Hitotsubashi had not gone though, nor was he to do so until Tetsutaisho's recommendations had wrought their influence. This proud samurai had not been so easily convinced of the wisdom of Daikomitsu's policy, and now that he had come to questioning the latter's motives he began quietly to break faith with the triumvirate and to approach the vacillating shogun directly, urging secretly a counter plan--one more to his own liking and carrying with it a greater enthusiasm. He argued:
"Would you give this splendid army, the fleet, their arms and equipments, into the hands of a weaker force? Sacrifice all these, the building of centuries, at the first cry of danger? Surrender your birthright and defame the gods? They tell you they are your friends, but I believe them to be foes. They say they are strong, yet I know they are weak. They cry the samurai are for peace, though I grant they are for war. Then why not let this talk of peace be crowned with war? I say, marshall the hosts of Shishi-Fukinjin, and enter the gates of Kyoto with a force that will sound the warning of Raiden and spread the havoc of Hoorie."
"Can you convince me of the samurai?" asked Hitotsubashi, with growing enthusiasm.
"You have only to make the call," answered the roused-up commander.
"To-morrow I will hear them at the palace gate, and if Tetsutaisho be vindicated then Hitotsubashi shall turn his face toward Bishamon and hearken to the voice of Ojin. Let it be as it may, and go hence now, that you fail not then, for the hour is to be nine; then the march shall begin."
"I serve you, my most honourable shogun and august ruler."
Tetsutaisho made short his audience, and went away with a light heart and glowing purpose. He had met with his first victory, and now almost regretted having ever listened to the counsels of Daikomitsu or having pledged himself to any other or further understanding than the valiant defence of his shogun. All this happened on a clear, bright morning while the air was crisp and frosty. The sun had barely risen, and Tetsutaisho's drill served him well in getting the attention of the shogun long before the brainy prime minister had thought of quitting his needed slumbers. Leaving the shogun Tetsutaisho hastened along with vigorous step and rising purpose to army headquarters, and there gave the command that was to send a thrill to the heart of every loyal Japanese--whatever banner, the shogun's or the mikado's, might be the emblem of his fortunes. To his subordinates he said: