ITHOUT the Imperial city of Kioto, in an open field, lay encamped a little army of thirteen hundred men. It was some months following the decisive action of Mori at Shimonoseki. Imperialists of the neighborhood could not have told who the commander of this force was. They were known simply as the “Irregulars.”

Small as was the force, it was admirably trained and drilled in all three of its divisions of cavalry, infantry, and artillery. Each division was the flower and choice of some larger body. The force, which had remained in inaction for a considerable period, showed nevertheless a state of ruling vigilance, whether for attack or defence could not have been told from its appearance.

The camp was in the shape of an elongated circle, whose circumference was regularly defined by field-pieces set at regular intervals, and trained to oppose any invading force. Near each cannon were tethered the horses furnishing the motive power. Hard by, stretched upon the ground, or lounging within the scant shadows of the gun-carriages, were the artillerymen. Infantry guards, in armor, and for the most part armed with rifles, patrolled the space without the circle. Other soldiers and samurai, armed only with swords, sat in the openings of tents assigned to their division, or occupied the time in sword exercise in the open spaces between their shelters. Near the centre of the encampment were assembled the horses of the cavalry division, saddled and in complete readiness for their riders, who lounged near by.

Within a short stone’s-throw of the horsemen was pitched what seemed, from its commanding position on a little eminence, the tent of the commander of the “Irregulars.” Close by its entrance stood an enormous samurai, whose naked sword was held lightly, carelessly, in his hand. In conversation with him stood a hardy youth, attired as a cavalryman.

The curtains of the tent on the eminence were parted deftly, and the slight figure of a boy hastened towards the two.

“My Lord of Catzu,” he said, “the Prince Mori desires your presence, and that of you also, Sir Genji.”

Toro smiled at the youth’s ceremoniousness.

“Is there news, my Jiro?” he asked.

“Oguri, as you know, has arrived from the south, and our enemies have reported concerning the condition of the city.”

The three hastened within, where they found Oguri and Mori.

“Now, then, Oguri, your news,” commanded Mori.

“Your highness,” said Oguri, “the British have bombarded Kagoshima as a result of our attack upon the foreign fleet.”

“Kagoshima!” exclaimed Mori—“the capital of our old friend Satsuma. Then, indeed, have we brought trouble upon our allies.”

Other members of Mori’s staff sent through Kioto reported the results of their investigations. The premier Echizen had abolished the custom of the daimio’s compulsory residence in Yedo during a portion of each year, and now all these territorial lords resided in Kioto. Within the Imperial palace of Kommei Tenno the Lord Aidzu appeared to have controlling influence. The Lord of Catzu was there with him in consultation. Troops of the Aidzu clan had arrived at the palace in great numbers and were encamped in the flower-gardens. Though loathing the shogunate, the Mikado appeared to be completely under its control.

Having ascertained these facts, Mori dismissed all the staff save Oguri, Toro, Genji, and Jiro.

“No answer has come to our petition?” he asked.

The four shook their heads.

“None,” they said.

“You have heard the reports,” continued Mori, “and will perceive that the Aidzu-Catzu party, now in possession of the Emperor’s person and the palace, are determined upon something. These constant arrivals of new troops, the silence of the Mikado to our petition, the crowding of the palace with armed samurai—all these things mean that we are to be punished for having petitioned the Mikado to remove from us the ban of outlaw.”

“Then, your highness,” broke in Toro, “since the petition was not signed by you, but came from us, your followers, they may now know of your arrival here, and may be preparing to send out an expedition against you in the south.”

“No,” replied Mori, “I think they know I am here with you, and propose to attack me at once here in my camp. Now, my friends, the time has come for me to disclose to you the real purpose of this expedition. We have respectfully petitioned the Mikado to admit us again to his favor. He is silent. He is surrounded by his enemies. We must attack the palace and rid it of the Aidzu-Catzu combination, thus allowing the Mikado once more to become a free agent.”

Oguri and Genji leaped to their swords.

“Now, on the instant, my lord,” they cried.

Mori answered, calmly:

“No; we must first gain some knowledge of the exact plans of those within the palace. I want a volunteer for this service.”

Simultaneously the four cried out for the service. Mori considered.

“No, not you, Toro; you would be recognized too quickly; nor you, Oguri, for you are needed sorely here. Perhaps you, Genji, but you are too large.”

“I am small. The task is mine,” broke in Jiro. “I will go.”

“Not without me,” said Genji.

“Why not without you, Sir Genji?” inquired Mori, mildly. “The boy Jiro needs no guardian. He has proved his valor and discretion upon many an occasion.”

With a smile whose influence was ever potent with the Shining Prince, Jiro moved nearer his commander. He said, gently:

“Permit Sir Genji to accompany me. I have resources within the palace I need not speak of now, which will insure me complete safety, but I would ask that the samurai be placed”—he smiled boyishly—“under my command, so that if I am forced to remain within the palace he may carry to you whatever news I may gain.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Mori. “What resources can you have in the Mikado’s palace?”

The lad, stammering, blushed.

“My lord,” he said, “you know I visited the palace before, and—and—”

He broke off in confusion.

“As you will,” said Mori, turning aside.

