“You, Echizen, and you, Mori,” he said, abruptly, closing a period of silence and thought—“I shall put you to the test. Come with me to the audience-hall. If you have fathomed the counsels of the shogunate, it shall be as you wish.”
The Emperor left the chamber. Mori would have taken the Mikado blindly at his word and have followed him to the audience-hall, but for the detaining grasp of Echizen.
“His Majesty means,” he explained, “that we shall join him in the ante-room of the audience-hall. He regains his own palace by paths of which we must appear ignorant.”
Although transported with joy, and in a state of mind that would permit of little restraint, Mori was kept in the room by Echizen until a sufficient time had elapsed. Then Echizen conducted the Prince to his own quarters, where both made suitable changes in their attire. At the end of an hour the confidential servants of the Mikado came in person to summon them to the audience-hall.
Early as was the hour, the whole Kioto court was astir to enjoy a profound sensation—the coming of the Shogun to Kioto. The news ran like fire through the palace, carried by servants and masters alike. Courtiers hastened to seek out the finery they too seldom wore of late. The astute reasoned, and the profound were dumb.
Some rumor of the events in Yedo had gained strength. Even the least consequential felt that a turn in fortune had come.
Within the spacious audience-hall, Echizen and Mori found vantage spots on a side of the Emperor’s screen, opposite to that occupied by the sullen Aidzu. Mori now found that he had enjoyed a privilege given to the few in having seen the whole person of his Emperor. Upon state occasions, only the face—or voice, even—gave sign of the presence of the Son of Heaven.
At the head of the hall a raised platform extended across the entire breadth of the apartment. To its edge there hung from the ceiling richly embroidered curtains of heavy silk. The design was that of a dragon whose two frightful bodies met at the head, which occupied the exact centre of the tapestry. The closely observant eyes of Mori detected lines near the head, showing that a square of the material could be removed, leaving a small opening. It was through this alone that the Emperor, as the Shinto deity, received the homage of his court.
There was a signal from the samurai who acted as master of ceremonies. The outer doors were pushed to either side to admit the procession of the Shogun Kii, a boy scarce fifteen years of age, and his numerous advisers, ministers, and court. Among the richly attired crowd of lords about him was Catzu, plainly the virtual Regent, and head of the bakufu.
The Shogun, the Lord of Catzu, and the entire assemblage fell upon their knees at a sign from the master of ceremonies.