Setsu met us midway, but turned again the moment the glow of her lantern fell upon her advancing mistress. Azai joined her, while I fell back into the darkness. When the maidens came within the narrow circle of light shed by the gateway lanterns, Setsu signed me to stop. They went on a few steps, and entered the gate lodge. After a short wait, Setsu reappeared and beckoned to me.

As I advanced she stepped back through an opening in the wooden night shutters of the veranda. I hastened forward, but paused at the edge of the veranda, hesitating whether I should loosen my sandals. Across from me the shadows of a man and a woman were silhouetted on the white paper of the wall screens by the lamplight. The shadow of the woman bowed and glided off to the right.

The man’s shadow moved a little to the left, and the screen on which it was cast slid aside. Before me stood a white-bearded hatamoto in helmet and cuirass. Half unconscious of the act, I put my hand on my swordhilt. The hatamoto kowtowed.

“Command has been given that my lord is to be conducted into the presence of the Shogun,” he murmured.

I signed him to rise. He slipped back into the lodge, and came out again to kneel and offer me a deep-brimmed hat of plaited rattan. I set it on my head, while he stepped into a pair of clogs and turned to lead me out through the gateway. I looked for a last vision of my little Princess, but she failed to reappear, and I had sufficient discretion to refrain from asking questions.

We advanced under the gate roof, our presence loudly announced by the scuffle of my sandals and the clang of my escort’s iron-shod clogs on the stone flagging. A number of helmeted guards started out at us from either side. But they fell back on the instant, and their ready salutes told me that my companion was the captain of the gate. Without a pause, we passed on through and out across the high bridge that spanned the moat. From the centre of the arch I could look over at the lantern-hung verandas of the palace.

At the far side of the bridge we came to a second gateway, the heavy doors of which were closed and barred. My escort spoke to one of the guards who peered out at us from the projecting porter’s window, and after a short delay a small side wicket was unbarred for us. We crept through, and passed between two groups of silent guards, and up a short avenue of cryptomerias to the nearest wing of the palace.

After leaving the gate we met no one until we had reached the palace veranda and removed our footwear to enter. As we crossed the polished planks one of the screens of the unlighted room within slid open before an out-hurrying official. At sight of me the man halted abruptly where the glow of the porch lanterns shone full upon his face. It was Gengo the chamberlain. Never had I seen a man more startled. He stood with jaw dropped and eyes distended, glaring as if I were a ghost or demon.

Politely ignoring the strange conduct of his superior officer, the gate captain saluted and smilingly stated his errand: “Command has been given that my lord is to be conducted into the presence of the Shogun.”

Gengo sank down and kowtowed at my feet. “Pardon is implored for the inexcusable carelessness of my lord’s humble servant!” he mumbled. “It was necessary to leave my lord alone in the garden. I returned with utmost haste, but my lord had vanished, and I could not find him. I was returning even now to make search. The Shogun has summoned my lord.” He rose and bowed me to follow him. I signed to the old gate captain, who appeared to consider the final words of the chamberlain as a dismissal.

“Come with me to the threshold of the audience chamber,” I said.

Gengo nodded to the guardsman and smiled blandly. “The commands of my lord are the pleasure of his servants,” he murmured.

The readiness of his assent lessened my suspicion of the fellow. But as we entered the dark interior I took the precaution of keeping near the captain. I could not tell for certain whether the chamberlain had knowingly led me into an ambush in the garden. Yet if innocent, why had he been so startled at my appearance? At first thought his terror seemed an unmistakable confession of guilt. Then I remembered his fear in the presence of the Shogun, and coupled it with his present haste and his no less feverish eagerness in fetching me to the citadel. Was it not probable that he had blundered his orders in the confusion of the panic, and now feared that I would make complaint?

One thing alone was certain: This time he was intent on avoiding all mistakes, voluntary or involuntary. Straight as the lay of the rooms and corridors would permit, he led the way through the wing of the palace, and around the end of an inner garden court. A few steps more and we came into a dimly lighted anteroom, where guards and chamberlains crouched in waiting, flushed and bright-eyed with excitement, but silent as death. Beyond sounded a murmuring of low voices.

Gengo pointed to my sword and dirk. I drew them from my girdle with their scabbards and handed them to the old gate captain. The chamberlain whispered to a fellow-official who was kneeling close beside the wall at the upper end of the room. The latter at once drew open one of the screens, and Gengo entered on hands and knees.

I stepped forward to follow him. The doorkeeper whispered a startled command for me to kneel. But rather than crawl into the presence of their ruler in the posture of a dog, I preferred that the Japanese should consider me ignorant or even insolent. To the horror of the doorkeeper, I strode into the audience chamber proudly erect.

