"Enough!" shouted Tosa; "I will tear off your flesh with pincers, and pour boiling pitch into your wounds."
"That is only an improvement on the moxas invented by physicians. Try again; that's a trifle."
"I cannot explain that man's heroic conduct," thought Fatkoura; "he knows that he is taken for another, and he carries on an imposture which leads him to a sure and frightful death."
She longed to proclaim the truth, – to say that this man was not the Prince of Nagato; but she thought that no one would believe her. Besides, as he was silent himself, he must have grave reasons for acting as he did.
"I swear to avenge you in the most startling fashion," she cried aloud. "It is the Prince of Nagato's bride who takes the oath; and she will keep it."
"Thanks, divine Princess!" said the prisoner; "you are the only cause I have to regret my life. Tell my master that I died cheerfully for him, seeing a proof of our superiority and our future glory in the scarce-glutted wrath of my jailer."
"You shall speak no more," exclaimed the Prince of Tosa, with a sign to the executioner.
Sado's head was severed at a single blow. A torrent of blood deluged the white mat, and the body fell. Fatkoura could not repress a shriek of horror.
The Samurais turned away their heads with a frown, and silently retired, bowing to the Prince of Tosa. The latter, filled with shame and anger, shut himself up in his palace.
That very night a messenger, bearing a bloody head, wrapped in red silk and contained in a straw sack, left the castle of Tosa.
CHAPTER XIX.
A TOMB
The news of the victory gained at Soumiossi by General Harounaga was swiftly conveyed to Osaka. Yodogimi herself announced it to Fide-Yori with rapturous joy; nor did she disguise the pride which her lover's triumph caused her. But some peasants, coming from Soumiossi, related the details of the battle; and the Prince of Nagato's name was universally substituted for that of Harounaga. Yodogimi forbade the circulation of such a slander under penalty of severe punishment; she lost her temper, and wearied her son with fierce recriminations. Fide-Yori let her rave, loudly praising Harounaga, and quietly thanking his faithful friend for his untiring devotion.
Unluckily other and sad tidings soon effaced the joy caused by this first victory. Hieyas did not execute any of the movements anticipated; he did not attack Osaka on the south. General Signenari was therefore inactive in the Island of Awadsi, and yet no one dared recall him thence; nor did he make any attempt to break through the lines which barred the Island of Nipon. His army, divided into small detachments, came by sea, landed at different points on the coast near Osaka; then, by night, surprised and carried a position.
Attiska, Hieyas' general, soon took possession of a village near the capital. This news spread through Osaka, and terror ran riot. The Shogun's soldiers were massacred. At the moment of attack, their leader, Oussouda, was absent; he was revelling in a suburban tea-house.
General Sanada-Sayemon-Yoke-Moura was anxious to attack the victors at once, and if possible dislodge them from the position they had won. Fide-Yori begged him to do nothing of the sort.
"Your army is not large enough to lay siege to a village," said he; "and if by any mishap you were defeated, the city would be left defenceless. Recall the troops which you sent to Yamashiro, and until their arrival let us be content to defend Osaka."
Yoke-Moura reluctantly obeyed; but he employed skilful spies to watch the enemy's movements. Soon the troops came back from Yamashiro. A conflict was imminent. But now Yoke-Moura refused to quit the city or to give battle.
He no longer left the fortress; he paced to and fro day and night, restless and uneasy, apparently seeking for something. At night especially, accompanied only by his son Daiske, a lad of sixteen, he wandered incessantly along the outer wall.
The sentinels, who saw him pass and repass with his son, carrying a lantern, could not fathom his conduct, and thought that the General had gone mad. Every now and then Yoke-Moura would fall on his knees and press his ear to the ground. Daiske held his breath. Once, the General sprang up Hastily, greatly agitated.
"Is it the blood buzzing in my ears?" he cried; "I thought I heard something. Listen, my son, and see if I was mistaken."
The boy knelt in his turn, and laid his ear to the ground.
"Father," said he, "I distinctly hear distant blows, – muffled, but regular."
The General listened again.
"Yes, yes!" said he; "I hear them very plainly too; they are the strokes of a pick against the earth. It is there! We have them now; we are saved from a terrible danger!"
"What is it, father?" asked Daiske.
"What is it? Hieyas' soldiers are digging an underground passage, which leads from their camp, passes below the city, and the moat, and will open here."
"Is it possible?" cried Daiske.
