For an hour or more we loitered about within view of the great gate of Zozoji, waiting for the cortege of the Shogun’s daughter to march out on its return trip to the citadel. That the Princess would come back through the main entrance was evident from the fact that the norimons of her ladies-in-waiting were stationed in the road at one side of the grand carved portal. Yoritomo stood beneath a camellia tree, seemingly lost in meditation, but I paced to and fro through the passing crowds, unable to restrain my impatience.
At last between the meshes of my hat brim I caught sight of the samurai escort of the Princess issuing from the gateway. In their lead was the quick-tempered hatamoto Yuki who had struck at me from the ferryboat at the passage of the Rokugu River. The bearers of the norimons moved around, and as soon as the ladies-in-waiting had taken their seats, the cortege formed in line, with one of the norimons before and the other behind the gold-lacquered palanquin of the Princess. We drew back behind a hedge of blooming privet.
Soon the cortege marched past us, at a slow and stately pace, though the absence of standards indicated to the public that the noble person escorted was travelling incognito and dispensed with the usual kneeling of the common folk along the road. I examined with intense interest the sturdy norimon bearers and the score of proud hatamotos, or shogunate samurais, who made up Yuki’s company.
These gentlemen-soldiers seemed to me to be picked men, but they wore no armor and carried no other weapons than the customary sword and dirk. Though their petticoat-trousers were neatly tucked up above the knees in the tops of long silk stockings, freeing their legs for quick action, their arms and forebodies were encumbered with the peculiar gauze-winged ceremonial jackets and the long sleeves of their haoris.
“That guard looks more like dress parade than action,” I commented.
“They are the pick of the best swordsmen among the hatamotos; yet they are all doomed men,” replied Yoritomo.
I caught at my swordhilt, no longer intent on the fringe of split bamboo which curtained the window of the Princess’s norimon. “All doomed?—And ourselves?”
“Mito will have planned to sacrifice as few retainers as possible. But though they will not be many, they will have the advantage of armor. Our sole chance of success lies in the method of fence you have taught me. Lunge for face or neck. Waste no thrusts on mail-clad bodies.”
“We can at least hold them until other rescuers run up,” I said.
He shook his head doubtfully. “Look down the bay. A rain-squall is coming. There will be few in the streets, and if Keiki rushes up first with his rescue party, we will be cut down with the ronins. As you say, we are playing against long odds, but the stake is big.”