But the man fearing some trick hesitated to obey.
“Coward,” cried the dying warrior, “you have nothing to fear from me. Cut off my head, but I conjure you not to remove the helmet till you present it to your master, Iyeyasu. I am impatient—cut off my head as I bid you.”
As he spoke Shigenari lifted the lower plates of his helmet and stretched out his neck for the blow. As in a trance the craven crept up and severed the head from the body. Then gaining courage he raised the dripping trophy high in the air and shouted at the top of his voice:—
“I, Andō Chōzaburō, single-handed, have taken the head of Nagato-no-Kami Shigenari, the most renowned warrior in the Osaka Army!”
The boast reached the ears of a man covered with blood who was still in the thick of the fray. It was Ryōkwan.
“My Lord, Nagato-no-Kami, was not the man to be killed by such a weakling as Andō,” he cried, as loudly as his failing strength would permit. “He had some reason for allowing his head to be cut off. Remember that, my enemies.”
With that he stabbed himself in his abdomen and expired.
After the battle the head of Shigenari, enclosed in its helmet, was taken to Iyeyasu for inspection. It had been the desire of all that day to get the head of the hero, and Ieyasu had the helmet removed for verification. As this was done the sweet odour of incense floated through the air.