[1]A sort of guitar.
[1]A sort of guitar.
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!
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."
"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."
They went farther into the wood.
A few lanterns swung from the trees, sheltered from the wind by a couple of shields. Iwakura and Raiden walked over straw brought from the tents by people going to and fro.
At intervals stood a soldier bearing a long lance, a quiver on his back, erect and motionless; behind the trees, in the half-open tents, sat other soldiers drinking or sleeping. Beyond, all was thick darkness.
Hieyas' tent was pitched in the centre of an open glade, which had been cleared into a square space, hung round with scarlet draperies suspended from pikes. Over the tent floated a large banner, streaming and fluttering in the wind; two archers leaned against either side of the opening. The messengers were ushered in.
Hieyas sat upon a folding-chair. He seemed bowed by age, bent nearly double, his head resting on his breast, his lower lip hanging, his eyes pale and moist. From his attitude and dull look no one would have guessed at the powerful genius and tenacious will within that weak and hideous form. Yet the spirit watched, clear and bright, wearing out the body, and enduring fatigue with heroic indifference.
"News from Osaka?" he said. "Speak! be quick!"
The letter was handed to him, and he opened it hurriedly.
The wind blew into the tent, making the flame flicker in the lanterns as they hung from the central tent-pole. The forest rustled angrily, and the sound of the sea breaking on the beach was plainly heard.
Hieyas showed nothing of the emotion which he felt on reading General Attiska's letter. He beckoned to several officers standing in the tent, and handed them the despatch. Then he turned to the messengers, saying: "Did Attiska give you a verbal message besides this letter?"
Before Raiden could answer, several men entered the tent.
"Master!" cried a soldier, "here are more messengers, all coming at the same moment from different points."
"Well! well!" said Hieyas, "let them come forward." One of the new-comers advanced and knelt. He carried something under his cloak.
"Illustrious lord," he said, in a firm, triumphant tone, "I come from the castle of Tosa. I bring you, in my master's name, the head of the Prince of Nagato."
This time Hieyas could not hide his emotion. His lips trembled; he extended his quivering hands with senile eagerness.
Raiden gave a start when he heard the messenger's words; but the Prince, with a sign, ordered him to be silent.
"I'm curious to see that head," muttered the sailor.
The man uncovered a bag of braided straw, closed at one end by a rope, and untied it.
Hieyas directed a lantern to be brought, saying: "Is it really true? is it really true? I cannot believe it."
The envoy drew the head from the bag. It was rolled in a piece of red silk, which seemed dyed with blood. The wrapper was removed; then Hieyas took the head in his hands and rested it on his knees. A man standing beside him threw the full light of the lantern upon it.
The head was so pale that it seemed made of marble; the jet-black hair, knotted on top of the skull, shone with bluish lustre; there was a slight frown upon the brow; the eyes were closed; a mocking smile contracted the discolored lips.
"If the Prince were not by my side, I should swear that that head was cut from his shoulders," said the astonished Raiden.
Nagato, painfully moved, seized the sailor's hand in a nervous grasp.
"My poor Sado!" he muttered; "loyal unto death, as you promised!"
Hieyas, his head bent, gazed greedily at the head upon his knees.
"It is he! it is he!" said the Usurper; "he is vanquished at last, he is dead, the man who lavished so many insults upon me, and who always escaped my vengeance! Yes, there you lie, motionless and frightful to look upon, you whom every woman's eye followed with a sigh, whom every man secretly envied and strove to imitate. You are even paler than your wont; and despite the scornful expression which your features still retain, you can no longer scorn any one; your glance will no longer cross mine, like the meeting of hostile swords; you can no longer stand in my path. You were a noble soul, a great mind,—I acknowledge that; unfortunately you did not see how disinterested my projects were, and how useful to the country. You devoted yourself to a lost cause, and I was forced to crush you."
"Indeed!" muttered Raiden.
The messenger then described the Prince's capture and execution.
"His arms were taken from him!" exclaimed Hieyas; "he was not allowed to kill himself?"
"No, your lordship, he was beheaded alive; and up to the moment that his head fell, he never ceased to insult his victor."
"Tosa is a zealous servant," said Hieyas, with a shade of irony.
"He is an infamous wretch," murmured the Prince of Nagato, "and he shall bitterly expiate his crime. I will avenge you, brave Sado!"
"How cold death is!" said Hieyas, his hands growing chill at the touch of that pale flesh; he turned, and gave Sado's head to one of the officers standing near him. "Tosa may ask me what he will," he added, addressing the envoy; "I can refuse him nothing. But there was another messenger; what tidings does he bring?"
