CHAPTER VII

They had gone back into the open, turning again toward a course to the southward; bearing a little to the west, along the well-travelled roadway that led directly into the main pass over the mountains through Mino, for Mikawa, Ieyasu’s domain; where stood Okazaki castle, his birthplace and inherited fortress. To this place, enchanted as it now seemed to her, Yodogima would have gone a willing slave to its master’s caprice and otherwise still a devoted helpmeet in the rendering of an established and expansive, if cruelly submissive order.

It was yet dark, but the bettos pattered along at a lively gait; a trifling advance promised in their wage had allayed any misgivings that they might have had as to a possible change of leaders; and glad, moreover, of the less burdensome or hazardous going now confronting them, their progress became as rapid as the escape seemed propitious.

The way lay through a richly cultivated and thickly inhabited valley, bespeaking a prosperous and friendly environment. Yet it was dark, and these things were not discernible—no lingering light shone forth, nor belated dweller accidentally peered—save for an occasional howling round some dismal corner, or the hard, smooth-worn curbstone’s welcome reply. Yodogima leaned restfully back in the chair; Jokoin, her youngest sister, yet innocent and fair, had gone to sleep, contentedly: only Esyo, next older, with cold, penetrating look, and rigid, exacting manner, sat upright, wrangling with this one or that the probable outcome of such daring do.

“You are a winsome, headstrong thing,” threatened she, of Yodogima, as their chairs came close together, in a broadened stretch of road, where the bettos were wont to gossip in venturesome consultation about a possible rest. “Only for you, I might have been permitted—as any true daughter should be—a more logical, if not less unbecoming, situation. Here it is, dead of night; and Shibata, a lord daimyo’s whole bevy most uncomfortably trudging through goodness knows what; and all to no purpose, I am sure.”

“Be quiet, Esyo,” commanded Yodogima, not the least bit impatient; “you shall soon enough find it convenient, if not agreeable, to discuss till content some of the urgencies: the proprieties had best take care of themselves—for the present, it would appear, to your faithful, if unworthy, sister.”

“Who said that you are unworthy? Come, Yodogima; don’t be unreasonable.”

“Please do not get excited.”

“I am not excited, I tell you; and had you my temper you should not have fallen in love with that Ieyasu; nor would you have so forgotten yourself as to wholly disregard better discretion by clinging to him—why didn’t you tell father it was a myth, the face a mysticism, and his decision most unreasonably mystifying—”

“Oh, sister; how you talk; in that case you shouldn’t have been here, or anywhere; and, Ieyasu is very real.”