THE HEROISM OF TORII KATSUTAKA
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.
Iyeyasu then spoke to Katsutaka again:—
“As you see, our allied armies will be able to reach Nagashino in two days at the latest. So rest assured that the relief will be in time. You must be greatly fatigued. Remain here a few days till you are fully rested.”
“Your Excellency is too considerate, but I cannot take advantage of your kindness. I must return at once and tell the garrison of the success of my mission and that help is coming. Allow me to set out without delay.”
“By your own showing it would be quite impossible for you to re-enter the castle in the manner in which you came out. Do not be rash, but stay here as I advise you.”
“A thousand pardons, Your Excellency,” said Katsutaka, respectfully, but firmly. “At the risk of my life I undertook this errand; I will carry it through to the end. It is an honour more than my poor life is worth to have been granted speech with Your Excellency and favoured with words of commendation from your august lips. Life can offer me no higher grace. Even should I be captured by the enemy and put to an ignominious death I should have nothing to regret. The garrison is starving; to know that help is on the way will give them new life. Permit me to go, Your Excellency.”
“If you are so set upon it,” replied Lord Tokugawa, “I will say no more. You shall take a letter from me to Sadamasa.”
“That would be dangerous, Your Excellency. If the letter were found on my person notice would be given of your approach and the enemy would take steps accordingly.”
“Right,” said Iyeyasu with a smile. “You are wise as well as brave, my Katsutaka!”
Then Katsutaka bade farewell to Lord Tokugawa and Lord Okudaira Sadayoshi, and shouldering his gun set out once more on his perilous journey.
Anxiously did the diminishing and weakened garrison at the besieged castle wait for the signal that should tell them help was coming. Cheered by the knowledge that Katsutaka, contrary to expectation, had succeeded in eluding the sentinels they now had some hope that he would have the same good fortune in his further quest. In turn watchmen went up to the high tower and strained their eyes in the direction whence the promised signal would appear. At midnight of the second day, to their boundless joy, they descried a light as of a bonfire on Mt. Funatsuki; and soon three columns of dark smoke rose in the still air plainly seen against the sky that was lighted up by a great round moon. Help was coming! But would it be sufficient? How many troops were on their way? Hark! a sharp report, and then another and yet another till seven shots gave the glad assurance of the approach of 70,000 men. The starving men took heart again, and forgetting hunger and wounds looked forward with joy to their speedy relief.
But the sound of the shots reached other ears as well as those for which it was intended. The company on guard at the foot of the mountain heard it too, and a detachment went up to investigate. General Naito Masatoyo himself led the little band. With no thought of danger Katsutaka, triumphant, was gaily running down when he found himself surrounded by the very men he wished to avoid.
“Halt! Who are you?” demanded the general. Katsutaka’s ready wit did not desert him.
“Hearing shots, I have been with my comrades to find out what they meant. We have searched everywhere but can find no one. I am coming down to report our failure.”
“Come nearer and let me see your face. Who is your captain?”
“I belong to the company of riflemen under the command of Captain Anayama.”
“Your name!”
“My name—my name is....”
“Men, take this fellow prisoner.”
More easily said than done. At the command four or five soldiers sprang forward to obey, but Katsutaka made such a vigorous defence that they found it impossible to hold him; and freeing himself from their grasp he ran down towards the foot of the hill. More soldiers were coming up, however, so he turned back, hoping under cover of some bushes to slip past and thus escape. But he was seen and caught as in a trap. Dealing heavy blows right and left he made a good fight, but the odds were too overwhelming and he was at last forced to yield. His gun was taken from him and handed to the general who found thereon an inscription in red lacquer, “One of 3,000 guns belonging to the Castle of Okazaki.”
The truth flashed upon him. He guessed that the man they had captured had been to Okazaki to ask for reinforcements. Late though it was he must be taken before the Commander-in-chief, General Katsuyori, at once.
Bloodstained and travel-worn Katsutaka presented a pitiable sight when, roused from his slumbers, the general surveyed him by the imperfect light of a lantern. Yet there was something in the bearing of the man that called forth a feeling of admiration for his courage rather than compassion for his condition and circumstances.
“Your name?” said the general.
Having no motive now for concealment Katsutaka spoke out boldly.
“Torii Katsutaka, retainer of Lord Okudaira Sadamasa, Governor of the Castle of Nagashino.”
