Not so at Ozaka; Yodogima had looked as far into the working of social, religious, and political complexities as the sage of Yedo had thought to enter; understood the San Felipe threat equally as well, but regarded it rather as a source, not as much as any sort of finality—Yodogima knew better the hearts of men; as a woman, she had had an experience that no man can have: she believed that Ieyasu’s act in seeking the shogunate were no less personal than had been Hideyoshi’s purpose in denying her the privileges of an inherent love; than the king of Spain’s motive was mercenary in speeding forth the missionaries.

“With transportation established, there is no end to greed, and Japan, if she would live, must open, and not close her doors. Does Ieyasu think that God in his wisdom were so narrow as to exempt this tiny spot from the responsibilities and compensations everywhere else around us borne?” said the princess, to Hideyori, who had grown to respect his mother’s advice, and now sought it, before answering Ieyasu’s importuning him to proceed thither and do homage to the newly made shogun’s attempted precedence.

“For every missionary sent to us,” continued she, “let us send two to them; as they build ships, then double their output; if it is with arms they would grab, we have more than twice their number, the largest of them, and discipline to spare. Go against them my child; possession is the secret, and the fittest shall survive; it is God’s law, and woe unto him who disobeys—Ieyasu as well; he has denied me, and let come what may your mother will be vindicated.”

Hideyori had just arrived at earliest manhood, and little did he care about anything so inane and deceptive as enforced peace, as unequal and degrading as discriminative prosperity. The old stock, the spirit of an age that did not lie, of men unstooped to a progress that would rob Peter to pay Paul, a civilization that had brought the West’s proudest knocking at their doors, made them the coveted of all continents, these aspirations burned at his finger tips.

A mother had been wronged: what more could have fired a lesser zeal?

Trained by a man whose only thought was of his best interests, loved dearly by one who had given him being, applauded by a multitude, endowed of an authority, heir to vast treasures and supported by men of valor—who could have resisted the challenge to honor a name?

“Hideyori respects the honorable Ieyasu, but cannot concede him the rank or authority claimed,” was the modest though significant answer returned, by the insulted heir to an exalted taiko’s prestige.

“I am pleased,” promised Ieyasu, to Kitagira, directly his own best trusted intermediary; “Hideyori’s refusal affords me the opportunity—awaited all these barren years.”