When the panic-stricken servants rushed into the castle with their appalling tale, there was general consternation. They had been attacked, they swore, by a band of at least fifty ronins. By the last act of the doomed chatelaine she had won back the respect of the warriors, for they perceived, too late, that her gentleness had naught akin with cowardice. Resuming her fit position by force of princely dignity, she had become a liege lady of whom they could be proud. They felt pangs of remorse, too, in having allowed her to sally forth by night unprotected by soldiers. Yet, if they had not cared for her, it was well known that the peasants did, who vowed she was a saint. And sure none could ever have supposed that there were any, even in this bad world, who could be so wicked as to do her to death thus cruelly. The country far and near was scoured, but no trace of a gang was found. The thickly-falling snow had obliterated footmarks. On the fatal spot, seek as they would, nothing was to be found but the overturned litter and mutilated remains of their mistress--hats and garments scattered here and there--and the bodies of the drowned bearers. At dawn, the sadcortégereturned home with its freight, having learned nothing; and then a feeling of uneasiness came over the samurai as to what my lord would say. He neglected and disliked his wife, but would surely retaliate swiftly and fearfully upon those whose carelessness had led to so gruesome a catastrophe.
As for O'Kikú, whom all avoided now as if she were plague-stricken, she remained secluded in her chamber, transfixed with growing wonder. The blows of the assassins were aimed at herself--of that she had no doubt--and she had been saved by a miracle. Yet who could there be who wished to kill her, unless it were O'Tei or Masago? Of course, it was not O'Tei, or she would never have marched thus deliberately to her own undoing; and as she was on her way to the temple, summoned thither, it could not be a plot of Masago's, for Masago loved her dearly. The more she thought it out, the more incomprehensible grew the whole affair, and at last she was fain to put it from her as a mystery which time might some day decipher. One thing, however, was plain. By a wondrous stroke of luck, the position of herself, O'Kikú, had vastly improved. A stumbling-block that threatened to become troublesome was swept out of her path. So soon as my lord should learn her secret, he would, if skilfully wheedled, take to his arms, as his first wife, the mother of his child. She would be consort of the Hojo, chatelaine of Tsu, and as she thought of it, her bosom glowed with gratified ambition, and she there and then determined that in the smiling future the castle should contain no concubine.
At early dawn the good-natured bonze hied him down from the mountain to visit his revered patient, and greatly was he shocked by the spectacle that met his view. On the threshold of the Abbess's chamber stood Miné, with finger on lip, and a far-off vacant look of dread that betokened incipient madness. Her father's curse was falling with leaden weight upon the members of the devoted family, and as she beheld the swoop of stroke after stroke her soul was withered within her. She too--she whom he had repulsed unpardoning--she too was doomed with them. What would her end be? Entering the room of Masago with accustomed listless step to attend to duties, she had stood riveted as she read the full horror of the scene. On the floor was Masago, delirious; close by crouched her shuddering son, clasping something--something terrible--in his arms.
From that moment till the arrival of the friendly bonze, Miné had stood a faithful sentinel, lest peradventure prying nuns might learn and spread the truth. Should it become known that Sampei--the once dear Sampei--had been guilty of this awful crime, the town would arise as one man to tear him limb from limb. The young priestess was not capable of deciding what was to be done, but the friendly bonze would think for her, and propound the words of wisdom. Little by little the first distracting throes of misery passed. The Abbess grew calm, and with the death-sweat came resignation.
The gods, ungenerous and mocking, had fooled their handmaid. Instead of being turned from their purpose by her puny supplications, as she had arrogantly dared to hope, they had singled her out, with a consummate refinement of cruelty as their chief implement of vengeance. By her hand--the hand of the mother and the friend--were stricken down the apple of her eye--her son, and the sweet lady who had loved and trusted her. And in them was she not herself smitten--ay, so crushed and beaten that naught could hurt her more? Alas! alas! that she should have been so blinded as not to take warning by the fateful year--the last of yaka doshi, and have kept herself from dangerous meddling. What should chance henceforth she cared not. Since all were condemned, the sooner fell the last and fatal stroke the better,--on the dear head of the son she loved so fondly--on all. As for Sampei, he appeared as if changed to stone. In the presence of so intense a depth of black despair, Miné trembled--the kindly bonze was awed; for sure there is no sight so pitiful in nature as the whirl and flood of human anguish whose torrent we may not stem.
It was essential that some plan of action should be decided on forthwith; and the bonze was of opinion that the secret of who it was that had done the deed for the present must be kept. Gently raising Sampei from his attitude of utter abandonment, and taking his treasure from him, he led him into the temple, and placed it within a bronze coffer of exceeding sanctity which stood beside the altar.
"He alone who can act," he said, "in such a crisis, is my lord of Nara. To him will I go forthwith."
On foot, with staff and scrip, he made the pilgrimage to Kiŷoto, wrapped as he journeyed in holy ecstasy, thanking the gods for their goodness. Were not the wicked who are set in high places sometimes to receive their meed, the faith of man in truth and God and justice would wane and crumble. As the dragon that browses on the white flesh of innocent young maids is slain at last, so was it to be with the Hojos. Their cup was full. For some good and occult purpose beyond purblind human ken, the scourge for generations had afflicted the earth, but now was the limit placed. Awakening Buddha had said, "So far shalt thou go and no farther, for the punishing of the transgressions of the people." The limit was reached, and now Buddha, merciful, would hold his hand. But how subtle was the means of retribution--so subtle, that as he contemplated it, the bonze was overcome with wonder. Not only was each member of the family to perish miserably, but the nearest and dearest the agent! A woman was to be butchered by him who to save a hair of her dear head would gladly have sacrificed his life. A man was to be brought to a condition worse far than the most lingering of deaths, by the mother who, to save him from a pang, would have bartered her hope of Nirvana.
