Hidetada may not have liked the idea of being disarmed, or disillusioned, but the reasoning of his wife baffled him. Abstruse and as headstrong she had raised him from a secondary place in the family to that of shogun: the very consciousness of that advancement induced some consideration for if not confidence in her abilities, though the methods yet seemed as incomprehensible as the motive hitherto had been elusive. The shogun therefore suffered the disgrace; there was no denying Esyo, whether shamefaced or pleased.
Nor did she trust alone to promising; once his sword had been removed, the guard was doubled and instructed to let none pass—there might have been a true samurai among them, though everybody left appeared to be bent wholly upon saving his own neck.
Esyo hurriedly disguised herself, for no woman might safely attend unguarded the battlefield. She must see Ieyasu, alone, and that quickly. His own division steadfastly maintained its rigid formation, expecting as well to be called forthwith into action—Honda had intercepted Ieyasus threat at its threshold—but Hidetadas routed command continued bolting headlong in, bearing tales as disconcerting as untimely.
Honda? whispered she, approaching and beckoning from the outside.
Yes, my lady, replied he, as nervously as anxiously.
Is he still alive?
Y-e-s—but desperate.
Then let me in, and see that none else approaches.
Ill do it, swore he, in confidence.
Ieyasu sat with his face buried close in his hands. Why none had come to strike the stroke that should save his grace seemed more than he could solve.