Chapter 1155: The Prince at Honkun-ji

Amid the riot of autumn colors in Northern California, a force of two thousand men, strung out in a thin line, was making its way through mountain forests and streams, advancing with great difficulty.

There were, of course, no man-made official roads. Between Fort Riverside in the Prefecture of America and the Sacramento Valley of California, there were only a few Indian tribes who lived by hunting. They did not even have wheels, so naturally they would not build roads; they simply walked wherever they pleased through the woods.

Thus Zhu Cihuan's journey south from Fort Riverside truly had something of the flavor of hacking a path through brambles. Though born to gold and jade, Zhu Cihuan had been driven to desperate measures. From the moment he left Fort Riverside, he had set an example by no longer riding, but walking together with the men. Not only did he walk, he also carried some bulky but very light baggage, wore straw sandals, leaned on a wooden staff, and trudged painfully through the roadless mountains.

Although the baggage on his back weighed little, the plate armor on Zhu Cihuan's body was solid enough — if not twenty jin, then at least fifteen. Every day on the march he wore it, as if ready at any moment to throw himself into battle — mainly out of fear of ambush. Though he was rather foolish and did not particularly suspect Shimazu Mitsuhisa, some of the samurai under his command were more vigilant. So from the moment they set out from Fort Riverside, this prince had already been somewhat afraid!

Yet his spirit of fearing neither hardship nor fatigue and being ready at all times for battle still won the wholehearted admiration of those who followed him, such as Hoshina Masateru.

They had assumed that a prince of the Celestial Dynasty would be much like a Japanese court noble — one of those wastes whose faces were caked with powder, who spoke in mincing, affected tones, and who would be panting after a few steps. Who could have known that this prince of the Great Ming would have such stamina, and be so able to endure hardship, that he could cover seven or eight hundred li of mountain roads on his own two feet?

And what was rarest of all was that this prince was not the least bit particular about his living conditions, nor did he demand good food. He simply loved taking two rough, coarse baked flatbreads (mo), stuffing them with minced meat, and eating them with such relish!

It was said that this Prince of Chongqing was the most useless of the several adult brothers of the present Son of Heaven of the Great Ming! If even the most useless one was like this, what must the most formidable one be like!

It seemed there was some reason after all why the Emperor of the Great Ming was not reduced to a figurehead by the Ming warriors.

The column's pace was not fast, because crossing mountains and ridges made speed impossible in any case. Although guides sent out from the Sacramento Valley led the way, from time to time they still took a wrong turn. Even when they did not go astray, rivers of unknown depth would cut off their path. At such times they had to scout for a way across and search for shallows; when that failed, they had to build a pontoon bridge on the spot.

The pace of the march therefore slowed, averaging only twenty or thirty li a day. Yet the mountain road was more than eight hundred li, and after a month and a half they still had not reached its end. Because they traveled so slowly, the dry rations they had carried at departure were nearly exhausted. For the past twelve days, the force led by Zhu Cihuan had been sustaining itself by hunting and fishing — the dry rations were not entirely gone, for on Hoshina Masateru's advice, everyone had been required to set aside three days' worth of rations and forbidden to eat them, just in case.

Fortunately, only two thousand men followed Zhu Cihuan south, and among them were many skilled archers among the samurai. Moreover, wild game in the mountain forests of Northern California was plentiful enough to feed these two thousand men — if the number had been any larger, say ten thousand, finding enough food in the mountains and forests would not have been so easy.

Today, near dusk, Zhu Cihuan and his party arrived at an enormous valley. At the bottom of the valley flowed a nameless river, and the land on both banks was very flat, with no tall trees.

"My Prince, this is Flood Valley," Hoshina Masateru, who had just finished speaking with the Shimazu guides, reported eagerly as he came to Zhu Cihuan's side. "This little river overflows every spring, and the water fills the entire valley floor. But by autumn the water level drops, and it becomes what you see now.

Though the river has receded, there are quite a few fish left in it. This subject will have men catch fish at once, and tonight we shall have a fine feast."

"Very good!" Zhu Cihuan nodded, then asked, "How much farther to the Sacramento Valley?"

"Not far," said Hoshina Masateru. "Once out of this valley, it is the Sacramento Valley! Therefore, tonight we must work a little harder and set up defenses inside the valley!"

