With her eyes thus opened, Yodogima had resolved, perhaps too quickly, most likely altogether out of proportion to existing capacities, for Japan withal Hideyoshi’s democratic tendencies had not then come to recognize woman as a factor in the determining of codes or the framing of morals. True, women had progressed, side by side with their gallants, down through all the chivalrous Ashikaga centuries, but only in a passive way. She yet carried the shackles inherited of Jingo’s daring audacity, and none had risen to do more than suffer the penalties exacted of a confiding and repentant, if jealous, half in kind. Yodogima, though convinced of its susceptibility on the one hand and pother on the other, would not concede that sex were or could be made a lasting turnstile, through which to thresh or encourage humans.

“They have tricked and robbed, now coerce me,” reasoned she, to herself, the while groping her way and pondering the consequences, upon that dark, quiet night, toward the home she had earlier left unstained and in faith. “Man, no less his better half, is a brute; born of lust and scarce started on the Way. His heart—ah! there lies the secret, herein uncoils a thread, and I’ll begin it all over again by attempting to rewind the broken strands of my little life—in the manner of their own eternally begotten process. Deception only may be sinful, while failure we know to be hailed not as a virtue. Success, oh, so divine! I think I know you now, whereas before I’ve only dreamed.”

Upon reaching the castle, much excitement prevailed. Though the morning was yet early, troops were on the move, and where hitherto peace had held all at last seemed making ready for some big, uncertain undertaking. Kuroda had been relieved of duty there and sent to the front. All the faithful were withdrawn and Christians placed in stead to guard the gates in front: Kitagira left in charge, Hideyoshi had gone elsewhere, thus relieving Yodogima of the probability of any immediate contact.

Shut up alone at the castle, relieved of the embarrassment auguring in Kuroda’s presence, or others of the old school, whom she could scarce resist, and surrounded with a guard more in keeping with her necessities, if not motive, Yodogima planned afresh, as hitherto she had only hoped.

In time, as well, her face brightened, for Jokoin had come to remain with her during Hideyoshi’s absence, and sooner married to Kyogoku, of course, between the two of them there should be little doubt about rendering the taiko a son. Only time hung heavily upon her hands; no such preparations had been made within the memory of man as that waged against innocent Korea. Hideyoshi had demanded of them that they join him in no less an undertaking than the conquest of mighty China, and refusing had thrown his forces against them, first to compel their aid, and secondly to open the doors to that larger ambition of his, looked upon by all alike as hardly more than mad.

A formidable army it was, too, that he had gotten together, in three divisions, dispatching one under the command each of Kato Kiyomasa and Konishi Yukinaga—with Ukita Hidaye in higher authority—holding the other in reserve at Nagoya, on the western coast of Kyushu; where Hideyoshi himself had established headquarters, the better to direct supreme control.

Thirst for gain, now, had won the support of every daimyo in the land; the loyal and the disgruntled alike; of which he had advised Yodogima, fully, at their last meeting—the possible consequence startling her into the making of any sacrifice to save him.

“My power over others has been gained by the sword,” argued he, “because of selecting well and bestowing better: to the victor belongs the spoils, and greed once the encouragement there is no end; I must seek further resources elsewhere than at home; this field is exhausted; the cry for an heir is but the prelude to gold—and why fret my life away mourning the failure of a son? China is worth while and Hideyoshi its greater.”

The fire flashed as of old in his eyes, but Yodogima knew better the heart—nor had Esyo misjudged the elder sister’s influence or the position promising. Hideyoshi had quelled the mob, but failed at organization: should any such vital realization be let to stand Yodogima in hand? Ought her sister, though older and “more handsome,” be permitted to indulge undying fame, while she, if younger, yet “her superior,” remain just an unthanked adviser to a daimyo like Ieyasu? Not if she could prevent it.

“Accept of this invitation, from Hideyoshi, to join them, in the plundering of others—though you have no need or desire for booty,” urged Esyo, advising Ieyasu, her guardian. “It may be the means of proving what I have contended these many years, and Ieyasu—greater than Hideyoshi—may yet see his way clear, or father somehow the conscience, to make Esyo—worthier than Yodogima—his wife.”

Ieyasu pondered, possibly frowned: still waited.

“Get as close as you can, to this monkey-faced tyrant,” continued she, “and some unlooked-for riddance may discreetly arise. On the way, I shall, with your permission, pay Yodogima a visit: I think I can unearth the likelihood: her scheme we already know. You are rich and powerful now; Yedo has thrived beyond their knowledge, though Hideyoshi is said once upon a time to have seen without eyes. I tell you, the Tokugawa (Ieyasu’s family: its name) is a possibility. Trust me, Ieyasu; will you not, just this once?”

Ieyasu hesitated, yet waited. True he had risen to the topmost rank as a daimyo, outstripping any other in wealth and strength, but this he believed due more to his own patient plodding and dogged persistence than to what with Esyo’s brilliant scheming and multitudinous plans. Still he respected her; perhaps because Yodogima, however set aside, had constantly borne deeper into his affections; Saji proved a bore, from the start, as expected, and Esyo’s mentality, always agreeable, failed of heart. A deeper interest gripped him, would not let go, but wait he must.

