CHAPTER 1

Mount Hiei, Japan—AD 1571

In the middle of the sixteenth century, Japan was embroiled in chaos as powerful feudal lords called daimyos were fighting rival warlords in a battle for control of the entire country. At the same time, warrior monks were arming themselves and blocking the roads into Japan’s capital, Kyoto, attacking castles, and destroying villages and farms of the warlords they despised. During the confusion, one daimyo, Oda Nobunaga, saw an opportunity to end the civil war and unite the country under one shogunate. However, doing so would mean going back to war, to conquer the warring factions against the changes that peace would bring to their clans and nation. To force warlords to give up their swords and embrace peace would mean forcing them to give up their samurai traditions, blood feuds with other clans, and most of all, their power. The same could be said of the warrior religious sects.

When the Tendai sect of Buddhism was initially introduced to Japan in AD 806, a monk named Saicho established a Buddhist temple and school on the 2,782-foot mountain northeast of Kyoto. Kyoto was the seat of Japan’s imperial court and palace. Over the next seven hundred years, the sect grew so strong that it began to interfere with the central government. It forced its will on the Emperor, demanding more and more special privileges, and growing more powerful. Moreover, the monks who lived in Mount Hiei temples had evolved into warrior monks with martial skills equal to samurai. Shrugging change and especially foreign intervention, the monks allied themselves with warlords dedicated to keeping the ancient traditions. When that wasn’t enough, they began spreading malicious rumors and creating confusion throughout the country as a means of resisting modern European ways, religion, and technology.

The leader of the Oda clan, Oda Nobunaga, was one of the daimyos leading the introduction of foreign ways, goods, and modern technology into Japanese society. He even embraced the introduction of Christianity into Japanese culture. Trying to end the decades of civil war between the various Japanese clans, Nobunaga had had enough of the seditious and conspiring Tendai monks fostering rebellion. Then, on a crisp morning in early September, traveling from Kyoto to Gifu, the report from an arquebus long gun echoed on the mountain road. As Nobunaga’s horse reared in a frenzy, his retainers galloped forward and captured the would-be assassin. They soon discovered that he was a Tendai monk from the Honjanji temple on Mount Hiei. It was just one of the hundreds of temples built on the holy mountain that housed thousands of monks, along with their families and servants.

Although Honjanji was a Buddhist temple, it had been constructed like a castle. The outside walls were made of stone, and a deep moat surrounded the structure. To be a monk at Honjanji meant that you were a warrior also. No single monk was living in the fortress who did not hate Oda Nobunaga. They accused him of being an enemy of Buddhism and the destroyer of Japanese culture, for embracing European ways.

Instead of negotiating with Nobunaga, as they did with the government in Kyoto, the monks began arming themselves with guns and cannons. They prided themselves in their long-practiced traditions and enjoyed the privileges they received from the Imperial court. They were not going to change. The reports that Nobunaga received by mid-September told him the monks were digging more moats around the Honjanji fortress. He received a separate report that the monks had purchased two thousand matchlock rifles and several small brass cannons. The monks were fanning the flames of rebellion and spreading venomous lies and propaganda across Japan’s provinces. If left unchecked, their actions would set off an uprising against Nobunaga’s efforts to unify the clans of Japan and end decades of civil war. To indeed prosper, Nobunaga knew, Japan needed peace and foreign commerce.

The last straw for Nobunaga was a report about a messenger from the abbot of the Honjanji temple being intercepted by one of his samurai after leaving the Shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki’s palace in Kyoto. Ashikaga had regained the shogunate, with Oda Nobunaga’s direct help, when he and his army marched into Kyoto and reinstalled the deposed shogun. Now, unfortunately, the small-minded and aristocratic hereditary commander-in-chief of Japan was no longer a supporter of the young daimyo, Nobunaga. In the intercepted message from Ashikaga to Abbot Sonrin, the shogun was demanding an all-out attack by the abbot’s twenty thousand warrior-monks, to crush Nobunaga before he became stronger and brought more clans under his control.

