A WEDDING PRESENT

“LET go! Let go, can’t you!” shouted a young horseman furiously, as he raised himself up in his stirrups and angrily brandished a whip.

It was the ninth day of April in the twelfth year of Tensho (1584). The battle of Komaki Hill, one of the most important battles in Japanese history, had just been fought, and intelligence had reached the camp that Lord Ikeda Nobuteru of the Castle of gaki in the province of Mino and his eldest son had both fallen. Wild with grief and rage, Terumasa, the only remaining son, had leapt upon his horse and was about to plunge headlong into the opposing lines to avenge their death when his faithful servant, Dansuké, caught hold of his bridle and with all his might strove to keep back the impetuous youth—he was barely twenty—from rushing on his fate.

But all unavailing were his remonstrances and entreaties. Quite mad for the nonce, Terumasa was determined to carry out his intention, and he struck Dansuké more than one stinging blow with his whip in order to force him to let go.

“Since you will not listen to reason, my lord, it is vain for me to seek to detain you. Go, then, and gain renown from all who shall hear of your gallant deed—friends and foes alike. I wish you good speed. Let me touch up your horse a little that he may go the faster.”

With these words the man struck the horse a sound blow on the crupper; but cunning fellow that he was, he also gave the bridle a backward twist before releasing it.

Like one possessed the animal reared, and started off—not the way his rider wished to go, but straight back in the opposite direction.

“The devil!” cried Terumasa.

He tried to pull up; to turn round; but in vain. The horse blessed with more sense than his master knew which way safety lay and that way he meant to pursue. Presently, however, his pace relaxed and Terumasa exerting all his strength managed to arrest his flight. Patting him gently on the neck and speaking soothing words Terumasa at length succeeded in turning him round, and was once more on the point of performing his rash act when once more he was stopped by Dansuké, who running up, quite out of breath, a second time seized the bridle.

“Would you check me again, scoundrel?” shouted Terumasa. Let go, let go, I say, or you’ll repent it!”

Raising his whip again and again he brought it down each time with telling force on the head and shoulders of the man who dared to thwart him; but, nothing daunted, Dansuké held on like grim death though the blood was streaming from the cuts he received.

“My lord, my lord,” he gasped. “I entreat you to be calm, and to consider for a few moments. Of what avail is this desperate action?”

“What, would you have me sit down quietly under this double loss? Would you have me show myself an undutiful son as well as a disloyal vassal? Are the vile miscreants to slay as they please and go unpunished? Never! Let me go, I say!”

“No, no, my dear young master, I will not let you go . . . I will not let you go thus blindly in your rage to certain death . . . What is one man among so many? Do not think I do not understand your feelings . . . I do, I do . . . But, my lord, when you perish in a foolhardy, though brave, attempt to avenge the death of your honoured father and brother, who, bethink you, will be left to carry on the family name? . . . What will become of the noble house of Ikeda? If you follow your relatives to Hades in this precipitate fashion, will your father be pleased? Will he commend your devotion and say ‘My son, you have done right to follow me!’ Will he not rather inquire ‘In whose care have you left the honour of our family and its concerns?’ Your filial and fraternal affection is altogether admirable, but your desire for revenge should not blind you to the higher duty that awaits you—the duty you owe to a long line of illustrious ancestors, the handing on of an untarnished name . . . I do not urge that you should give up all thoughts of vengeance only that you should postpone their execution to a more propitious season. It is unworthy of yourself to give way to this uncontrollable passion. Think of the responsibility that rests upon you as the sole representative of your family now that my honoured lord, your father, and his son are no more. The time will surely come when you will thank me for the restraint that so enrages you to-day. Oh, my dear young master, do not be angry, but listen to the words of your devoted servant.”

During this long speech Terumasa fumed and chafed, and with kicks and blows sought to release himself. But Dansuké would not let go his grip and earnestly did he pour forth his supplication, though perforce it was delivered in rather jerky and intermittent fashion. The bloody and tearstained countenance of poor Dansuké at last wrought on the feelings of Terumasa and caused him to desist. Seeing no other course open to him, he ungraciously gave in and allowed his servant to lead his horse back to their own camp. Here much sympathy was expressed for him in his bereavement, but it was the unanimous opinion that Dansuké had done right, for the time for revenge was not now when he was only too certain to lose his own life without taking toll of that of his enemies.

Thus did the faithful Dansuké save the life of his young master and preserve the noble family of Ikeda from extinction.

