Katsutoya, in whom Shibata was personally most deeply interested, had not put in an appearance: yet no pressing duties at Nagahama or elsewhere could possibly have kept him away.

Though of no particular consequence, this young prince was generally conceded to be the clandestine son of Yoshiaki, the then de jure shogun, who had been, a number of years theretofore, deposed and exiled by Nobunaga, as was customary, to one of the many monasteries in the hills of Hiyeisan to the rear of Kyoto. Shibata, Nobunaga’s chief captain, no doubt with an eye to the future, had early taken in the friendless youth and by adopting him as a son—with the rank and title of a captain—had given him respectable standing: perhaps intending him to be the possible means of later on obtaining a commission from the shogun, himself; thus legalizing his warfare against his neighbors—a thing every daimyo of consequence aspired above all else.

Shibata, chafed at Katsutoya’s omission or disobedience and Hideyoshi’s keen eye, readily discerned the possibilities of so potent a failure.

“Junkei?” commanded he, as he and his train approached, on the way to Kyoto, the recently surrendered castle of Nagahama.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tell Takiyama Hideyoshi would pay Katsutoya a visit, en route.”

“What!”

“Fool! Control yourself; do as bid; and with a good face.”

“But Katsutoya is an enemy’s favorite, and we have only a small guard.”

“Hence worth our while; and do you comprehend? Cease conjecturing; Hideyoshi knows. Nobunaga is dead: Yodogima, mine.”

They three met in council at the narrow pass leading to Katsutoya’s new charge. It was dark, and Takiyama conjured new dangers. Hideyoshi bade him disarm and lead the way.

“It is madness,” whispered Takiyama, more thoughtful of himself than of his duty.

“You, a Christian, would bear arms, visiting upon a neighbor? Is that your religion?”

Takiyama faltered, and Hideyoshi proceeded. His own sword had not been cast aside; courtesy forbade it; but upon their arrival and presentation the fearless daimyo of the new school unsheathed his master weapon and reversing it tendered the hilt to Katsutoya; who was so bewildered with respect for his visitor’s confidence that no time was lost in the forming of a friendship that for once set a new example and again sent Hideyoshi on his way the wiser for his daring.

Hideyoshi had gained an important advantage by a newly tried agency, diplomacy—a thing his compeers, and even Nobunaga his superior, had deigned despise. Triumphant at Kitanoshi and successful in Nagahama, a double prize at stake and a soldier like Kuroda to enforce the decree, why not proclaim himself at once?

Nobunaga’s corpse lie in state at the capital, and who were there to dispute Hideyoshi, now that Shibata remained absent, nursing the vexations of sore defeat?

“Junkei?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Call Kuroda.”

“I think he sleeps; you know, we just arrived—it is only a trice since we left—and Kyoto is miles distant—”

“Babbler! Does Hideyoshi sleep? Bring Kuroda, before your neck and my scimitar have tried their want.”

“Kuroda, are you Hideyoshi’s captain?” asked Hideyoshi, presently.

“Yes, most honorable master.”

“Then why sleep?”

“It is nature’s call.”

“Away with nature; the gods are omnipotent. Would you, Kuroda, serve less? No? Then listen. Hideyoshi defies both God and man. Marshal your troops. I proclaim myself.”

“They sleep.”

“Give then gold, and they shall awaken.”

“But how use them—my instructions—I have nothing—”

“What? Kuroda, my captain, a beggar? Have I not confidence in you? A better age dawns.”

“Command me.”

“That is more like it. Listen. Nobunaga lies unburied. Let all Japan witness the ceremony. The gods proclaim their precedence; Hideyoshi shall do reverence first: then the barons, widows, and pretenders may wrangle out their proper rank.”

“But our ancestors?”

“Bosh! With Kuroda and Shintoism on the one hand and Takiyama and Christianity on the other, Hideyoshi shall wrought anew. Reverence might better rot; manhood waxes original.”

The shogun forthwith appointed Hideyoshi major general of all the mikado’s forces—gold had brought him, too, from his hiding: a ready request afforded the occasion—and all the daimyos were commanded to appear and do homage. The wealth and the fashion of the nation were invited. The whole populace was instructed to come. Such a gathering, and so bold a venture, marked a new era. All the best and the most vigorous, the intellectual and the ambitious, the strong and the brave, rallied to the call of a thirsty leader, chose to lay their lives at the altar of endeavor, and to grapple for the first time with an individualism that bade fair to spring from the very roots of society, and to thrive—only one man stood silently but resolutely in the way.

Shibata responded to the call, and all the daimyos recently subservient to the dead chief were there. Others came in person, or sent suitable representatives; the common people under Hideyoshi’s immediate sway rallied in numbers; samurai, farmers, artisans, and merchants alike responded: such a gathering of wealth and power, rags and poverty, never before had assembled to do reverence.

Daitokige temple had been designated by Hideyoshi as the most suitable place for the ceremonies and workmen rendered it into a veritable dreamland. Flowers and bunting and gold and purple contrasted significantly with the white gowns and mourning hoods worn by the rich and the poor alike.

Shibata and his suite had been purposely assigned to the place of honor. Nowhere were Hideyoshi and his followers to be seen—they had apparently vanished as if of the past or in the spirit world, along with Nobunaga, their fallen chief. Yodogima sat in the center, surrounded by her maids and friends, with their costumes of white or regalias of gold, banked against a background of wealth and refinement. Far up the hillsides and all round in front and to the rear, sat or trod, mingled and stared, solid masses of straggling groups of knighted chevaliers or gaping underlings, fair maidens and rosy-cheeked damsels. Presently the huge gong sounded and everybody there bowed reverently: the bonzes (priests), kneeling round the sepulchre said their prayers, and Shintoism, Buddhism, and Christianity alike awaited God, conjured a Spirit, bade the Overman speak.

Hideyoshi, with the infant heir, Samboshi, Nobunaga’s grandson, in his arms, stood forth; whence, no one knew. A voice, amid silence, read from the tomb the order of the day.

Calmly facing the shrine and beckoning the multitude, Hideyoshi then spoke:

“I, Hideyoshi, protector of the throne and conservator of the peace, command that you and each of you, loyal subjects, give heed unto Nobunaga’s will; here and thence to you voiced by the good and great Yamato-Dake (god of war). Let be what I proclaim.”

Thereat two white falcons spread their wings and flapped away into space. A loud roar and din as of horses trampling and speeding issued from the temple. Armed guards sprang forward everywhere—out of the temples, behind the gates, into the streets, around the palace, amid the hills—and Kuroda stood ready to strike down the lowliest and the highest who dared raise a hand or voice.

Shibata slunk back, and amid the confusion an old woman seemingly, clad in black with drawn hood, carrying a strange bundle, whispered in Yodogima’s ear. In a twinkling the knowing princess had donned the disguise and with no other apparent escort made her way toward Kitanoshi, safely tucked away behind the mountain range in the distance.