The resolving in her own mind of a determination so vital to herself, to her lover, and to others with whom she had to do, had driven Yodogima well nigh unto the brink of distraction. She respected the rights of all, loved as only in truth she could, and held self above the unlettered reach of personal prowess alone; the community had dawned, laid claim to its higher purpose, and held her like a moth lured thither to the candle fire. She would not preach the latter, could not practice the former, hence fell back upon impulse as an only guide.

“Let them fight,” repeated she, when alone and reflecting, “the one ambitious and the other uncertain; I would be neither, and justice will be done—but, is not he my God? What other hope? Forgive me!”

Presently Oyea came to her.

“You did right, Yodogima, and he shall understand, if such be meet; and who can better judge than he? What of the fathers, of tradition, of—”

“Hush-sh-sh—it seems to me I hear a voice—no, no; it is only he; my God, my Due: I am mindful of—Obedience.”

Upon receipt of her declaration, Ieyasu forthwith charged Yodogima with unfaithfulness; he believed now that Hideyoshi had found it possible only through her to checkmate his every move to reach and liberate her, had moved upon him thus prematurely but to satisfy a wavering ambition of hers. Esyo seemed not of sufficient consequence to arouse in him any apprehension from that source; her last protestations appeared to be reasonable enough in view of Jokoin’s passive assent, and without looking behind the scenes to discern any better reason further for assuming individual risk, at once set himself about to exact the best terms obtainable.

Love had been the one thing to swerve him, and to disturb the plan that he had evolved earlier in life to build up and round out an existence both useful and to the purpose: he would have no more of it. Hideyoshi, on the other hand, had indulged only as convenience or policy dictated, hence came to look upon virtue as a ruling passion: made it the goal and not his guide.

“You are at liberty to name the terms,” urged Hideyoshi, upon Ieyasu, more in irony than of earnest; no longer doubtful about the latter’s attitude, toward Yodogima.

“I want neither women nor wealth; they are alike fatal to government,” retorted Ieyasu, neither heedless nor unready.

“Oh, very well; we shall omit the latter, if you like, but the former are indispensable, I take it; however, one or so more or less doesn’t matter much, to me; besides, you may change your mind: Hideyoshi can then the better supply you: my collection is not a mean one—”

“And your mother a good enough security. What say you to that, bickerer?”

“It is agreeable: you can have her, as hostage, of course.”

“Hardly for another purpose, as a matter of choice; knowing her son, as I do.”

“There are worse mothers—you will not deny her the comfort of a daughter, my sister Saji?”

“I can relieve you as well of her support, if that is any object.”

“Thanks. She may not seem extravagant to Ieyasu. And, you might not dislike, also, Jokoin, my recently adopted daughter?”

“Perhaps I had better take, instead, Esyo, and make an end of it.”

“As you like; Hideyoshi is not over nice, or particular, or exacting.”

“And Ieyasu wants nothing not bargained for, and takes no less.”

“We shall see,” replied Hideyoshi, satisfied with the deal, and anxious to put it to the test without further parley or encumbrance.

Hideyoshi forthwith produced as hostage his mother, Naka, accompanied by her daughter, Saji, apparently to keep her company, and by Esyo, whose presence, already assured, served no better her purpose than Hideyoshi’s pleasurable riddance if not her sister Yodogima’s more respectful quest. In consideration of the security tendered, Ieyasu agreed henceforth only to recognize Hideyoshi as supreme at Kyoto, the capital: Hideyoshi, as usual, made no promises.