"Fortunately a spy warned me betimes of the work which they had in hand; but no one knew where the mouth of the tunnel was to be. If I had left the castle, as Fide-Yori wished, we should have been lost."
"It was high time to discover the point they had chosen for invading the fortress," said Daiske, who was still listening; "they are not far off."
"They have one day's labor more," said Yoke-Moura. "Now I know where they are, I will watch them. But follow me, my son; I would confide to you alone the delicate mission which must now be executed."
The General returned to the pavilion which he occupied in the castle grounds. He wrote a long letter to the commander of the troops returned from Yamashiro, whose name was Aroufza, and who was a brother of Harounaga. He gave this officer all the necessary instructions for the next day's battle. When he had done, he called a peasant, who was waiting in the next room.
"This fellow knows the place where the tunnel begins," said Yoke-Moura to his son. "When the moment has come, he will lead the army thither. You will go with him. Try not to be seen by any one. Carry this letter to Aroufza, and tell him that he must carry out my orders exactly, and allow himself to be guided by this man. Be prudent, be adroit, my boy! It is easy to reach Aroufza's camp; but remember that you must get there unseen, that you may not rouse the suspicions of the spies whom Hieyas doubtless has in our midst. As soon as you arrive, send me a messenger."
"I will start at once, under cover of darkness," said Daiske. "In a few hours, father, you shall hear from me."
The young man then set off with the spy.
At daybreak Yoke-Moura proceeded to pay his respects to the Shogun. Fide-Yori received him coldly. He was displeased with the General, not understanding his inaction.
"Yoke-Moura," said he, "my confidence in your great valor and your devotion to my person alone prevent me from ordering you to make an immediate attack. Here are three whole days lost. What are you about? Why delay so long?"
"I could not begin until I had found something which I was seeking," said Yoke-Moura.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed the Shogun, seized by a dreadful fear; and in his turn he wondered if the General's mind was affected. He examined him; but the warrior's face expressed a cheerful tranquillity.
"I have indeed heard," continued Fide-Yori, "that for some time you have been roaming about, day and night, like a lunatic."
"I am resting now," said the General; "I have found what I was looking for."
The Shogun bowed his head. "Decidedly," he thought, "he is mad."
But Yoke-Moura answered his thought. "Wait till to-morrow before you judge me," said he; "and do not be uneasy, master, if you hear a noise to-night." With these words, he withdrew to issue orders to his soldiers. He sent two thousand men out of the city, to, encamp upon a slight eminence in sight of the enemy.
"He is preparing for the attack," said the people of Osaka; and they swarmed over the hills, to the towers of pagodas, and all high places. Fide-Yori himself, with a few courtiers, climbed to the topmost story of the great Goldfish tower, in the centre of the fortress. From there he could see Aroufza's troops in the plain, about eight thousand strong; and farther away, betrayed by the flashing of their weapons and of their armor, the enemy, encamped near a small wood. In the direction of the sea, in the bay, the war squadron was taking in stores; nearer at hand, the city streets, intersected by innumerable canals, like azure ribbons, were filled with an anxious crowd. All labor was suspended; every one was waiting for what was to come. The troops never budged. Fide-Yori grew tired of looking; a secret irritation began to rise within him. He asked for Yoke-Moura.
"The General is nowhere to be found," was the answer. "His men are under arms, ready to start at the first signal; but up to the present moment only two thousand troops have left the fortress."
Finally, towards evening, the enemy made a movement, and advanced towards the city. Instantly the soldiers posted on the hill by Yoke-Moura rushed furiously down. A few shots were fired. The fight began. The enemy were superior in numbers. At the first shock the Shogun's men were driven back.
"Why does not Aroufza move?" said the Shogun. "Is there a traitor in the camp? I really cannot understand the matter."
Hurried footsteps were now heard in the tower, and in a moment Yoke-Moura appeared upon the platform. He held in his arms a great truss of rice-straw. The men who followed him carried brushwood. The General hurriedly thrust aside the courtiers, and even the Shogun, built an enormous pile, and set fire to it. The flame soon rose, clear and bright. Its light illumined the tower, and hid the plain, now dimmed by twilight.
Yoke-Moura, leaning over the balustrade, shielded his eyes with his hands, and strove to pierce the darkness with his gaze. He saw that Aroufza's army moved. "Good!" said he; and he went rapidly down the stairs without answering the many questions with which he was plied. He took up his post at some distance from the point where the tunnel was to open. It was finished; for the strokes of the pick had ceased at noon. Only a thin layer of earth was left, which might be pierced at the last moment.