The bonze, travel-stained and weary, sought my lord of Nara at the Mikado's palace, and found him without difficulty; for it was the policy of that crafty daimio to be of easy access to the people. He was buried to the lips in papers and despatches, for the die was cast now; it was to be a hand-to-hand tussle for existence. Either the Hojo must fall, or they would all be sacrificed. Answers had been received from country magnates. Despite peremptory orders from the Hojo, they were advancing by forced marches. They had gone too far for retreat. To obey the tyrant without a struggle for freedom was to condemn themselves to life-long bondage. What of the Corean army once commanded by Sampei? the magnates inquired. What of the thousands of disbanded ronins? Would they side with the despot, or unite for the saving of their Emperor? "Tush!" Nara muttered, as he wrote replies. "Have not I, the shrewd and the astute, considered these matters? The mountains about Tsu are teeming with faithful men in ambush. When these marching daimios reach their appointed posts, the Holy City will be surrounded by a protecting girdle; and then--and then--we may act!"
But Destiny amused herself as usual by thwarting the intricate plans so carefully conceived by mortal ingenuity. Is it not always so? If we arrange a sequence of events for ourselves, does not something always intervene to mar and derange the scheme? Perhaps in the next life, or the next after, we may be permitted to settle things for ourselves. Clearly in this one it is forbidden. First it had been arranged that the Hojo was to be caught in a trap in his own castle. Since then the aspect of affairs was altered; for after a few days passed in the Golden House among his vassals, their master had again mysteriously gone into retirement. Spies informed Nara that he was heard to groan at night,--that he saw visions, and dreamed dreams of strange and mystic import. He had relapsed into the previous state, as before he came up from Tsu. Had not wise Nara said that his energy was the expiring of the lamp. This being so, difficulties were delightfully smoothed, and Nara was able to improve the occasion for his master's benefit, by pointing out how admirably sage he had been in the keeping of his temper. Is not time the healer of all wounds? A scandal in the palace had been averted. The claws of the bear were rotting piecemeal. So soon as the circle of iron was complete it should close in and crush the tyrant, while a simultaneous movement would be made on Tsu for the capture of his brother and retainers.
And a few hurried sentences from the lips of a simple bonze upset all these elaborate calculations. He hearkened to the dolorous tale, with a choler that might not be suppressed. This was too much! Old Nara had allowed himself to be bearded. Under great provocation, he had curbed his wrath,--had swallowed his pride, and waited. But now he might wait no more. What, his heiress, his only child, the only bearer of his august and honoured name, was to be openly and cruelly slain, because her lord was weary of her, and wished to please a wanton! As with hands behind his back, and distended nostrils, the stately veteran strode hither and thither in the chamber, his old eyes flashed fire as of yore. In truth, under the snows, the volcano had slept, and, stirred to its centre, now blazed forth. Come what might, with his own shrivelled arm, since he had no son, would he wipe out this stain, or be dishonoured for aye in the noble annals of Japan. Narrowly he questioned the priest. Then the bonze had no idea, he said, who had been the butcher? It mattered not. There was no one but the Hojo and his wanton who desired the poor lady's death. It was at their bidding that the crime had been committed. First the Hojo and then his harlot. The fortress should be demolished stone by stone, the geisha executed on its ruins.
As he hearkened to the wrathful diatribes of the now furious lord, the bonze mused in ever-increasing admiration. Verily the working of the divine decrees is worthy of humble worship. The priest had promised Miné that Sampei should not be betrayed, 'Twas probable that when he rallied, as human nature will rally, to some small extent, however severe the shock, the rest of his days would be spent in the holy garb, and that comfort would come to him at last. For public edification and example, the soldier's remaining years were to be passed in prayer. The Hojo himself was to fall by the hand of Nara; that much was evident now, and it was fitting as well as just.
He who was wont to be over-prudent, even under stress of extreme and unendurable provocation, now threw prudence to the winds. Without delay he girded on his swords and dirk, mounted his horse, and galloped to the Golden House. Consequences were as rice straw in the wind. To fight and kill another daimio within the sacred city--within a given distance of the palace, meant death by harakiri. Himself to be slain meant confiscation of all his goods. His goods! a fig for them! He was childless now, and honour is worth more than goods. Peradventure when the stain had been wiped out, the Holy Mikado would forgive, in consideration for past service. No doubt he would be grateful for the removal of the incubus. If not, what mattered it? The childless old man would die, having saved at least his honour, and to the paltry dross of this world his sovereign lord was welcome.
Hearing the clatter of a single horseman's hoofs, the watchful samurai at the gate of the Golden House came forth and shaded their eyes with their palms to reconnoitre the visitor. Among themselves they were somewhat disturbed, for rumours of approaching troops were rife; the warriors of other magnates were unfriendly to the dominating one; and their lord was curiously inactive. Indeed, for the last day or two, he had not stepped abroad. That he was at home, and sick, was evident, for they could hear his muffled ejaculations; and now and then his distempered visage peered from an upper window with disordered mien, gazing on the wood and lake. The Daimio of Nara, with care upon his brow--in haste--unattended--alone? Strange! But events were moving strangely. The father-in-law of my lord; his parent's chosen guide and counsellor. With respectful salutes and genuflections the Daimio was allowed to pass. For of a certainty my lord required helpful counsel, and Nara, all agreed, was the very prince to give it.
