Jimmu grimaced. “Can nobody’s word be trusted?”

Captain Muraki gestured emphatically. “Trust Lord Ankan,” he said. “He speaks plainly and honestly to his men.” He stood up. “I must visit the latrine. If a messenger comes for me, instruct him to wait.”

As the captain strode off between the tents, Jimmu turned to Sergeant Hankei.

“Is he right?” he said. “Can we trust what Lord Ankan tells us?”

Sergeant Hankei shrugged. “Ishida Muraki is devoted to His Lordship. When the captain was wounded at the battle of Moribe, Lord Ankan had him carried back to Mitsukage in his own palanquin. He hired the finest physicians in Kyoto to save the captain’s leg.”

Once again Jimmu felt at odds with himself. Captain Muraki and Sergeant Hankei were obviously sincere in their respect for Lord Ankan, a respect that did not square with the contempt for the man which Nichiren had instilled in Jimmu.

He can’t be cruel and considerate at the same time! Jimmu reasoned. Perhaps he was once a monster, but something happened to change him, and if he is no longer the same person who plotted my father’s death, how justified am I in taking revenge on him?

There was another far worse possibility . . . that Nichiren had lied to him. If Nichiren had lied, then Jimmu’s whole life was a lie, and Jimmu refused to accept it. No! he told himself. Captain Muraki and Sergeant Hankei have been taken in by Lord Ankan’s charm. I must be stronger than that.

North of Hamamatsu the ground sloped upward, then leveled out into a broad plain that was cut in two by a narrow gorge. The Takeda army had crossed the gorge the previous day and pitched their camp in front of it. Though the camp was not visible from the castle, parties of scouts reported back on its activity during the night.

The following morning, just after dawn, the army of Tokugawa Ieyasu stood up before his battle standard. The standard was in the shape of a huge golden fan, made from stiffened paper. Both sides of the fan were decorated with a red disc, to represent the rising sun.

The proceedings were witnessed by Lord Ieyasu, who sat with his generals in a semicircle. Servants brought them a ceremonial meal of dried chestnuts, followed by seaweed, shellfish, and cups of sake.

When the meal was over, Lord Ieyasu got to his feet and stood in plain view of his men. He was young, barely out of his twenties, but he had the dignified bearing of a great lord. The shape of his breastplate and helmet had been copied from European armor.

Lord Ieyasu slowly lifted his battle fan. Flags were raised, conch shells bellowed, and drums throbbed.

The troops marched off to war.

Jimmu was moved by the spectacle.

“Today, we’re going to win a great victory over the Takeda!” he exclaimed to Captain Muraki.