Junkei pranced in, to the center of the hall, and without pretending to see anybody, much less their host’s two worthy attendants, turned upon his heel, shouting:

“Behold; the Great; a Hideyoshi approaches!”

No sooner had the echo died than Hideyoshi, the but recently created daimyo of Omi; self-intended master of Nobunaga’s leavings and loudly proclaimed protector of the peace; with the commonest kind of low down blood in his veins, and the largest aspirations in his mind; weasen-faced, small, stooped, bullet-eyed and fiercely aggressive, yet plausibly reserved, angled his way in, displaced his long-sword, handed it to his own attendant, Junkei—who, himself, hung it upon the wall—and squatting in the middle of the hall, at one end—where only the host should sit—called loudly for a hibachi and attendance.

Hearing the noise and discerning the occasion, their host entered, followed by Ikeda, daimyo of Settsu; Niwa, of Wakasa; Maeda; Takigawa, and other invited guests, with their attendants, including Kuroda and Takiyama, noted captains under Hideyoshi, who had the decency, if not purpose, to comply with established etiquet and recognized custom.

Shibata belonged to the old school, the bakufu, acknowledged only the bushido (code of chivalry), and when those daimyos observed Hideyoshi, an upstart and outsider, self-made and wilful, usurping their host’s privileged place and rank, feelings something akin to shame if not resentment possessed them, one and all alike.

“Yes, gentlemen; I am here,” grinned Hideyoshi, rubbing his hands and peering among them—without deigning to arise—"ready for business. Our lord, Nobunaga, good and great, as he was, is dead. The work, though, which he began, must be carried on. It behooves us, his once trusted followers, to get together. Come close up, round Hideyoshi; who, perchance, feels the loss more keenly than any other. Shibata, my old friend and good fellow, bring in the sake (wine). We barons need cheer, and Hideyoshi in particular—”

“Intends to shampoo lord Shibata. That is why he so audaciously usurps his place,” interposed Sakuma, coming threateningly up.

“Well said, Sakuma; I remember his doing so, once before. It is, though, a long time now—. How do you, Hideyoshi? Is your hand steady, and capable? now that you are a daimyo? like others of us? with less face? however?” remarked Shibata, tauntingly.

A low twitter and ready gabble ensued. Only Kuroda and Takiyama remained serious or composed. Junkei danced about, unconscious of any wrong, till Hideyoshi spoke:

“Compose yourself, Junkei. Did not the queen Shomu once attend a beggar? Why should not Hideyoshi shampoo Shibata? His hand is yet true, and the heart pure. Come Shibata: prepare yourself. Hideyoshi shall again serve his oldest friend.”