“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.