At nightfall the General had listened, and had heard the tread of feet. The enemy had entered the subterranean passage. It was then that he kindled the flame upon the tower. At that signal Aroufza was to attack the enemy at the other end of the tunnel. It was now entirely dark. Yoke-Moura and his men waited in the most profound silence. At last slight blows were heard. They were cautiously dealt, to make as little noise as possible. The General and his men, motionless in the shadow, listened eagerly. They heard clods of earth drop, and then the heavy breathing of the laborers. Soon a man put his head and shoulders through the opening, standing out in relief in shadow more intense than the darkness itself. He stepped forth, and another followed. No one stirred. They advanced carefully, looking in every direction, until about fifty had appeared; then all at once, with ferocious cries, the watchers rushed upon them. They tried to fall back upon the tunnel.
"We are betrayed!" they shouted to their comrades. "Do not come out! Fly!"
"Yes, traitors, your plots are discovered," said Yoke-Moura; "and you have dug your own tomb."
All those who had issued from the tunnel were slaughtered. The shrieks of the dying filled the palace. People ran up with lights. Fide-Yori came himself, between two lines of servants bearing torches.
"This is what I was looking for, master," said the General, showing him the yawning hole. "Do you think now that I was right not to leave the fortress?"
The Shogun was dumb with surprise at the sight of the danger he had run.
"Not another man shall leave that tunnel alive!" cried the General.
"But they will escape at the other end," said Fide-Yori.
"You were surprised just now at Aroufza's inaction on the plain. He was waiting for the best part of the hostile army to enter this passage, that he might close the door on them."
"Then they are lost!" said the Shogun. "Forgive me, bravest of my warriors, for having doubted you one moment. But why did you not tell me what was going on?"
"Master," said the General, "there are spies everywhere: they are in the fortress, in your palace, in my chamber. One word overheard, and they were warned. At the least alarm, the bird I hoped to catch would have flown."
The enemy had now ceased coming from the tunnel.
"They fancy they can escape," said Yoke-Moura; "they will return when they find that their retreat is cut off."
Soon, in fact, cries of distress were heard. They were so heartrending that Fide-Yori shuddered.
"Unhappy wretches!" he muttered.
Their situation was horrible indeed; in that narrow passage, where two men could barely move abreast, where it was hard to breathe, those desperate soldiers, mad with fear, pushed and crushed each other in the darkness, frantic fur light at any cost, even were it the light of night, which would have seemed brilliant to them in comparison with that ill-omened gloom.
A terrible shove forced several men out of the tunnel, only to fall upon the swords of the enemy.
Amid their shrieks were heard confused cries: —
"Mercy! we surrender."
"Open! let us out."
"No," said Yoke-Moura; "no pity for such traitors as you. I repeat, you have dug your own tomb."
The General ordered stones and earth to be brought, to fill up the opening.
"Desist, I entreat you!" said Fide-Yori, pale with emotion; "those cries tear my heart. They only ask to surrender. Take them prisoners; that will suffice."
"You need not entreat me, master," said Yoke-Moura; "your wishes are my commands. Hollo there!" he added, "stop your noise; you are pardoned; you may come out."
The howls were redoubled. It was impossible to get out. The frightful crowding had suffocated many of the men, whose corpses blocked the mouth of the passage; they formed a solid rampart, increased with every instant, and impassable. All must perish; their struggles shook the ground; they trod one another down, bit one another; their swords pierced each the other's side; their armor was broken with their bones; they died amidst the blackest darkness, stifled in a sepulchre too narrow for their bodies. All attempts to clear away the mouth of the tunnel were vain.
"What an awful thing war is!" exclaimed Fide-Yori, hastening away, entirely overcome.
Soon the cries became less frequent; then utter silence was restored.
"All is over, they are all dead," said Yoke-Moura; "nothing remains but to close up the tomb!"
Five thousand men had perished in that subterranean passage, but a few leagues in length!
CHAPTER XX.
THE MESSENGERS
Hieyas had himself advanced with fifty thousand men to within a few leagues of Soumiossi. He proceeded thither by water, keeping off the coast, lest he should be seen by the soldiers of Massa-Nori, encamped upon the borders of the province of Isse.