"Set up defenses." Zhu Cihuan turned to look at Hoshina Masateru. "Masateru, are you worried that Shimazu Mitsuhisa will—"

"One must always guard against others!" said Hoshina Masateru. "This subject believes we should work through the night felling trees to build a camp, first secure a defensive position, and only then make contact with the Shimazu clan."

Though this Hoshina Masateru was not very old and had rather delicate features, his military competence was solid. He had earlier proposed setting aside three days' rations, and now he wanted to build a camp before contacting the Shimazu — all to guard against the Shimazu clan breaking faith and launching a surprise attack.

Zhu Cihuan was also somewhat nervous. "Masateru, how do we determine whether Shimazu Mitsuhisa is deceiving us?"

Hoshina said, "Absolute certainty is impossible. However, as long as the Shimazu clan can, according to the agreement, deposit three thousand shi of rice and flour at Honkun-ji, then it is worth the risk."

Honkun-ji was a Buddhist temple in the style of Japan's Warring States period — the kind where the Buddhist statues hardly mattered, but the walls absolutely had to be sturdy, and there had to be a moat all around.

This temple was separated from the Shimazu clan's Sacramento Valley Castle by a single river (called the Sacramento River), and was surrounded by vast rice paddies. It was said to have been built for the purpose of praying for bountiful harvests.

The envoy responsible for negotiating with Shimazu Mitsuhisa (a Japanese retainer of Zhu Cihuan) had taken a liking to this Honkun-ji at first sight, and demanded that the Shimazu clan withdraw the warrior-monks from the temple and hand Honkun-ji over for the use of the southward-marching army of the Ming prince.

At the same time, he demanded that the Shimazu clan transport into Honkun-ji enough rice and flour to feed two thousand men for three months, totaling three thousand shi.

Hoshina added, "We are carrying many firearms and much gunpowder, and Honkun-ji is very sturdy. As long as there is enough rice and flour inside, we need not fear the Shimazu breaking faith."

He paused. "The Shimazu clan has at most four thousand troops at hand. If they were to storm Honkun-ji by force, even if they won, they would lose more than half their strength. Mitsuhisa cannot afford that, and there is no need for him to do such a thing for the Spaniards."

Zhu Cihuan nodded. "Right. And We will not treat him shabbily. After We take the City of Angels, We can enfeoff him with the entire San Diego area."

Hoshina Masateru smiled. "This subject will go personally to speak with Shimazu Mitsuhisa. I believe he will surely be grateful for Your Highness's great kindness!"

While Zhu Cihuan and Hoshina Masateru were speaking, column after column of Shimazu warriors were leaving Sacramento Valley Castle, marching south along the Sacramento River.

Shimazu Mitsuhisa stood with his arms crossed, watching the army that had already left the castle and was winding its way south, and sighed softly.

Beside him stood a young woman dressed in kendo attire — his daughter Yoshino. Shimazu Mitsuhisa had many children, but most of them had been detained by the Tokugawa clan in Edo, and their fates were now unknown. Only this Shimazu Yoshino, because the Tokugawa clan had released her to return (to carry a message to Shimazu Mitsuhisa), had remained by Mitsuhisa's side.

Whether it was because of his advancing age or not, Shimazu Mitsuhisa had not produced any more offspring in recent years, so Yoshino, who originally held little standing in the family, had become very important — if Shimazu Mitsuhisa truly could not leave behind an heir, then he would have no choice but to take a husband for Yoshino through marriage.

Of course, Japan permitted marriage between close relatives, so taking a husband for Yoshino and adopting an heir from a collateral branch of the Shimazu clan were not mutually exclusive. Shimazu Mitsuhisa could perfectly well marry his daughter to a nephew.

"Father," Shimazu Yoshino understood why her father sighed, "the Spaniards are truly cunning. We handed over so many women and children, yet they still refuse to trust us, and they have transferred away more than half of our warriors. With the men remaining, it is simply impossible for us to capture the Ming Commandery Prince!"

Shimazu Mitsuhisa smiled bitterly. "Whether we can capture the Ming Commandery Prince is not important. What matters is making our position clear. As long as we make our position clear, the Spaniards will deal with Honkun-ji themselves."

"The Spaniards..." Yoshino's expression changed. "Do you think the Spanish army has already reached the Sacramento Valley?"

Shimazu glanced at his daughter. "What do you think? If we do not attack the Ming Commandery Prince, Spain will deal with us and the Ming Commandery Prince's men together!"

(End of Chapter)