A consummation covertly auguring the final purpose of Ishida; who had so
ingratiated himself into the grace of their master that an intrigue
against him had been in fact resolved into a better consequence. With
Hidetsugu out of the way, only Hideyori stood between him and final
authority--so thought Ishida: another occasion might prove more
certainly Hideyoshi's fate.
The doors at Fushima stood ajar, and Hideyoshi entered: there seemed no
friend now other than Ishida; who, also, deemed it convenient or
necessary to dwell elsewhere, mostly; and only sycophants and confusion
surrounded the taiko.
"O Hideyoshi," pleaded he, self-conscious and overdone. "Has it come to
this? Is there none left me?"
Only the cold dread of conjured ingratitude answered. Hell itself had
been a relief in those drawn moments of flickering consciousness, and
the taiko grappled the more uncertainly at every fleeting fancy that
danced on in one endless concourse, faithless, hopeless, and
uncharitable, then withering, again torturing, as if undecided or bent
upon nothing more.
Ishida now held fast mostly at Ozaka: the child absorbed Yodogima's
attention, and Ieyasu found it no less agreeable to sojourn in the
vicinity of Azuchi: here, too, the child engaged partly the elder wife,
Oyea.
"Now mind you," enjoined Ishida, upon Oyea, at a secret conference,
outside the walls at Azuchi, atop the hill in Hiyeisan; "let there be no
mishap; present the child only upon my signal; then Oyea shall be first
in favor and Ishida her lifelong slave."
"You can trust me, Ishida; do your part as well; the captains shall not
ignore me, as Hideyoshi once did, though their recent conduct would
incline one to the belief that they were capable of it."
Jokoin had directly realized in Harunaga a gallant superber than warmth,
even hers, could have desired: more fervid, perhaps, than Kyogoku, her
husband, approved: not as discreet as some of Hideyoshi's followers
would have.
In consequence, Ieyasu had found it possible to urge upon Yodogima
measures that he little knew circumstances had made it possible for her
to understand and seize upon--in their true light. She had promised,
therefore--as Oyea had sooner agreed with Ishida--to be at hand and
await, likewise, her would-be deceiver's proposals.
The two, Ieyasu and Ishida, the one planning and the other carrying
out, had arranged with Chin Ikei the taiko's coronation. The coveted
crown should, with concluding pomp, be placed securely there. Hideyoshi
was to be made, apparently, emperor of all the Orient. Ieyasu schemed
and Ishida advised: Hideyoshi succumbed, to their cajolery, an easy
prey; he had subdued Japan, overrun Korea, and outwitted China, he
thought; what were other men's contentions or reliances as compared with
the feel and the fetch of glory?
"Let everybody witness Hideyoshi's just finale," commanded he; if not
altogether impotently, then, perhaps, a bit sarcastically.
No man or woman, however, willingly missed the occasion; they crowded
round from everywhere. Hideyoshi, arrayed in robes of purple, sat high
upon pillows of curled feathers with hand-embroidered cases. His own
three hundred serving maids lounged round the room or grouped in corners
awaiting their master's every whim. On the outside bands of music horned
or stringed notes soothing, but no longer stirring. Not a guard or
soldier marred the serenity of Hideyoshi's belief, and only the covenant
bearers disturbed the silence ensuing a taiko's exultation.
The crown rested, impatiently, upon its golden-lacquered tray in front.
An ambassador advanced.
"Our commission," declared he, bowing low.
"Read it," commanded Hideyoshi.
The interpreter complied:
"We do invest you King of Japan--"
"What? Crown me of less than I possess? No!" shouted he, snatching up
the document, casting off that robe, and throwing down the crown.
The rage of Hideyoshi only increased with each attempted explanation;
the real perpetrators stood mute in the background, the one bent upon
Hideyori's destruction, the other confident of a mother's triumph. The
acknowledged son and, now, only possible successor destroyed, Ishida
believed it easy to lay his hand securely upon the reins of government:
trusting his judgment, the taiko could be wrought into no more favorable
mood than the one at present so forcibly expressed. Ieyasu, on the
other hand, faltered; he adjudged Yodogima capable, but Hideyoshi
fighting mad and in a corner had only too often proven it the death
knell to any one, hated or loved, who had as yet invoked the temerity to
confront him.
The plan in truth of his own making, and its working in perfect accord
to this the culminating point, convinced him the more that someone had
found him out and now fared ready to reap the reward of his iniquity.
Ieyasu stood paralyzed--yet no one seemed to suffer a moment's loss or
to heed at all any sort of plight in consequence of his failure.
Ieyasu, as if dumb, Ishida exulted the more: Oyea came forth as
understood, and bowing down laid the child at Hideyoshi's feet--the
taiko gasped; speech had failed.
Oyea, also, had insulted him; dared to flaunt in his face what he knew
that she knew was not his: the taiko was angered.
Ieyasu withdrew, as quietly as he had remained, and no one would have
been the wiser had not Yodogima--hidden away so disguised that even he
had failed her--observed his every movement: when he had gone, then
Harunaga shadowed his further progress and--
Doffing the veil, Yodogima quickly, yet softly, and considerately,
approached, unwrapping and laying before his highness another child, not
unlike the first in face and form.
Hideyoshi looked up, a changed man; in a mother's presence there had
dawned a new understanding.
Ishida rushed forward, and Oyea drew back: a common wrangle ensued, and
no one appeared to know just what to say or think or do. Some contended
that one or the other of the two children belonged to Oyea, for had she
not brought it there, and proffered hers for recognition? But which one?
Why her silence? Others claimed that only a mother could know her child;
whereat the taiko frowned and Ishida smiled.
"Which one, Ishida; this is an important business, and there should be
no mistake?"
Yodogima had claimed them both, now, in the absence of Oyea, who stood
back, trembling and cogitating. No thought disturbed the mother, whose
only care centered in the child; to deprive her of hers, she alone must
make the selection: Hideyoshi had never knowingly committed an avoidable
wrong.
Ishida blushed; the truth had at last dawned also upon him, and turning
to Yodogima the closely cornered man mumbled:
"Which is he, Yodogima?"
"Let the guilty determine, as I have done," replied she, interested and
secure.
"Both of them, your highness," stammered Ishida, facing Hideyoshi.
"Then it was, as well, Ishida who poisoned, not Yodogima, but the
intended cup? Away with you, and let one who has no need to choose
pronounce judgment, for her son is my heir, and henceforth your
kwambaku--I command it," vowed Hideyoshi, with no other consolation or
assurance than a mother's kindly feeling, to foster and encourage the
last act or wish of an utterly unrealized, if totally expended, higher
ambition.