Yuki raised the writing to his forehead, kowtowed, and withdrew.
“What a man!” I exclaimed, in English. “Still suffering from the hellish work of the torturers, yet willing to rush to certain death at a word!”
“Filial piety is the supreme virtue,” replied Yoritomo. “He will serve his parents, and assure the survival of his family.”
“But why not reward him for what he has already done? He has suffered enough. Why not instead call upon one or more of your own samurais?”
“Their deed would be attributed to my father, and he will have enough to withstand as it is. Upon him alone will rest the burden of barring the return of Mito to power.”
“Upon him! and he disheartened by the death of your brother and yourself! You see no hope for us, Tomo?”
“Not disheartened, but strengthened by the desire for vengeance. Come, we must rest.”
“Rest?” I exclaimed. “When to-morrow brings us death, if not torture! I had trusted to the power and friendship of our host. But now—”
“You have sacrificed yourself for the good of an alien people, brother.”
“Not altogether alien, Tomo. I have found myself strangely drawn to your people and customs—only this torture—But I suppose that has its place in testing men’s souls. Look at this heroic Yuki! If by any chance we escape, Tomo, I want that man for my retainer!”