The large room before me was flooded with the soft rays of many lamps and lanterns. In the centre of the apartment the Shogun sat upon a low dais, close before which, to right and left, were grouped the few persons in attendance. I saw the long aristocratic face of the Prince of Owari and Satsuma’s heavy German visage on the left of the throne. Across from them knelt Midzuano the Chief Counsellor and three others, whose faces were turned from me. I gathered that the Shogun had called together an informal council of the leaders of both factions, in the hope of uniting them in the face of the supposed peril to all.

Unable to wait for the slow crawl of Gengo, I stepped past him up the room, and, heedless of Midzuano’s imperative gesture to fall upon hands and knees, crossed swiftly over the intervening mats to the dais. As I knelt to kowtow, the man beside Midzuano turned, and I saw the beautiful vindictive face of young Keiki.

I rose and slipped aside towards Satsuma. Keiki and Midzuano were glancing up at the Shogun with eager expectancy beneath their court smiles. The outrageous conduct of the barbarian had laid him open to severe punishment. The two other men, who were unknown to me, regarded me in a neutral manner. I deepened my smile, and looked up into the gloomy face of Iyeyoshi.

“The tojin lord comes quickly in response to our summons,” he said in a colorless tone, and he signed to Gengo to withdraw.

“Your Highness would have found me in attendance much sooner, had I not been led astray in the palace gardens,” I replied, keeping a side glance on Midzuano and Keiki. The latter flushed with a momentary outflashing of chagrin; the Chief Counsellor stared at me with his dull unblinking gaze, and gave no sign.

“Led astray in the gardens?” questioned the Shogun.

“At sunset, Your Highness, on my way to Owari Yashiki from the High Court, Gengo overtook me, with word that my presence was required at the palace.”

“At sunset?—Command was not sent until after the arrival of Owari dono.”

“Your Highness,” murmured Midzuano, “foreseeing the need for the presence of the tojin, command was sent by your humble counsellor. The tojin owes the credit of his quick appearance before Your Highness to the forethought of one whom he unjustly considers an enemy. I venture to speak because my sole desire is the safety and honor of the Shogunate. All friends of Nippon must forget past differences and unite in the face of the invading barbarians.”

The man’s adroitness astonished me. In a few words he had claimed credit for foresight, moderation, and patriotism, had accused me of cherishing undeserved enmity against him, and had diverted the attention of all to the burning question of the American expedition in such manner as to rouse suspicion against me and increase their fear and hatred of the supposed invaders. He need have had no apprehension that I would complain of the treacherous attack in the garden. Keiki’s vindictive look had quickened my suspicions to moral certainty; but this was not the time to speak of a matter that involved Azai.

“Your Highness,” I said, deepening my smile, “the wise Chief Counsellor has spoken well according to his limited information. He should not be blamed if, at such a time of panic and confusion, he permits inquietude to so disturb his sound judgment that he states what is not true. It is a false rumor that says the Americans have come to invade Nippon.”

“False?” cried Keiki, “false?—when the black ships have entered Yedo Bay in defiance of the edict!”

“They come in peace. The Dutch told the Shogunate to expect the expedition.”

“The Dutch did not say that the American ships would come to Yedo Bay,” said the older of the two strange daimios who sat between me and Keiki.

“How should the Dutch know?” interposed Satsuma in a voice resonant with depth and power. “The Dutch are a little people. Can they foresee the actions of a great people? The Americans have shown boldness and wisdom in coming direct to Yedo Bay. Nagasaki is a long way from Nippon.”

“Does the Daimio of Satsuma favor the mission of the barbarians?” demanded Keiki. “I favor calmness and reasonable consideration of the purposes of the tojin visitors. I do not shriek for the destruction of envoys who, according to my friend Woroto Sama, come in peace and friendship.”

“Is it friendly for them to force their way into the Bay of Yedo?” insisted Keiki.

“Nagasaki is a gate half open, but far away from the ear of His Highness,” said Owari. “The tojin peoples know that the ancient laws forbid all communication whatever. If the Shogunate sets aside the edict of non-intercourse, it may as well set aside the edict forbidding the entrance of tojin ships into other ports than Nagasaki.”

“The ancient laws are immutable. They may not be set aside,” murmured Midzuano.

“Have I heard that the Council of Elders has punished those who study the Dutch learning or those who teach the history of Nippon?” demanded Satsuma. “Both are crimes forbidden under penalty of death. Yet a Prince of Mito caused the history to be printed.”

“Let the tojin lord speak,” interposed Iyeyoshi. “I have commanded your attendance before me to advise on the coming of the black ships.—Answer truthfully, tojin! Rumor says that the fleet of your people is greater than the fleet of Kublai Khan.”