The shogun had been seduced to the abbot’s side because peace meant an end to his power, too. Under the circumstances, Nobunaga had no choice but to convene a war council and mobilize an army into the mountains. Everywhere Nobunaga looked, he saw enemies against his plan to unify the nation and stop the clan wars. Even the monks and priests, who were supposed to love peace and hate war, were against him. In his restless sleep that night at Gifu Castle, Nobunaga saw the whole country being devoured by flames and then awoke with a start.

“Guard! Guard!” Nobunaga shouted as he stepped from his bedroom.

“Yes, my lord,” came the reply.

“Have General Hideyoshi call a war council and summon the general staff immediately.” Nobunaga quickly returned to his bedroom and waited for his servants to dress him.

As the lamps in the large council room lighted Oda Nobunaga’s face, it was evident how determined he was while addressing his generals who had gathered. Nobunaga wasn’t requesting their input on whether it was wise to attack the renegade monks. He was asking about tactics needed to defeat them in their mountain hideouts. While Nobunaga was worried about tactics, his generals were concerned about other clans mobilizing behind the monks before their army was ready. Their concern came to fruition when the Asakura clan moved two samurai army units from the mountains north of Lake Biwa and set up camps on the western beaches at both Karasaki and Otsu, a few miles east of Mount Hiei. Another Asakura army unit moved onto the mountains and reinforced the main Buddhist headquarters temple.

While fighting one of the Asakura armies in northeast Japan, Oda Nobunaga’s younger brother, Nobuharu, was killed in the battle and his small army was routed. When the account reached Nobunaga at his camp, he was unmoved. The army that defeated his brother was now moving south to attack Nobunaga’s castle garrison at Kyoto. Fortunately, Nobunaga and most of his army reached Kyoto in time to reinforce the garrison and the city, preventing the attack.

Upon arrival, Nobunaga immediately ordered the commander of the garrison, Akechi Mitsuhide, to mobilize his forces. At dawn on September 29, there was not one traveler or packhorse seen on the roads leading north out of Kyoto when Nobunaga and Mitsuhide led their armies of over 50,000 men toward Mount Hiei. As they approached the mountain, a sea of enemy banners could be seen up and down the mountain, fluttering in the stiff breeze. The combined forces of Nobunaga and Mitsuhide waited patiently while the two conversed. Their horses, sensing the coming battle, were restless. Their constantly moving feet made it difficult for the riders to remain stationary.

“I will charge straight up the mountain with my main force,” Nobunaga stated. “I want you to attack the Asakura entrenched at Karasaki and Otsu. My spies tell me they number around eight thousand altogether, and they do not carry any rifles. After you route them, move up to the northern ridges. These warrior-monks disgrace Buddha, so spare no one. General Ieyasu will arrive with his army within the hour. He will protect your rear and your right flank as you move up the mountain and mop up any soldiers who escape. When you hear the conch sound once, feed your men. It will be a long day. Have your logistics team move out with extra gun powder, shot, arrows, food, and water when the conch sounds twice. When it sounds three times, begin your attack.”

Three hours later, when the conch sounded three times, Mitsuhide shouted, “Attack!”

The screaming Mitsuhide forces could be heard a mile away as the 16,000 men under his banner moved closer to the Asakura front line at Otsu. Mitsuhide had put three thousand foot soldiers in the front line. Intermingled with them were three lines of riflemen, numbering a thousand per line. Following the front line were another five thousand foot soldiers with spears and swords. Finally, his five-thousand-man cavalry unit would attack through the hills on the enemy’s western and northern flanks, leaving them only the lake as an avenue of escape.

“Don’t panic! Don’t act disgracefully. You are samurai!” shouted the Asakura general in charge, trying to reassure himself at the same time.

When Mitsuhide’s army was fifty yards from the Asakura forces—who were standing resolutely behind the felled trees and palisades erected near the beach—Mitsuhide’s foot soldiers and riflemen suddenly threw themselves to the ground. Then, as the confused Asakura forces looked on, the first line of Mitsuhide’s riflemen got up on one knee, placed their matchlocks on wooden braces, took aim, and fired.