The new-comer dashed past without deigning notice, nor drew rein till he reached the entrance of the villa. The heavy foliage of the surrounding pines was bowed down with a glittering burden; the picturesque lake, with its rocks and tiny islets, was frozen over, and on its surface wandered painfully and slow the myriad of black tortoises that usually slept beneath. A haven of peace and rest, an oasis of silence in a sea of turmoil. Even the sentries, who slowly marched before the doors, seemed under the spell of winter, their senses blunted by the nipping air.
The whirling mind of Nara was too much engrossed to heed such trivial matters. Flinging his bridle to a sentinel, he inquired where was his master. The man pointed upward with his lance, but added in troubled accents, that my lord was sick,--had given special orders that he was on no account to be disturbed.
"I have come to cure his sickness," the old man said, with a grim smile of peculiar meaning. "I have brought him medicine. See that we are left alone."
The Golden House, as we saw when we were here some time since, is a dwelling of small proportions on the lake bank, built of wood, with a huge towering roof bedizened with much gold. The upper chambers are reached by a ladder-stair of extreme exiguity, so frail and narrow that one person only can mount at a time, and only then by bowing his head.
Nara's tall and bulky form had much ado to reach the landing; but, arrived there, he loosed his katana in its sheath, and, with a strength, for which none would have credited him, seized the ladder, and, wrenching it from its iron fastening, hurled it clattering down.
The paper windows were closed; the light was dim; a voice, tuned low by world-worn weariness, demanded who was there.
Nara strode into the inner room where, wrapped in quilts, the Hojo lay, a hibachi close at hand, his swords in their rack beside him.
"You!" he said, rising to a sitting posture.
"I," was the rejoinder. "I,murderer!The father of O'Tei, the wife whom you have slaughtered."
No-Kami looked dreamily at the figure that stood over him, then felt his garb with a vague, uncertain movement of twitching fingers.
"Murderer?" he muttered, with a cynic's laugh.
The wrath of the old man flared up. Grinding his teeth, he spurned the prostrate figure.
"Yes, murderer!" he hissed, "and I, the father of your victim. No one can interrupt us. O'Tei is dead--you know it--and by your decree. Only one, if one, will leave this room alive. Have you any manhood left, degenerate spawn of tyrants? Take up your sword, and quickly, or I'll slay you like a dog, as you deserve."
Had not the old man been so distraught he would have seen by No-Kami's face that the intelligence was bewildering news to him. He sat gazing at his persecutor open-mouthed, till he, goaded beyond control, smote him with flat blade across the face.
It left a livid mark, the rest of the visage purple, the veins swollen and congested. With a hoarse growl like an animal at bay, No-Kami sprang to his feet, seized his katana, and attacked the aggressor with set teeth. Glaring one at the other, with starting eyeballs and foaming lips, the two--the old man and the young--fought on in the small space and the dim light. Both were too furious for caution, and hacked each at each, smearing walls and floor, without a sound but labouring breath and clashing steel. The old man, taller, with longer arm, was getting the mastery. He had step by step driven No-Kami to the corner, where stood an idol of bronze, against which he leaned. Uncovering himself to deliver the final blow, he slipped in the blood upon the floor, and received the point of the Hojo right through his breast, below the nipple. Dropping his weapon, and flinging up his arms, he fell with a sob upon his back.
No-Kami withdrew his sword and wiped it carefully, then sat him down to think.
O'Tei murdered! By whom? what for? It must be true, or the crafty old lord would never have been driven to such frenzy. It was quieted now, that same frenzy, however. He lay still enough, his skin as grey as was his hair. "Not my fault," No-Kami murmured, with compunction; for, debauched though he was, the Hojo had respect for bravery. "He has brought his end upon himself. Now, what of me? Who will believe me if I say that one who was the soul of caution came and smote me like a rat? Within the prohibited distance, the Mikado's favourite counsellor, and I so ill, so spectre-ridden." Clasping his burning forehead in his hands, No-Kami looked hungrily at the dirk which seemed to invite him from its rack, and thought, as he had once done before, that it would be well to make an end on't. Not yet. He was taken by an uncontrollable desire to know more of the tragedy at home. O'Tei murdered! The words seemed burnt into his brain; and as he contemplated them, with her father dead at his feet, an ineffable sadness--a cold sense of extreme loneliness--crept over his soul. The past rose up before his vision. For a little while they had been happy, he and the fair O'Tei. She had been cold and haughty and repellent, despising him always, and that had maddened him. And was she not right to do so--fully justified? She was better than he,--far above his level, and it was this that had made him hate her. But did he hate her? No! Now that she was gone, he became aware of a singular sensation. Down in the deeps of his being there was a profound pity for her fate. Why did he feel so lonely? Why did he shudder at the shadows whose chills encompassed him about?
Who had planned her murder? Like a green ray of lightning it flashed on him--O'Kikú! His curse and hers. Oh, wretched, infatuated man--O'Kikú! Poor O'Tei, murdered by her rival! The punishment of the concubine was the only reparation possible. She should be punished. If he was to leave Kiŷoto unmolested, there was not a minute to be lost. The ladder was gone, the distance to the ground but small. No-Kami, his nerves strung again by a distinct purpose, moved to the verandah, and swung himself down its column. With steady tread he appeared before the sleepy sentinel, and with stern, sharp accents issued his instructions.
