By the orders of General Sanada-Sayemon-Yoke-Moura, General Yama-Kava was to encamp with his five thousand men on the shore of the lake at the foot of the mountains; but as he advanced, the Prince of Nagato became sure that Yama-Kava had abandoned the position. He found traces of the camp, ashes of dead fires, and holes dug for the tent-poles.
"What does this mean?" he thought. "If the General has left his post, danger must have called him elsewhere. Perhaps the conflict has not yet begun; perhaps all is over, and I have come too late."
At this idea the Prince, a prey to a terrible pang, urged his horse towards the mountain, and hurried up a steep and almost inaccessible path. If he succeeded in climbing the slope, he could reach Kioto in a few moments, instead of wasting several hours in winding along the shores of the lake and river.
Loo was first to follow in his master's tracks. All the sailors soon imitated his example, after recalling the advance-guard. With great difficulty they gained the crest of the hill; it was connected by a slight descent with another and loftier peak, the mountain of Oudji, upon which the most delicate tea is grown.
The western orchard, the scene of the poetical tourney presided over by the Kisaki, lay in the path of the Prince. He leaped the fence and crossed the orchard, this being the shortest way. The trees were loaded with fruit, the over-burdened boughs bending to the ground.
The Prince paused at the brink of the terrace, where the city lay in full view, just at the spot where the Queen had approached him a few months before, and spoken to him with tears in her eyes. He cast a rapid glance at Kioto. From various points rose a column of black smoke, which was also visible within the precincts of the Dairi. The palace and city must, therefore, have been set on fire. The fortress of Nisio-Nosiro, on Wild Goose River, was besieged; the Knights of Heaven were doubtless defending it. The Mikado must have taken refuge behind its ramparts. Farther off, on the other side of the town, a fight was going on between Yama-Kava's men and the soldiers of Hieyas. The latter were almost masters of Kioto. Yama-Kava still held the eastern portion of the city; but Hieyas' banner floated from every other point.
The Prince of Nagato, with frowning brow, devoured the scene spread out at his feet. He bit his lips till they bled; full of wrath, he preserved his clearness of judgment, and coolly examined the situation.
When a conflict occurs in a city, the combatants are perforce scattered. The plan of the streets, their lack of breadth, necessitates a division of numbers. The battle is parcelled out; there is no unity of movement; each street and square has its individual contest, ignoring the phases of those close by.
The Prince of Nagato instantly saw the advantage to be gained from this disposition of the battle. His little troop, nothing on the plain, where its weakness would be apparent, might produce a happy effect by an impetuous dash, taking the enemy unawares in the rear, and possibly causing confusion in the ranks.
The Prince decided quickly, uttered a shout to rally his men, who had managed to join him by dint of much pains; then he spurred his horse down the opposite slope of the high hill, and cried: "Follow me!"