these men to sacrifice their lives for
ours, but we must all act for the future good of the clan to which we
owe allegiance—all personal considerations must give way. Do you not
approve of my plan?”
“It is an excellent idea,” replied Shigenari, after some reflection.
“And I heartily approve of it. But if every experienced general leaves
the castle even though substitutes are left, the shrewd Iyeyasu
will soon suspect the truth. I at any rate must remain. I was seen
by Iyeyasu and his staff only a short time ago; they will not have
forgotten my features and cannot be deceived by another man clad in my
armour. Therefore, I leave the escort of our lord and the restoration
of the clan to you and the other generals. I will stay alone with the
garrison and fight to the last. My death and your life are equally
necessary for the sake of our lord. So do not seek to dissuade me. I am
resolved.”
“A truly noble resolve, my friend,” said Yukimura with admiration.
“Would that I could remain with you! I am reluctant to leave you alone
and we shall miss your help, but if you are determined to do
this thing far be it from me to dissuade you. It must be well-known
to the enemy that you are a favourite of our lord and always in close
attendance on his person; so when they find your dead body on the field
they will never suspect he has escaped. Your death in this way will be
the means of restoring the power of the Toyotomis. I could find it in
my heart to envy you, good comrade!”
“Then that is settled. To-morrow I will charge the enemy’s line with my
men and divert his attention while the rest of you steal out from the
rear.”
After a few words of affectionate farewell, the two men parted knowing
they would never meet again.
* * * * *
On retiring to his room for a brief rest, Shigenari spoke to his young
wife in his usual cheerful manner.
“To-morrow our troops are going to make a sally that will effectually
dispose of the enemy,” he said. “On such a notable occasion I wish to
wear the armour my lord graciously gave me last year; pray bring it to
me.”
When his wife brought it he took the helmet; and burning some very
precious incense called _Ranjatai_, held the helmet so that the smoke
ascended into it. Aoyagi, divining from his manner that he had some
solemn motive for this action, felt her heart sink.
“You intend to die fighting in to-morrow’s engagement:—is it not so, my
husband?”
“Die fighting?” said Shigenari. “Why do you ask? Does not a soldier
always take his life in his hand when he goes to the field of battle?”
“Yes, but there is some special reason why I think you will fall
to-morrow. I have often heard that a warrior burns incense into his
helmet when he is determined to die on the field. I know the castle
will fall before long and I am sure you mean to give up your life in
to-morrow’s battle. Do not seek to deceive me. I am the daughter of a
samurai. I will not let you die alone.”
“My brave wife! Forgive my hesitation in disclosing to you my resolve.
I forebore to take you into my confidence fearing just this thing.”
He then gave his wife an account of his conversation with Sanada
Yukimura and of their decision.
“Though I give up my life for my lord,” he concluded. “Do not be so
rash as to die with me. It is my wish that you should live and
pray for the prosperity of our lord. Live for his sake. It is my last
request.”
“Your wish is my law,” answered his wife. “I will obey you. I know you
will die a glorious death and leave undying fame behind you!”
Then Aoyagi brought _saké_ and two tiny cups in which they drank
to their long farewell. That ceremony over, Aoyagi excused herself
and retired to her own apartment. As she did not return, Shigenari,
wondering at her long absence, went to seek her; and to his horror and
amazement found that she had committed suicide with a short sword that
lay beside the lifeless body. A written paper explained her rash act.
“Husband,” it ran, “forgive my dying before you. I meant to obey you,
but I cannot do so. Kō-u of China, though a brave warrior overcome with
grief at parting with wife, hesitated shamefully before going to his
last battle. In our country Kiso Yoshinaka showed the same weakness.
Not for a moment do I compare you to those men, but still I think that
I, who losing you will have no further hope in this world, had better
die now before you fight your last fight and go to wait for you in
Hades. Do your best against the foe! We shall meet again in the
Spirit World—till then farewell! Aoyagi.”
* * * * *
The morning of the next day broke clear and cloudless. It was the first
day of the fifth month in the twentieth year of Keichō (1615).
A large force under the command of Ii Naotaka advanced from the enemy’s
camp and rushed to the attack. Shigenari met them at the head of seven
hundred cavalry, and a fierce struggle took place. With the strength of
desperation Shigenari’s company, though so inferior in numbers, beat
back the foe. But as one regiment was beaten, another and yet another
dashed forward to take its place, and it was impossible that the castle
party could win in the end.