"My horse Typhoon, quick. I need no followers. The Daimio of Nara has gone the other way. Close up the house--nay, I will myself fasten it. Double the sentries. Keep watch and ward. Let none, on whatever pretext, set foot within the boundaries."
As he clattered away on his favourite charger at full speed, the samurai looked after him.
"Ticklish times," muttered he who was in command, "each moment fraught with peril. My lord of Nara, no doubt, has given the best advice. My lord is gone to act on it. Well, well, the gods be praised, our chief is himself again!"
Typhoon was the best charger in the Daimio's stable, and worthy of his name; but this was his last journey. He was so hard pressed by his frantic master, that at the castle gate he sank and died.
The sudden arrival of my lord, a fugitive, without a single follower, created within the fortress a commotion which was no little aggravated by the news of which he was the bearer. How swift was the cumulation of events. My lord of Nara and his heiress murdered. A siege in immediate prospect, and after that--what? A long course of excess and idleness had sapped the discipline of the braves, and instead of hailing the coming fray with the joy that becomes heroes, they showed signs of sullen discontent. No-Kami had slain in a secret manner, without witnesses, the venerable Nara, the esteemed friend of the Holy Mikado.
This was going too far, even for so overbearing a despot. Even the samurai of Tsu were aware that Japan at bay would arise and shake off its incubus. The castle would be invested by the foes of Hojo, who were legion. Look where he would, there was no single ally who could be counted on for succour. There was but one consummation possible. An iron wall would hem the fortress, and all within would perish. Under these circumstances, the warriors (privately discussing the situation) were divided in opinion. Would it be well to accept the inevitable and bow the neck at once, suing for mercy; or would it perchance be better to baulk the foe, to act as the celebrated forty-seven ronins did--revered for ever by the Japanese--namely, to perform harakiri in concert? Thus it will be seen that the glamour of evil fortune had wrapped the castle like a mist. Even the bold retainers of the crumbling family lost heart, and if they prepared to show any resistance at all, it was owing to the presence of Sampei, the heroic subduer of Corea.
Even Sampei, whilom bravest of the brave, showed no enthusiasm. He had stumbled along the stony road of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and seemed to look down from afar upon the petty frettings of humanity, as you might idly watch the proceedings in an opened anthill.
The first acute bitterness waned insensibly, and he grew resigned to life-long pain. Had it not been so, reason would have fallen from her throne. He could think of O'Tei not as corruption but astransformed. The sap of a tree, the glow of a gem, the plumage of a bird, contained her outward part. Nature had taken back and set to other purpose that which she had lent. As to the other, who might tell where it wandered? Where was her pure soul hovering?
Was the gulf that yawned in front as dark as the path already trodden? If the gods were really good, they could not but be mild to one who was so gentle. After all, for himself it mattered not. What, to a mortal so maimed as he, was a little more or less of suffering, after that wound from which the life-drops of his heart were slowly dripping?
He would not desert his brother, Sampei declared with quiet gravity. So long as the gods willed that he should fight, he would fight; but the sooner suspense was over, the greater the relief for all.
The bewitching O'Kikú when, rosy and wreathed with smiles, she flew from her bower in the most becoming of costumes to embrace her love, was considerably disconcerted by her reception. She had carefully gone over details, and planned within her mind exactly how it was all to be. He would be a little upset, possibly, on his arrival, to hear of the sudden and mysterious end of his icicle. He would pretend concern, and probably show anger, relieved all the while by her flitting. She, O'Kikú, would condole, clasp her husband--all her own now--in white arms, and, breast to breast, divulge the delicious secret. He would be enchanted, of course. She would make herself so agreeable bringing forth the entire armoury of her blandishments for his behoof, that memory of O'Tei would speedily be relegated to the limbo prepared for the ghosts of marplots. This point reached, she would summon all her skill and tact, wheedle and cajole and flatter, so as to achieve the desired prize.
By making herself absolutely necessary to No-Kami, then turning on the tap of tears, the living wife would advance a step, be lifted to the dead one's place. And he should never have cause to regret the signal favour. His interests would then be hers completely. No prospect in the future, then, of being put away,--compelled, like Masago, to assume the crape. She would take her lord in hand,--be a long-headed little counsellor, chide his faults with gentleness, teach him to curb his passions, help him to replace on the neck of struggling Japan the yoke that was ominously-loose. And lo! how quickly did her toy palace tumble! No-Kami looked twenty years older than when he went away. There was a haggard wildness in his face--an expression, as he glanced at the enchantress, curiously akin, if it were possible, to aversion. His hands twitched; foam gathered on his lips. When, cooing, she laid her head upon his bosom, her hair new dressed with fresh camellia oil, he pushed her so rudely from him, that, reeling, with bruised arms, she tottered against the wall.
Could it, oh could it be, that he could have ever loved that woman? Could it be that his fiery nature was consuming, torn by the pincers of remorse? Surely he could feel naught at most for an icicle but a cold regret that would soon pass. Was it possible that in a revulsion of feeling he had actually come to detest the enchanting siren who so easily had won him? Verily it seemed like it. With eyes lowered in antipathy, he seemed to avoid her gaze with loathing. And what was that he muttered as he so roughly threw her off. Was itmurderess?And what a look accompanied the word. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and though she ardently wished to repel the accusation, her lips refused their office. Did he really believe her guilty of such a foolish prank, of such a stupid blunder? She had no doubt arranged to oust the rival, to procure her expulsion from the castle; but to shed her blood and create a scandal, that would have been too foolish. Before she had time to recover from shocked surprise, my lord was gone. He gave a few brief husky orders, then groped his way, as if in darkness, to the retired eyrie where had dwelt the vanished chatelaine. Thither she felt that she dared not follow him. With forebodings gathering within her breast, O'Kikú withdrew to her apartments, fearing she knew not what.