An hour later the samurai Genji strode through the eastern gate of Kommei Tenno’s palace, accompanied by a young woman with the air of a princess. They were allowed to pass, while Genji answered the challenge of the guard readily.

“Of the household of the Lord Catzu,” he said, pointing to the young woman. “My lord’s apartments?”

The guard indicated the house in which the Lord Catzu had temporarily taken up his residence. Without further challenge, the two reached the door of Catzu’s private apartment. The guard at the door, recognizing the two, ushered them into the presence of the Lord Catzu.

They found him before a table on which were spread plans and letters. In irritation at being disturbed in the midst of some important employment, Catzu glanced up from his scrolls.

His face became purple with astonishment and mingled emotions. From the caverns of flesh surrounding his puffy cheeks his little eyes gleamed. He stared at the two with his mouth agape. They regarded him smilingly. Finally Catzu gasped out:

“By the god Bishamon!” and again lapsed speechless.

The woman, advancing, knelt at his feet.

Catzu lifted her into his arms.

“Wistaria!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him. “It is indeed Wistaria.”

Catzu held her at arm’s-length.

“Ah, my lady,” he chuckled, wagging his head at her, “it is plain to be seen that a religious life has dried your tears and honorably mended a foolish heart-break. The mountains have made you as rosy as its flowers and as strong and hardy as its trees.”

“And thou, dear uncle?” she inquired. “Thou, too, seemest in good health and spirits.”

Catzu sighed, somewhat out of keeping with his fat and happy appearance.

“Alas, my dear Wistaria,” he said, “your poor old uncle has suffered much.”

“But how?” asked Wistaria with feigned surprise.

A tear appeared in Catzu’s eyes and rolled over his puffed cheeks.

“I have lost my graceless son,” he said.

“My uncle!” said Wistaria, sympathetically, while she looked past him at Genji with a knowing glance.

Catzu also turned towards Genji.

“And you, Sir Genji, what became of you? Now, sir, tell me how it comes that you are here with my lady niece.”

“My lord,” answered Genji, “I joined my lady, summoned by a messenger at Yokohama, on the day of the reception in the Treaty House. I turned my prisoners over to another. I trust they were deservedly punished for their offence.”

“Nay,” said Catzu, “they escaped. But no matter. And you, Wistaria, have you any love left for that husband of yours who deserted you on your wedding-day, or have the mountains and the gods taught you of his baseness?”

Wistaria’s features darkened in seeming hate.

“I could kill him,” she said. Under her breath she added, “Forgive me.”

The Lord Catzu appeared satisfied and turned to Genji.

“You may resume your old place in my train. There will be work for you soon.”

Genji bowing, withdrew.

“Uncle,” said Wistaria, “tell me what your words just now meant?”

“Presently, presently,” returned Catzu. “I have good news for you. But, first, what of yourself?”

Wistaria shrugged her pretty shoulders.

“Oh, of myself there is little to tell. I grew tired of the service of the temple. Thou knowest that I was never meant for a priestess. Thou didst use to declare,” she added, smiling roguishly, “that the gods designed me for the court.”

“True, true,” said Catzu, regarding her fondly, “and more than ever I declare it. Thou hast budded into a very beautiful woman, my little niece. But continue. Thou wert tired of the temple—yes?”

“Well, I thought I had surely offered up sufficient supplication to the gods to have saved a hundred ancestors and parents’ august souls. So I sent for Genji, and have, as thou seest, returned unto thee.”

“Thou didst well. And, what is more, it shall be my task to punish your husband.”

Wistaria averted her face for a moment. Then seating herself on the floor, comfortably against his knee, she raised to him innocent eyes.

“Punish him? Why, how can that be, honorable uncle?”

“He is encamped near by with a rebel army,” said Catzu, lowering his voice confidentially; “the day after to-morrow we send an army of chastisement against him under the valiant Prince of Mito.”

“The Prince of Mito,” repeated Wistaria, half aloud.

“Yes, a brave nobleman I desire to become your husband in time. You will be free ere long, I do assure you.” Catzu chuckled confidently.

“What is the offence of—of—this rebel?”

“Your husband dog? He conspires against the Mikado. Oh, we shall drive him out.”

An attendant, interrupting them, ushered in Aidzu. Wistaria slipped to the door. Catzu recalled her.

“Thou mayest remain, niece. Hear our plans. They closely concern thee.”

“I will return in a moment; but Genji has my perfume sack, which I desire.”

Outside the door, Wistaria spoke in an excited whisper to Genji.

“Quick, Genji, you must hasten back to the camp without delay. Tell the Prince that an army of chastisement under the young Prince of Mito will attack him the day after to-morrow. You yourself have seen the forces in the gardens. Go to the camp at once. Make your report and return then to me.”

“And thou, my lady?”

“I cannot return at this time without exciting suspicion, perhaps hastening the attack upon my lord by a day. I must remain. I can be of service here.”

“I like not to leave thee,” said Genji, in great doubt and perplexity.

“Nay, you must do so; I insist.”

“I cannot. My duty—”

“Ah, Genji,” remonstrated Wistaria, “the devotion of a samurai is best proved by his obedience. Go thou to the camp of my lord; do, I beg—nay, I command thee.”

Genji bent his forehead to her hand, then very slowly turned and left her.

Her uncle, grown impatient for his niece, came into the ante-chamber.