Returning to Azuchi, word forthwith spread of Hideyoshi’s wonderful success; he had demonstrated the potency of diplomacy as against the cruelties of war—true no one knew quite the terms of their alliance, except they themselves, and seemingly neither one had gained an ostensible advantage, save, perhaps, Ieyasu; who, as was patent, held the highest possible hostage, yet for what none surmised; or, as events proved, really cared. Nobody’s domain had been depleted or augmented, and Ieyasu’s prestige gained by the battle won remained unquestioned; he had never disputed Hideyoshi’s supremacy at Kyoto, hence could not be charged with losing anything by recognizing that. On the other hand, Hideyoshi carried with him the odium of defeat in battle, against which the successes of so little known an agency as diplomacy would not have counted for much had he not again looked ahead into the, to him, truly inexhaustible unknown, there discerning still a newer and more effective builder, publicity.

The money, therefore, that Ieyasu might have exacted as tribute was at once put to a better use, and the women, whose influence he preferred to despise, were not at all slow with experiencing some change of heart, if not of grasping at real opportunity. Yodogima held steadfast to her purpose. Oyea might have been pardoned for a growing conviction that her lord ruled right in any circumstance and that, perhaps, Yodogima were, after all, a bit ungrateful; but others less disappointing and with more to gain eagerly outbid themselves to do his reverence honor—Grace of Tango, daughter of Akechi Mitsuhide and wife to Hosokawa Tadaoki, cast her jewels into the fund that was forming to bid Hideyoshi enter the capital as a god no less than laurel crowned.

The monks of Negoro were crushed, the South subdued, and the exalted office of Kwambaku (Regent) was conferred upon him, by no less an authority than the mikado himself—Yoshiaki, the deposed shogun, refused to adopt the lowly-born Hideyoshi, as requested, thus enabling him to be declared shogun; Katsutoya still remained at large.

From a huge platform at Kyoto great treasure was distributed, and the barons bended their knees: from far and near they came, women clamored for admission to his court, but there was one who looked deeper than affectation; either upheld or condemned, as inwardly judged; and Hideyoshi, if none other, revered her for it, made her his goddess, and worshipped thence at mercy’s will.

“Tell me, Yodogima, what is it I can do to sever the heart-strings that bind you to another? I am not deceived.”

“Then you are not a god: I thought you invincible?”

Ieyasu had settled down to the rebuilding of his fortunes at home, apparently content that he had not been shorn of his estate, had gained the prestige of a victory won at arms—a thing hitherto wholly unrenowned for—and that Yodogima no longer appeared to weigh in the scales of duty or ambition; Esyo had doctored up his conscience on that score as best she could, and results proved her no mean attendant; but there was one thing that disturbed him: How could Hideyoshi make so much capital out of so little gained?

After all, had he not underestimated the potency of money as shown in the resolving of publicity, so new, save only to Hideyoshi, yet apparently more vital in the attainment of power to do than was character essential or determinate when once invoked or accepted?

It may have been some dawning eagerness on his part to recoup his loss in that direction, or to take advantage in the future of Hideyoshi’s now more than ever patent initiative, or it may have been a growing distrust of or resulting dislike for Esyo, and his vain though unstudied attempt to rid himself of the one by leaning toward another: whatever the cause, Ieyasu became more and more reconciled to the presence, if not the advances, of Saji: she did make advances, though innocent enough and wholly legitimate on her part. Hideyoshi knew. Nor was any opportunity neglected to let those little surmisings reach and sear the trend of another’s confidence, yet Yodogima’s love for Ieyasu flamed on; faith, hope, and charity rounded out the dull monotony of neglected opportunity, making life to her after all worth the living, the striving, and the getting.

“He is mine,” whispered she, to herself, repeatedly pillowing her head upon an untouched but conscious rest.

“By heavens, I’ll make him another’s,” vowed Hideyoshi, as often, yet with no less respect.

All the home provinces and every conceivable approach to the capital now rested securely within the keep of Hideyoshi. The mikado subservient or cowed, and a supervisory authority exercised by himself. His will alone the government, and the nation fired. The populace coerced, neighboring daimyos whipped, and the South in his clutch, there remained only the North as an excuse for putting Ieyasu further to test and laying threadbare before her own eyes what he believed to be Yodogima’s last prospect there.