The second messenger advanced, and prostrated himself in his turn.
"Yet another piece of good news, master," said he; "your soldiers have taken Fusimi, and are about to begin the attack on Kioto."
At these words Nagato, who still held Raiden's hand, pressed it so violently that the poor fellow almost screamed.
"Attack Kioto! What does that mean?" whispered the Prince, with horror.
"If that is so," said Hieyas, rubbing his hands, "the war will soon be over. The Mikado once in our power, Osaka must fall of its own accord."
"We must be off," said the Prince, in Raiden's ear.
"Hieyas is just dismissing the messengers," said Raiden.
As they raised the drapery which enclosed the tent, a red glow lighted up the woods.
"What is that?" asked Hieyas.
Several officers left the tent to inquire. A vast flame arose in the direction of the sea; the wind fanned it, and brought the sound of crackling, snapping wood.
"What can be burning on that shore?" was the cry. "There are no villages that way."
"It is some boats," said a man, who came running in.
"Our boats!" sighed Raiden; "well, that's nice!"
"No one knows where they came from; all at once they were seen stranded on the beach."
"Are there many of them?"
"Some fifty. We went up to them; they were empty. Those large boats, well equipped, struck us as suspicious."
"We thought of Soumiossi."
"So we set fire to them; now they're blazing brightly."
"What a pity! what a pity!" said Raiden; "our fine boats! What shall we do?"
"Silence!" said the Prince; "let us try to get away."
"I'm afraid it won't be so easy as to enter."
They saw that they were free to roam about the camp, no one heeding them; and they moved off in search of an outlet.
"Kioto attacked, and I am here!" said the Prince, a prey to strange agitation. "Our fleet is destroyed. I need two hundred horses; where am I to get them?"
"There are plenty of them here," said Raiden; "but how are we to get hold of them?"
"We will come back with our comrades," said the Prince; "see how the horses are fastened."
"Merely by the bridle to the trunk of a tree."
"They are tied behind the tents in groups of five or six, as well as I can see in the darkness."
"Yes, master."
"We must capture them."
"We will do whatever you command," said Raiden, without objecting that it was impossible.
They had reached the edge of the woods, at the point where they had entered the camp. The sentinels were being changed, and the man who had let them in recognized them.
"Going already!" he said.
"Yes," said Raiden; "we carry orders."
"Good luck to you!" said the soldier; and he signed to his substitute to let them pass.
"Well! they almost drive us out," said Raiden, when they were in the plain.
The Prince walked quickly; they soon reached the huts. All the sailors were awake, and in great dismay. They ran to meet the Prince.
"Master, master!" they shouted, "our boats are burned. What is to become of us?"
"It was that wretch of a Hieyas who did this," cried Loo; "but I will be revenged on him."
"Have you your weapons?" asked Nagato.
"Certainly; we have our swords and our guns."
"Well, you must now show me that your courage is worthy of my confidence. We must perform an act of heroism which may cost us our lives. We must enter the camp of Hieyas, jump upon his horses, and ride towards Kioto. If we are not dead, we shall be in the sacred city before sunrise."
"Very good!" said Loo; "let us enter Hieyas' camp. I have an idea of my own."
"We will follow you," said the sailors; "our lives are yours."
"The camp is but ill guarded," said the Prince; "the undertaking may succeed. Darkness will conceal us from the eyes of our enemies; the noise of the wind in the trees will prevent them from hearing the sound of our footsteps. One thing only distresses me; that is, that we have not time to steal away the head of the brave man who died for me, that we may bury it with the respect it deserves."
"What head?" whispered Loo, to Raiden.
"I'll tell you all I know about it," whispered back the sailor.
"Let us divide," said the Prince; "we have more chance of passing unnoticed, singly. If we can meet again, it will be on the other side of the wood. May the Kamis protect us."
The sailors dispersed. The darkness was profound, and they disappeared abruptly.
Loo lingered behind with Raiden, to question him in regard to what he had seen in the camp. When he had heard enough, the lad escaped, and ran before. He had a plan,—indeed he had two, since he had learned the story of the severed head: he meant to carry off that head, and then to be avenged for the firing of the boats. It was child's play for him to slip into the camp unseen. He had the soft tread of a cat; he could leap, glide, and creep on all fours, without stirring a blade of grass; he would not have waked a watch-dog. The lights in the camp guided him; he ran straight towards the edge of the wood; he wanted to be the first to enter. He was almost upon the sentinel before he saw him; but he fell flat on his face. The man did not see him; as soon as the guard had gone, the boy passed on.
