Ishida and Masuda lingered longer than usual at the cups, on a dark night soon after, while their conversation, heated and close, kept rhythm to the customary “whack, whack,” their metal pipes ringing and the hours lessening.

“Then it is true that Jokoin really bore a son, this Hachisuka, to whom Ieyasu has just now married his granddaughter, Ogasa,” queried Masuda. “I wonder how long it will be till he, himself, has taken Yodogima for wife? He seems to have ignored the taiko’s enjoinder, altogether: perhaps he may have convenient some other granddaughter or such like for Hideyori: what chance shall there be for the rest of us then? I really believe he aims at succeeding Hideyoshi in authority.”

Ishida shifted uneasy.

“They say he was, once, in love with the princess.”

“Love! He’s too cold for that: I should sooner think him in quest of the treasure stored away there, at Ozaka, in Maeda’s keep.”

“Do you know,” continued Ishida, without further reference to Yodogima, “that two of them, Ieyasu and Maeda, united, are competent and capable of doing about as they like? They must be antagonized, and you and I shall do it; ally yourself with the former, and I will attend the latter.”

“But Yodogima is friendly to both of them, in some measure.”

“So much the better, for Oyea is as hot against her, and if we fail at the one, why, then we have a surer remedy.”

Thus they separated, and Ishida calling at the castle convinced Maeda that it were high time for Ieyasu to pay his respects to Hideyori, their rising superior. Maeda, the guardian, without any suspicion as to motive or consultation with Yodogima, issued the invitation, and Masuda as soon advised Ieyasu that Maeda plotted to kill him.

“Maeda harm me? There must be some mistake,” replied Ieyasu, a bit puzzled, but not the least shaken.

“There can be none, however, about this letter,” suggested Masuda, producing one, in the hand of its supposed writer. “Perhaps my lord is familiar with the handwriting. It was intercepted between Yodogima, the mother, and his grace, the good guardian—can your lordship unravel the meaning, to some better purpose?”

Ieyasu turned pale. Though understanding well enough its purport, somehow the chirography did not exactly satisfy him, and wheeFling round toward Esyo—who of late had made it her business to sojourn mostly between Fushima, Ieyasu’s recently adopted domicile, and Azuchi, Oyea’s deserted or despised hearth—Ieyasu—grandfather to Kita, Esyo’s first born, a daughter—significantly asked:

“Who wrote it, Esyo?”

Esyo stammered; for once she had been taken unawares:

“Perhaps Jokoin might know. Shall I call her; she is close by, engaged just now with Takiyama; you know he is quite friendly—”

“No; I would rather not put her to the test, as I did you, my daughter. But where is her husband, Kyogoku?”

“Oh, he’s at Ozaka; preferred Kitagira and the shrine to his wife and a church; though Maeda, really, distrusts them both; poor, lonely soul; he’s about the only Christian left there; a pleasing enough circumstance to Yodogima, I presume, now that she’s a favorite among the captains and the bearer of a—”

“Cannot you control your tongue? Now Kita, your own daughter, shall marry Hideyori, as I command. Go hence.”

“Where to, Azuchi?”

“If you like; I can do quite well without either of you.”

“Perhaps.”

Ieyasu did not make the visit, however, and Yodogima, advised of the circumstance, consulted Hosokawa, Maeda’s most ardent friend; whose wife, Grace of Tango, a staunch Christian, not only bore intimate terms with Jokoin, keeping strict account of her entangling alliances, but actively inspired some acquaintance with all things pertaining accidentally or discreetly to the new religion.

“Let Ishida separate Maeda and Ieyasu, if he will, but see to it no harm is done either one; we cannot so much control men’s acts as adapt ourselves inadvertently to results,” urged Yodogima, no less concerned about Ieyasu’s than Ishida’s motive.

“How do you know that it is Ishida, who seeks their disalliance?” queried Hosokawa, unadvised, yet suspicious.

“Intuitively, I presume,” replied she, unconcernedly, but not without arousing deeper thought on his part.

“What would your ladyship have me do, then, if there is danger ahead for either or both of them; they must be gotten together in some way?” replied he, hopelessly at sea.

Yodogima shrugged her shoulders; a first glimpse at intrigue seemed ready to burst into fruitage more bitter than she could unmovedly contemplate.

“Whatever else you may advise, do not countenance, for a moment, Maeda’s leaving the castle. Let Ieyasu come here; it is proper that he should, and if he refuse, then beware: there are two reasons why Hideyori’s guardian should not expose himself.”

Hosokawa minded the advice, but Maeda did not; going directly to visit his friend Ieyasu, who had sooner left Azuchi, to resume uninterruptedly his residence at Fushima.

Yodogima remained up all that night, devising how best to keep her skirts clear of an impending crisis. She had discovered Ishida, and penetrated Ieyasu. True she had favored the Christians, but not out of sympathy for them or their creed; she believed them no less abused than abusive, and among the flower of the nobility entitled to such protection and encouragement as her influence and position might render—the possibilities of their united support had not as yet dawned, neither the occasion; Ieyasu alone had discerned and forestalled, planning the division of a house unto itself.

Through the marriage of his granddaughter to the son of Jokoin—innocent as she was—he had enlisted into his services the sympathy or support of the younger and most active in the new school; Takiyama, Gamo, and others of the hot bloods had followed in the trail of their bewitching Jokoin, while Kuroda, still piqued and guerilla-like, continued with the mending of his own fortunes far away at Kyushu.

Yet, in the face of these discouragements, Jokoin came in upon the deeper thinking Yodogima.

“Take my advice, sister,” said she, confidingly, “and submit to Ieyasu’s rule. He is able and willing and Hideyori is only a child, and don’t you whisper it, I believe he is madly in love with you still. Come, let’s have peace; and after all I don’t believe Ishida is a whit better Christian than Ieyasu; there isn’t one of them, not a daimyo, converted or designing or otherwise, who would let go a single wife for the whole Christian paraphernalia—and I’m not so sure but they are right, after all. Let Hideyori acknowledge Ieyasu—Oyea advises it, and as sure as fate she is wise.”

Without attempting any answer to her harangue, Yodogima bade the sister welcome, inquiring discreetly as to the good fortune and better intentions of Oyea.

“Oh, she is gaining somewhat in favor since Ieyasu is known to have taken her up; but, I am afraid Esyo shall spoil it all; nobody likes her; and, do you know, she displayed the affrontery to drive her father-in-law, the great Ieyasu, from Azuchi—I left her there, in the company of Ishida.”

Just then a servant came in, informing Yodogima that Maeda lay dying at his quarters, elsewhere within the castle enclosure.