All the defensive plans set on foot by Fide-Yori's generals were promptly made known to Hieyas, and he set his wits to work to foil the schemes of his opponents. He let them blockade the Island of Nipon; and, putting out to sea, advanced towards their lines, landing between Osaka and Kioto. He desired to lay siege to Osaka as soon as possible; for the capture of that town would end the war.
Although really ill, he had gone thus far that he might be at the very centre of the conflict, his feeble nerves not being able to bear a state of suspense.
It was he who had planned the tunnel under the city and the moat, to steal an entrance into the fortress; he knew it to be impregnable by open force, and thought that this bold enterprise might succeed. The loss of the two thousand soldiers captured on Dragon-fly Island annoyed him; but General Attiska's conquest of a village very near Osaka consoled him. He impatiently awaited the result of the adventure, sitting in his tent gazing out before him at the ocean with its tossing junks. The sea was very rough; a gale of wind blew in the offing, and raised high waves, which broke in foam upon the shore. It was bad for small boats and for fishing-smacks.
The Prince of Nagato's fleet was even then at sea. He started from Soumiossi, intending to come nearer to the point occupied by the enemy, to sec whether they mustered strong, and if Hieyas had really advanced thus far. Nagato could not believe it to be so. But the wind rose, and suddenly became furious.
"We must make for shore, and quickly too," cried Raiden, examining the horizon, where mountains of slate-colored clouds were suddenly upreared.
"You think we cannot remain at sea?" asked the Prince.
"If we are here an hour hence, we shall never see land again."
"Luckily the squall blows from the sea," said Nata, "and we shall be driven straight on shore."
"All right," said Nagato; "all the better, that I don't like the way the boat dances. Will this last long?"
"Of course," said Raiden, "our sails may help us a little; but we shall bob about."
"The wind will carry us along," said Loo, loading himself down with bundles of rope and chain, to make himself heavier.
The sail was hoisted, and the boat began to speed over tire waves; leaping high in the air, then plunging down into the depths, it leaned first to one side, then to the other, the sail touching the water. The horizon was no longer visible on either hand, but only a succession of bills and valleys, which rose and fell; sometimes a wave broke into the boat with a sharp sound, as if a handful of stones had been thrown in.
Loo was stunned by the force of the wind, which never paused, and which dashed a shower of foam into his face; he again felt on his lips the salty taste which he so disliked when he came near drowning.
"Hand me the scoop," said Nata; "the boat is full of water."
Loo hunted about for a moment, and then said: "I can't find it; I see nothing. The wind blows my eye-lashes into my eyes."
The Prince himself picked up the scoop, and handed it to the sailor. "Are we very far from land still?" he asked.
Raiden stood upon a bench, holding to the mast, and looked across the waves. "No, master," he replied; "we're forging ahead. We shall be there in a few moments."
"And the other boats?" said Loo; "they're not in sight."
"Oh, I can see them," said Raiden. "Some of them are close in shore; others are farther off than we are."
"Where shall we land?" asked the Prince. "Upon a hostile shore, perhaps; for nowadays Japan is like a chess-board: the white squares belong to Fide-Yori, and the red ones to Hieyas."
"So long as we are not cast on the rocks, we're all right," said Nata; "the Usurper will pay no attention to poor sailors like us."
"I am no sailor, – not I," said Loo, displaying his sword. "I am a lord."
The sky was darkened; a dull, rumbling sound rolled around the horizon.
"My patron saint is beginning to talk to us," said Raiden. "Bear to the left, Nata," he added; "we're steering right upon a reef. More, more! Look out, Prince! Take care, Loo! We've caught it now; we're in for it!"
And in fact the storm was let loose, and the waves broke madly against the shore. They dashed up furiously; the frothing crests were blown forward; then they poured down like cataracts. Others ran back, leaving a broad sheet of white foam behind them on the sand. The sail was quickly lowered; the mast was unshipped. They were forced to yield their boat to the mercy of the waves. But it seemed impossible that the boat should fail to be shattered by the frightful billows which struck blow after blow upon the frail bark, breaking against it, and now and again dashing directly over it.
Fortunately, they approached land very rapidly. Raiden suddenly sprang into the midst of the tumultuous waves. He found firm footing, and pushed the boat at the stem with all his might. Nata jumped overboard too, and pulled at the chain. Soon the keel was buried deep in the sand, and the crew landed hastily.
"How terrible the sea is!" said the Prince of Nagato, when he was safe on shore. "How it howls, how it roars! What despair, what frenzy urges it on! Does it not seem to fly the pursuit of some powerful enemy? It is indeed a miracle that we have escaped."