Hojo of Odawara had not yet paid his respects to Hideyoshi, nor had Date, still farther to the northward, tendered submission. They were powerful barons, the former fighting his way from insignificance—really from a merchant with a pack on his back—to the lordship of five great provinces, the Kwanto, with a fortified castle at Odawara, intrenched behind mountain gorges at the west and the sea to the southward: a position hitherto held as impregnable as it was desirable. Date fared less well as to defenses, lying largely in the open and depending more upon his neighbor Hojo for protection against the West, but he was none the less rich and perhaps more judicious for that; hence, the greater desired by Hideyoshi.

Realizing that a blow at Hojo meant an equal and a mutual response from Date, Ieyasu had good reason under a strained or liberal construction of the terms and conditions of their alliance to respond to Hideyoshi’s call for assistance. The two armies moved in concert upon Odawara—Hideyoshi as aggressor and Ieyasu his support.

It was in the springtime, when roads were open and fain nature leaping forth in heart or bud. They had fought their way over the summit and driven in the nearest outpost: Hojo entrenched himself behind the walls of that castle, seemingly safe without and provisioned within.

Hideyoshi reckoned differently; besides, had other ends to gain. Ieyasu awaited the advance patiently, but a deeper hold hung dangerously over him, grappled him and snarled him and swayed him, till in the end reason had doubted his entity.

Hojo lay penned in. Date suspicioned his friend’s inability to withstand the siege. Ieyasu and others under Hideyoshi’s command bore the delay somewhat indifferently. Hideyoshi, of a sudden, in the face of war, inaugurated the most unheard-of festivities and amid the revelries pursued his own secret purpose.

From the castle to the sea spread the city, with its activities and its apprehensions. To the north and west rose high hills, studded in their lower slopes with the luxury and the content of higher living. Here, at Ishigaki hill, well up on the side and overlooking the castle, in the foreground, Hideyoshi pitched his tent: the army encamped here and there throughout the city and his communications established there was no need he knew or want devised that must not heed his will.

Wide banquet floors were laid end to end round one side the hill, roofed over with alternating sky and bough: lined up in front of white paper screens, serving as well to frighten the enemy below as to entertain the guests assembling.

Large numbers of various classes, both of nobles and the samurai, were invited—Date among the rest; who, for some reason, known best to himself or to Hideyoshi, secretly came, humbly awaiting the host’s still stricter pleasure. Geishas, musicians, players, and favorites were called in thousands; a one hundred days’ feast planned; Ieyasu made an honorary host, and Yodogima brought from Azuchi to do him service.

Other barons had been permitted to invite their wives and their sweethearts—Ieyasu among them; Saji served in a polite way, if not as a real love—but Hideyoshi, in his higher capacity, either defying custom or succoring freedom, wrote to Oyea granting her only the privilege of delegating Yodogima in her stead.

“As next to you,” commanded he, “Yodogima is my favorite: send her along. You shall have me at your side again when I return from the war.”

Yodogima came; it was her last chance, and she Oyea’s only hope.

Dancing and singing and feasting had waned, the stars shone bright overhead, and entering Hideyoshi and Yodogima led the way, seating themselves, he at the head with her at his right. Then came Ieyasu and Saji; who arranged at the motion of Hideyoshi, the former facing Yodogima and the latter himself. Others swarmed in, in like fashion, till the half-moon of gay and happy nobles reached round on either side the hill, properly ranked, beyond the sight or hearing of those honored with higher favors. Low, weird strains issued from the half-hidden platform in front where sat the players, grouped before rising ranks of dancers—then posed and eager, now swaying and relieved—banked against a background of green and shadow. The gods breathed sparingly.

