When the Prince returned with this last news, I found that at heart I was still very much a tojin. All thought of state affairs, the interests of my new country and of my old country, were alike forgotten in the selfish joy of my love. I was to wed my little Princess!

Blissful elation gave way to doubt and anxiety. The death of Iyeyoshi had not yet been announced. Abe was waiting for the Mikado’s envoys. When Iyesada had been duly confirmed in his rule, Iyeyoshi would be officially declared dead and would be buried with all due pomp amongst his forefathers either at Shiba or Uyeno. My fear was that, once the period of mourning had begun, Azai might not be permitted to marry me until the termination of the prescribed months of sorrow.

Though puzzled by my feverish impatience at the bare possibility of delay, the Prince urged the matter upon Satsuma. The Daimio, no less willing to please me than to disappoint Keiki, enlisted the assistance of his adopted daughter, Iyesada’s wife. The lady was, I suspect, delighted with the opportunity to remove from the palace one whose influence was far greater than her own.

Abe found Iyesada not only willing but urgent to bind the House of Owari to his interests by means of the marriage. Satsuma offered himself as intermediator between the two families. Arrangements were made under a mutual agreement that, in view of the circumstances, the wedding should be conducted without display. An act accomplished escapes opposition and a large share of the criticism otherwise uttered in the hope of prevention.

The wishes of Azai were not consulted. She was told that she would be wedded to me the following night. Presents were exchanged, and the trousseau of my bride was brought at once to Owari Yashiki, in the charge of Azai’s ladies-in-waiting. Even Tokiwa Sama was impressed by the display of silk costumes and ornaments and artistic articles of personal and household use arranged in the bridal apartments by the ladies of the Princess. My own wardrobe was arranged by my mother and her maids.

Propriety required that I should not view the trousseau of my bride before the ceremony. But chance gave me one glimpse that stirred my heart to deepest tenderness. While passing one of the inner garden courts, I chanced to gaze across, and caught sight of a girl within the opposite veranda. It was O Setsu San bearing in the favorite dolls of her mistress.

I sought the seclusion of a grape arbor in the largest of the yashiki gardens, and mused for hours upon the sweet innocence of my little Princess bride. The thought of her childlike purity filled me with adoration. I had won the love and trust of this young maiden who yet played with her dolls. I must be very gentle with her.

Death had deprived her of a father’s fond care, marriage was to cut her off from home and mother. By entering the family of Owari she was to become as one dead to her own family. She had been the petted daughter of an indulgent father; she was to become the wife and servant of a husband and the humble subordinate of a mother-in-law, whose commands must be obeyed.

Yet hers was a fate far better than the fate of most Japanese brides. She loved me and knew that she was loved: others went to husbands unknown to them, many without so much as the preliminary meeting common among the lower classes. Tokiwa Sama I knew would be a mild tyrant to the gentle daughter-in-law. As a concession to my tojin prejudices, if not because of the winsomeness of my bride, she would not deal harshly with my wife.

This I knew because she had already made the amazing concession of supporting me in a contest against custom. It was my earnest desire that my bride should come to the wedding without the customary shaving of eyebrows and blackening of teeth. I had laid great stress upon this strange proposal. The matter had been carried up to Iyesada, and precedent found for a postponement of the senseless blemishings until after the marriage.

Though much astonishment was expressed over the betrayal of such absurd prejudices by the Prince of Owari, Satsuma won over his daughter, and Iyesada bent to the wish of his Shoguness. The Princess Azai was ordered to comply with the whim of her future husband. For the time, at least, I had saved the beauty of my darling.

The good news of this concession was brought to me by Satsuma on the morning of my wedding day, and it added no little to my rapturous anticipations. Overcome with joy, I went out into the gardens and wandered about, neglectful of my duties, lost in a maze of blissful visions. But presently the old Prince sought me out and sobered me with his paternal reproof.

“Is it so that Woroto prepares himself for matrimony?” he asked. “On the day of all days when a man should think reverently of the family, my son has neglected to stand before the shrines of his forefathers.” I kowtowed to the ground. “The rebuke of my august parent is just. I will go at once.”

He restrained me with a gesture as I rose to hasten in. “Stay, my son. It is well for you to realize that what you have set your heart upon with such strange ardor is not certain of attainment even now.”

“Not certain!” I cried. “You bring ill news from the palace?”

“I have not been to the palace. From all I know, your day’s fortunes are as bright as is this sky after the rain.”

“Yet you say—?”

“Have you then failed to grasp the characteristics of your new people, Woroto? Do you forget that the times when we should most expect our enemy to strike are the hours of our greatest joys and triumphs? Your audience as Prince of Owari brought you the flask of poisoned sake.”

“Namida!” I murmured, seized with vague dread. “You have heard of another plot! Keiki plans to rob me of my bride! Yuki has brought word again from Kohana!”

