by Nogami Yaeko
Tadaoki was closer to Maeda Toshiie than Oribe, and so he got more precise information. The latest news from Tadaoki was delivered by way of a letter from Matsui Yasunori, a retainer of his who was close to Rikyū. In that way, Rikyū found out that Ishida Mitsunari and Maeda Gen’i thought his punishment was too lenient, and that they might request something more severe. It made the situation much more difficult for Rikyū.
Other news gave him some slight relief. Rikyū had been worried about Kokei and his role in the affair, but it looked like his only punishment was to be confined to Sōkenin Temple.
Kokei, who conducted Hidenaga’s funeral, had recently been invited to do the memorial service marking the forty-ninth day after Hidenaga’s death. That was before the scandal erupted, and it was a great shock to everyone to hear him accused of criminal activity. Hidenaga’s wife, who knew how much Hidenaga had trusted Kokei, thought that the accusation might prevent Hidenaga from being happy in the afterlife. Her fears were echoed by Hideyoshi’s mother. Still grieving her son’s death, she persuaded Hideyoshi to be lenient to the old monk.
Although the letter from Kyōto didn’t describe the details, Rikyū could imagine the scene as if he’d been there: whenever Hideyoshi went to visit his mother, he became once again the village boy of his youth, and listened obediently to her complaints. Then he accepted her requests, and consoled his mother until her tears dried.
Rikyū knew that Kokei would gladly give up his own freedom if it meant that Rikyū would be released from his confinement. That was fine with Rikyū, as long as it was just a feeling and Kokei didn’t act on it. Otherwise it might affect not only Kokei; the other chief abbots might have to be involved. Daitokuji Temple itself might have to take responsibility. Rikyū sent a secret note to Matsui asking him to tell Kokei that this time he had to obey Hideyoshi’s orders. But things suddenly got worse, from a completely unexpected direction.
The thing that Rikyū worried would happen to Kokei became his own problem. Since Kokei had been freed without punishment, people had sympathy towards Rikyū. They began to feel as if they could save him, too. They were all aware that Rikyū and Hidenaga had a special relationship. Kokei had been pardoned because he had conducted the memorial service, but Rikyū’s situation was different. In Maeda Toshiie’s opinion, Rikyū needed to apologize and beg Hideyoshi for mercy.
Almost immediately after the news that Kokei had been pardoned, an unexpected letter arrived from Yura, Hideyoshi’s wife’s maid. Yura controlled the entire domestic life of Jurakudai. A bright and helpful woman, she was well educated, and was especially good at writing letters. Hideyoshi’s wife, who had grown up in the country and had no training in letter writing, often relied on her as a secretary, as did Hideyoshi’s mother.
But this letter from Yura was a private letter, a response to a secret letter from Riki. Riki had written to apologize for not coming to formally say goodbye. She asked Yura to convey to Hideyoshi’s mother and his wife that she greatly appreciated their favor, and wanted to express her gratitude with words.
Yura’s reply indicated that she knew everything that had happened. Although she wrote that she was speaking only for herself, the nuance made it clear that she had been speaking to Hideyoshi’s wife. She said that Hideyoshi’s mother, Hidenaga’s wife, and Hideyoshi’s wife were all secretly worried about this problem. If Rikyū made a sincere, formal apology, she suggested, there was a good possibility that Hideyoshi’s wife would intercede for him.
Riki read the letter over and over for Rikyū, feeling as if they’d just received a blessing from above. But Rikyū had a different reaction.
Although he read the letter as closely as his wife, his anxiety was a sharp contrast to her happy relief. When his lips finally moved, he spit hateful words.
“Everybody wants me to grovel.” Rikyū glared at his wife as if she represented everyone. “I was punished. Dismissed from my place of residence. I’m not supposed to leave Sakai, or even my house. Where and how do they want me to apologize?”
Rikyū hadn’t turned on his wife. Nor on Hideyoshi’s mother, nor on Maeda Toshiie. His scorching anger was directed at himself. He pushed down the part of himself that wanted to grovel. He knew only too well that if he followed their advice, it would be the safest, the wisest, and the most advantageous way back into Hideyoshi’s good graces. He knew it, but he didn’t want to do it. He’d had enough of flattering. Besides, even if he was forgiven, Hideyoshi would still have him by the neck, and he didn’t want to be in that position anymore.