“We must cut our way into the main regiment,” said Shigenari during
a short breathing space to his faithful retainer Ryōkwan—once known
as the “Tea-priest”—“If we can only manage to kill Ii Naotaka, the
Commander in Chief, the enemy will be disheartened and we may have some
chance.”
Then inspired by the example of their leader, the little band
hurled themselves on the foe; and unable to stand against such
fury, the fourth and fifth companies fell back in disorder, and it
seemed that a general rout would be the result.
Ii alone stood his ground. Brandishing his _saihai_ or baton he roared
in stentorian tones:—
“Cowards! Do you fly before such a handful? Back, back, and the day is
ours!”
His words took instant effect. His flying troops rallied, maintained
their position and fought bravely. Seeing this, Shigenari smiled grimly
to himself.
“Now is my time to break through the lines, kill Ii and then die!”
Putting spurs to his horse he darted forward swift as a flash of
lightning, his brilliant helmet and shining armour gleaming in the
sun. Ryōkwan followed close with his heavy iron rod, and the rest
of the devoted band strove to keep up, cutting and hewing their way
through the ranks. So violent was their onset that again Ii’s men
wavered. At this critical juncture Seki Jūrozaemon, a samurai noted
for his huge strength, suddenly appeared and struck at Shigenari with
a great halberd; but Shigenari’s spear point pierced clean through his
breastplate of mail and he fell dead from his horse. Ii’s soldiers were
panic-stricken and none ventured to oppose Shigenari who continued
his onward rush and attacked Ii before he had time to escape. Being
no match for his assailant, Ii must have fallen had it not been for
one Fujita Noto-no-Kami who came to his rescue. Furious at this check
Shigenari turned to throw him from the saddle with a single thrust, and
in that moment Ii managed to escape.
Looking back, Shigenari could see but few of his men; nearly all had
fallen in the mêlée. Severely wounded, and faint with loss of blood,
Shigenari realised that he could do no more. Unnoticed he alighted from
his spent horse and retired to a small grove on some elevated ground.
His approach was observed by a low fellow belonging to Ii’s camp who
was hiding behind the trees. Such was the estimation in which Shigenari
was held that even in his weakness he inspired awe and dread. The
skulking coward did not dare to attack him openly, but as the wounded
hero lay gasping on the ground stole softly up behind him and aimed a
blow at his head. Shigenari heard the slight rustle of his approach and
turned, whereupon the wretch made off. Shigenari called him back.
“Fellow,” he said, “whoever you are, come here and take my head.”
But the man fearing some trick hesitated to obey.
“Coward,” cried the dying warrior, “you have nothing to fear from me.
Cut off my head, but I conjure you not to remove the helmet till you
present it to your master, Iyeyasu. I am impatient—cut off my head as I
bid you.”
As he spoke Shigenari lifted the lower plates of his helmet and
stretched out his neck for the blow. As in a trance the craven crept up
and severed the head from the body. Then gaining courage he raised the
dripping trophy high in the air and shouted at the top of his voice:—
“I, Andō Chōzaburō, single-handed, have taken the head of
Nagato-no-Kami Shigenari, the most renowned warrior in the Osaka Army!”
The boast reached the ears of a man covered with blood who was still in
the thick of the fray. It was Ryōkwan.
“My Lord, Nagato-no-Kami, was not the man to be killed by such a
weakling as Andō,” he cried, as loudly as his failing strength would
permit. “He had some reason for allowing his head to be cut off.
Remember that, my enemies.”
With that he stabbed himself in his abdomen and expired.
* * * * *
After the battle the head of Shigenari, enclosed in its helmet, was
taken to Iyeyasu for inspection. It had been the desire of all that
day to get the head of the hero, and Ieyasu had the helmet removed
for verification. As this was done the sweet odour of incense floated
through the air.
The old statesman surveyed the noble features with something of
reverent admiration.
“Never was a more loyal or courageous samurai than Nagato-no-Kami!” he
said slowly. “Would that I had many like him!”
* * * * *
The attempted escape from the castle proved a failure. On May 8th, the
besiegers once more attacked the castle on all sides, and there ensued
one of the bloodiest struggles in the history of Japan. It resulted in
the complete overthrow of Hideyori’s faction and the destruction of the
castle by fire. The unfortunate nobleman, his mother and all the
maids of honour perished in the flames.
[6] A samurai of lower rank whose business it was to serve his lord
with tea, and who was often master of the tea ceremonies. He had his
head shaven like a priest—hence the name “tea-priest.”