Within the hour Satsuma had Midzuano trapped in his yashiki, and I was closing in upon Keiki. The Mito men gathered rapidly, with the evident purpose of driving us off or cutting their way through to their Hitotsubashi allies. But the timely arrival of Yuki with a thousand Owari retainers compelled the enemy to draw back for reinforcements. Before these could come up, the rumor of the attack upon the Shogun had spread throughout the official quarter, and so vast a number of loyal samurais swarmed to my support that the Mito men barely averted destruction by a quick retreat across the outer moat to their Superior Yashiki.

A word from me would have precipitated an attack that must have resulted in the certain destruction of Keiki. But Yuki and my counsellors alike advised me against a course of action that would undoubtedly result in a conflagration not alone of fire. The death of Keiki by the sword would be the signal for civil war. Even the Prince of Owari had no right to punish the Shogunate’s enemies without the command of the Shogun. The most I could do was to lay siege to the fortified dwelling of the plotter, that no message might pass between him and the old Prince, his father. All through the day we waited, lined up about the yashiki, and backed by the dense throngs of hatamotos and loyal samurais, that came and went, yet were always too numerous to be driven back by a sortie of the Hitotsubashi men or scattered before an attack by Mito. Keiki’s retainers wisely kept close and made no display of weapons at the yashiki windows. My men were held by my command, but there were times when an arrow or even a gibe would have stung our allies to an instant storming of the traitor’s stronghold.

Late in the afternoon my adopted father sent a message commending my actions, and asking me to hold my position until notified by Iyesada, with whom he was advising. At nightfall we lighted bamboo torches and vast numbers of lanterns, that neither Keiki nor any messenger might escape past us in the darkness.

A violent storm, accompanied by a deluge of rain and a display of lightning most unusual in Japan, swept over the city during the night, the wind at one time blowing a full gale. But though we were in the midst of the typhoon season, the storm failed to augment to hurricane force. The ardor of more than half of our volunteer allies was quenched by the downpour and the turmoil of the elements. Appalled by the seeming anger of the gods, they deserted us in great numbers. Yet enough remained for the watch to be maintained with utmost vigilance throughout storm and night.

Dawn brought us a clearing sky and lulling wind. At sunrise a rumor reached us that Midzuano had committed hara-kiri. An hour later an order from the palace, signed by Iyesada and countersigned by Abe Ise-no-kami, commanded me to withdraw my forces. Uncertain whether to obey, I despatched a messenger to Satsuma for instructions. Before the man could return, my adopted father came to me in his norimon and directed me to comply with Iyesada’s command.

Once again old Mito and his accomplices had escaped the penalty of treason. Midzuano had destroyed Kohana’s message, and with a false fidelity in the very face of death, had left a testament to the effect that he committed hara-kiri in proof of his own innocence and the loyalty of his friends. With consummate adroitness he had converted what would have been taken as a confession of guilt into a shield to hide his shame and a mask for the crime of his fellow-conspirators.

Without proof positive, Abe Ise-no-kami, who had already been appointed to the office of the dead Counsellor, was of too cautious a temperament to proceed to extremes. To assure himself a majority, he had favored a reorganization of the Council of Elders. Otherwise the regime of Iyesada promised better opportunity for the success of Mito than had the iron rule of Iyeyoshi. The father had been a strong man, who could command the fear and respect of all the great daimios; the son was an amiable, capricious weakling. Abe, though astute, was over-cautious and lacked the force and magnetism of a leader. His would be a policy of expediency.

Such were the bitter comments of my father as we sat in Owari Yashiki, breaking our fast on the dainty dishes served us by my quaint little mother. Divining with subtle intuition the great fear that troubled her son, Tokiwa Sama ventured to inquire what effect the murder of Iyeyoshi would have on my marriage. The Prince confessed his inability to foresee, but assured me that he would make every effort to obtain from Abe and Iyesada a confirmation of the agreement.

With this he left us and returned to the palace,—to find Keiki already in conference with the new Chief Counsellor. It was the beginning of a ceaseless contest of influence and intrigue between Owari and Mito.

Sobered by the fate of his fellow-conspirator and guided no doubt by the crafty counsel of his imprisoned father, Keiki restrained his fiery temper and proved himself a master of subtlety. With every move he expressed a heartfelt desire for an amicable adjustment of differences and for the coalescence of all parties under the banner of the Shogunate. This was his protestation even while his agents were intriguing with the Kyoto court nobles to prevent the formal investiture of Iyesada with the title and office of Sei-i-tai Shogun.

Meantime he had the audacity to demand the immediate release of his father, my degradation and deportation as a tojin, and the marriage of Azai to himself. Our only positive proposition was that the ports should be opened for temporary intercourse. Against us the Mito faction stirred up all the prejudices, fears, and passions of the proud samurai class.

Abe assumed a judicial attitude, and did all that lay in his power to conciliate the contending factions. To please Mito, he authorized the building of war junks, the drilling of an army, and the casting of cannon. Plans for forts upon the shoals opposite Shinagawa were rushed to completion and work begun.

To please Owari, he refused to take action against me, caused the abrogation of the law that required persons suspected of Christianity to tread upon the cross, held the question of releasing old Mito in abeyance, and intimated that with regard to Azai he rather favored me above Keiki, but would make no decision until the regular investiture of Iyesada gave the new Shogun the prestige of the Mikadoic sanction.

The last of the answers of the daimios to the letters of inquiry sent out by Iyeyoshi were now coming in, and Abe compared them with the others, with a politic inclination towards the weightier scale. Yet decision was difficult. The vast majority of the counsellors were uncertain and confused in their advice. Against a seeming weight of opinion in favor of the ancient laws, the perplexed premier had to consider the demands of the Russian admiral, Pontiatine, just received from Nagasaki, the not improbable event of a visit from the powerful Asiatic fleet of the British, and the future but certain return of Commodore Perry.

The inevitable result was a continuance of the policy of compromise. The Mito intrigues at Kyoto were delaying the investiture of Iyesada. To secure the Mikadoic sanction the weak Chief Counsellor promised Keiki the release of his father. To appease our party for this concession to the enemy, Abe pledged his personal influence in favor of a temporary treaty and engaged to secure the assent of the Mikado. Keiki obtained an additional concession that old Rekko should be placed in command of the defences of Yedo.

When the Prince heard of this last victory of Mito, he went to the palace in a rage. Abe was most apologetic, but insisted that the concession had been pledged under the seal of Iyesada, and could not be withdrawn. As a peace offering he agreed to obtain Iyesada’s assent to my marriage with Azai.