"Here I am," said he, squeezing through a thicket; "the worst is over now."
The wind still blew; vivid flashes of lightning now and then filled the night.
"Ah, God of Storms!" said Loo, as he ran along on all fours under the trees, "you're behaving very badly. Strike your gongs as much as you like, but put out your lantern. As for you, Futen, Spirit of the Wind, blow, blow! harder still!"
With the exception of the sentinels, the whole camp slept; when the wind died away, at internals the regular breathing and occasional snores of the men could be heard. Loo took his way, by Raiden's directions, to Hieyas' tent. He reached it, and recognized the red draperies which formed a wall around the tent. Two archers stood before the entrance. Above them, on posts, hung lanterns.
"Yes, yes! stare out to sea at the dying flames of our burning boats," said Loo; "that will keep you from seeing me."
He slipped under the hangings, flattening himself against the earth; but to reach the tent, he had still a large, light, open space to cross. He hesitated a moment, and cast a glance at the archers.
"Their backs are towards me," said he; "besides, I believe they are asleep at their posts."
He rose, and swiftly gained the edge of the canvas; then he glided in. A blue lantern lit up the interior of the tent. Hieyas, stretched on a silken mattress, the upper part of his body raised by a number of cushions, slept a troubled sleep; sweat stood in beads upon his brow; he breathed heavily.
Loo raised his eyes to the aged Regent, and made a grimace at him; then he looked about the tent. On a mat, not far from his master, slept a servant. A writing-case and a few cups of rare porcelain were placed on a low stool of black wood; in one corner, a complete suit of mail, sinking under its own weight, produced the effect of a man chopped up into pieces. A large red lacquer chest, upon which were raised in relief the three chrysanthemum-leaves, Hieyas' crest, caught the light and glittered. Against this box rested the straw sack containing Sado's head. Hieyas desired to keep it till the next day, to display it to all his soldiers.
Loo guessed that the head must be in this bag; he crawled to it and opened it; but at that instant Hieyas awoke. He uttered several groans of distress, wiped his forehead, and took a little of a drink prepared for him. The boy hid behind the chest, and held his breath. Soon the old man fell back upon his cushions and dozed again. Then Loo drew the head from the bag, and made off with it. He was hardly out of the tent when shouts of alarm sounded on every hand. The neighing of horses and the shock of arms were heard above the continual rustling of the trees in the wind.
Hieyas waked a second time; and rising all breathless from the sudden start, drew aside the hangings which shut in the tent. A flash of lightning dazzled him; then he saw nothing but intense darkness. But soon, by the light of a fresh flash, longer and more brilliant than the first, he saw, with awful horror, the man whom he supposed dead, whose lifeless head he had held in his hands but a short time since, the Prince of Nagato, sword in hand, pass by on a horse which seemed to Hieyas to make no sound.
His enfeebled nerves, his mind overwrought by fever, prevented him from reacting against this superstitious terror; his strength of mind forsook him; he uttered a frightful cry. "A ghost! a ghost!" he yelled, spreading fear throughout the entire camp. Then he fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. He was thought to be dead.
Some of his officers also recognized the Prince of Nagato, and no less alarmed than Hieyas, put the climax to the confusion in the ranks.
The cry, "A ghost!" ran from mouth to mouth. The soldiers, who had come out at the shout of alarm, fled precipitately back to their tents.
Some one, of more heroic mould, proposed examining the bag, to see if the head was still there. When he found that it had vanished, this unbeliever set up a frightful howl. Confusion was at its height; all the men fell on their faces, loudly invoking the Kamis, or Buddha, according to their special form of faith.
The Prince of Nagato and his men were much surprised at the greeting they received; but they took advantage of it, and traversed the wood undisturbed. When they were on the other side of the grove, they waited for one another; then counted their numbers. Not one was missing; all were on horseback.
"Truly, the Kamis protect us," said the sailors; "who would have thought the expedition would turn out so well!"
"And that we should be taken for ghosts!"
They were about to resume their journey, when Raiden suddenly exclaimed: "But where is Loo?"
"That's true," said the Prince; "he's the only one who has not returned."
"And yet he started first," said Raiden.
They waited a few moments.
"Unfortunately," said the Prince, "the duty which calls me suffers no delay. We must go; but it is with pain that I abandon that faithful boy."
