Possibly Hideyoshi had sooner surmised, hence inquired the truth, for Ieyasu again hesitated; he had previously counselled with Oyea, and now possessed fresh intelligence at Esyos hands.
Let him go, proposed she; and, if he had gone, Yodogimas further troubles were saved—not, it is true, as Esyo planned.
Upon visiting Yodogima, as permitted, Esyo had found not only the one but the other of her sisters there—portending, to her way of thinking, somewhat, if not dreadfully, suspicious circumstances.
How you look, Yodogima; and Jokoin, too. I am awfully surprised. Is it really true—and how? Oyea just said that Hideyoshi—and I promised not to tell. How stupid I am! Of course Jokoin might be expected—but Yodogima! How dare you trust yourself to the wiles of these Christians? Why, they are even, at the gate. I hope you have not the courage to permit their coming closer? And my gown; perhaps they have already soiled this very mat? I think I must be going—you have, Im sure, observed the make and the fineness of it? Ieyasu gave it to me, in anticipation of our marriage—and we had thought of inviting you, just to see our home, but—these Christians! I never could bear the thought—good-bye—I must be going—you have my best wishes—good-bye.
Yodogima and Jokoin only stared at each other; Esyo had come upon them with no more ceremony than at departing, and they were puzzled to know the meaning of her unexpected visit: the younger of the two may have marvelled the audacity of her bearing; it is certain that the eldest had good reason to question the truthfulness of her statement, and did.
At Azuchi, Esyo had fared or demeaned herself differently. Both she and Ieyasu had called there, by invitation—contemplated, no doubt, on both sides—and Oyea, alone and undisturbed, took great pains to advise the latter, to the formers entire satisfaction, of some things that were, if to be seen, only too patent; also, of many that were perhaps in truth the creatures of her imagination or purpose. She had said nothing of Yodogimas venturing to the temple, though she knew, to say the least, that she had been there—a circumstance, in itself, to be jealously guarded; particularly as indited of discretion or necessity, possibly both; Ieyasu, at all events, would brook no tampering with the Buddha as adapted, for all his research, into the religions of the world, especially Confucianism, had only grounded him the firmer.
It is this Christian influence that plays havoc at Ozaka, promised she, to Ieyasu, who had risen to depart for the West. They are in evidence, if not of authority—I wont accuse Yodogima; she is too discreet—at the castle, and as sure as I live they are in command at the front! I do believe Hideyoshi has fairly gone mad.
Are you not a convert? I was informed that you were, ventured Ieyasu.
True, I was; therefore might be given credit for knowing whereof I speak. And more, let Hideyoshi substitute my nephew, Kobayakawa Hideki, one of our kind, for that outcast convert, Hidaye, his Korean field marshal, and Ieyasu shall not suffer, I promise you, therefor.
Going his way, without further parley or consultation about propriety, fully confirmed in and satisfied with his own views, concerning the priesthood, and Christianity in general, Ieyasu cogitated alarm; the new religions hold upon the government, slight as it was, as yet, or its influence over the taiko, if any—a thing he very much doubted—could be, easily enough, as he thought, stayed or disposed, but Yodogima! How, then, could he save her?