Struck by three bullets, the Asakura general riding on his horse was one of the first to fall, along with four hundred of his men. The remaining two thousand men, now leaderless, began to panic. Finally, a second general galloped to the line, jumped off his horse, and yelled, “Hold the line! Don’t panic! Fight and die like the samurai that you are.”

After the second and third volleys of rifle fire, barely six hundred Asakura warriors were standing. The newly arrived general was sitting against a fallen tree, staring at a gaping hole in his abdomen. He watched helplessly as Mitsuhide’s soldiers cleared the first rampart and began thrusting their spears and swords into the second line of defense. It was hand-to-hand fighting amid the palisades, meant to keep the enemy at bay. Instead, they became a barrier to their escape. As the overwhelmed Asakura warriors panicked and began running toward the mountain, Mitsuhide’s cavalry appeared out of the forest. They began driving the fleeing soldiers into the lake. Not one survived.

When Nobunaga’s forces reached the village of Yamashina, the battle commenced on the mountain. The first line of warrior monks was quickly routed by his battle-hardened samurai. Enemy messengers could be seen riding north toward Mount Hiei with messages for their generals, who could hardly believe what they had heard.

“General Nagamasa!” the messenger reported, once he dismounted his horse at the Mii Temple. “Enemy forces have broken through at Yamashina. Five hundred men have died, and Nobunaga’s forces are already at Keage, starting up the steep incline.”

Having just received word that the forces at Otsu had fallen, General Nagamasa realized Karasaki was not far behind in the same fate. Nagamasa now realized his monks were not invincible. With regret, he shouted, “Fall back! Retreat! Back to Mii Temple.”

One of Nagamasa’s generals, Asakura Kagetake, shouted an order to his retainer as he mounted his horse, “Burn the peasant houses along the road after our vanguard has gone through. It may slow Nobunaga’s advance.”

When Nobunaga reached the Mii Temple, there was not one enemy soldier there to confront him. As Nobunaga rode along the rocky trail, the hot wind from the burning houses began scorching his brow, and sparks of burning embers tried to ignite the horse’s mane and the silk tassels hanging from his saddle. Nobunaga patted out the sparks and continued, unconcerned. In Nobunaga’s mind, he had become the wall of flames that were destroying the enemy’s homes and fortresses. He was the immoveable force devouring the enemy.

As Nobunaga looked high up the mountain, he saw the banners of the enemy army. More than 20,000 warrior monks, priests, and peasants awaited their deaths. Tears of rage fell from Nobunaga’s eyes. It was evident that what the monks were attempting was blasphemy. Mount Hiei was established to be a refuge for priests and monks—not a war zone. Of course, the priests and monks were given certain privileges. Still, the mountain’s original purpose was to foster peace and harmony. Over time, the greed, avarice, and lust for power had darkened the hearts of the monks.

In his despair and anger, Nobunaga bit his lip so hard that it drew blood. He slipped from his saddle, knelt before the mountain, and said a prayer as he wept, “I fear that I have become your enemy, Holy Mountain. But I must cleanse and purify the wrong and injustice that have overpowered you. Please forgive me.”

Ordering his camp stool, Nobunaga sat near the top of a hill, looking upward. As far as his eye could see, Nobunaga saw that the foothills and Mount Hiei were now covered with the banners of his men. Although the warrior monks and the Asakura army were fighting bravely, Nobunaga’s forces had completely surrounded the mountain. They cut off the enemy’s supply of provisions and reinforcement. I can lessen the death and destruction by starving them into submission, Nobunaga thought.

Nobunaga’s plan was working, too. With over twenty thousand men to feed on the mountain fortress, the underground storerooms and granaries, filled with rice, barley, wheat, green beans, and sesame seeds, were quickly emptied. After nearly seventy days, the rats and birds had vanished because the monks were good at catching them. Without food or animals to catch, the warrior monks and samurai were reduced to eating the barks off of trees and any vegetation they could find. Even the dead leaves were not immune to the soldiers’ hunger, and pine needles were used to brew tea. As the cold weather of winter set in on the mountain, the enemy endured more suffering.