“You have been to Okazaki, for reinforcements, and fired these shots from the top of Mt. Funatsuki by a prearranged plan. Is it not so?”
“It is so, Your Excellency.”
“It was a hazardous errand. You must tell me later how you managed to creep through our lines. I know how to appreciate and reward bravery, and would like to number you among my men. If you will come over to us I will give you a yearly stipend of 1,000 koku4 of rice. If you refuse you die.”
Pretending to be pleased with the offer Katsutaka accepted it with many expressions of gratitude. He was thinking that by doing this he might put his captors off their guard and be able to escape, or in some way render a service to those shut up in the castle.
“You do me too much honour, Your Excellency,” he said. “I am but a humble private but I will use all diligence to serve you faithfully.”
“I am glad you are troubled by no foolish scruples as to desertion,” said the general, who nevertheless was somewhat surprised at the ready acceptance of his proposal. “There is something I desire you to do at once to prove your sincerity.”
In a low voice General Katsuyori gave an order to an aide-de-camp, who retired and after a little time came back with a written paper which he handed to his chief. It purported to be a letter from Sadayoshi to his son, informing him that, on account of a sudden outbreak of insurrection, Lord Tokugawa was unable to despatch troops to the relief of the Castle of Nagashino and that there was nothing to be done but to give it up on the best terms available. The letter was a skilful imitation of Sadayoshi’s hand, for it had been written by an officer who had once served under him and who was well acquainted with his style.
Showing the forgery to Katsutaka with no little pride, Katsuyori said:—
“Now, my man, you must write another letter to confirm the intelligence contained in this one, and both letters shall be at once shot over the walls. What! do you hesitate?”
Seeing no course open to him but to obey, Katsutaka did as required. The two missives were then fastened to an arrow and shot into the castle by a skilled archer.
The consternation and disappointment of the expectant garrison can be better imagined than described. All the more bitter was this news from the hope that had preceded it. Strong men wept.
But Okudaira Jiyemon, chief Councillor, having closely examined the letters, burst out laughing.
“It is hardly an occasion for mirth, Jiyemon,” said Sadamasa, much displeased at this untimely merriment. “May I inquire the nature of the joke?”
“Ha, ha, ha! I beg your lordship’s pardon, but Katsuyori is a dull fellow to imagine we could be taken in so easily. Be so good as to look at this paper—it is not the kind manufactured in this province such as our lord always uses, but in theirs. That one fact gives them away. Never fear, my lord! Take my word for it, Katsutaka’s signals told the truth. This is but a plot to deceive us into surrendering before help comes.”
It was now plain to all that the letters were not genuine and their spirits again rose. Going up to the high tower Sadamasa called so that the sentinels on the other side could hear him.
“Soldiers of Kai, approach! I have something to say in answer to the letters sent me but now. Request an officer to come near enough to hear my words.”
He raised his voice so that every word rang clear and distinct
Nothing doubting but that Sadamasa wished to make terms of surrender, Katsuyori himself came forth, attended by his suite.
“Accept my best thanks for your arrow-letters,” began Sadamasa politely. “It was good of you to pass on my father’s communication and I am much obliged to you.” Then suddenly changing his tone, “Do you think,” he thundered, “that such a clumsy trick could deceive us or induce me to give up the stronghold of my ancestors? Fools! The laugh is on our side! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Ha, ha, ha!” roared the men behind him greatly enjoying the discomfiture of the men below.
Katsuyori was furious.
“Go, Katsutaka,” he shouted. “Go to the edge of the moat and tell them that no reinforcements are coming—that they must surrender!”
Guarded by two men, for he had not yet been set at liberty, Katsutaka stepped forward to the edge of the moat, and raising his voice so that every word rang clear and distinct:—
“Listen, my lord, and comrades,” he said. “What I tell you is the truth. Lord Tokugawa and the two Lords Oda, with an allied army of 70,000 men are hastening to your rescue. They will be here to-morrow without fail. The arrow-letters are utterly false. Rest assured!”
So wholly unexpected was this bold speech that no one thought of stopping it till the mischief was done. As a mighty cheer went up from the besieged, however, the infuriated soldiers of the investing army seized Katsutaka and in mad fury kicked and cuffed him mercilessly. Then at Katsuyori’s command they crucified him just opposite the main gate of the castle he had given his life to save.
Early the next morning the allied forces came and the Kai army being utterly routed, the siege was raised.