by Nogami Yaeko
“Good heavens.” Her daughter’s lively chatter made Riki smile for the first time in days. She wondered how this daughter had turned out so different from her siblings. Thoughts of Kisaburō went through her mind with motherly affection. They both have their father’s big eyes, Riki thought, but besides that they don’t look much alike. And both of them have totally different personalities, especially since Kisaburō has become the fickle son and Katsu is so open and selfish.
Since Kisaburō had broken his arranged marriage, Katsu had been openly hostile to him. It wasn’t just that his rejection of the marriage had made her husband lose face, but she also felt that Kisaburō had purposely made fools of them. So when the conversation about Sakai shifted to Kisaburō, Katsu became relentless.
“Mother, you should give up Kisa-chan.”
“I hardly see him as it is. He stayed over only one night at New Year’s time.”
“He never comes to my house, either. He is just wandering around. But you should feel easy about Daikumachi. He seems to have had a fight with Ochika, and she’s not there anymore.”
“What?”
“She went back to the quarter. Ochika figured she could make some money being the mistress of a sixty-year-old-man.” Katsu knew an old woman who played jabisen who had spread the rumor, saying that Ochika had been wearing an exquisite kimono with gold leaf woven into the cloth. “After I heard that,” she continued, “I saw Kisa-chan. I told him, ‘Neither you nor your uncle can afford such expensive things, so you’d better wake up.’ He was sulky and gave me a fierce look.” Caught up in her anger at her brother, she pressed on. “When you and my father are away, nobody says anything about him. Old Oseki and the other employees cover up for him.” Although she saw Kisaburō as a failure of a brother, the employees at Rikyū’s store liked him. Oseki had always treated Kisaburō like her own grandson, and Katsu’s unconscious resentment of that still lingered from childhood.
She told Riki that she thought her parents might have some kind of message for Kisaburō. That’s why she had insisted on coming. “When I stopped by the store, they said that Kisaburō was traveling. It’s only his whim, but the excuse is great. He told them that he was going from Wakasa province to Chūgoku to buy salt. See, because of the preparation for invading China, all the prices have gone up. We can’t just wait to get the salt carried in by the horses. And Kanji, who used to do that job, has been sick. Gisuke was happy that Kisaburō was willing to go instead. But now he’s on his own with lots of money, so I’m sure he’ll take his time.”
For Riki’s part, she was glad to know that Kisaburō was finally showing some interest in the family business. It also made her happy that Ochika was out of her son’s life. But at the same time, Riki worried about Yahei, who had a habit of attracting unpredictable women. He would bring them from somewhere and then abandon them, or be abandoned by them.
“But I think he stayed with Ochika for a long time,” Katsu said. “I wonder what kind of person his new woman is, this Otane. She lives in Nishijin, not far from here, but you haven’t seen her yet.”
“Not only that …” Riki said.
This was one of Riki’s deepest worries. Her husband had sent Kisaku to find out where Yahei was. Riki had sent him again later, and again, but nobody knew where to find Yahei. It seemed that he hadn’t even returned to Nishijin. But Rikyū, who had wanted so urgently to see him, now didn’t even want to talk about it.
As Riki was fumbling her way through the explanation, a servant informed them that Rikyū had returned. Mother and daughter hurried to greet him.
“Oh, Katsu, it’s been such a long time,” he said, embracing his daughter. Lately when Rikyū returned from Jurakudai he was in a bad mood, but today he was cheerful. Was it because he was glad to see his daughter? When his good mood continued, Riki forgot all about her worries. She told him that Katsu had brought his favorite type of eel as a present from Sakai, and he suggested that they have it for dinner when Katsu’s husband came by.
Katsu frowned. “I wonder if my husband will be back here in time for dinner.”
“Why not wait for him? It’s rare to have the two of you here. By the way,” he suddenly changed the subject, “Did Kisaburō go on that salt-buying trip?”
“Well, as I told Mother, his first priority was to travel around to interesting places, so salt buying is his second.”
