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sweep like a tidal wave across the castle moat, overflow into the perimeter beyond, re-form into a narrow triangular salient which jutted conspicuously from the main attacking lines, and drive on like a wedge into the interior of the castle. And as he watched he leapt up and down in his saddle in a transport of simple, boyish glee.

A soldier from the front line came running back.

“Aoki Shinbei was the first inside the castle, sir!”

Lord Tadanao’s face beamed as he heard the report.

“Shinbei’s the bravest of them all!”—his voice was shrill with excitement, and he was obliged to quieten his horse, which had taken alarm at the sound and was urging itself forward—“Return at once and tell Shinbei that his revenue is increased by five thousand koku!”

What manner of glory was his, as a general, now? That he should be able to offer up the head of Sanada Saemon, the man who had wrought such havoc among the besieging forces—this was enough in itself. But now the supreme distinction of setting first foot within the castle walls had been won, amongst all these detachments from so many fiefs, by a soldier of his own army! What manner of glory, thought Lord Tadanao, might this be?

Pondering the miraculous achievements of his retainers, Lord Tadanao felt all to be but a reflection of his personal strength and power of will. The wound to his self-respect, dealt him yesterday by his grandfather Ieyasu, was now completely healed. But it was more than just that: Lord Tadanao’s faith in himself was many times more strong and fervent now even than before.

Almost one hundred daimyō had taken part in the attack on Osaka castle, and when Lord Tadanao reflected that not one of them could have won laurels to match his own, he experienced a glow of immense satisfaction. He could almost have believed a halo of glory hovered about his person. But he felt far from surprised. Indeed, as the son of the peerlessly courageous Hideyasu, and as a blood relation of the Tokugawa family, it