Besides that, he had doubt and fear. Where and how would he apologize? Even if he decided to grovel before Hideyoshi, could he just go back to Kyōto? He might even be accused of breaking his exile, a second crime piled on top of the first. He believed that Toshiie, Tadaoki, and Oribe would help him, but he was afraid of what counterplots might be brewing.
It had been only ten days since he had been sent back to Sakai. Already, Kokei had been released through the good offices of Hideyoshi’s mother and Hidenaga’s wife, and now Rikyū knew that Hideyoshi’s wife had sympathy for him. And just as the letter from Yura to his wife had been unexpected, in the same way, he might soon receive a secret letter from somebody who was ordered by Hideyoshi. So for all these reasons, he thought, he didn’t have to rush. It would be better to wait than to act thoughtlessly.
Suddenly, the image of the wooden statue appeared in his consciousness. Up until now, he had never wondered whether the statue was still in the trash heap at Jurakudai. He’d never been in there, but he could visualize it vividly. The illusion led to a memory of Sōji. “If I hadn’t taken Sōji with me on that day …” Suddenly he was seized by violent fright. Before he had been sent to Sakai, he had been worried about being exiled to the northern end of Japan, but he had never felt dread like this. Now, in his imagination, Sōji had become the wooden statue, and the wooden statue had become Sōji. The wooden statue’s head was removed, and became one with Sōji’s corpse, which had started to decay. Rikyū closed his eyes.
Seeing Rikyū’s mood turn to anger, Riki paled. In blank amazement, she could not even ask why the letter from Yura had made him so angry. She didn’t know what to do. Her eyes filled with tears, and the hand that held the letter quivered.
After a few moments, Rikyū calmed down, opened his eyes, and looked at his wife, who was still so beautiful despite her sorrows. He suddenly felt love toward her, and regretted his flare of temper. But he didn’t feel like talking about everything that had just gone through his mind. Instead, he said the one thing that summarized his emotions as if he were talking to himself. “I definitely don’t want to repeat Sōji’s mistake.”
Riki stared back at her husband through her tears. “Why are you suddenly talking about Sōji, who had such an ill-fated death?”
“I just thought about him,” Rikyū said vaguely, and changed the subject. He told her that she should write a letter in reply, and instructed her in what words she should use. “’My husband truly appreciates your kindness. We will ask your favor soon. Most of all, please accept our deep appreciation.’” But he did not touch on the apology that had been requested, and the words were very vague. He left unspoken the nuance that it would depend on the circumstances. “I have to think about it more,” he concluded. “Why don’t you write that much now? You’ve got it, right?”
“Yes,” Riki replied obediently. She put the letter from Yura under her collar. As she stood up to go and write the letter, Rikyū called out to her. “Riki.”
“Eh?”
“You grew up in Nara. You’ve never heard of the monk Ikkyū, have you?”
“Not at all.” Riki sat down again, unable to hide her confusion. Why was such a monk important now? She needed to write that reply to Yura quickly.
Rikyū began to tell her the story of this monk, who had been especially famous in Sakai and had carried a wooden sword in a red-orange lacquered scabbard instead of a tin cane. As he spoke, Rikyū touched on folk stories that were well
known in the city, explaining that everything that the monk did was unconventional, and he had still lived to be eighty-eight. “His final words to his disciples, as he lay on his deathbed, were that he didn’t want to die. What an unusual thing for an enlightened man to say! But because he was such a great monk, he was able to say it unashamedly.”
In truth, he wasn’t talking to his wife. If she were not there, he might have said the same thing to the pillar in the window on the right side of the room, or the paper sliding doors, or the walls. But his vision of Sōji’s death had made him think of Ikkyū, and that vision had come because he was wondering where and how to apologize. He had a premonition that the letter from Yura would turn out to be bad luck. Ikkyū’s last words stuck in Rikyū like a nail. I don’t want to die, he thought to himself. No, I should never die. Such a thing would never happen to me. But still the fear filled his heart.