In late December, Lord Nobunaga sent one of his retainers and four escorts to offer surrender terms to the abbot of the main headquarters temple. As the retainer spoke to Abbot Sonrin, he said, “You and your monks should lay down your weapons and return to being monks and disciples of Buddha. If you do, no harm will come to you.”

“You fool,” Sonrin replied. “We will resist Nobunaga’s military aggression to the end and protect our traditions and the light of Buddha with our blood! Now, leave!”

“I’m afraid that you are the fool, Reverend Abbot. How are you going to protect the light of Buddha once your blood is spilled on the ground? What righteous traditions are you protecting? In reality, they are nothing more than deceptions that keep your sect strong and prospering, at the expense of the common people to whom you tell lies, whose silver and food you accept.” The retainer then stood up and returned to Lord Nobunaga’s camp.

Towards the end of February, several monks wearing plain robes approached Nobunaga’s camp with Abbot Sonrin in the lead. “I would like to speak to Lord Nobunaga,” Sonrin stated.

When Nobunaga approached, he looked down on the priest and said, “What do you want?”

“I would like to sue for peace.”

Nobunaga was enraged. Now that their circumstances were desperate, they wanted peace. “Didn’t you refuse my offer just three months ago? Are you and your warriors shameless?” Nobunaga said as he drew his sword.

“I come in peace! To pull your sword is an outrage!” Sonrin shouted.

As Sonrin was turning to leave, Nobunaga swung his sword and severed the abbot’s head. “There is your answer. Pick up his head and leave,” Nobunaga shouted to the remaining priests.

Nobunaga was sending the remaining warrior monks a clear message. They would pay for their sins with their lives. He ordered his massive force to move upwards. As his well-fed and motivated army climbed the mountain, they killed anyone in their way. They destroyed all the houses, temples, and shrines. By the time Nobunaga’s army reached Enryaku-ji—the powerful and famous temple at the summit—it had been burned to the ground. Nobunaga then ordered search parties to eliminate those who had escaped the attack.

In the process, they came upon a monk wearing a purple robe and covered with soot. He was standing his ground at a burned-out shrine, shouting for Lord Nobunaga. In his hand was a magnificent-looking curved, single-edged katana. The white-headed monk went down on his hands and knees, in ashes, and bowed as Nobunaga approached.

“Lord Nobunaga, I am Hayashi Sado. This is a sacred sword given to our order by Emperor Go-Nijo, the 94th emperor of Japan. It is a sword fashioned by none other than the great swordsmith, Masamune, in the 13th century. It has never seen battle or blood. Therefore, as the protector of the sword for the last twenty years, I ask that you take it and return it to the temple at the Imperial Palace in Kyoto,” the monk said, laying the sword and its black-lacquered scabbard on the ash-covered ground.

Nobunaga was about to speak and spare the monk’s life, but the priest withdrew a dagger from his robe and slashed his own throat.

“Hideyoshi! Hideyoshi!” Nobunaga yelled.

“Here, my lord,” General Hideyoshi replied as he sprinted towards his master, thinking he was being attacked.

“Please have some men bury this priest and place a marker over the grave stating his name, Hayashi Sado ‘Master of the Sacred Sword.’ This priest was a true Buddhist.

Nobunaga picked up the sword and scabbard—and admired the craftsmanship. It was in remarkable condition, and the blade was razor sharp. As he wiped the blade on his sleeve to remove the ashes, he noticed the wavy line along the edge of the blade. It was a hallmark of the swordsmith’s technique of repeatedly forging and folding the steel. When he was through admiring the blade, Nobunaga placed the sword in its sheath and called for his page.

“Ranmaru! Ranmaru!” Nobunaga shouted.

The young page came running. When he reached Nobunaga, he bowed low and said, “Yes, Lord.”

Nobunaga handed the sword to Ranmaru. “Guard this sacred sword with your life!”