There, on the mat, where she had laid it down, was O'Tei's samisen, encrusted with gold and ivory; yonder her broidery-frame, a book of poems open, a hundred pathetic evidences, eloquent of her who was gone. Far removed from the hum of preparation, No-Kami sat, dumbly gazing from the casement across the river towards the sea.
And then, for the first time, there passed across the mental ken of Hojo the phantoms of a gloomy retrospect. He seemed, as they swept by, to hear a forlorn chant, with the saddest of refrains--"Too late!"
He had been given a life full of brilliant opportunities and had cast them all away. His name was a byword in the land. There was not one living thing that loved him, while thousands clamoured for his death. The chill of a desolation, novel and surprising, crept over his heart, as, glancing around the bower, small objects recalled the past. Why had they tied him to O'Tei? With one more congenial the asperities of his character might have softened. O'Tei, the soft and clinging, had never loved him; no--never--not for a single moment. Something whispered now that, had he been more kind, she might have come to like him. Then, as if stung by an adder, he sprang upon his feet, with beads of perspiration on his forehead. Fool! what spell was this?--what disgraceful, infatuated weakness? Had he been more kind!Had she not loved his brother?The poison instilled by the geisha, dormant through the rapid passage of stirring events, throbbed through his veins, and he gasped and grew faint under the pain of it. Both false--his wife and brother.Shewas dead; no wonderhelooked so glum! Perturbed though his own mind was, No-Kami could not but notice the change which had come over the face of Sampei. The sharp iron share of an ineffable sorrow had passed over his features, ploughing deep lines of grief.
On second thoughts, it was well that she was dead. She had sinned, and was justly punished. Thus far was his honour satisfied. The murderess must suffer also. By-and-by, when there should be breathing time. And the paramour as well. With staggering steps the Daimio roamed like a caged animal about the chamber, revolving direful designs. Then suddenly stopping, he laughed aloud and clapped his palms together. By-and-by, in the future! Was there any future except a yawning, bottomless gulf down which he and his were sliding? Honour, forsooth! He and his had as little to do with honour as with a future, or with life.
From far away across the sunlit waters a voice whispered mockingly, "Accursed and doomed! betrayed and friendless! Oh, desolate, solitary soul, the gods have set their brand on thee! In worlds to come an outcast!"
Trembling, the Daimio peered around. Some one had spoken. Who? No one in the corridor without. No one beneath the window. That unearthly jibing merriment! Two bloodshot eyes glaring from the cloudless sky. Cursed and doomed! Predestined to endless travail! Moaning, the Daimio cowered down and rocked himself in terror.
It was soon understood that, my lord being unhinged, and grievously sick in body and mind, Sampei would assume command. So long as the gods willed it, there should be defence, the General had determined, and to that end he moved hither and thither with forced calm, arranging details by the light of a shrewd experience; steady as some strong machine that does its work unconsciously.
The contents of the armoury were overhauled and furbished. Seasoned wood was sought throughout the town, for the making of countless arrows; thick porous paper for dressing wounds, according to the standard rules of rough field surgery. The ground within the inner moat was covered over with boards and canvas, to conceal what was done inside; for an investing army is ever full of stratagems for learning the weak points of the besieged. Lofty trees, or high peaks of rock, were sure to be occupied at once, tall towers to be erected on points of vantage. It was even a common thing to fly huge kites, large enough to support a man, and so obtain a bird's-eye view of the interior of an enemy's castle. Sampei organised a band of scouts, and sent them forth to crawl by night along the narrow causeways that intersected the oozy rice fields, bidding them return with earliest information with regard to the coming of the foe. Parties of braves were despatched in all directions to annex the scanty stores which oppression had left to the peasantry. All possible precautions taken, he divided his men into watches, taught each his post and duty, then waited for the future to unroll.
Nor had he long to wait. As though rising by magic through the ground, an army of combatants appeared, who surrounded the fortress with their engines. From the top of the central tower, crowned with its copper roof and golden fish, could be descried a host so numerous and well-equipped that Sampei stood marvelling how they could be here so quickly. It soon became manifest that they had no intention of endeavouring to storm the place, at least not yet, for they methodically set about the forming of a line of pallisades, consisting of heavy planks propped by hinged supports, behind which they could safely repose, and starve the foe to extremity.
There is nothing so soul-depressing to those hemmed in as a siege thus coldly carried out. The sense of being an animal shut in a trap, the lack of incident and excitement, the feeling of being without the pale of busy humanity, damp the courage, and chill the spirits. There is something so prosaic about a war waged against the stomach. The samurai of Tsu, disorganised already, their native prowess undermined, soon felt the pinch, and began to brawl and murmur. Their lord they saw no more, for, reason rocking on its pedestal, he remained shut up, refusing consolation, within the apartments of the deceased. But for the prestige that clung like a halo round his brother, and enforced a surly and half mutinous obedience, the braves would have thrown open the gates, have attempted to fraternise with the host of invading warriors. But the stoutest among them stood in dread of Sampei,---quailed before the bluff, uncompromising severity which, without the wink of an eyelid, would have made an example of traitors. The vassals of the Hojo fought, discharging arrows and javelins, occasionally making a feeble show of a sortie: but all knew that the end was imminent, that suspense would soon be over.
