“Meet my mother, upon friendly terms? It is impossible!”

“But, my son, Ieyasu out of the way the empire shall fall directly into your hands; there is none else to dispute you, and war is—”

“Hell—all of which Kitagira advised me long ago; but you see them anxious on all hands—just now, since that message was written, a shell has been fired into our midst. There is no end to fighting as long as men’s blood runs red.”

Yodogima paused; it had come to a parting with the one or the other. Blood and love are elemental within the human, but only for love there had been none to measure in the light of soul; heart and instinct might have gone on hand in hand, yet an Infinity’s unvarying prudence saw fit to match understanding against the one; love is an affinity.

“Then accept my blessing,” urged the mother, thoughtfully, after a while; “mine is run.”

“And give you, as well, my protection; have no fear; go as you like; do what conscience bids, and the gods shall render you justice.”

“Harunaga?” commanded he, directing his further conversation to him.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do not call me lord—not to-day; to-morrow you may, but if you would serve me now attend my mother; old men should yet be of some help, and if there are any others, of a like mind, behind these walls, let them, too, depart; this is going to be a hot place, perchance worse, if I interpret Esyo’s message correctly.”

“Esyo!” gasped Jokoin.