CHAPTER XV
The great sacrifice that Yodogima made only strengthened Hideyoshis respect for her, whetted the appetite to a keener appreciation of the virtues underlying righteous generation. Ieyasu had surrendered the heart to save his neck; no such thing as pretence or any amount of subterfuge could deceive the inner workings of an understanding wrought in the light of penetration like Hideyoshis. Yodogima had reserved the heart, sacrificing personal predisposition only that she might serve fairly the honor of an under-sex—she had not submitted through compulsion or fear of any man; the kwambaku knew that, if others did not, and the very consciousness of it made him what no earthly power could have done.
Such generosity, said he, to Oyea, in answer to her questioning, cannot be requited so easily; there must be a place set apart for them; perhaps among the stars, and such as you and I can best attain our peace in humbler ways—reverence has withstood the storm of ages.
But are not the gods self-asserted?
Well, yes; I once thought so, perhaps do yet; but self-assertion, not grounded upon self-denial, may prove an empty blessing—as it has with me. Would you profit by example, then look; even Hideyoshi has found it meet that we reason together; who declares himself wiser than the humblest is in truth an ass; deception cannot weather the test of time.
They were sitting in the dusk, midway between day and night, and arising, Hideyoshi approached the family shrine—it seemed empty and so unlike the needs of distinction, yet the kwambaku had, upon his return from Odawara, stopped at Nakamura and done reverence to his long buried but sadly neglected parents. Nor had Nita (a first, but intractable, therefore divorced, wife) been passed by without some little recognition—possibly as an encouragement to this one, Oyea, in this her most trying need.
What of night following the day? asked he, of her, lighting one, then the other of five carefully selected and wistfully named sticks of incense for her to sniff and guess or call as pleased her most and fitted best his mood.
That a sun may rise to outshine another, retorted she, wholly mindful of her own situation, if not his method.
You say rightly, Oyea, and woe be unto him or her who would deny or abuse the virtue of sniffing; only through a son can man attain heaven.
Hideyoshis words pained Oyea; she had trusted him, served dutifully, and conformed to the requirements of the age, only to be told in the end that there could be no salvation for her—the stork had withheld her lords divinest blessing.