 

Peace reigned, for a reconciliation had been effected between the conflicting factions of Tokugawa Iyeyasu and Hashiba Hideyoshi, to the latter of whom the Ikedas had adhered. Hideyoshi was proclaimed Regent. The bitter enemies of yesterday had turned, as you turn your hand, to the warm friends of to-day. Iyeyasu, long a widower, now sought the hand of Hideyoshi’s younger sister in marriage and was accepted. Hideyoshi, on his side, adopted a son of Iyeyasu’s for his own. Thus “after the rain the ground hardened,” as the old saying has it. All was smiling peace and goodwill between the two families which, so short a time before had been at daggers drawn, not in the figurative sense only, but in the most deadly reality.

Terumasa, his hot passion cooled down, began to look at things in a new light. To what purpose had his revered father sacrificed his life? To no purpose whatever! Not alone his father, but his elder brother and his brother-in-law—each and all had died in an utterly meaningless strife. No cause had been served by their death. By this time they were doubtless gnashing their teeth in Hades at the inconsequence of it all. He thought of his own feelings at the time and of Dansuké’s devotion which had saved him from falling another victim to the fate which had overtaken his relatives.

“At the moment Dansuké said, if I recollect aright, that the time would surely come when I should thank him for restraining my rash act. Yes, he was right, though I little thought so then and only yielded because I had to. That time has come, and sooner than even Dansuké could have foreseen. He is a worthy fellow that Dansuké—I must see what I can do for him.”

No sooner said than done. Terumasa, in recognition of signal service rendered in the face of danger, promoted his humble vassal to the rank of a samurai; and Dansuké, being a man of parts, once having his feet on the ladder speedily climbed to a high position. Ban Daizen, as he was now called, rose step by step till at last he reached the highest rank in the service of his lord, becoming one of the chief officials of the Bizen clan. It is within the memory of living men that on the gate of Ban’s house hung a pair of rusty stirrups. These stirrups are said to have been the identical ones with which Lord Terumasa kicked the progenitor of the house, Ban Daizen, at that time plain Dansuké, under the circumstances above related, at the ever memorable battle of Komaki Hill.

 

Though all was peaceful between the heads of the erstwhile belligerent parties, Terumasa cherished an intense feeling of hatred towards Tokugawa Iyeyasu, and resolved never to exchange greetings with the man whom he deemed had indirectly been the cause of the death of his father and elder brother. It was inevitable that the two should meet sometimes at the palace of the Regent, and Iyeyasu was not so obtuse as not to notice the stiff attitude of the young man, and shrewd enough to guess what was passing in his mind. Having no ill will on his side, however, Iyeyasu did his best to make friends. Whenever they came across each other the older man would bow courteously and make a pleasant remark about the weather, such as “Lord Ikeda, what a fine day it is!” or “Lord Ikeda, the wind is very cold to-day!” But Terumasa was blind and deaf to all his overtures and would pass on quickly, with no acknowledgment other than a savage stare.

And thus eight years rolled on.

The Regent was well aware of the estrangement between the two great nobles, and it troubled him. He gave much thought to a plan that should alter the relations between them.

“It grieves me much,” he said, one day to Iyeyasu, “to see that you and Terumasa are not on good terms. I should be glad if you were friends.”

“Your Highness,” replied Iyeyasu, “it is what I should like myself. The animosity is not on my side, I assure you. For what happened all those years ago at the battle of Komaki he blames me still and ever harbours thoughts of revenge. I know it from his manner, but what can I do?”

“If you will allow me, my friend, I will see what I can do for you. Let me see, you have many daughters who are, as I have been told, fair to look upon—what do you say to giving one of them in marriage to Terumasa. His wife died some time ago and he has one little son. Would you have any objection to the alliance?”

“None at all, Your Highness, but how think you? Is it likely Terumasa will listen to such a proposal? If I have any knowledge of his character he will but give a contemptuous refusal.”

“Not he! Do not concern yourself on that score. I will act circumspectly, and if I am not very much mistaken, all will fall out as we desire. Will you entrust the matter to my discretion?”

“Entirely, Your Highness; and if you succeed you will have my hearty thanks.”