“He may seem like a wanderer, but he has a good instinct for business. He may take this job seriously, since he volunteered to do it.” Rikyū continued that the flowers would be in bloom, so it was a nice time to travel. The words stopped him cold, and he bit his lips. “Maybe I can go somewhere also,” he added, as if talking to himself.
20
A couple of days later Hideyoshi returned, and circumstances took a sudden turn.
Rikyū’s wooden statue was taken down from the gate at Daitokuji Temple and carried to Jurakudai. It was abandoned in an open space like garbage, just as Sōji’s corpse had been abandoned at Mount Ishigaki Castle—though perhaps Sōji’s body had been treated better; at least it had been half-covered. Although Hideyoshi himself had ordered the statue removed, he did not bother to go and look at it. Mitsunari’s plan had finally been carried out.
Prior to Hideyoshi’s return, Mitsunari had made a visit to Yodo Castle. He wanted to report on a number of affairs of state, but most especially to request an investigation of Rikyū. Hosokawa Tadaoki had quickly heard about it through the grapevine, and delivered the bad news.
Rikyū realized that the moment he had been dreading had finally come. It had been ten days since he had received the letter that had made him abruptly visit Daitokuji Temple in the middle of the afternoon. Since then, he had felt as if he had suddenly been thrown into a raging river.
The past few days had given him time to prepare his defense. Ieyasu had made his position clear at the tea gathering Rikyū had held for him on the twenty-fourth day of the month, and likewise, Rikyū didn’t think that Maeda Toshiie would be much help either, even if he was much more sympathetic than Ieyasu. Rikyū was sure he could rely on Hosokawa Tadaoki and Furuta Oribe, and the lords and samurai who served them. But even so, they were no match for Mitsunari, who had the support of five other retainers. Even though Hideyoshi favored Tadaoki, he still saw Tadaoki as a young man, not yet experienced enough to be taken seriously.
Despite the odds, Rikyū tried to be optimistic. The pole of his inner strength hadn’t been toppled by the first blow, and in fact it only got stronger as the days passed. His confidence rested on the fact that Hideyoshi needed him.
Recently, Hideyoshi had been thinking about building a new castle in Fushimi. Workers had been making good progress on the construction of Nagoya Castle in Kyūshū, which would be used as a base for attacking China. Hideyoshi liked the location of Fushimi for its proximity to Yodo Castle rather than any military matter, and so he kept the plan private. It was a delicate problem. He couldn’t ignore his wife’s jealousy, and so he didn’t want to rush the planning.
Hideyoshi relied on Rikyū more than anyone else for constructing new buildings. He often discussed Fushimi Castle with Rikyū when they were alone. In his imagination, the castle was already finished, and Tsurumatsu and Cha Cha were living there. Since it would one day house his heir, the castle had to be almost the equal of Jurakudai.
“Oda Urakusai says that there are two springs in Matsuyama that would be situated between the main castle and the castle tower. We could use that water to supply the teahouses,” Hideyoshi had told Rikyū. “You should go there with him and take a look at it.” Hideyoshi often relied on Rikyū in this way. When the actual construction began, Rikyū would have more work to do than when Hideyoshi attacked Shimazu in Kyūshū. No matter how Maeda Gen’i and Mitsunari plotted, before this necessity it would be like shooting arrows at rocks.
Rikyū, for his part, relied on himself rather than on Hideyoshi. The knowledge that everything depended on Hideyoshi’s mood was still in the back of his m
ind, like a person who lives near a stream and doesn’t hear the sound of the water unless he makes a conscious effort to become aware of it. And, like an old picture scroll that had been torn, the worst part of the story was missing. Rikyū was very aware, as Sōji had feared, that depending on Hideyoshi’s mood, day could change to night or east transpose with west. When Rikyū contemplated it, the worst-case scenario was the possibility of being exiled, and even that did not weigh heavily on him. If that happened, no matter where Rikyū was sent, he knew Hideyoshi would feel the loss greatly. Rikyū believed firmly that even if he were exiled, it would not be for long.