As soon as Riki left, Rikyū stood up and opened the screen door. The afternoon sunlight fell on the white wall, and the heat haze shimmered against the wall of the earthen storage house on the other side of the garden. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon.
It was already the twentieth of February. Spring came earlier to Sakai than to Kyōto. By the well there was a camellia tree with beautiful, full blossoms. Those heads would fall to the ground even while they were still in bloom. Already there were many dropped flowers on the bamboo screen over the well, face down like lined-up sake cups.
The garden he was looking at was only an empty space in the city. It had rocks, plants, and moss; it had its own taste. On one side of the garden was an earthen storage shed, and the other side was enclosed by a blackboard fence. The roof tiles of the store and the continuous houses showed through the high branches of an old Chinese black cypress. There was an old maple tree whose leaves changed beautifully in the fall. The fence could not shut out the rest of the city, but Rikyū liked the city atmosphere. He felt relaxed every time he looked at the garden. Whenever he had returned to Sakai, Rikyū was able to completely separate his life from Jurakudai. He had never wanted the stress of his job affecting his home life. The castle was the castle; his home was his home.
His garden in Sakai was very different from the splendid gardens of Jurakudai, or even the garden at his house there. But now, as he looked at the fallen camellia flowers on the bamboo screen, his mind was far away from his familiar garden, back at his house in Jurakudai. There, the magnolia flowers were being replaced by young buds, and the spring orchid among the stones near the water basin would be giving off its lovely fragrance. He wondered if somebody was at least cleaning the garden.
Before his exile, Rikyū had never felt nostalgic for his house in Jurakudai. But now he thought of the abandoned, empty house with closed doors and windows. The spring weeds would be growing unhindered, and the only songs in the garden were those of the birds. “The cherry tree will bloom soon,” he said to himself.
He thought now of a double-flowered cherry tree at one of the teahouses close to Jurakudai. Although it was old, the trunk was thick, and it still flowered as energetically as ever. At the peak of the blossoming, thick, pink clusters of flowers layered and spread to the four directions. It looked more lewd than beautiful. Rikyū had wanted to cut the tree down because it was too bright and bold for the serenity of the tea garden. But Hideyoshi liked cherry trees in general, and this one in particular, so it stayed where it was. Every spring when it bloomed, Rikyū would click his tongue at the unharmonious explosion of blossoms, so contrary to the simple aesthetic of tea. Now he even missed that tree.
There were slippers with thick white straps on the stone step in front of him, inviting him to step down into the garden and cross it to the teahouse. He didn’t go. Instead, he stood still in a cold, dark hole where the thick layer of tree leaves prevented any sunlight from reaching him. He thought he could smell the fragrance of that spring orchid in the tea garden far away in Jurakudai. I wonder if the letter from Yura was more about Kampaku-sama’s intentions than his wife’s, he mused.
Clouds floated lazily in the sky beyond the storage house. The sun was setting, and against the light they glittered like scales on the belly of a big fish. The wind started to blow, and the sound of the waves heightened. It was typical for the season. The roar of the waves was like a folk song for the people who had grown up in this port city. When he was in Kyōto he missed the sound, but now it only made him more aware that he was in Sakai, not Kyōto.
He could not allow himself the thought that this spring would be the last time he would ever see that garden with its orchid and the hateful cherry tree. He tried to put such ideas out of his mind.
22
Rikyū’s speculation wasn’t right, but it wasn’t wrong, either: Hideyoshi’s wife knew her husband well enough to understand what he was thinking, and she had instructed Yura to write the letter accordingly.
For a while after the banishment, Hideyoshi didn’t talk about Rikyū at all. The subject seemed too hateful to discuss. When he finally mentioned Rikyū’s name again, Hideyoshi’s words were full of bile.
“That stupid old monk! Even if I had kicked him all the way to hell, it wouldn’t be enough. Who helped him to become Japan’s highest-ranking tea master, anyhow? Ungrateful wretch! He can go to the devil. He’s not the only tea master for me.”
His wife, of course, knew that Hideyoshi’s scorching abuse only showed how much he clung to Rikyū.