O'Kikú, grasping, sly, and unheroic, fretted, as may be imagined, bitterly. How different was the present state of things from her cherished rainbow-dream. That sharp repulse, followed by utter neglect, upset her calculations. She appeared of a sudden to have lost influence over all her willing slaves. My lord, absorbed in his own troubles, ignored the fact of her existence. The braves, with whom she was once so popular--many of whom, it must be confessed, were vain at one time of being numbered among her lovers--now gnashed their teeth in her face, and poured on her head twofold the obloquy that had been the portion of O'Tei.
And why was this? Doubtless the truculent and unlettered samurai could scarcely be expected to be logical. Yet having witnessed the passage-of-arms between the ladies, they must know as well as she that the concubine was innocent of the catastrophe. And yet somehow or other it had become plain to their obtuse intelligence that the siren was at the bottom of the trouble. There was no arguing the point, since none could deny that it was from her advent that the run of disaster must be dated. Accustomed to be pampered and petted, she was devoured with smouldering rage, and unreasoning hate of Tsu and Hojo, and all connected with the race, in finding herself treated like a leper. What a pity it was that, lured by a sham glitter, she should have turned aside from the pilgrimage to Isé, for the gathering of mundane baubles. What had she gained by it? Troubles and disappointments, and illusions roughly shattered. And perhaps in the background something even worse was lurking; for she realised with apprehension that she was hedged round with a phalanx of enemies, who persisted in connecting her, in spite of evidence, with the untimely death of the chatelaine. Was there ever anything so unreasonable, and yet fraught with graver peril? My lord was a madman, beset by absurd hallucinations; a furious tiger, accustomed to batten upon blood, as devoid of conscience as of scruple. He had called her murderess, and in the crooked recesses of his muddy brain was concocting some frightful retribution; There was no escape for her by flight, for she was in the position of a kid locked in a den of lions.
In case of personal peril, to whom might O'Kikú turn for succour? Sampei was honest and upright, but on his worn face, when turned to her, was a horrible expression of icy vindictiveness. That he had idolised O'Tei none knew better than she, and she was in some manner connected in his mind with that most unfortunate murder. He also was evidently brooding over some unpleasant form of reprisal. Enemies--nothing but enemies--inside and out; she their future target. At all events Sampei could be counted upon as straight and above mean treason. Gulping down the lees of offended vanity, O'Kikú resolved to clear herself in his eyes from any complicity in the tragedy. He would believe her--for once in her life she would really speak the truth--and he would stand by her if assaulted by the madman. But when, waylaying him one day, with a poor ghostly show of the old coquetry, she entered on the subject, such a wave of blank despair seemed to sweep over him that the words froze on her lips, and he was gone before she had recovered.
Condemned to inaction, deprived of amusement and male companionship, relegated to the uninteresting society of tire-women, the unhappy geisha pined as well as fretted. If they would only let her out,--set the caged bird free! Dreams of ambition faded, she now desired no more than liberty. Several times each day she climbed to the top of the central tower, just under the fish of gold, and gazed--oh, with what longing--at the cohorts of the invading host. The strictest guard was kept at the openings in the palisading, but soldiers off duty were free to amuse themselves. She could see bands of them engaged in military sports. Some went a-hunting, and returned laden. Oh, if she were only with them, outside these horrid walls, beyond which lay tantalising freedom! And what was to be the end? There was only one end possible. All could see that now. Scanty stores, hastily collected, were waning. What then? Gaunt famine stalked already. Would those without linger inactive till the besieged were dead to a man, then march in over the corpses? or would they in a more martial spirit wait only till the braves were weak, and then take the place by escalade? It was too revolting to die thus by inches. The idea suddenly flashed upon the wretched woman, whose moral sense, never acute, was blunting hourly, that the key of the situation was in her own little hand. Why should she not open the postern, let in the foe, who in gratitude would spare her life--maybe applaud and treat her with homage as a heroine? What to her were the Hojos; their illustrious name which was hers--that name about which the silly Masago had preached so loftily--now that they were on the brink of ruin? She had good cause to hate the Hojos. Many a lady in the annals of Japan has bared her breast to her husband's dirk in just such an emergency as this. When the famed Shibata knew all was lost, he gave a final banquet, at the conclusion of which he said to his wife, "You women must go, for it is time for us men to die." And what answer made she? With tears she thanked her lord, she, the sister of Nobunago the Great, composed a farewell verse of poetry, and received his sword into her bosom.
But then O'Kikú was not of noble birth, and such flights did not suit her fancy. She knew herself to be still young and lovely, and full of life, and burning for fresh fields to conquer. If all had gone well, and she had stepped into the dead one's place, she would, outwardly at least, have been henceforth as demure as prudery could desire. Rank and honour and power and appetites pampered, form one condition of things. Untimely death, trapped within four walls, is quite another. It would be merciful,--a deed worthy of commendation, to let the enemy in, and put these doomed ones out of misery. My lord, a prey to goblins, was become quite too contemptible. What a delight to be present at the slaying of the hateful Sampei! Doubtless in yonder host there were many as noble as he who would, when opportunity offered, vie with one another for her favours. Her mind was made up. A fig for the race of Hojo. She would start upon her scheme forthwith.
