The Shogun's Daughter

by Robert Ames Bennet

The Daimio rose with stately composure, and signed us to follow him. We went out, escorted only by our Satsuma swordbearers and the hatamoto official who, as bearer of the Daimio’s sword, had been restrained by his duty from joining the flight of his fellow-retainers.

The harsh clang of the firebells had now ceased, and the boom of the temple bells reverberated at less frequent intervals, but the funereal solemnity of the tolling served only to intensify to highest pitch the panic effect of the first wild tocsin. To the terrified Japanese it was the knell of doom for Yedo. Excited hatamotos ran about at random through the rooms and corridors of the yashiki, their faces distorted with fury and despair, while from the women’s quarters shrill voices pierced the frail walls of the palace with shrieks of terror. With fear run riot in the yashiki of the High Court, what must be the panic beyond the moats of the official quarter, among the million denizens of the lower city!

In the midst of the wild flurry a scowling hatamoto rushed at me, with furious imprecations. But as his blade flashed out Yoritomo flung me headlong away from the stroke, and my Satsuma swordbearer rushed to my defence. My assailant barely saved his head by a dexterous parry. Before he could strike in turn, the Daimio’s swordbearer called out a sharp command. At the voice of his superior officer, the assassin leaped back and sheathed his sword. My defender looked to his lord.

Satsuma frowned at the hatamoto, and said sternly: “So great an insult cannot be endured even in the yashiki of the High Court.”

“No!” I cried, springing up between the man and the blade that circled to cut him down. The Satsuma man checked his stroke in mid-air. “Sheathe your sword!” I commanded. “The hatamoto attacked me because of mistaken loyalty. Let the samurais of Nippon learn that my countrymen come in peace and friendship, not to kill or conquer.”

The hatamoto dropped on his knees and kowtowed to me. But Satsuma shook his head doubtfully and signed to the swordbearers. “We will prepare against other efforts of mistaken loyalty.”

The bearers handed over our swords, and we passed on out to the portico. The courtyard was crowded with shouting hatamotos. But the Satsuma men of our cortege stood as we had left them, too sternly intent upon their duty to give way to the general fear and flurry. At a word from the Daimio, the nets that had been used on the norimons of Yoritomo and myself were flung aside. We seated ourselves, and the procession left the yashiki with all its usual stateliness of parade, though at a quickened pace.

A few yards beyond the gateway Yuki was kneeling at the edge of the street-moat to watch us pass. I saw him lean forward and stare at our norimons, then relax and sit back on his heels. He had perceived from the strain upon our bearers that our norimons were occupied. Turning a corner some distance beyond, I looked back and saw the ronin walking after the rear of the procession, with a woman close behind him.

The streets of the official quarter swarmed with hatamotos and the samurais of various daimios, rushing about, afoot or mounted, some without aim or purpose, others racing with all possible speed and directness to fulfil the commands of their lords. In the midst of the turmoil a captain of the palace guard galloped up to the procession with an order for Satsuma to wait upon the Shogun. The Daimio immediately detached a number of his retainers to escort us to Owari Yashiki, and ordered the cortege back to the Sakaruda Gate, which had just been passed.

The sun was setting as we advanced again along the great causeway, skirting the well-remembered scarp of the citadel moat. This time, however, my attention was directed, not towards the moat and the mighty rampart on the far side, but to my left, whence sounded the wild din and turmoil of a city in panic.