“Your Highness,” I answered, “messengers will soon bring you the exact count of the ships in the fleet of the American envoy. Others may have joined those which I saw assembled in China, yet I can state with certainty that, all told, they will number less than ten. I place the count at five or six.”

“Less than ten!” repeated Keiki. “Give command, Your Highness! The clans of Mito and Hitotsubashi will unaided board the black ships and destroy the hairy barbarians with our swords!”

The vaunt was too absurd for me to contain my amusement. I chuckled openly.

“The tojin sama mocks,” protested the daimio beside me. “Has he not heard how the swordsmen of Nippon destroyed the vast fleet of Kublai Khan?”

“Abe Ise-no-kami speaks to the point,” commented Midzuano. “Can Woroto Sama refute him?”

“Without aspersing in the slightest degree the prowess of Nippon’s brave samurai,” I answered, “it is well to give the gods credit for their share in the destruction of the Mongol fleet. I have heard that the larger number of the war junks were wrecked or foundered in a great typhoon.”

“We will implore the gods to send another such typhoon,” retorted Keiki.

“The warships of my people are not clumsy junks,” I replied. “They drive into the teeth of the storm with no sails set upon their masts. I have myself twice outridden typhoons in the black ships.”

“Grant leave, Your Highness, for Mito to destroy the insolent barbarians!” cried Keiki.

“If my countrymen might know beforehand that the Mito clan were seeking battle on their own quarrel and not as representing Nippon, Your Highness could do no better than to let them attack,” I said. “The result would provide a valuable lesson for the other frogs in the well. My countrymen come in peace, desirous of honorable friendship with the people of Dai Nippon. But they are not swordless tradesmen.”

“Nor are the barbarians samurai bred,” retorted Keiki. “Only five years have passed since two American warships ventured to approach Yedo Bay. The report cannot be doubted that their great tojin lord was flung back into his boat by a common sailor of Nippon when he sought to come aboard the ship of the Japanese commander.”

“The shame of that insult is upon Nippon,” I said, keeping to my court smile, though my face burned with hot anger at the jibe. “The august ruler of America had given strict command that the people of Nippon should be shown utmost courtesy and friendliness. The American commander was urgently asked to come aboard the junk to receive the letter of His Highness. As a token of honor to His Highness, he came alongside the junk and was boarding the vessel when the outrage occurred. Believing that the insult was the act of the sailor alone, Commodore Biddle restrained his just resentment, and left the punishment of the sailor to the laws of Nippon. We have a saying that only savages and persons of low intellect mistake moderation for fear.”

“Woroto speaks wisely,” said the Shogun. “All have now spoken except Ii Kamon-no-kami. What has Naosuke to say?”

The daimio between Abe and Keiki bowed forward to respond. Though a man still under forty, the intellect and power in his smooth face was quite sufficient to explain to me the respectful attention with which all awaited his words.

“Your Highness,” he said, “advice is humbly offered that too little is now known for final decision. The counsel of Owari dono and Satsuma to inquire the purpose of the American envoy is thought wise,—no less the counsel of Midzuano and Keiki to assemble a force of samurai and artillery against attack. The course of wisdom is for all parties to unite their strength under Your Highness.”

“The time has come for all loyal subjects to join together, forgetful of past enmities,” purred Midzuano. “It is the time to bind up old wounds and cover old scars. For the sake of common preservation, humble request is made that Owari dono join in petitioning for the freedom of one who would prove a tower of strength to Nippon,—the wise and brave Rekko Prince of Mito.”

The Prince of Owari bowed, with a smile as suave as the subtle counsellor’s. “It is certain that Midzuano has at heart only the honor and glory of His Highness,” he murmured. “Owari claims a still higher degree of loyalty, if such be possible. The present moment is one of confusion and uncertainty. All men respect the counsel of Ii Kamon-no-kami. He has said that too little is now known for final decision.”

I saw Keiki blink his narrow lids to hide the fierce flash of his eyes. Midzuano turned with an indifferent bearing to look down the chamber. The Shogun made a slight sign. I glanced about and saw Gengo creeping forward on his knees, with a scroll upraised before him on a tray. He kowtowed and murmured almost inaudibly: “Report to the Council of Elders from Yezaimon, Governor of Uraga.”

Iyeyoshi signed him towards Midzuano, who took the scroll, and at a nod from the Shogun, read the message aloud.