So when he showed a cheerful face and kind words to Katsu, it was not only from parental love. Recently, Imai Sōkyū had been kind to him and passed on a rumor, a whisper that Maeda Toshiie believed the same thing that Rikyū did. Rikyū was prepared now for what might come, and that gave him the composure to talk about traveling in the spring. But where would he go? Was he thinking about the time Kokei was exiled to Tsukushi? Was he thinking also about Kokei’s farewell tea, where he had used one of Hideyoshi’s scrolls without permission?
Rikyū engaged in unprecedented behavior. Usually when Hideyoshi returned to Jurakudai, Rikyū went to greet him. This time he made an excuse to stay home: the whole situation was too stressful, and it brought back his chronic diarrhea. The drop in temperature in the early spring mornings and nights also caused his cough to return. But it was also caution that kept him away: just as birds know not to fly out from the bushes during a storm, he wanted to wait until Hideyoshi’s anger diminished before venturing to see him.
Then came the trouble with the wooden statue. If Hideyoshi had summoned Rikyū, Rikyū would have gone even if he’d been on his deathbed. But Hideyoshi didn’t do it. He saw through Rikyū’s excuse of being sick, but he also did not miss Mitsunari’s intention: Mitsunari was making this accusation against Rikyū simply to get him away from the court.
Rikyū’s criticism of the coming invasion of China was unforgiveable. But even as he issued the order to scrap the wooden statue, Hideyoshi could not deny, in the bottom of his heart, that he understood why Rikyū had done it.
It reminded him of the nijiriguchi, the tearoom door that was so low that it forced everybody to enter on their knees. Hideyoshi liked the idea of making everybody crawl, no matter what their rank. But it was an unconventional addition that Rikyū had made to tearoom design. It could be said to be an impudent creation. Hideyoshi had immediately felt the connection between the idea of the nijiriguchi and placing the statue on the top of the gate, where even nobles would have to go under Rikyū’s feet when they entered.
So Hideyoshi was secretly amused by Rikyū’s boldness rather than angry about it, but Mitsunari convinced him that he should take it seriously. If they publicly prosecuted Rikyū for speaking out against China, it would only produce more rumors and make the situation worse. Since Rikyū was so influential, it would be better to discredit him, and the safest way to do that was to create a public scene around the statue. That kind of logic was classic Mitsunari—very rational, with no room to maneuver. Hideyoshi had no choice but to agree with him.
Besides, Hideyoshi was furious about Rikyū’s opposition to attacking China. Why should Rikyū speak out against the invasion? He wouldn’t be hurt by it. Imai Sōkyū often complained that because the preparations for attacking China made Kyūshū more important than Sakai, Sōkyū had lost status in Jurakudai. But that didn’t affect Rikyū, because Hideyoshi needed him all the time. The thought caused another surge of anger within Hideyoshi, like an uninvited problem.
In fact, the plan to invade China made Rikyū even more important. Hideyoshi needed Rikyū to help design the castle in Fushimi, and he had been very much looking forward to seeing Rikyū’s creation and how he would incorporate the Matsuyama springs. Everything that Rikyū designed was always unique and original. But this problem that Rikyū had caused had ruined Hideyoshi’s pleasure. The disappointment added fuel to the complex fire of Hideyoshi’s anger, and Hideyoshi decided that Rikyū would have to grovel before him for forgiveness.
One day after Hideyoshi’s return, he issued the order for Rikyū to come and see him at eight o’clock in the morning the next day. Rikyū knew Hideyoshi’s morning routine very well—the ruler waking up in his European bed, dressing with special care, having his morning health check, and then eating breakfast. Rikyū understood that he was being asked to come just after Hideyoshi finished his breakfast, but before Mitsunari or any of the other retainers arrived. They would be able to speak alone. The thought gave Rikyū a bit of relief.
Rikyū left for Jurakudai with Kisaku the next morning, just like it was any other day. He left even earlier than necessary, so that he could be in the waiting room when he was called.
The gate of Jurakudai had already been opened. There were still traces of sprinkled fresh water where the brooms had swept. The smell of the water lingered in the early spring morning air along with the scent of flowers. Off to one side, he heard Hideyoshi’s brother-in-law, Asano Danjō, practicing archery, arrow after arrow hitting the target. Asano was proud of his skill, and he had archery practice with his young warriors every day before going to the castle.