Those cold, hard-studied assurances, not flattery, of Esyo’s, did not, however, displease Ieyasu. Yet they failed to move him; and when he did, at last, start on that journey, which was forever to open his eyes to larger contemplation, it had been on other grounds; Ieyasu feared Hideyoshi; he dared not disregard the command, and went as others did: to save their necks, and reap the beggarly bounty gratuitously suffered.

Once at Nagoya, however, Hideyoshi’s temporary headquarters, Ieyasu again rapidly rose in favor; he apparently had no axe of his own to grind, and the taiko believed him capable.

“I shall leave you in charge, at home, and myself cross the channel, into Korea,” threatened Hideyoshi, upon receipt of bad news from the field; “this Hidaye is making a mess of it, and what is left of the advance shall have more need of my presence, before the river Ta-dong is crossed and Chinese soil has inspired them to renewed effort. Do you accept this responsibility of a free will?”

Possibly Hideyoshi had sooner surmised, hence inquired the truth, for Ieyasu again hesitated; he had previously counselled with Oyea, and now possessed fresh intelligence at Esyo’s hands.

“Let him go,” proposed she; and, if he had gone, Yodogima’s further troubles were saved—not, it is true, as Esyo planned.

Upon visiting Yodogima, as permitted, Esyo had found not only the one but the other of her sisters there—portending, to her way of thinking, somewhat, if not dreadfully, suspicious circumstances.

“How you look, Yodogima; and Jokoin, too. I am awfully surprised. Is it really true—and how? Oyea just said that Hideyoshi—and I promised not to tell. How stupid I am! Of course Jokoin might be expected—but Yodogima! How dare you trust yourself to the wiles of these Christians? Why, they are even, at the gate. I hope you have not the courage to permit their coming closer? And my gown; perhaps they have already soiled this very mat? I think I must be going—you have, I’m sure, observed the make and the fineness of it? Ieyasu gave it to me, in anticipation of our marriage—and we had thought of inviting you, just to see our home, but—these Christians! I never could bear the thought—good-bye—I must be going—you have my best wishes—good-bye.”

Yodogima and Jokoin only stared at each other; Esyo had come upon them with no more ceremony than at departing, and they were puzzled to know the meaning of her unexpected visit: the younger of the two may have marvelled the audacity of her bearing; it is certain that the eldest had good reason to question the truthfulness of her statement, and did.

At Azuchi, Esyo had fared or demeaned herself differently. Both she and Ieyasu had called there, by invitation—contemplated, no doubt, on both sides—and Oyea, alone and undisturbed, took great pains to advise the latter, to the former’s entire satisfaction, of some things that were, if to be seen, only too patent; also, of many that were perhaps in truth the creatures of her imagination or purpose. She had said nothing of Yodogima’s venturing to the temple, though she knew, to say the least, that she had been there—a circumstance, in itself, to be jealously guarded; particularly as indited of discretion or necessity, possibly both; Ieyasu, at all events, would brook no tampering with the Buddha as adapted, for all his research, into the religions of the world, especially Confucianism, had only grounded him the firmer.

“It is this Christian influence that plays havoc at Ozaka,” promised she, to Ieyasu, who had risen to depart for the West. “They are in evidence, if not of authority—I won’t accuse Yodogima; she is too discreet—at the castle, and as sure as I live they are in command at the front! I do believe Hideyoshi has fairly gone mad.”

“Are you not a convert? I was informed that you were,” ventured Ieyasu.

“True, I was; therefore might be given credit for knowing whereof I speak. And more, let Hideyoshi substitute my nephew, Kobayakawa Hideki, one of our kind, for that outcast convert, Hidaye, his Korean field marshal, and Ieyasu shall not suffer, I promise you, therefor.”

Going his way, without further parley or consultation about propriety, fully confirmed in and satisfied with his own views, concerning the priesthood, and Christianity in general, Ieyasu cogitated alarm; the new religion’s hold upon the government, slight as it was, as yet, or its influence over the taiko, if any—a thing he very much doubted—could be, easily enough, as he thought, stayed or disposed, but Yodogima! How, then, could he save her?

“But why bother about it? She is nothing to me, and, come to think, it might be best, as urged, to marry Esyo, and make an end of it. I’ll test Hideyoshi, however, before committing myself,” threatened he, hastening toward the end of his journey, there to spy rather than serve, while Esyo schemed, no more discreetly, at the capital.

As it turned out, there proved no need of his waiting, this time, as concerned, however, only the witnessing of results; the test had been, to his surprise, occasioned fairly beforehand: from an unexpected source, as well, hence doubly instructive. Jokoin had before this, as might have been anticipated, connived the assistance of Yodogima in exacting from Hideyoshi permission for the return to Japan, and their settlement at Nagasaki, near Hideyoshi’s present headquarters, of the priests; who had been, sometime before, expelled for acts of intolerance and violence—such as the burning of temples and the killing of bonzes, and others whom they could not convert and dared molest—that had unquestionably settled for once and for all, in the mind of every loyal subject, the temper of these godly men and as well the drift of their converted allies.