So far, so good. Hideyoshi’s next step was to summon Terumasa to his presence, and when the young man appeared, he spoke to him as follows:—

“My young friend, I hear that the sad death of your father and brother at the battle of Komaki Hill is still rankling in your heart, and that in consequence you refuse to be friends with Lord Tokugawa Iyeyasu. The occurrence was indeed lamentable but it was the fortune of war and to keep up a grudge so long against an innocent man is unreasonable. The battle was between the Tokugawas and the Toyotomis, it was no private conflict between the Tokugawas and the Ikedas. Peace has long been restored—in these days it does not become a warrior to harbour revengeful feelings against would-be friends—there are enough real foes to fight. As a personal favour to me, if for no other reason, I ask you to be reconciled to Iyeyasu and to forget the past. Or if my wish has no weight with you, for love of the Emperor and of your native land, throw off this evil feeling and be friends.”

The gentle pleading of his loved chief touched Terumasa’s stubborn heart. He could not say him nay.

“Your Highness,” he said with his usual frank impetuosity, without giving himself time to think. “It shall be as you desire. From this moment I bid farewell to all ideas of revenge.”

“Your ready compliance augurs well for your sincerity,” said the great statesman, much pleased. “I thank you, dear Terumasa, and I am sure you will never regret your magnanimity.”

Some more talk passed between them on indifferent subjects, but as Terumasa was about to retire the Regent seemed struck with a sudden idea.

“Terumasa,” he said, “if I mistake not you are still a widower and your little son has no one to take care of him;—it is time you married again.”

“Some day, Your Highness, I may think about it, but I am in no haste.”

“It has just come into my head that it would be good to seal your reconciliation with Tokugawa by marrying one of his daughters. That would proclaim the fact to every one. If you permit me I will broach the matter to him.”

This was going further than Terumasa altogether liked, but seeing no help for it he gave his assent, secretly hoping the negotiations would fail.

“I leave everything to your discretion, Your Highness,” he said. “I am ready to do all you wish.”

“Then farewell for the present, Terumasa. I will let you know later on what success I have.”

Congratulating himself on the result of his diplomacy the Regent lost no time in telling Iyeyasu. It was agreed between them that Lady Toku, the second daughter should be the bride; and Terumasa offering no objection, preparations were speedily set on foot for the formal betrothal.

But before this was celebrated, Terumasa presented himself before Hideyoshi and proffered a request.

“Since things have progressed so far by your kind mediation, Your Highness, it is of course a matter on which there can be no two opinions that my retainers become Tokugawa’s and Tokugawa’s retainers become mine. In a word we are reconciled and become as one family. But there is one little point that must be clearly understood. It is this. It is well known that one of Lord Tokugawa’s retainers, a man named Nagai Naokatsu killed my father at the battle of Komaki. It is impossible that I should ever feel anything but enmity against this fellow. As I said before, this must be clearly understood.”

The Regent was nonplussed. It were unreasonable to condemn Terumasa’s sentiments on this matter, and should he do so he felt convinced that the young man would be only too glad to seize an excuse to back out of the engagement and things would go back to their old footing. Therefore, he saw nothing for it but to put a good face on the matter and to answer cordially.

“There need be no disagreement about that, my dear Terumasa. Of course you are at perfect liberty to indulge whatever feeling you like.”

So the daughter of Iyeyasu was betrothed to Terumasa and it was arranged that the wedding should take place at the earliest possible date.

 

Towards the end of February of the next year it became necessary that Iyeyasu should go to his home in Yedo on some private business. The war with Korea was at its height and the highest military authorities had for some months been sitting in grave conclave at the Regent’s headquarters at Nagoya in Hizen. Iyeyasu’s presence in Yedo offered the first favourable opportunity for celebrating the nuptials of his daughter, and it was settled that Terumasa should follow his intended father-in-law to Yedo Castle as soon as possible.

Iyeyasu’s thoughts as he awaited his whilom foe were not all as joyful as befitted a wedding. Anxious furrows lined his broad brow. Hideyoshi had told him what the bridegroom had said about the man who had slain those so near and dear to him, and Iyeyasu dreaded what those words might portend. The idea crossed his mind that Terumasa might even demand the head of Naokatsu as a wedding gift from the bride’s father.

“See that you pay his lordship the utmost respect and honour,” said he to the four chief retainers whose place it was to receive the expected guest. “It weighs heavy on my mind that he has an unconquerable animosity against poor Nagai Naokatsu. Be careful never so much as to mention his name and it may be Lord Ikeda will forget. I trust you will not fail me in this important and delicate matter.”

“You may rely on our caution, my lord,” answered one of those he addressed. “We will do all in our power to interest Lord Ikeda and to divert his thoughts from dangerous subjects. And for fear of accidents Nagai shall be warned to keep out of the way. Do not be anxious, my lord, we will take every precaution.”