Rikyū turned a corner, and the main castle appeared. The rhythmic sound of the arrows hitting the target followed him as he walked. Whenever he looked at the castle, he could see the beautiful round profile of Higashiyama peeking above the far left side of the gold foil–covered roof tiles, which glittered like golden scales where the sunlight hit them. The three gabled stories of the castle rose in a sharp line against the blue sky. The view struck his eyes as if he had never seen it before.
In the same way, although he had walked the road beneath him so many times that it was as if his footsteps were printed on it, he still felt as if he had made an unexpected turn onto a strange side road. He turned and saw Kisaku, whose steps were heavier than usual, weighed down by worry.
“It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” Rikyū said to no one in particular.
The workers’ entrance at Jurakudai was located farther left than the main entrance, which was reserved for visitors. The wooden frame was sturdy, but of a much rougher construction than the main entrance. Extravagant decorations and elaborate paintings were applied where they needed to be, but everywhere else it was very plain. Hideyoshi had made this decision to save money.
Rikyū went through a large, dim hallway. It was full of servants, cleaning and wiping everything down. They all turned away from Rikyū. Even the ones who used to grovel before the high-ranking tea master now stared at him fearlessly, watching the ghost of the abandoned wooden statue pass through the hall.
The next long hallway, which led to the rest of the castle, was quieter. Ordinarily, people passed through it endlessly, but today it was still early and thus almost deserted. From the farthest corner, near the guards, one of Hideyoshi’s pages came forward hurriedly. He was wearing trendy dyed-leather foot coverings that kicked his formal kimono pants as he walked. He brought the message from Hideyoshi that Rikyū was to wait in the tiger room until he was called. To Rikyū, it seemed like just yesterday that this young man had been a boy with a forelock, smiling with delight when Rikyū gave him some leftover sweets. But today, as if overnight, he had become a different man.
Rikyū went into the tiger room, named for a large screen with a tiger painting. This room was on the other side of the room that tea masters usually waited in, and was used for the retainers of local lords who were occasionally permitted to greet Hideyoshi. They all sat in a reserved manner. Rikyū joined them as if he, too, were a country dweller here in Jurakudai for the first time. The room faced the end of the garden, and the bamboo leaves outside looked yellow and tasteless. He heard a bush warbler chirping farther away. He hadn’t slept well last night. In a half-dreaming state, just before dawn, he had heard a bird singing in his garden. It was as if the same bird had followed him and was chirping for him again. He listened to it with h
is full attention.
He realized that he himself had become somebody else. He was no longer Hideyoshi’s tea master, nor his tea teacher, nor his favorite aide. He was only a piece of wood that had been abandoned in an empty field out back.
Finally Hideyoshi called him into his study. “Sōeki, has your sickness been cured? A feigned sickness is still a sickness,” he said by way of greeting. Rikyū lowered his head even further, keeping it down between his hands as he knelt on the floor.
Hideyoshi pursued the topic. “But I won’t let you lie about the statue. Kokei told me that he had commissioned someone to carve the statue and gave the order to place it in the gate. But I know the two of you. He’s covering up for you.”
Rikyū closed his eyes, tightened his lips, and bowed even lower, thus affirming what Hideyoshi had said. He could not protect himself, but he wanted to save Kokei if he could. Hideyoshi’s speculation had been particularly helpful. “Yes, your honorable guess is right.”
“I heard it was you who volunteered to renovate the gate. You just couldn’t stand knowing that it wasn’t yours, could you? You had to put your stamp on it by having your statue placed in the Buddha hall. That’s outrageous! Did you intend for me to go underneath your feet when I visit the temple?”
Hideyoshi’s complexion was faded from lack of sleep, staying up to watch his sick son. His forehead was larger than his chin, so with his cheeks sunken in, his face looked even more like a wedge than usual. His eyes held a grudge that went beyond passing anger. As he made his accusations, he thought about the first time he’d heard about the nijiriguchi. Only Rikyū could have made that kind of tearoom entrance. The anger arose again when Hideyoshi thought about his plans for Fushimi Castle, now gone awry because of this tea master.