"People don't always escape, unfortunately," said Raiden; "it devours many a poor sailor. How many of my comrades lie beneath its waves! I sometimes think I hear them in the storm; and I believe that it is with the voice of shipwrecked men that the sea laments and groans."
All the boats had now landed without serious mishap, although some were partly shattered by the violence with which they were hurled against the shore.
"Where are we?" said the Prince. "Let us try to find out."
The boats were drawn as far as possible out of reach of the sea and the party left the smooth, white beach, which stretched as far as eye could see.
Above the low dune formed by the drifted sand was a broad and partially cultivated plain, which seemed to be deserted. A few huts were in sight, towards which they went. They called aloud, but no one answered.
"The noise of the wind has deafened us," said Loo; and he began to thump on the doors with fists and feet. The huts were empty.
"It seems we are in the table of Hieyas on the chess-board which you just mentioned," said Raiden; "the peasants would not fly from the Shogun's troops."
"If we are near the enemy, so much the better," said the Prince, "since we are in search of them."
"How black it is!" cried Loo. "It seems like night."
"The storm is at hand," said Nata. "Those huts are just what we want, to shelter us."
The rain began to fall in torrents; the few trees scattered over the plain bent to the ground, with all their branches blown one way; and the thunder rattled. The sailors hurried into the deserted huts; they were exhausted, and lying down, fell fast asleep.
Meantime the Prince, leaning against a door, stared out at the furious rain, as it gullied the earth, or was broken by the wind and blown away in fine spray. But Iwakura saw nothing. His thoughts were in the palace at Kioto, on the veranda, amid flowers. He saw the Queen come slowly down the stairs, seeking him with her eyes, half smiling at him. He began to feel an intolerable pang at this long separation. He thought that he might die without seeing her again.
Two men now appeared on the plain. Lashed by the tempest, they hurried along the path. Nagato instinctively hid behind the door, and watched them. They were dressed like peasants; but the wind, which lifted their clothes in a lawless fashion, showed that they were armed with swords. They walked straight towards the huts. The Prince roused Raiden and Nata, and showed them these armed peasants, who still advanced, blinded by the rain.
"You see," said he, "in time of war, fishermen are not what they appear to be; neither are peasants."
"Those fellows have exchanged their spades for swords," said Raiden. "Where are they going? Are they friends or foes?"
"We shall soon know," said Nagato; "for we will take them prisoners."
The two men came forward with heads down, to keep the rain from their faces; they supposed the huts to be empty, and ran to them for shelter.
"Come, come in! Come and dry yourselves!" cried Raiden, when they were close at hand. "The rain rebounds from your skulls like the water of a cataract from a rock."
On hearing his voice, the new arrivals started back, and took to their heels. They were soon overtaken.
"What does this mean?" said Raiden. "Why do you run away so quickly? Have you anything to conceal?"
"You must let us see what it is," said Nata, with his good-natured laugh.
All the sailors had waked; they collected in one hut. The two men were brought before the Prince. Each wore on his head a mushroom-shaped hat, which hid half his face; on the shoulders of each was a rude cloak of unbraided straw, which made him look like a thatched roof. They dripped with rain.
"Who are you?" asked Nagato.
They looked at the Prince with a bewildered, simple air; one of them stammered out something unintelligible.
"Speak more distinctly," said Nagato. "Who are you?"
Then the two cried together: "Peasants."
Loo, who was sitting on the ground, chin in hand, watching them, burst out laughing.
"Peasants!" said he; "monkeys you'd better say. Your assumed simplicity ill conceals your malice."
"Why did you try to run away?" said the Prince.
"I was afraid," said one, kicking the ground and scratching his head.
"I was afraid," repeated the other.
"You are not peasants," said the Prince; "why have you two swords hidden in your belt?"
"Because – there is war about; it is well to be armed."
"There is war about," repeated the other.
"Come!" cried Raiden, "speak the truth. We are friends of Hieyas; if you belong to us, you have nothing to fear."
One of the men cast a rapid glance at Raiden.
"Strip them of their arms and search them," said the Prince to the sailor.
"By all the Kamis, but you have fine swords!" exclaimed Raiden; "they must have cost you dear. You must be very rich peasants."
"We took them from some dead soldiers."
"Then you are thieves!" exclaimed Loo.