“That is well; I count on your fidelity.”

 

In due time Terumasa arrived at the castle. Iyeyasu’s four chief retainers received him with the greatest courtesy and ushering him into the spacious guest-room conducted him to the seat of honour. They then retreated backwards to the other end of the apartment, whence, with both hands on the mats, they bowed repeatedly the while they uttered words of welcome.

“Lord Ikeda, we rejoice to see you and congratulate you on your safe arrival after the dangers of your long journey. We beg to offer you our humble felicitations on the happy event that has brought you hither, and pray that all good fortune may ever attend you and your bride.”

“I am glad to find myself under this roof on so agreeable a mission,” replied Terumasa genially. “There is no need for me to introduce myself for you know who I am. It had been my design never to come to speaking terms with Lord Tokugawa, but through the kindly mediation of His Highness the Regent, all unfriendly thoughts have been banished and to seal our alliance I have come here this day to wed his daughter. Since the two families are to be thus united you are all my retainers, and mine are all Lord Tokugawa’s. The old enmity is wiped out. We start afresh on a new and better footing. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“My lord, it is very condescending of you to show us so much favour. Permit us to profit by this opportunity to recommend ourselves to your good graces.”

“May I enquire your names?”

“Ah, we have been remiss! I, who speak, am Ii Naomasa, at your service.”

“And I am Sakai Saemon, your lordship.”

“Can it be! I know your names well and I recall seeing you both at a distance now and again before your camp at the time of the battle of Komaki Hill. Yes, you fought valiantly.”

“Your lordship flatters us. We do not deserve such praise.”

“And who may you be, my friend?”

“My name, your lordship, is Nakatsukasa Tadakatsu, formerly Honda Heihachiro.”

“I know, I know! It was a misty morning when I saw you fighting bravely on the bank of the river near Rysenji Temple in Kasugai. Yes, yes, you, too, acquitted yourself splendidly.”

“My lord, I do not merit such commendation; I am but a plain soldier.”

“There is one more—may I ask your name also?”

“Sakakibara Yasumasa, my lord.”

“Do I behold the countenance of the renowned Sakakibara?—Sakakibara, who by himself gave chase to Lord Hideyoshi when he was forced to retreat near Hosonigaki? Your temerity on that occasion is still vividly remembered by His Highness. He admits, of an evening when in a talkative mood, that he was never so terrified in his life! Ha, ha, ha! You were a bold man.”

“The past is past and forgotten, my lord. I am now one of the most faithful and obedient servants of His Highness. We whose trade is that of arms, fight and make peace as the god of war casts his dice—we have no choice in the matter.”

“The presence of so many brave soldiers who took part in the battle of Komaki Hill gives me much pleasure. My thoughts are carried back to the past and—that reminds me—my brave sirs, will you answer me one question?”

“As many as it is your pleasure to put, your lordship.”

“I have heard of one Nagai Naokatsu who was also at the battle; what has become of him?”

This was a bolt from the blue! The four veterans, brave men though they were, looked from one to the other in consternation and dismay, quite at a loss how to reply. That which their lord had warned them against had befallen in the very first hour. Terumasa seeing, and it must be confessed, enjoying, their discomfiture, pressed for his answer.

“What has become of Nagai? Where is he now?” he repeated, impatiently.

Another exchange of glances. Not one of them dared to take upon himself the onus of the answer.

“Have you suddenly lost your hearing, sirs? I ask again, What has become of Nagai?”

It was plain that Terumasa was losing his temper.

“Begging your lordship’s pardon,” faltered Sakai Saemon, behind whom the others were gradually insinuating themselves as they pushed him forward to fulfil his usual office of spokesman, “I believe he is in good health, and still in our lord’s service.”

“Still in your lord’s service? I am glad of that; it removes a great weight from my mind. It is to see this same Nagai, the murderer of my father, that I have covered so many miles. You will oblige me by bringing him before me without delay.”

“My lord, I venture to suggest that you send for him after your interview with Lord Tokugawa.”

“That can wait. I desire to see this Nagai first. If you refuse, it only remains for me to leave Yedo at once without paying my respects to his lordship. I have spoken.”

There was no doubting that Terumasa meant what he said. There was nothing for it but to apprise their master of what had happened in spite of their precautions, and to leave the matter to his judgment. Sakai Saemon bowed low as he said:—

“My lord, deign to wait a few minutes. I will oblige you with all speed.”

“No equivocation, mind. Beware how you play with me!”

