The homegoing over, both Yodogima and Oyea settled down to a kind of
preconceived expectancy. Their place continued as before, under the
domination of a single master, the husband of the one and admirer of the
other, assuming the attitude more of respecter than lover to either.
Neither outranked the other, as yet; nor did their proposed spheres,
from Hideyoshi's way of thinking, in any manner conflict; nor were they
at all inconsistent, as determined by custom or tradition from time
immemorial, with good citizenship and right living: each cognizant of
her duty, and mindful of the respect due to the head of the household as
established and designed; no one jealous or hateful or inconsiderate of
another, but thence possessed of the utmost confidence and respect for
each other; they both set their hearts and energies to the
accomplishment of one and the same end.
"Do you love Ieyasu, Yodogima?" queried Oyea, one soft, suggestive
evening, as they two sat in the opened-up room, meditating, together,
more than contemplating, the possible outcome of that conflict--then
renewed and waging between the one's lover, who had vowed to live only
for her, and the other's husband, whom she loved and hoped for quite as
much.
"I do," answered Yodogima, with brightening eyes and confident voice.
Oyea pondered now. She, too, felt the agony with which Yodogima--whom
she had come to love--must receive the news: news that to her seemed
otherwise impossible of coming. And Oyea had taken great pride in her
husband's achievements; next to her love for him, it had been her
greatest concern. Then she thought of her own position and Yodogima's
chance should Ieyasu fall; Hideyoshi spared not an enemy, and halted
nowhere in the resolving of his plans: if not by force, then by subtler
means--still harder to bear. Suddenly her expression strangely changed,
and turning to Yodogima, she said, reassuringly:
"Then I trust he shall not lose."
Yodogima's eyes softened; and bowing low, out of respect, but struggling
hard against scruple, the more finely wrought princess thanked her
benefactress, saying:
"How can I ever requite such generosity."
Time wore away dull and anxiously at the castle, till presently word
came of the great battle of Komakiyami, where Hideyoshi's advance had
been checked, all his ready attempts at bribing the enemy's superior
officers put to naught, and Ieyasu with inferior numbers had, at last,
given his opponent such a thrashing as none thought possible: in view of
further developments, proving to be the initial of a series of
engagements that were to revolutionize government, change the trend of
civilization, and leave, perhaps, its lasting imprint upon the future
higher destiny of all mankind.
Ieyasu drove the foe out of his territory and across the river, then
halted to reorganize his broken lines and conserve better their
resources; Esyo deliberately told him that Yodogima had grown
indifferent, his own intelligence warned him of Hideyoshi's
recuperation, and whether convinced of the former or frightened at the
latter the not over confident victor in place of following up a first
triumph resolutely set himself down again to defend, once more to wait.
Hideyoshi, on the other hand, had in the meantime found it convenient or
wise to consult Oyea; and whether acting upon her advice to make friends
with Ieyasu or designing to accomplish by unfair means what he had
failed of doing with arms began forthwith to reconstruct the shattered
fragments of his sorely beaten army, recruiting with additional levies
and intrenching himself as best he could to scare or mislead the enemy
into remaining within the confines of his own domain. And there they
stayed, bickering and bartering, one on either side the river Komaki,
both afraid but eager, till diplomacy had been for the first time
developed into a sufficiently vital force to make war a more extensive
if not crueler means of settling dispute and rolling onward the vast,
silent confusion of ethical entities.
To do this, and to carry forward each his advantage in the exercising of
so little known an agency, neither one halted, but adjusted his
conscience in the use of instruments that the heroics had held sacredly
above the sordid selfishness of eager quest; woman must be permitted to
degrade herself--yes, should be used--that man's supremacy be not
endangered or questioned in its strident march toward the goal of a
collectively devised, pampered, vain, and self-denying individuality.
Esyo and Jokoin were both taken advantage of. The latter to carry
tainted messages from a scheming father, by adoption only; she could
cross the river and thus avoid an encounter that other men than
Hideyoshi in those days had courted as manlier--Ieyasu would not harm
or hinder a sister to his love, whether doubted or mistaken, or both.
Esyo served Ieyasu in a like capacity; not, however, until the younger
man had despaired of his challenge to the other to meet him in personal
combat.
"Tell your master, or father, or whatever he is," said he to Jokoin, in
answer to Hideyoshi's repeated attempts, "that our contention is purely
personal, and that neither he nor I have any right to compromise a
matter of heart, or to sacrifice the lives of others and the welfare of
a community to settle that kind of difference. Let us then invoke a
juster means."
"But we cannot do that except it be the will of the one for whom we
fight; Hideyoshi shall not stop short of death," replied he, without
reserve.
It was agreed that they should abide the decision of Yodogima; but how
obtain an impartial declaration from her? Ieyasu insisted upon her
presence: Hideyoshi declared himself indifferent.
"If you want her to come here it will be necessary for you to fetch her:
if you wish to right the matter there, why, then, go; until settled
Hideyoshi shall employ such means as lie within his power to invoke."
In possession, Hideyoshi's position seemed tenable; now, no one knew
better than Ieyasu the tactics with which his adversary would gain an
advantage, though prone to make no promise or engagement that he should
not keep. Nor did Ieyasu let himself be deceived as to his own
resources or ability. True he had won a great victory over Hideyoshi,
had taught him to know that willing and doing are two very different
terms, and that gods ready-made or self-devised are alike amenable to
the unflinching laws of inevitableness, but would not budge his ground,
Hideyoshi's resources or Yodogima's failure to the contrary
notwithstanding.
