Oguri stepped forward. There was a strange gravity and even sadness in his face as he bowed deeply before his superior.
“Your highness,” he said, “our cause is just, and history should accord us our proper place when the anti-Shogun government is established.”
“Yes.”
“But it is of the present we think.”
“Speak on.”
“The present esteem of our friends in the Kioto court—we must advise them of our purity of motive.”
Mori held up quietly the scroll upon which he had been engaged. He replied:
“I have thought of that. At this moment I am inditing a memorial to the throne, begging his Imperial Majesty’s pardon for creating a disturbance so near to the base of the chariot (throne), but declaring that we do it that he may rule without a Shogun, the sole and Imperial master of his own empire.”
The officers looked at each other with solemn expressions of approval.
“My lord,” said Oguri, “we would wish also to write letters to our personal friends at the Imperial court. May we have your august permission to do so?”