He summoned his young son, Daiske.
"My son," said he, "return to the city; rejoin the Shogun, and say to him that nothing is left for me now but to die a glorious death for him, as I intend to do before evening. Remain with the master while he lives, and die with him."
"Father," said Daiske, casting an imploring look at the General, "I would rather die with you."
"Do as I bid you, my son," said Yoke-Moura, his voice trembling slightly.
A tear rolled down the boy's cheek; but he made no answer, and went. The General watched him for an instant as he descended the hill, sighed, and then plunged abruptly into the thick of the fight.
Without resistance, without exchanging one shaft with the enemy, the Shogun's army had returned to the city in disorder! The people could not believe their own eyes. What had happened? Why should rout precede the battle? This is what really occurred: Harounaga, suddenly abandoning the position which he held on the hill, hastened towards Fide-Yori, accompanied by a man coming from the camp of Hieyas. This man, who was a relative of Hieyas, declared that the majority of the army had gone over to Hieyas, and that when the fight began Fide-Yori would be hemmed in and taken prisoner by his own men. He said that he had surprised this secret, and hastened to warn the Shogun, to prevent his falling into an odious trap.
"Return to the fortress," said he to Fide-Yori. "In the shelter of its ramparts you may defend yourself still, and die nobly; while here you are at the victor's mercy."
After some hesitation the troops returned to the city. This tale of treachery was completely false: it was an act of perfidy planned by Hieyas, who, although he was strong, did not disdain to employ a ruse. But the people refused to accept the plea; the retreat of the soldiers produced a fatal effect.
"They don't know how to behave!" was the cry.
"They are lost; all is ended!"—