The Shogun's Daughter

by Robert Ames Bennet

As a necessary result of the ascent that brought me within reach of my silvery moon,—my all but unattainable Princess,—I could endure and even welcome the austere state of my exalted position. Of itself, however, there was no relish to me in the homage of my clan, and far less in the thought of rendering homage to my lord the Shogun. My princely rank was a ceremonial strait-jacket which bound me about with countless rules of etiquette and restricted my every act and word to certain prescribed forms. To a man who was not to the manner born, the result was little short of torture.

Yet I would gladly have endured even greater discomfort for the sake of winning Azai. The vision of her pure and lovely face was before my eyes night and day. It sustained me throughout the dreary hours of ceremonies, and appeared beside the serene face of Yoritomo when I made the required offerings and prayers before the memorial tablets of the family shrines.

At last the day appointed for my audience arrived. I was roused long before dawn, and my little lady mother herself came to overlook every detail of my costume. By dawn my lantern-illumined cortege, marching with all the solemn parade of a state progress, had crossed the official quarter to the Sakaruda Gate.

With me were the clan counsellors and a powerful guard of retainers in full armor. Yuki had reported too fully upon the virulent wrath of the Mito men for us to chance an attack unprepared. But Yuki was not with me, though I had chosen him to lead my escort. I was concerned for his safety, for he had gone out on another of his spying ventures, and had not returned when expected.

At the Sakaruda Gate those of my escort who wore armor remained outside the citadel. I was carried through in my norimon, accompanied by my counsellors and chamberlains, my standard bearers, and other ceremonial attendants with led-horses and paraphernalia. But when we arrived before the Gejo Gate, the state entrance to the Inner Castle, I was required to leave my norimon and cross the bridge of the inner moat afoot, escorted only by a few of my highest retainers. The Abbot of Zozoji, who was a prince of the Mikado’s family, alone could ride in through the Gejo Gate. That honor was denied even the heads of the August Three Families, the highest of all the daimios.

Within the gate I crossed a court to the grand portico of the palace, where I was met by Gengo and another of the court chamberlains. Even my counsellors kowtowed to these servants of the Shogun, who in turn kowtowed to me. Trailing their court trousers behind them, they conducted me to a waiting-room, where I was served with powdered tea gruel, and attired in court hat, gauze-winged jacket, and seven-foot court trousers of yellow silk.

After the refreshment, I left my attendants and was conducted by Gengo and his fellow chamberlain along a hall lined with kowtowing retainers, and past an anteroom in which five or six score daimios of the lower rank knelt in profound silence. Shortly beyond we came to the raised threshold of the audience hall. My ushers kowtowed and crept in on hands and knees. I followed in the same abject posture. It was the custom of the country and the price I must pay for Azai.

The throne was a square lacquered stool, placed upon a dais two feet high. Though the Shogun was dressed with no more richness than on the occasions of my informal audiences, the stateliness of his appearance was vastly increased by this simple throne and the mat curtain that hung down before him to the level of his bell-shaped hat. On his left, three or four yards down the room, kowtowed Midzuano and the other members of the Elder Council. Behind the dais a number of hatamotos knelt with their hands upon their swordhilts as if in the act of springing up to attack me.

At the prescribed distance from the throne my ushers parted for me to creep forward between them and kowtow in homage to my lord. The hush was oppressive. I waited, prostrate, until a faint sibilation from the courtiers told me that the Shogun had given the signal for my withdrawal. My audience was at an end. Without raising my head, I crept around and out the way I had come, in the wake of my abject ushers.

Upon my return to the waiting-room I was served a banquet of nearly a hundred dishes. I could do no more than taste my favorite dish of each course, after which all were set aside by the attendants, to be taken to Owari Yashiki. An hour passed, and my solitary feast was fairly under way, when Gengo entered and bowed before me, with a flask of sake held above his forehead.