Ieyasu dared not raise his eyes from the floor. Yodogima calmly awaited some initiative on his part; etiquet bade her bide the pleasure of host or suitor alike. Neither guilt nor remorse weighed at all upon her conscience as it did heavily upon his. There, before him, within reach of his every faculty, as innocent and true, as sweet, as fair, and as appealing as upon the day when he had pledged himself to die for her—the bare thought of having tolerated another, then sitting at his side, deadened intellect and sickened the heart.

“How can I meet her look, return her confidence, knowing as I do now that it is I and not she who is false?” asked he, of himself, till his heart seemed breaking and his mind a mirage.

“Perhaps it is too much, the demand greater than a human can endure; I should not have come here,” reasoned she, equally as reserved, if more unconcernedly.

“Beautiful beyond comparison,” appeared to be the verdict of every man or woman within sight of her, and the suspense but quickened their judgment. Hideyoshi gorged satisfied. He had provided every conceivable device, no expense had been spared; for he proved a lavish lover, and Oyea, from motive or pride, had neglected neither art nor attention to relieve and heighten either charm, or form; silks embroidered and blended to a thread, laces representing the patience and the labor of an exquisite design or appreciative hand, pearls priceless in cost and emblematic of a disposition which at least the donor had fathomed, all these worn with grace, softened in modesty, and inspired of eyes as keen as confiding, Ieyasu well might suffer the torments of a troubled conscience—may have asked himself earnestly and regretfully if he had not wronged her.

In her mind no such thought had entered; she believed herself in some way responsible for his apparent neglect. Had she waned in his estimation? Were Saji really more beautiful, still worthier of his admiration, less exacting in her appeal? The blood rushed to Yodogima’s face, momentarily tingeing the hitherto untroubled countenance that made her queen. Hideyoshi as quickly came to her relief; he should not see her overtried. Proud, and observant, he would stake his life, make some sort of effort to hew the way that she might reign, resolve her proper place and prove the man whose worth alone might justify his claim.

“A toast, Yodogima—I am sure that Ieyasu shall appreciate it—Saji might the better serve Hideyoshi’s dull wit,” suggested he, by way of relief.

Yodogima raised the cup. She would not disobey, nor would she neglect an opportunity. She believed Ieyasu true, and held him ready as well. Hideyoshi had granted her the privilege, and made it possible for Ieyasu to place beyond all doubt the inviolability of their love.

Would he do it? Such a question never entered her mind. Could he? She deemed him incapable of failure. Hideyoshi was as good as his word, had to her proven himself beyond peradventure: perhaps it was something of triumph which prompted the words, it might have been a dawning bit of jealousy inspiring the thought, more likely it were a prospect of truth’s obtaining that urged the will to claim its mastery, but whatever the cause, the motive proved none the less discernible. Yodogima faced her lover, not exultantly, yet assuringly, saying:

“While climbing the hill of prosperity, I hope never to meet you.”

Ieyasu’s eyes for the first time rose to hers, fairly and unflinchingly. The old love once again possessed him, for the moment flared every torch, forced recognition, and the soul revealed its innermost secret—Hideyoshi waited: possibly the mind waxed hot, but not a hand trembled. Then the message itself began to claim attention, and directly the puzzling significance of those words dulled and gathered against a waning, startled consciousness till vanity bade Ieyasu conjure no shameless thought:

“What does she mean?” queried he, of himself, looking from one to another, the while his eyes falling bewildered and helpless before the alternating gaze of Hideyoshi.

Yodogima changed to scarlet, then whitened; she had surrendered life itself to recall the words, perhaps too thoughtlessly spoken.

Was it charity, or revenge, that prompted Hideyoshi?

“Coming down,” suggested he, to Ieyasu, no doubt triumphantly, but none the less mercifully—putting into his mouth the words that he had floundered so bitterly to command or riddle.

Shame overcame any better impulse, and turning upon his adversary, Ieyasu half whined, half scowled:

“Perhaps you yourself had best drink the toast.”

“To-morrow, I may; or, perchance, it shall not be until the next day; thank you,” replied Hideyoshi, not the least perturbed.