Sakai withdrew, his three friends having already disappeared. Terumasa smiled grimly to himself. Nothing was lost upon him.

The four retainers hastened to their lord’s chamber. He looked up as they entered and asked pleasantly:—

“Well, he has arrived?”

“Yes, your lordship.”

“Is all well?”

“No, your lordship; we fear the worst has happened.”

“How! What do you mean?”

“He demands to be at once confronted with Nagai.”

“Did I not warn you . . .” began Iyeyasu, angrily; then he checked himself, and with arms folded and head sunk on his breast, considered the situation.

“You say that Lord Ikeda insists on seeing Nagai Naokatsu at once?” he queried presently, looking up.

“Yes, your lordship.”

“Then by all means, let him see Nagai. Lord Ikeda is not a madman. He has come here to marry my daughter. It is not likely, unless he is out of his mind, that he will upset all our plans and imperil the favour of the Regent just to satisfy an old grudge.”

“Judging from his words and manner there is no saying what he may or may not do, your lordship.”

“Humph!”

“Should he put his hand on his sword when he finds Nagai before him, we shall not be able to stop him from wreaking his vengeance. Or should he demand Nagai’s head for a wedding present, how can we refuse?”

“Will he go so far as that?”

“Nothing more likely, your lordship.”

“I was afraid of this. Let me think what can be done.”

Iyeyasu pondered awhile, a deep frown of perplexity and trouble on his forehead. Then as if a solution had suddenly come to him his eyes sparkled, and he spoke firmly.

“Take Nagai Naokatsu into the presence of Lord Ikeda as he desires, and if he demands his head as a wedding gift deny him resolutely. Those are my orders.”

“Your lordship, it is easy to obey, but if we act like that there will be an end to the proposed marriage, and you will incur the displeasure of His Highness, the Regent. Dare you run such a risk?”

“Do not trouble yourselves about results, only do as I tell you. If Lord Ikeda asks for the head of Nagai as a wedding gift, remind him that the battle of Komaki was fought between the Tokugawas and the Toyotomis—it was no private affair of the Ikedas. Nagai served under his chief and killed General Ikeda Nobuteru by the fortune of war. It was one of the chances of battle and in a fair field. Nagai did but do his duty. If Terumasa feels any animosity for the death of his relatives it should be directed against me, the principal, not against Nagai who was only fighting under my orders. Therefore, tell him, he is welcome to wreak all his vengeance upon my daughter, Lady Toku, his bride. Let him cut her in strips if so he wills and I shall not interfere, but let him understand explicitly that Iyeyasu will never sacrifice his loyal retainer on any consideration whatever.”

“My lord, your words impress us deeply. We will return and try to adjust the matter to the satisfaction of all parties!”

Nagai Naokatsu was sent for. The four retainers told him how things stood, and further instructed him to be on his guard, ready to fly should the young nobleman’s hand move towards his sword-hilt.

Then the four went back to the guest-room where Terumasa fuming and chafing had been waiting all this time.

And now it was Sakakibara Yasumasa who spoke first.

“My lord, we apologize for the long delay,” he began.

“Have you brought Nagai—where is he?” Terumasa interrupted him.

“Yes, my lord, he is without.”

“That is well. Show him instantly into my presence.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The sliding screens were pushed aside and there, in the antechamber, at a very respectful distance calculated for the convenience of making his escape in case of need, sat Nagai, his bent head hiding his face.

“Are you Nagai?”

“Yes, your lordship.”

“Come here, Nagai.”

“My lord, I am unworthy to approach your honourable lordship.”

“Away with excuses! Come here, I say.”

“My lord, I cannot venture so far.”

“You try my patience beyond its limit, sirrah!”

Terumasa rose to his feet precipitately and crossed the intervening space to where Nagai crouched. The sweat burst out on the four men who were witnesses of the scene; they trembled for what would come.

“Why do you not come when I call?” thundered Terumasa, seizing the other’s wrists and dragging him over the floor. “I’ll teach you to obey at once!”

Terumasa being a big man and possessed of great strength, Nagai was as a sparrow in the talons of a hawk and entirely at his mercy. Before he had time to think, much less struggle, he found himself landed by the cushion where Terumasa had been sitting since his arrival and on which he again seated himself.

“Look at me, sirrah!” commanded Terumasa.

“My lord,” said the frightened wretch, “I cannot do that.”

“Look at me. You were not such a craven when you killed my father Nobuteru in cold blood, on the ninth day of the fourth month in the twelfth year of Tensho.”

