All the powers of earth could not have tried the princess more; she
realized now that she had, out of zeal, overtaxed Ieyasu, and in that
opened the way for Hideyoshi perhaps successfully to pit a wit against
her lover's returning steadfastness.
"Oh, it isn't much, after all, and--I can propose another," stammered
she, though composedly, in some vain way to stem the tide and save still
the man she adored; just why, she could not tell nor would others
surmise.
The suggestion fell cold upon Ieyasu's now troubled conviction; he had
been outdone by a rival: there was not the slightest doubt about that in
his mind; Ieyasu respected aptness, even though himself slow to act.
Nor was he longer in doubt as to Yodogima's constancy or love; one
glance had convinced him beyond recalling, and he could not have envied,
for he had often said that the secret of happiness lies in kindly
feeling. Then what was it that prompted him quickly to answer:
"Not to-day, but to-morrow?"
"As the princess likes," retorted Hideyoshi, his admiration growing with
quest and confidence.
"More--it is a guest's pleasure," commanded she, replacing the cup and
glancing at Hideyoshi, without so much as disturbing a visitor or
confusing their host.
That evening was thence passed without further incident, save an
apparently growing discomfiture on Ieyasu's part and the corresponding
rise in spirit of Hideyoshi; who not deigning to parley with
Yodogima--he took her at her word, and prided himself in doing so--began
resolutely further to carry out and not to forestall. Yodogima had done
her part, and well: there seemed nothing more that she could or would do
to save a waiting lover; she had made it possible for him to claim her,
and to drink the draught that Hideyoshi himself should not have
questioned, and he had failed to do either--might be as easily duped
into a more fatal blunder, made the scapegoat of his own waiting or
incapacity, or both, and the princess at once raised above his further
consideration.
Thus Hideyoshi planned and Ieyasu dallied, perhaps dreamed, and
marvelled the audacity, perchance effect, with which Yodogima commanded,
possibly ordered. The following day, however, clouded over and Date and
Hideyoshi counselled and bantered till early evening, when they stood on
the latter's suggestively improvised ramparts cogitating the plight of
Hojo farther down in the foreground.
"You are the greater man," plead Date, no longer doubtful of Hideyoshi's
resources or motive, "and I am ready to surrender my lands and do you
service."
"Ah; then you shall know what it is to toast a man like Hideyoshi;
to-night you shall sit next to me; and, by the way, face the smartest
woman in these parts: look you well that your tongue neither outruns nor
belies the manner due or occasion expected."
At table Date, true to conviction and in consonance better with
propriety, proposed the health of Hideyoshi, their duly lord and
henceforth recognized master.
Flushing scarlet, Yodogima barely touched the cup that stood filled for
another purpose; it seemed to her that Ieyasu, who now sat at her side,
must intercede, should realize that opportunity were fast slipping away:
he only whitened, then drank the liquor as prudence dictated.
Hideyoshi smiled, and turning to Date attempted their present relief by
suggesting, bluntly:
"The princess reserves discreetly her response till occasion more
pleasantly affords; Ieyasu may yet drink with a better color, if not
more grace."
The next day, in consequence, brought with it a train of circumstances
as swift as it had been unexpected--to all except, perhaps, Hideyoshi.
Matsuda, Hojo's main reliance, had succumbed, not to valor but to gold,
and that night his master's head graced a place at table--opposite to
Ieyasu: who now, once more, faced at greater distance Yodogima, but
entertained as before, close at hand, Saji, in whom the now startled and
cringing daimyo from Mikawa may have found some little consolation, if
not a rising prospect.
"Let us now listen to Saji; it may prove to be not only her fair due,
but our most agreeable opportunity," commanded Hideyoshi, in great
liberality, as it appeared to others, yet with a hidden earnestness that
neither Yodogima nor Ieyasu mistook.
Saji did as bid; it seemed quite immaterial to her: all the heart that
God had really given her had long ago been drilled or tooled away, for
Hideyoshi believed in duty--ruled or reasoned to preach and practice
down or up as convenience less necessity required. Ieyasu turned red.
A growing, pitiless consciousness began to take hold on Yodogima's
hitherto buoyant, confiding trust. The very mat on which the princess
sat seemed sinking or rising as the moments flew or lingered.
Alternating flashes left her undetermined. Heaven or worse had been a
relief: Hideyoshi angered for once, and for the first time looked his
rival straight in the face. Ieyasu's eyes fell to the significant
fright across the table. Yodogima's look then had strengthened him, but
he dare not meet her gaze.
"Saji, Saji," mumbled he, half conscious, half appealingly.
She only smiled, but the dead lips of Hojo moved him:
"My wife, gentlemen, my wife!"
Yodogima had been spared the sight of Hideyoshi's gruesome lesson:
likewise she had been denied its consolation; yet she could believe
Ieyasu's vain resolution no less than final, if not voluntary. And it
may have been so. Like examples had been flaunted in the face of others
less capable or worthy, had been used time and again by men more
considerate, if as determined, but never before might the charge of
cruelty be laid at the door of Hideyoshi; who had suffered Shibata the
right of honorable demise, spared Shimadzu the loss of his ancestral
name, and let Ieyasu more than once slip any fate that he might have
chosen, still Hojo's head must adorn a sorrowful plight.
And why?
The princess did not stop to inquire; she knew only that she had
suffered perhaps at their expense or for their betterment, and the very
heavens above seemed bereft--earth had done its worst, the humanities
failed, all their Gods and Buddhas and Christs promised relief only in
death--save a certain star, that seemed the brighter in its loneliness:
ideality proffered life.
Thereafter Hideyoshi summoned Ieyasu to the top of a certain hill
overlooking the fortress, the city, and the country around.
"You perceive," suggested the former, "that the Kwanto is mine."
"Y-e-s," stuttered Ieyasu, his mind far distant.
"You know that I am master, hereabouts, I take it?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall give you these provinces, in consideration of--your
services."
"What luck!"
"Where will you live?" inquired Hideyoshi, still more suggestively.
Ieyasu again hesitated. He had set Yodogima aside and accepted Saji out
of respect for a well-grounded belief, had invoked self-denial to the
point of distraction, and bought peace at the cost of manhood, but to
surrender a birthright and abandon every defense seemed more than he
could do, even in the face of rigid necessity. This man then would rule
and not ruin. Had Yodogima judged him more accurately than he had done?
Would she succeed? Pride urged him now, forced the aggressive, hence
prompted him to answer:
"At Odawara."
"No. I know a place, farther away, called Yedo (Tokio). There is where
you shall live."
"Very well, my lord," replied Ieyasu, determined now, whereas before he
had provokingly waited.