"What's that?" said the sailor, snatching a paper carefully hidden under the robe of one of the strangers.
"As we can't escape, we may as well own the truth; we are messengers," said one man, dropping his stupid look. "That is a letter written to Hieyas by General Attiska."
"Very good," said Raiden, handing the letter to Nagato.
"If you really serve the same master as we," said the other messenger, "do not keep us any longer; let us finish our errand."
"When it stops raining," said Loo.
The Prince opened the little paper bag closed at one end with rice paste, and took out the letter. It read as follows: —
"General Attiska falls prostrate before the illustrious and all-powerful Minamoto Hieyas. Happy days are followed by wretched days; and I have the shame and sorrow to announce a disaster. The tunnel scheme, so carefully elaborated by your lofty intellect, was carried out. With vast pains, thousands of soldiers, working night and day, finally finished the work; we were sure of success. But Marisiten, the God of Battles, was cruel to us. By I know not what treachery, Yoke-Moura was forewarned; and I scarcely dare confess to you that five thousand heroes met their death in the narrow passage which we dug, while the enemy lost not a single man. We have regained the position in the village lost for a time. Nothing therefore is yet compromised, and I hope soon to be able to send you the news of a brilliant victory.
"Written beneath the walls of Osaka, this fifth day of the seventh moon, in the first year of the Shogun Fide-Tadda."
"A fine piece of news indeed, my friends!" said the Prince, who read the letter aloud; "and I will take it to Hieyas myself. I am anxious to enter his camp – to insinuate myself into his very tent."
"Then you are not friends of Hieyas, as you said?" asked one of the messengers.
"No, we are no friends of his!" said Nagato; "but what difference does that make to you, so long as I agree to carry the message in your place?"
"That's true! After all, it's all one to me; the more so as the bearer of ill tidings is apt to be ill received."
"Where is Hieyas' camp?"
"Half-an-hour's journey from here."
"In which direction?"
"To the left, on the borders of the plain; he is quartered in a wood."
"Hieyas is there in person?"
"He is."
"Is there a password to enter the camp?"
"There is!" said the messenger, reluctantly.
"You know it?"
"Of course; but I ought not to reveal it."
"Then Hieyas won't get the message."
"That's so! You have fully made up your mind to keep us?"
"Entirely!" said Nagato; "and to do you no harm if you speak the truth; to kill you if you deceive us."
"Well, then, the password is: Mikawa."
"The name of the province over which Hieyas is ruler," said Nagato.
"Exactly! Moreover you must show the sentinels three chrysanthemum leaves engraved on an iron plate."
The speaker drew a tiny iron plate from his girdle, and gave it to the Prince.
"Is that all?" asked Nagato; "have you told the truth?"
"I swear I have. Besides, our lives are in your hands, and answer for our sincerity."
"Best yourselves, then; but give us your hats and straw cloaks."
The messengers obeyed; then lay down to sleep in one corner of the hut.
"You will go with me, Raiden," said the Prince.
The sailor, proud to be chosen, held his head erect.
"And I?" said Loo, with a wry face.
"You will stay with Nata," said the Prince. "Later on, perhaps this very night, I shall need you all."
Loo moved away, disappointed.
They waited until evening; then the Prince and Raiden, disguised as peasants in their turn, proceeded towards Hieyas' camp. The sailors watched their leader's departure with some uneasiness.
"May your enterprise succeed!" they cried.
"May Marisiten guard you!"
The rain had stopped, but the wind still blew; it passed with a silky hiss over the grass, laid by the storm; heavy clouds drifted rapidly across the clear sky, covering and then revealing the slender crescent moon. The forest stood out on the horizon at the end of the plain.
"Have you no directions to give me, master?" asked Raiden, when they had nearly reached the wood.
"Be observant, and remember all you see," said the Prince. "I want to find out whether the enemy's camp is open to attack at any point; if so, I will summon Harounaga, who is still at Soumiossi, and we will try to beat Hieyas. At any rate, we will see if we can't discover some of his schemes."
The sentinels had already noted the arrivals, and shouted, "Who goes there?"
"Messengers!" answered Raiden.
"Where do you come from?"
"From Osaka; sent by General Attiska."
"Do you know the password?"
"Mikawa!" cried the sailor.
A soldier approached with a lantern. Then the Prince drew from his girdle the iron plate upon which were graven the chrysanthemum-leaves.
"Come along!" said the soldier; "the master is most impatient to see you."