CHAPTER XV—Requital
In quick response to the signal, the chamberlain who had conducted us to the palace entered at the side of the room. Over his feet and a yard behind trailed a grotesque prolongation of his trouser legs that gave him the appearance of walking on his knees. I supposed he had been summoned to usher us out. But when he crept forward on hands and knees and kowtowed, the Shogun commanded harshly: “Look at the tojin, Gengo. Report has been made that he committed the crime of firing a gun within the bounds of Yedo. Speak the truth.”
The chamberlain raised his head a little above the floor, and stared across at me, his face gray with fear beneath its set smile.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, “the truth cannot be concealed. This is the tojin who, in company with Yoritomo, son of Owari dono, fired many shots from a little gun the like of which has never before been seen in Yedo. Your Highness knows that I had no share in the crime. Yuki was captain of the cortege, and the responsibility—”
“Enough,” interrupted the Shogun. “Send in Setsu.”
As the fellow crept from the room I stared after him, astounded that fear could so debase one who had outmatched by his skill and braveness the armored ronins. He had stood unflinching before the bloody swords that had cut down his comrades, yet now, at the bare intimation that his lord was displeased with me, crawled away without venturing a word in favor of the tojin whose so-called crime had saved him from death and his Princess from the disgrace of capture.
I turned to the Prince, expecting him to burst into warm protests against the injustice of the Shogun’s attitude. He sat in placid silence, his face wreathed in the polite smile of the Japanese courtier. Yet I knew that he could not be indifferent. Ruin to me would spell ruin to Yoritomo. Determined not to be outdone in self-control, I composed myself, and faced the Shogun with the same forced smile of etiquette.
Iyeyoshi regarded me with an inscrutable look. Though his features were as impassive as if cast in golden bronze, I fancied a sinister mockery behind the cold curiosity of his gaze. I felt as a mouse must feel between the paws of the cat. I had been so foolish as to leave my revolvers in my apartments. I was absolutely in the power of this gloomy-eyed ruler. I thought of all the hideous mediæval tortures still in practice in this benighted land, and a cold sweat oozed out upon my skin and chilled me. Yet I maintained my courtier’s smile.
Noiselessly as a shadow a girl glided across the room and prostrated herself before the Shogun. It was the younger of the Princess Azai’s samurai ladies. Iyeyoshi muttered a command. She raised her head a few inches, and spoke rapidly, but in tones so soft and low I could only conjecture that she was giving a detailed account of the attack and defeat of the ronins. Throughout the recital the Shogun held to his cold scrutiny of my face. I continued to smile.