“Nothing has been heard of any plot. Yuki brings no word from the geisha. He committed the grave error of leaving in the street the hollow arrow in which she shot out to him the message of the poison plot. If it was picked up by the Mito men, we have the explanation why no more arrows have dropped beside the ronin. The girl will render no further service to Owari.”

“But the Shogun’s daughter—my bride?” I exclaimed, selfishly heedless of whatever fate the geisha may have suffered. “You think it possible that Keiki will again attack her cortege?”

“Look for all evil from your foe when fortune seems fairest. Go now. The gods await your prayers.”

I bowed, and with unfeigned gravity went in to set the daily offerings before the Buddhist family shrine and murmur the daily invocation before the Shinto tablets: “Ye forefathers of the generations, and of our families, and of our kindred,—unto you, the founders of our homes, we utter the gladness of our thanks.”

My duty as acting head of the household was fulfilled, but my disquiet continued. I returned to the garden and roved about for hours, unable to overcome the dread of impending disaster. As evening approached, my alarm increased, though I knew that Fujimaro and Yuki had been sent with a powerful escort to accompany the bride. When I was required to go in to prepare for the ceremony, Tokiwa Sama sought to smile away my dread. But I was in a fever of apprehension until announcement was made that the bridal cortege was entering the great gate of the yashiki. At this my dread gave way to joy no less unreasoning. I hastened in my ceremonial costume to the position within the entrance where I was to receive my bride. Outside, to right and left, two fires had been lighted, and beside each an aged couple stood waiting with a rice mortar. Near me was stationed one of the ladies-in-waiting with a lantern, and other ladies stood behind her.

The armed escort had halted in the courtyard, and the bridal party was already entering the inner enclosure. In the light of the gay lanterns I saw the norimon of the Princess, which had been turned about end for end to symbolize her death to her family. It was borne forward in the midst of the high officials of the palace household. My chief retainers gathered before the entrance to meet and exchange congratulations with the hatamotos. The old couples beside the fires began to pound rice in their mortars and to call out felicitations: “A thousand years!—Ten thousand years!”

The norimon, which had been placed upon the mats, was again raised and borne in before me. The lady-in-waiting held her lantern for me. I parted the curtain and looked in upon the lovely face of my bride. Her pure young eyes met mine, aglow with the soft radiance of perfect love and trust. For either to have spoken would have been most improper. But we gazed deep into one another’s eyes. The lady-in-waiting uttered a faint murmur. Azai blushed scarlet and raised one of her sleeves before her face. With her free hand she held out to me the bag of brocaded silk that contained her amulet or talisman. As I took it from her, the norimon was carried in past me, led by the lady with the lantern. I handed the amulet bag to another lady-in-waiting, and withdrew to my private rooms.

Even to my impatience the interval did not seem unduly prolonged before I was requested to enter the ceremonial chamber. My attendants stopped in the anteroom. I entered alone.

Azai sat in the place of honor, before the tokonoma, dressed in robes of pure white silk, which had been sent to her in my name. Over her head was draped a veil of white crepe. To all others the costume was symbolic of death and mourning, to myself it was the emblem of bridal purity.

According to immemorial custom, no relatives were present. Satsuma, as our mediator, took the place of priest and magistrate, although he now had nothing to say and nothing else to do than to sit with his wife. Aside from this friendly couple, O Setsu San and others of the ladies-in-waiting attended upon their mistress.

Food and sake had been laid out in the tokonoma, which was decorated with branches of pine and bamboo and cherry. When I had taken my seat below and to one side of Azai, two of the ladies served us with chestnuts, edible seaweed, and dried fish, bowing and murmuring gracious words of compliment.

The sake was in two wine flasks to which had been attached a pair of butterflies, symbolic of our souls. These flasks and two heating kettles were taken from the tokonoma to the lower part of the room, and the amber wine poured ceremoniously into one and then the other kettle.

Three cups, placed one within the other on a tray, were brought to me with the sake. I drank twice from the upper cup, poured a little sake from the full kettle into the empty one, and drank again from the same cup. The service was now carried before Azai, who drank and poured as I had done. The wine was returned to the tokonoma and food served to us.

Again the sake was brought out, and we drank as before, except that Azai was served first and used the second cup. For the second time the sake was returned to the tokonoma and food served. Last of all, the sake was brought to us once more and I led, as at first, by drinking from the third cup.

Throughout this mute yet solemn ceremony I was compelled to sit with face half averted from my sweet bride. To look at her would have been rude and unmannerly. I had to content myself with stolen side-glances at her dainty head under its soft white veil. She held her eyes modestly downcast.

I now rose and withdrew to one room, and Azai retired to another, while our attendants were served with refreshments. I returned to take the seat of honor. Immediately my little bride entered, no longer attired in white, but in a kimono of soft dark silk. The veil had been removed, and I saw that her hair was dressed after the fashion of married women. She was now my wife.