“To the august Council of Elders: Report is hereby humbly submitted that shortly after midday four warships of the hairy barbarians, two being of vast size, entered the mouth of the inner bay and, without sail, proceeded against wind and tide to an anchorage within close view of Uraga. Being boarded by the second in command at Uraga, his request that the black ships proceed to Nagasaki was peremptorily denied. Demand was made that all guard-boats be withdrawn. The barbarian commander is said to be of such exalted rank that only daimios may be admitted into his presence. He comes as an envoy from the tojin country called the United States of America. He bears a letter from the ruler of America to His Highness the Shogun, alleged to contain requests for friendship and intercourse. Statement is made that if such letter is not honorably received at Uraga, the black ships will proceed up the bay and deliver the letter at Yedo. The American warships are very powerful and are armed with many cannon of immense size.

“Yezaimon, Governor of Uraga.
“Nakashima, Vice-governor of Uraga.”

As the reader settled back on his heels and rolled up the scroll, all turned to the Shogun. He spoke with quick decision: “The counsel of Ii Kamon-no-kami is accepted. Let samurais be assembled by the daimios in command along the bay, to guard against surprise. To receive the communication of the ruler of America is against the ancient edict. So grave a matter as setting aside the edict requires deliberate consideration. Let the officials at Uraga negotiate with the tojin envoy until a decision may be reached by my counsellors. Permission is given to withdraw.”

We kowtowed and glided from the audience chamber past an increeping group of chamberlains. In the anteroom, when I received back my sword and dirk from the old gate captain, Keiki eyed him sharply, but was called away by Midzuano. Ii Kamon-no-kami and Abe Ise-no-kami followed the Prince, Satsuma, and myself through another exit, and asked me many politely worded questions as we clattered along on our high clogs.

Leaving the palace enclosure by one of the lesser bridges, we crossed the outer enclosure of the citadel to the Sakaruda Gate through a small army of grotesquely armored hatamotos. It was the first time that I had seen Japanese in full war-harness, and bizarre as was the effect of their dish helmets, wing-like shoulder brassards, and the padded robes under their plate and chain mail, I must confess that they presented a most formidable appearance even to one acquainted with modern firearms.

Outside the Sakaruda Gate I was relieved to find Yoritomo waiting for us with a guard of half a thousand Owari retainers, all clad in armor as complete as that of the hatamotos. He himself wore a wondrous suit of gilded armor that glittered resplendent in the light of the swaying lanterns. He rode an armored stallion, but had brought a norimon for me.

The need of this escort became clear when we marched away through the official quarter. I had left the broad streets swarming with a silk-clad panic-stricken mob. I came back to find them all but jammed with mailed and helmetted samurais whose wild fear had given place to the fury of despair. Many among them,—for the most part Mito retainers,—wore their armor shrouded with white mourning robes, in token of devotion to death in battle.

Ii and Abe had turned aside to their yashikis, which were near at hand, eastward from the gate. We moved in the opposite direction, and having escorted Satsuma and his cortege to his yashiki, finally won our way through the crowded streets to the outer moat and across into Owari Yashiki.

A few minutes later I was alone in my apartments with Yoritomo, relating all that had befallen me since our parting at sunset. Throughout the account my friend listened with intense interest, but with no comment except an exclamation of profound astonishment that the Princess should have confessed her love to me. When I had quite finished, he shook his head in a puzzled manner, and said: “In all the temples and at thousands of samurai garden shrines, prayers are being made for the gods to send a great wind against the tojins. If all the tojins are as favored by the gods as one I know, there will be no typhoon.”

“I have won the favor of Azai. How can I fail to possess the favor of the gods?” I replied, not altogether in jest.

He clanked his golden armor in an impatient gesture. “Namida! We speak of women and love, when the fate of Nippon hangs in the balance! There is one thing you have not told me. What was the message Yuki handed to you when you were mounting your horse? He says that a geisha gave it to him for me. He did not presume to read it, but as he could not reach my norimon through the midst of the Satsuma men, he gave the note to you, not knowing that you cannot read Japanese.”

I searched in my bosom, and drew out a crumpled bit of paper. As Yoritomo smoothed it on the palm of his steel gauntlet, he nodded. “The writing of Kohana. You are right in suspecting that the attack in the garden enclosure of the Princess was not due to chance. It was an ambush laid by Keiki and Midzuano. They hoped you would be cut down by the hatamotos as you entered the citadel. That failing, Gengo deliberately misled you into the forbidden enclosure of the women, that Midzuano might set the guards of the inner gate upon you. The guards did not know it was a plot. They were loyally seeking to avenge the outrage committed by one of the hairy barbarians who had violated the sacred enclosure of the palace women. None other than Azai or the Shoguness could have saved you.”

“Kohana’s note!” I exclaimed. “Does it tell all that?”

“Between the lines, as you say,” he answered; and he read the writing, “‘Gengo has taken pay of Keiki.’”