"Shall we get a bridle?"
"Horseback riding?"
"If you like."
"You ride too, old man."
Riding was his favorite pastime. He was not content with staying on the riding grounds. He would ride three or four leagues from the castle and then gallop back.
At thirteen, Nobunaga had taken part in his first battle, and at fifteen he had lost his father. As he grew older he became more and more arrogant. On the day of his father's funeral Nobunaga was improperly dressed for the formality of the occasion.
As the guests watched in disbelief, Nobunaga walked up to the altar, grabbed a handful of powdered incense, and threw it at his father's mortuary tablet. Then, to everybody's surprise, he returned to the castle.
"What a disgrace! Is this really the heir of the province?"
"A hopelessly empty-headed lord."
"You wouldn't have thought it would come to this."
This was the view of those who had only a superficial understanding of things. But those who considered the situation more deeply shed tears of gloom for the Oda clan.
"His younger brother, Kanjuro, is well mannered, and has acted respectfully from beginning to end," one mourner pointed out. They regretted that the estate had not gone to im. But a monk who sat at the back of the room said softly, "No, no … this is a man with a future. He's frightening." This comment was later reported to the senior retainers, but not one of them took it seriously. Shortly before he died, at forty-six, Nobuhide had arranged Nobunaga's engagement to the daughter of Saito Dosan of Mino, through the good offices of Nakatsukasa. For a number of years Mino and Owari had been enemie so the marriage was a political one. Such arrangements were almost the rule in a countr at war.
Dosan had no trouble seeing through this strategy, and yet he had given his favorite daughter to the heir of the Oda clan, whose reputation for being a fool was well know from the neighboring provinces to the capital. He gave his consent to the match, with his eyes firmly fixed on Owari.
Nobunaga's foolishness, violence, and disgraceful conduct appeared to grow worse. But that was exactly what he wanted others to see. In the Fourth Month of the twenty-second year of Temmon, Nobunaga turned nineteen years old.
Anxious to meet his son-in-law, Saito Dosan proposed holding their first meeting a the Shotokuji Temple in Tonda, on the border between their two provinces. Tonda was an estate of the Ikko Buddhist sect. The temple stood a little apart from the village's seven hundred or so houses.
Leading a large body of men, Nobunaga left Nagoya Castle, crossed the Kiso and Hida rivers, and pushed on to Tonda. About five hundred of his men carried longbows or firearms; another four hundred had crimson spears eighteen feet long; and they were followed by three hundred foot soldiers. They marched in solemn silence. A corps of horsemen in the middle of the procession surrounded Nobunaga. They were prepared for an emergency.
It was early summer. The ears of the barley were a pale yellow. A gentle breeze from the Hida River refreshed the line of men. It was a peaceful noontime, and shrubs drooped over the roughly woven fences. The houses of Tonda were well built and many had rice granaries.
"There they are." Two low-ranking samurai of the Saito clan had been posted at the edge of the village as lookouts. They sped off to report. In the row of zelkova trees that cut through the village, the sparrows twittered peacefully. The samurai knelt in front of a small commoner's hut and said in a low voice, "The procession has been sighted. It will soon be passing by here."
Incongruously, the dark, sooty walls of the dirt-floored hut concealed men with gaudy swords, dressed in formal kimono.
"Good. You two go hide in the thicket in back."
The two samurai were personal attendants to Lord Saito Dosan of Mino, who was leaning against the windowsill in a small room, keeping an eye on what was going on.
There were many stories about Nobunaga. What is he really like? Dosan wondered What kind of man is he? Before meeting him formally, I'd like to get a look at him. This was typical of Dosan's way of thinking, and it was why he was here, spying from a roadside hut.
"The men from Owari are here, my lord." So informed, Dosan grunted, and gave his attention to the road outside the window. Locking the entrance, his retainers pressed their faces against the crevices and holes in the wooden doors. They maintained strict silence.
The voices of the little birds in the row of trees fell quiet, too. Except for the sound of their wings as they suddenly took flight, the silence was pervasive. Even the soft breeze made no noise. The feet of the orderly troop of soldiers approached steadily. The musketeers, carrying their polished firearms, walked ten abreast, in detachments of forty men; the red shafts of the spears looked like a forest as they made their way past the men from Mino. With bated breath, Dosan studied the gait of the soldiers and the arrangement of their ranks. Following the wave of marching feet came the sound of horses' hooves and loud voices. Dosan could not let his eyes stray from the scene.
In the midst of the horsemen was a remarkably fine horse with a glittering muzzle. Atop the rich saddle, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, sat Nobunaga, holding reins of purple interwoven with white. He was chatting gaily with his retainers.
"What's this?" were the words that slipped slowly from Dosan's mouth. He looked astounded. Nobunaga's appearance dazzled the eye. He had heard that the lord of the Oda went about in bizarre clothing, but this far exceeded anything he had heard.
Nobunaga sat swaying in the saddle of the thoroughbred horse, his hair arranged in a general's topknot tied with pale green braid. He was dressed in a brightly patterned cotton coat with one sleeve removed. Both his long and short swords were inlaid with abalone shell and bound in sacred rice straw, twisted into the shape of a good-luck charm. Hanging from his belt were seven or eight items: a tinder bag, a small gourd, a medicine case, a string-bound folding fan, a small carving of a horse, and several jewels. Beneath his half-length skirt of tiger and leopard skin was a garment made of shiny gold brocade.
Nobunaga turned in the saddle and called out, "Daisuke, is this the place? Is this Tonda?" He shouted so loudly that Dosan heard him clearly from his hiding place.
Daisuke, who was acting as guard, rode up to his master. "Yes, and the Shotokuji temple, where you're to meet your esteemed father-in-law, is right over there. We should be on our best behavior from now on."
"The temple belongs to the Ikko sect, doesn't it? Hm, it's quiet, isn't it. No war here, I suppose." Nobunaga gazed up through tihe zelkova trees, perhaps catching sight of silhouettes of hawks in the blue sky overhead. The swords at his waist clanked softly against each other and against the objects hanging from his belt.
After Nobunaga had gone by, Dosan's retainers fought back the desire to burst out laughing. Their faces showed how much they had struggled not to laugh at the ludicrousness of the display.
"Is that it?" Dosan asked. Then, "Is that the last of the procession?"
"Yes, all of it."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
"From a distance."
"Well, his appearance doesn't run counter to the rumors. His features are good and his physique is passable, but there's something missing up here," Dosan said, raising his finger to his head, smiling with apparent satisfaction.
Several retainers came hurriedly through the back door. "Please hurry, my lord. It's one thing if Nobunaga becomes suspicious, but what if his retainers do, too? Shouldn't we be at the temple first?"
They spilled out of the back door of the house and took a concealed path to the temple. Just as the vanguard of the Owari samurai stopped at the front gate of the Shotokuji, they hurried in through the back gate, acting as though nothing had happened. They changed quickly and went out to the main entrance. The temple gate was filled with people. As all of the men from Mino had been summoned for the formalities, the main temple, the great hall, and the guest's reception room were deserted, left to the wind.