Changing her tactics, the geisha, braving the scowls of the samurai, became interested in military operations, and despite their new-born dislike of one whom they had come to esteem as a bad angel, it was cheering to be commended by the lips of a pretty woman. She organised her maidens into a band of mercy for the relief of those who were wounded; helped with her own hands to prepare and carry food; filled and passed the saké-cup, declaring that wine gives strength. Sampei observed these proceedings with displeasure, but did not interfere. One morning when the commander was busy, and she knew herself unwatched, O'Kikú crept to the top of the tower with her dainty bow, and discharged into the air an arrow, round which was wrapped a paper. As she marked its flight, and perceived that it fell beyond the palisade, "So far well," she murmured. "This suspense will conclude to-night."
The weather was exceeding cold, the blood of the soldiers thin, by reason of under-feeding. Both food and drink were scrupulously measured now in gradually shrinking rations. But the wily damsel had a private supply ofsaké, remnant of that with which she used to ply my lord before his late visit to Kiŷoto. She prepared and warmed a pot of it, in which she distilled some seeds, and waited with philosophic patience for the night. Then, robed in a dark soft kimono, she stole through the first gate, and round under shadow of the fatal belt of trees, regardless of their wooing and their sighing (she was not one to be tricked to suicide), and thus reached unseen the corner of the outer gate. The muffled sentinel was leaning upon his lance against the parapet, and started from doleful reverie as she appeared before him.
"Hush," she murmured rapidly, "it is I, O'Kikú. You used to love me once--false that you are--or told me so. See how I love you still. Risking my good name for you, I have brought you this, lest haply you be frozen by the morning."
The man looked at her with feelings of self-reproach. Yes, he had fancied her once, more fickle apparently than she; and as she stood before him now, so small and dark, with eyes of mouse-like brightness, and ravishing dimples playing at hide-and-seek, he liked her yet again. But she fluttered like a bird in his embrace.
"No, no," she whispered, as she passed over his rough face caressing fingers. "Remember duty, and the plight we are in. Folly is over, and stern reality is here. You wronged me in your thoughts, deeming I had forgotten you. Admit you did. Fie, fie--for shame! There, you are forgiven! Drink!"
She held forth the saké pot, kept warm with a woollen covering. He took a long draught, his gaze on her the while, and she shook her shapely head in arch reproach. And then, with set teeth and no dimples showing now, she caught the saké-pot as it escaped from his hand, and he fell insensible upon his back.
"Idiot!" she said, with a curl of her full lip, "lie there undisturbed until your foolish throat is cut," and peering cautiously around, descended quickly to the postern.
It will be remembered that the outer gate stood at right angles to the road, for the better purpose of defence, but that there was a small postern in the angle facing it. In her outgoings and incomings she had always, as a matter of convenience, used this postern, and had kept the key of it. How provoking were these plaguy clouds over the moon. At one moment it was dark--at another as light as day--dazzling, puzzling. She stood in the open doorway peeping forth, when a mailed man in ambush seized her by the arm, and pinched it so suddenly that she had much ado to suppress a scream.
"I have you!" he said; "you are our hostage. We got your billet, and are ready."
"You hurt me, sir," she answered, struggling. "Brute! let me go. The door is open as I promised. Here is the key of the inner gate."
She endeavoured to shake off the iron grip and flee in the direction of liberty, but the man held her as in a vice.
"Softly, softly!" he chuckled, "or this tender flesh will suffer. She who can wantonly betray her people may not be trusted. You shall go before and lead us to the inner gate. When once we are within the citadel you shall receive reward, I promise."
A cry of vexation and abortive spite rose in the geisha's throat, and choked her. What hardened brutal wretches soldiers are! She who expected effusive gratitude for a signal favour was to be treated like a common spy. The biter was bit. The man--an officer of rank, as was evident by the glittering badge upon his casque--took no pains to conceal his lack of consideration for the agent whom he stooped to employ. He looked on her, it was but too evident, as on some reptile--of service for the moment, which was to be used, then crushed under the heel. Careless of her pain, he held her soft arm as tightly in his armoured hand as if he meant to snap the bone.
"Lead on," he threatened, "or--"
There was no help for it. With the sharpest twinge of self-upbraiding that she had ever felt, O'Kikú turned and led the officer under shadow of the wall, under the belt of devilish trees that swayed now, and wheezed and croaked in ghastly merriment, till they reached the inner moat. She could tell by the dull thud behind that the cohorts were silently following. One, tripping over the snoring sentinel, gave him hiscoup de grâce. The outer space within the range of huts was black with the ranks of the invader. Sampei, going his rounds, and hearing a strange sound, glanced over the parapet, and pressed his two hands upon his heart to still the commotion there.
It was all over then! So much the better--oh, so much the better--since the gods were ruthless. By treachery from within all was lost. The moment he had so yearned for was come at last, when he would be freed from the bondage that was rotting him.
"My love!" he murmured, spreading wide his arms towards the stars, while tears poured down his cheeks. "Wait for me, O'Tei, upon the other bank. Be patient for a few moments more. Stretch forth thy hand to me, my own; surely such love as mine should win its guerdon. In the next life we shall be re-united."
The clouds were rent like a curtain, and the light streamed forth. The whole outer space was covered now by a moving army as of locusts. Sampei could detect on fluttering banners the butterfly of the Lord of Bizen, the badges of Shioshiu, and of Satsuma. The moment had arrived for which his soul had pined, and he was glad. But for his vigilance, mutiny would have broken out long since; and now that treachery had unlocked the gates, resistance would be small. He knew full well that his men would not stand for a moment against panic. There would be a stampede, a massacre, unless the braves were permitted to make terms. Befall what might as to the rest, he and his must not be taken alive, for who might tell what ignominy was prepared for the fallen Hojos? Hastily summoning his captains, he pointed over the parapet, and laid a hand upon his dirk with a motion understood by all.