Yet he must do something, either push forward or lose the vantage
gained. What was it that stirred within and would not let him dismiss an
only alternating thought:
"Compromise?"
"No, no; Ieyasu could not do that; but--confidence! now I have it; I'll
trust somebody--Esyo! she shall hear Yodogima speak the word, will tell
me the truth; confidence and not compromise, therefore, is the final
arbiter of our destiny. Then why doubt, why have I doubted Yodogima? No;
it is my short-sightedness and not her faithlessness that has caused me
all these bitter misunderstandings; she will approve me right, and I
shall prove her mine."
Slow with inception but quick to apprehend, Ieyasu's energies once
kindled burned with a vigor and a glow as refreshing and as inspiring as
waiting had been portentous. He would have it settled once and for all
that his love had not been misplaced, and that he himself were the
rightful suitor: Hideyoshi, but a mongrel pretender, an empty claimant.
"Go to Yodogima, and get her answer, if this monkey-faced deceiver would
yet know that she is a princess, worthy a prince's love," commanded he,
of Esyo--as she, and Jokoin, departed upon their mission, as arranged,
under a truce, of sufficient length--no doubt whatsoever in his mind as
to what that word should be.
The two sisters proceeded toward Azuchi, together and unhampered, united
in their great expectations but widely divergent upon lesser grounds,
those of apprehension. Esyo reasoned that Yodogima must say "No," and by
so doing relieve her of the necessity for devising an untruth; Hideyoshi
had sent Jokoin along for no other purpose than to make sure the
delivery of the answer he, too, believed Yodogima should return. Jokoin
anticipated alone the boredom of that to her way of thinking needless
journey, for how could a princess, her own sister, so spoil a good
prospect by saying anything but "Yes"?
They had arrived now, and Yodogima received them in her boudoir--still
open at the rear and overlooking the narrow lowland, butting up against
a somber woods that covered a steep rising hillside beyond--yet it was
growing late. There was no one to disturb them; Oyea had withdrawn to
her own desolate chamber, apprehensive but resigned. Yodogima sat facing
the dark of nightland. Jokoin at once became spokesman; she could not
wait. Esyo held no interest in the gathering portent without, nor did
she betray a conscious thought of things more ominous within. The clouds
hung low and the air around dulled against the dead monotony of dawning
sleep, over-borne and unrelated save as lettered against nature's
unfathomed deep by myriads of changing, ever-noiseless fire-flies.
"Come reason with me, with you and with him, verily the God-truth to
know," pleaded Yodogima, silently, of the great, fathomless unreality
lying just beyond, always ahead, alluringly beckoning, yet so
disparagingly mute.
"Really, one might think you lost in dreamland," ventured Jokoin, after
waiting some seconds, patiently, perhaps, because quite satisfied.
"Not dreaming, but coaxing," replied Esyo, "and were I in Yodogima's
place I should do more than that; I should take the matter into my own
hands, and answer as reason might dictate."
"Sister!" cried Yodogima. "Would you, truly, deny your God, to satisfy
vanity--and know him?"
"I should do the most sensible thing under the circumstances: you have
my deepest sympathy, Yodogima," continued Esyo.
"And, what is more, I have confidence in you," replied Yodogima.
"Well, I suppose, I'm not in it, then," suggested Jokoin.
Neither sister answered; Esyo found it enough to resist expressing some
sort of feeling, and Yodogima no longer interested only in the voiceless
heavens, pondered the possibilities of Ieyasu's proposed encounter. Nor
could she quite bring herself to trust probability, for had not
Hideyoshi once vanquished the great Mondo, outwitted Kemotsu? What if
her lover should meet with a worse fate, and that, too, only for her?
"No," said she, to herself; "it must not be."
Then the chance of his winning began to take hold, and her pulses
tingled, and the spirit verge spoke in the voice of an ancestor:
"Yes," whispered she, inaudibly, though the fire shone from her eyes as
it had a Taira's ages ago.
Esyo paled at the thought: Jokoin bounded up, proposing:
"Shall I shout it aloud, sister?"
"Jokoin!" commanded Esyo; how can you so profane things? Yodogima has
not yet invoked understanding: neither flesh nor spirit alone satisfies
conscience."
For the moment Yodogima seemingly forgot the terrible test that raged
and calmed alternately within. Facing Esyo, and penetrating with only a
glance the thin gauze veiling a sister's underlying purpose, Yodogima
said, complacently, though firmly:
"One would think this solely a matter of yours, Esyo. Possibly you had
best answer instead, that I may learn also your pleasure; and,
perchance, the motive."
Esyo flushed, and Yodogima read her as written.
"Come closer, Jokoin; I want to feel the warmth and cheer of your
presence; it is an inspiration, if not a reason: Esyo is so cold; oh, so
unsatisfying, yet also inspiring. Between the two of you I am thrust
back upon heart, and shall answer neither 'yes' nor 'no.' Let them
fight, if they will, but tell them, both alike, that they are men: that
Yodogima shall let neither one answer to his God for a mistake of hers.
It is a woman's province to bear and not to succor man. Good-bye, and
when you have need for comfort and less to know then come again; I love
you both."