In the past, Nobunaga had told Hideyoshi that his wife was too good for a bold rat like him. She was twelve years younger than Hideyoshi, and still looked youthful, since she had never borne any children. She had stood by Hideyoshi through many hardships until he had finally become Kampaku-sama. The life experience added common sense to her natural intelligence. She had great insight into official matters, and Hideyoshi often followed her advice. She knew very well the struggle between Mitsunari’s followers and those loyal to Rikyū.
Mitsunari had come to serve Hideyoshi when he was a child. When Hideyoshi’s wife talked to Hideyoshi in private about him, she still called Mitsunari by his boyhood name, Sakichi. Mitsunari had been close to both of them for much longer than Rikyū. But although your house may seem strong when you’re going about your daily life, if you look too closely you might find unexpected cracks.
That was the feeling that had nagged at Hideyoshi’s wife ever since Cha Cha had borne Tsurumatsu. Before that, even though Cha Cha was Nobunaga’s niece, she had been just another concubine, like Kaga-dono, Sanjyō-dono, and Kyōgoku-dono. Now she was Yodo-dono, the mistress of Yodo Castle.
Hideyoshi’s wife had to get past her jealousy. This was Hideyoshi’s first son, and he had the blood of the Toyotomi family. The lavish celebrations surrounding Tsurumatsu’s birth posed a challenge to her feminine virtue. As a woman, she felt she had a right to hate Cha Cha, but at the same time, she had to show Cha Cha kindness and accept the concubine’s special treatment. That was far from her true feelings, and she resented the idea that Yodo-dono was the most important woman in Hideyoshi’s life.
Yodo-dono’s elevation in rank had been Mitsunari’s doing rather than Hideyoshi’s. In Mitsunari’s bureaucratic mind, the future of the Toyotomi family dynasty could be built on Tsurumatsu. Because Hideyoshi previously had no children of his own, he had adopted many children. Among them was the eldest son of Hideyoshi’s oldest sister, Magoshichirō Hidetsugu. He was twenty-four years old now, and before Tsurumatsu was born, it was expected that he would be Hideyoshi’s successor. But now, of course, the succession plans had changed, and certain actions needed to be taken. Hideyoshi had not objected as Mitsunari arranged ceremonies and rituals that emphasized Yodo-dono as the mother of Tsurumatsu. Hideyoshi’s wife did not object either, nor did she doubt Mitsunari’s loyalty. She understood logically that his actions were for the good of Hideyoshi and the entire Toyotomi family, but it still got on her nerves.
Just as Hidenaga’s wife had been sympathetic toward Kokei in his exile, Hideyoshi’s wife
felt badly for Rikyū. Also, Riki had become one of her favorite women through the practice of tea.
“Sōeki’s wife sent a letter to Yura,” she told Hideyoshi in passing one evening. It was the first time they had dined together in a while. “Yura felt so sorry for Riki’s grief that she asked me if you might forgive Rikyū if Riki made him apologize sincerely. So I told her she could write back and say so.”
Hideyoshi never dressed formally or worried about manners when he came to see his wife. He came just to relax and spend time alone with her. That night, instead of using an armrest, he leaned against the pillar in front of the alcove. Behind him was a big pot filled with early-blooming peaches, camellias, and Japanese roses. He wore a short satin jacket with a yellow crest and sat casually with one knee up. His wife was reading his expression as she mentioned Yura’s letter. He glared at her, holding his kneecap.
“You shouldn’t have let her do that.” But it was not the same voice that made his retainers tremble. He wasn’t upset by Yura’s impudent behavior. Still, he launched into his abuse of Rikyū again, telling his wife that he had no use for such a wretch.
“Well, I feel sorry for him,” his wife said. “Besides …” She stopped herself before she could go on. Ever since Rikyū had been banished, there were almost no tea gatherings at Jurakudai. Hideyoshi summoned Shinkurō every day for Noh practice, as if he had simply lost interest in tea. Nobody was allowed to mention the inconvenience of losing Rikyū. So instead, Hideyoshi’s wife reminded him that Kokei had been forgiven because of the intervention of Hideyoshi’s mother and Hidenaga’s wife.