"Act for yourselves," he said; "and the gods, who have deserted us, be with you, old comrades."
As he rapidly strode away towards the distant corner by the river, where dwelt No-Kami, there were tears in the eyes of the veterans. Was this their final parting from the bravest of the brave? Ought they not to follow, and claim participation in the rites?
"No," a white-haired warrior said. "Let his last wishes be obeyed by us who love him. Be our last task to keep the gate, in order that they may not be interrupted. If we do not fall in the assault, and our lives are given us, it will be time then to follow our chiefs along the road which they have chosen."
With quick and steady foot Sampei ascended the stair, which to him was sanctified by the abiding presence of O'Tei. Pushing back the screen, he entered, and, looking on his brother, there was upon his face a newborn tenderness.
"The moment has come," he announced abruptly. "The foe is within the gate."
A great shout went up into the stillness--a double cry--a scream of fear, a yell of victory. How strangely close the air was--despite the cold, heavy and sulphurous. Now that the banks of inky cloud had completely rolled away, the sky was unnaturally clear, the stars like specks of steel, while low along the bases of the hills was a dense white vapour rising. Sampei clasped his throat and gasped for air, for he was suffocating. Shaking back his locks, which, untied, had drifted about his clammy brow, he took a candle and set fire to the dry woodwork of the room, which crackled and flared, while No-Kami, in a daze, looked on.
"You will be my kaishaku?" demanded the Hojo shortly.
"Not I!" returned his brother, with strange emotion. "Each one for himself now. You take your dirk; I mine. We will have no seconds. Quick! Each moment's golden."
"I am your feudal chief, as well as brother," No-Kami said, with supreme haughtiness, shaking off lethargy like an ill-fitting garment, "and as such I claim obedience. Shall it be said that the last Hojo passed away without befitting rites? Would you dare to refuse the last service to your departing lord?"
There was a tumult in the elder's breast. No, he dared not refuse the last offices which were claimed thus solemnly. The final tribute of respect due from the nearest kinsman to the head of a great house was to act as his kaishaku or executioner. And yet, how hard! O'Tei was waiting on the other bank. No-Kami would be there before him. Not far ahead, though, for Sampei disdained a kaishaku. His brother gone, he would not linger.
"Be it so," he said; and No-Kami nodded gratefully.
The heat of the curling flames was stifling. The air was thick with smoke,--dense with an overpowering and scorching weight, like the fumes belched out by a volcano.
Gently the lord of Tsu took from its rack his dirk, while his brother removed the sleeve from his own right arm and drew his sword, and, left foot forward, narrowly watched his movements. No-Kami, with dreamy deliberation, kneeled, supporting his weight upon his heels, and allowing his upper garment to drop down, tucked the sleeves under his knees, to save himself from falling backwards. Then, balancing the dirk, he looked on it with affectionate wistfulness, and, collecting his thoughts, hearkened musingly to the increasing turmoil. A clash of arms hard by; a hubbub of approaching voices; a volley of wild shouts and guttural curses, ever nearer--nearer.
"Despatch!" cried the elder, with impatience, as he tightened the grip upon his hilt.
No-Kami glanced round at him with a slow, proud smile, in which there was more of human softness than his features had ever worn. Then, stabbing himself below the waist on the left side, he drew the dirk with firm and unswerving hand across, and, twisting it in the wound, gave it a slight turn upwards.
The eager eyes of his brother sparkled. A flash in the air; a heavy thud; a crash. No-Kami was gone; his sin-stained soul had flown. His blood welled out over the floor from his headless trunk.
Sampei reeled, sick and giddy. Strange that the crisp air of a winter night should be so oppressive!
What sinister new noise was that? A low, rumbling sound, like a great tremulous sigh--a heaving as though the panting soil were labouring for breath.
For an instant of awful silence the human storm was stilled, then in a combined shriek rose heavenward. With swimming eyes Sampei gazed forth, clinging to the casement for support. A boom, a roar, a rush of boiling waters. A sweeping blast, a whirlwind--like a conflict of spirits for a soul. With a groan as of a giant in pain, the hillside opposite yawned. He beheld the wood of ancient cryptomerias, from childhood so familiar, slowly descend, leaving in its place a scar. He saw it slide down with majestic movement into the plain, turning from its bed the river. As though propelled by hurricane force, trees and rocks fell thundering, piled in heaps upon the flat, while through opening gaps and fissures new-born streams gushed out.
Another shock, a long shuddering spasm, a wail of strong men for mercy. Then with deafening din the central tower rocked and swayed and split from top to bottom. The huge timbers cracked like wands, and parted. The ponderous copper roofs and sculptured eaves were torn and rent, and, toppling upon the crouching multitude, rolled over into the abyss. Forked tongues of flame shot up with a wild whirl of sparks, and died; and then from a common grave there curled a dense column of black smoke. Of all who were within the walls of Tsu not one escaped. At the gods' behest, nature had arisen in her strength. When the hail of destruction ceased, nothing remained of the impregnable fortress but a heap of shapeless ruin. The pride of Hojo was abased; its cherished home was become a charnel-house; its stronghold a sepulchre; a wreck its monument.