This sudden turnover of Hideyoshi’s startled Ieyasu; he could not account for it, not knowing the source, and Yodogima held her counsel as well as Jokoin’s. She had a part of her own to play now, and may have served some deeper purpose than a sister’s sympathetic whim by temporizing for the moment with an ousted sect more at variance from her own views than any other hitherto attempted importation by upstart or trader. At all events they came, and their apparent entireness of reinvestiture at once paralyzed further conjecture.

“So this is the kind of keep the taiko would assign me?” queried Ieyasu, of Asano Nagamasa, a friendly co-supporter. “Most likely, between two such fires, a Christian propaganda and an infidel ruler, Ieyasu, his professed friend, might well be rid. I shall not remain: we must devise some means.”

“Hideyoshi is mad,” replied Nagamasa, in a high voice and nervous manner.

An attendant, within hearing, forthwith reported this last speech to his master, Hideyoshi: a hubbub ensued, and no further occasion became necessary to warrant their remaining at home; Nagamasa was sent to his fief in disgrace, and Ieyasu questioned.

“There is a lesson that we should heed in this accusation by Nagamasa; who loves you as he does his life; the barons have been, as you well know, subjected by force, and with the master gone out of the country they should be ill content to wear the yoke: Ieyasu is not the man to do Hideyoshi’s work,” argued Ieyasu, to Hideyoshi, discreetly: with a purpose and an estimation not wholly made known.

“What you say is true, but I shall go; I have better counsel,” retorted Hideyoshi, not the least bit perturbed at heart or altered in purpose by his antagonist’s insinuations.

“Yes; at Ozaka. As you have, also, the prospect of an heir,” ventured Ieyasu, conserving well an only opportunity.

“What?”

“It is as I say.”

“Then you are a better man than I; I did not know as much.”

“Thank you,” replied Ieyasu, not any the more disconcerted by the master’s thrust.

Hideyoshi for once looked Ieyasu squarely in the eyes.

“Well?” inquired the underling, boldly.

“If you have spoken truly—your fortune is made; if not—I shall send you to Korea,” replied Hideyoshi, composedly.

“Then—I am a made man,” retorted Ieyasu, seemingly settled upon some sort of true conviction.

Interpreting Ieyasu’s last remark in the most favorable light, as always done, when possible, Hideyoshi’s enthusiasm waxed significantly, if unexpectedly afresh. At last Ieyasu, by a ruse, had done something more than wait; the Chinese fantasy had been brought suddenly to a halt, and Japan saved probable humiliation, to say nothing of absolute defeat; Hidaye had already been all but crushed, and that, too, without getting beyond the confines of weak, unprepared, and unwarlike Korea. Had Hideyoshi himself left Japanese soil, with his contemplated reserve force, the trap laid by the wily Chin Ikei, China’s over-matching envoy, might have defeated more potent, if less fantastic, ambitions even than Hideyoshi’s.

None, but one, knew better than Ieyasu the futility of the taiko’s foreign project, nor was he any the less positive whom that might be, or of her desperate struggle against almost certain disaster: yet he believed Hideyoshi the father of her child, and bided thence patiently the further exactions of an inner conscience.

“She is both worthy and capable,” reasoned he, to himself, contentedly, “and I shall henceforth follow in the wake of an ambition higher than mine, more tolerable than Hideyoshi’s.”

Maeda Toshiye left in charge, the taiko forthwith abandoned forever the camp at Nagoya, and hastening to Ozaka found Yodogima ill prepared to receive him. He had come unbidden, and demanding entrance to her boudoir, was denied: Hideyoshi fumed and stormed. Ishida, however, calmed him; he, too, had found it convenient or desirable to court favor and spy out an advantage there, and Kyogoku alone had been the means of his coming; Jokoin had also denied him, her husband, any sort of entrance—thus Ishida had been privileged happily to win as well as serve the good will also of Yodogima.

Seven days had elapsed, and in that time Ishida proved himself not only a master of ceremonies but a diplomat to be reckoned with thereafter; both Hideyoshi and Yodogima, presumably from different standpoints, recognized the service, and though absent, Ieyasu no doubt had ample occasion to surmise the rapid rising of an influence hitherto not at all suspected.

The days, however, passed quietly, and presently the door to the taiko’s chamber slid back gently and unobserved. Hideyoshi sat with his elbows resting upon his knees and his face buried in his hands; restraint had proven burdensome, though Ishida, his old body-servant’s counsel had strangely come to wield over him an influence little short of Yodogima’s itself. Between the two, Yodogima’s wish and Ishida’s advice, the taiko seemed at last utterly lost.

“You are kind, Hideyoshi, to respect my denial: pray do not think me inconsiderate; I have news for you; it is a son.”