As she nestled down in the place which had been mine, my parents and the wedding guests entered to congratulate us and to join in the feast that was served. For the time being austerity was laid aside, and joy reigned supreme. Owari was providing for the perpetuation of the family. It was proper for all relatives and friends to feast and rejoice. Course followed course, and wit and poetry flowed as freely as the amber rice-wine.

At last, close upon midnight, the feast drew to a close, and the guests prepared to leave. I sat with my bride, receiving the final congratulations and farewells. The more wearied of the guests hurried off; the others prepared to follow. Soon the last would withdraw, and we should be left alone with Satsuma and his wife, who were to conduct us to the bridal chamber. Suddenly I heard Yuki’s voice in the anteroom, raised in loud protest. The Prince hastened out through the midst of the departing guests, enraged at the unseemly disturbance. All followed his going with startled looks. In the hush that fell upon us I heard voices murmuring punctilious salutations.

The Prince reappeared, his face no longer flushed, but hard and cold. He waved his fan towards Azai, and commanded in a harsh voice: “Lead her out.”

But my darling had sensed the danger with quick intuition. She threw herself before me and grasped at the edge of my robe. Over her bowed head I caught sight of a grotesque, glittering figure on the threshold. It was Keiki, in full armor.

My first thought was that the occasion had enabled the Mito men to enter the yashiki by stealth and overwhelm our retainers in their quarters. Yet an attack, however sudden and stealthy, must have meant some uproar of yells and clashing blades. We could not have failed to hear the struggle, even had there been no other sounds than the shrieks of the women.

As I rose, I perceived that the sword of our unwelcome visitor was sheathed and in the hands of a bearer. There was no danger of immediate violence. Yuki stood close at the shoulder of my enemy. Nevertheless there was a grim menace in the glinting armor and hideous face-mask of the son of Mito.

I bowed in response to his mocking salute, and attempted an ironical greeting: “Keiki Sama comes late to my wedding feast. Yet food remains. Let him be seated.”

“I come late and go soon,” he replied, in a tone that seemed to bring a sneer to the brazen lips of his mask’s gaping maw. “I come late, but still in time. Does the hairy barbarian grieve that I did not come sooner?”

I turned inquiringly to the Prince. Before the enemy he could betray no weakness. His voice sounded harsh and constrained: “Keiki Sama bears the edict of the Mikado, which holds that Woroto is legally neither my son nor Prince of Owari. He whom I have regarded as my son is declared to be a criminal and a man of alien race. Keiki Sama bears the warrant of Minamoto Iyesada and the Council of Elders to arrest Adamisu Woroto and hold him in close confinement.”

Satsuma stepped forward. “Keiki Sama is requested to delay the execution of his orders until dawn. The pledge of Satsuma is offered.”

“The pledge of Satsuma may not be scorned by any daimio or son of a daimio. Nevertheless the occasion does not permit of delay. The command of the Shogun is imperative,” replied Keiki, and he displayed his warrant with the great vermilion seal of Minamoto Iyesada.

“My Lord Woroto,” called Yuki, “your enemy has duped the Shogun with evil lies. Are there no samurais in Owari Yashiki?”

“The barbarian is welcome to call upon Owari to rebel against the will of the Shogun,” mocked Keiki. “The august Rekko, Prince of Mito, now commands the forces of the Shogunate. Ten thousand warriors surround Owari Yashiki.”

I stooped before them all, and pressed my lips upon the bloodless lips of Azai. “Farewell, my wife! We will meet on that other side!”

“You go, my lord!” she gasped.

“Better that the tojin outcast should suffer than all Owari,” I replied, and I loosened her clutching little fingers. No one should share my fate.

She tottered up to follow me down the room. But Nature was more merciful than Keiki. She swooned into the arms of my weeping mother. The Prince averted his head, unable to mask his emotion. I advanced swiftly past the guests that had lingered, and held out my sheathed dirk to Keiki.

“Lead out, badger! The tojin is ready,” I said.

“Go before, demon!” he commanded, enraged at the shameful name I gave him. Yuki had disappeared, but the Prince stepped to my side.

“Owari dono will escort to the portico him who was his son,” he said.

We walked out side by side, followed by Keiki and his swordbearer. We went in silence. The Prince could offer me no hope, and it was no time to give way to grief. In the portico we exchanged formal bows of farewell. I passed on out.

Yuki approached, with his hands in his sleeves, and sought to edge up beside me. I divined that he schemed to slip me one or both of my revolvers. But Keiki was keen-eyed and vigilant. He thrust himself between us. With the swordbearer on the other side, I walked out through the state gate of Owari Yashiki, into the midst of the mail-clad samurais of Mito and Hitotsubashi.