“All the more reason why I should quail now, your lordship.”

“You are a most obstinate fellow! Why will you never do as I tell you?”

Terumasa took hold of the man’s collar and twisted his face upwards. Looking calmly and critically at it for a moment or two he observed complacently.

“Well, Nagai Naokatsu, it affords me much gratification to look at you. I have been told that you have the best appearance of all the men in the service of Lord Tokugawa. My informant was right—you are undoubtedly a very handsome man, though at the present moment you do not appear to the best advantage . . . It is a satisfaction to know that my father met his death at the hands of so creditable a soldier. Without doubt he went the less reluctantly to the spirit world. So far, well, Nagai.”

Naokatsu gave himself up for lost. Though far from being a coward at ordinary times, the stern aspect and speech of Terumasa whom he had so greatly, though inadvertently, wronged, awed and intimidated him.

The four retainers stood prepared to interfere at the last moment should it be necessary, and they too thought Nagai’s doom was sealed.

Still keeping his grip on the collar of his victim’s garment, Terumasa continued to gaze at him thoughtfully. Then turning to the other men he asked abruptly:—

“What annual stipend does he receive at the present time?”

“One thousand koku4 of rice from his fief near Kawagoé.”

“And how much did he get at the time of the battle of Komaki?”

“Two hundred koku, your lordship.”

Terumasa flung the man from him and clapped both hands on his knees. Tears of mortification stood in his eyes.

“Can I credit my ears? At the time of the battle his stipend was two hundred koku; now after the lapse of well-nigh ten years it has risen to only one thousand koku, and that derived from an out-of-the-way hole like Kawagoé! Ah, what a worthless fellow he must be! To think that my revered father perished by the hand of such an insignificant creature! It is too humiliating! Father, I fear you can never forgive yourself for allowing such a disgraceful thing to happen. You must everlastingly be bemoaning your untoward fate in the land of the shades. I, Terumasa, your son, sympathise with you from the bottom of my heart!”

His emotion was so genuine that tears trickled down his dark cheeks and he seemed to forget that there were witnesses of his unusual weakness. Not for long, however. Recovering his composure, he turned his eyes on the men before him.

“Sirs,” he said, “I told you a short time since, that my main object in coming to Yedo was to behold the countenance of this man, the slayer of my father and brother. I have seen him and am not disappointed. But there is one request that I desire you will kindly submit to my future father-in-law. It concerns this same Nagai Naokatsu. If, according to custom, his lordship intends giving me a wedding present. . . .”

Here it was at last! The four chief retainers could not restrain a shudder, and the face of Nagai grew livid. It was Ii who first found his voice.

“My lord,” he stammered, “what you say is reasonable and we expected as much. But will you not let bygones be bygones? The Komaki affair happened nearly ten years ago and it is too late to rake it up. Moreover, this is a day highly blessed by the god of peace—a day on which two noble families are to be joined. Let not such an occasion be marred by a deed of revenge and blood. I entreat your lordship to reconsider your words and mercifully to let Nagai live!”

“My lord, we all unite in humbly pleading for the life of this unfortunate man!” chorused the other three, as all threw themselves down with heads touching the mats before him.

“What are you all talking about?” said Terumasa, unceremoniously. “Who said I wanted the life of Nagai? Nothing is further from my thoughts. This is what I wish you to ask Lord Tokugawa—that he will use his influence with His Highness, the Regent, to have this fellow created a daimio, as soon as possible, with an annual income of, say, ten thousand koku.”

Amazement was depicted on the faces of the five men—amazement and relief. Iyeyasu, who behind a sliding screen had heard all that had passed, now pushed it aside and ran into the room. Clasping Terumasa’s hands in his he raised them to his head while he gave vent to his feelings as follows:—

“Terumasa, you have acquitted yourself nobly! I am unworthy of so magnanimous a son-in-law. What can I say but that I will do all in my power to further your truly chivalrous request.”

 

After the wedding Terumasa returned with his bride to the city of Nagoya, where Iyeyasu soon followed him. He told the whole story to the Regent and proffered his request. Hideyoshi slapped his knee in approval.

“Terumasa is a true samurai,” he said. “Rest assured his petition shall meet with immediate attention.”

 

Accordingly, Nagai Naokatsu, a minor vassal, of one thousand koku, from a place near Kawagoé, was at a bound promoted to the dignity of a daimio worth ten thousand koku yearly.

So you see that Ikeda Nobuteru did not fall by the sword of a nameless samurai!