Abandon Loo, the delight of all,—he who reminded the fathers of their children,—the scornful little hero, somewhat cruel, but fearless, and always gay! They set out with aching hearts; all sighed.
"What can have happened to him? Perhaps he has lost his way in the darkness," said Raiden, looking constantly back.
They had gone on for perhaps ten minutes, when those who were behind thought they heard a hurried gallop. They stopped and listened. A horse was indeed coming; shouts of laughter were soon mingled with the hoof-beats. It was Loo.
"Raiden!" he shouted, "come and catch me; I shall fall. I can't stand it any longer; I've laughed too hard?"
Raiden hastened back to meet the boy.
"Well," said he, "so here you are! Why did you lag behind so long? You gave us a great fright."
"Because I had a great deal to do," said Loo; "you got through your work before I did."
"What have you been about?"
"Take that first," said Loo, offering Raiden the severed head; "it 'a as heavy as lead."
"What! so you contrived to get hold of that?"
"Yes," said Loo, who kept looking behind him; "and they think down yonder that it started off on its travels alone; and so they're all half crazed with fear."
They now put their horses to the gallop, to catch up with the Prince and his companions.
"Has the boy come back?" asked Nagato.
"Yes, master; and he brings you the head of the man who looked so much like you," cried Raiden, with a sort of paternal pride.
"That's not all I did," said Loo, still looking back; "see the pink light yonder? Shouldn't you think the sun was rising?"
"The sky is really illumined," said the Prince; "I should say it was the reflection from some fire."
"That's just what it is," said Loo, clapping his hands; "the woods are burning."
"You set them on fire!" cried Raiden.
"Did I not swear to avenge our fine boats, which lie in ashes on the beach?" said Loo, with much dignity.
"How did you manage it? Tell us all about it," said the sailor.
"Ah!" cried Loo, "I never laughed so much in my life! I had no sooner stolen the martyr's head than I heard shouts and cries in all directions. Then I looked for a horse to be ready for flight. Still, I had no idea of running away yet. When I had mounted the beast of my choice, I broke off a pitchy bough, and lit it at a lantern, which I unhooked and threw into the straw of the horse's litter. That straw kindled at once, and the wind fanned my torch to a flame. I started off, setting fire to everything as I went. To my great surprise the soldiers, instead of springing upon me and wringing my neck, fell on their knees when they saw me, stretched out their hands to me, and entreated me to spare them; some taking me for Tatsi-Maki, the dragon of the Typhoons, others for Marisiten, fancying that my horse was the wild boar upon which the God of Battles rides. I nearly split my sides with laughter; and the more I laughed the more frightened they were. So I came through the forest at my ease, firing here a banner, there a dead tree or a bundle of fodder."
"I never could have believed that an army could be so alarmed by a child!" cried Raiden, laughing heartily in his turn.
"If you had seen them," said Loo, "how they stuttered and shook! And well they might; for every one of them thought that a ghost had stretched out his arm and waved a sword at Hieyas, who instantly fell dead."
"Yes," said Nata; "they took us for a legion of ghosts."
The light of the burning forest spread across the sky to the zenith. The Prince turned his head and gazed.
"Loo," said he, "I am daily thankful that I brought you with me; you have the daring of a hero, and a lion's heart in your frail body. These exploits deserve a splendid reward. I give you the title of Samurai."
On hearing this, Loo was speechless with emotion. He looked at Raiden, as he ambled along by his side; then suddenly threw himself into his arms.
At the Prince's order, several men dismounted and dug a grave with their swords by the roadside, to bury the head of the brave Sado.
"We will come and fetch it later on, and pay it fitting honors," said the Prince.
Stones were piled on the grave when it had been filled up, to mark it.
"Now," said the Prince, "let us hasten; we must be at Kioto before day dawns."
They set off at a gallop, a few men going before as scouts.
The Prince also outrode the rest of his party. He wanted to be alone, to hide his emotion and his anxiety. He had not dreamed; the messenger had indeed told Hieyas that the attack on Kioto was about to begin. Attack the sacred capital of the Mikados! Lay hands on the divine person of the Son of the Gods! Nagato could not credit such sacrilege. Moreover, the idea that the Kisaki was in danger overwhelmed him. She, insulted in her sovereign power by one of her subjects, alarmed by battle-cries, by the sound of war, perhaps constrained to fly! The thought put him into a frantic rage. He was surprised that he had not sprung at Hieyas' throat, to strangle him with his own hands when he spoke of Kioto.
"I pitied and respected his age," thought he; "does such a man merit pity?"
And yet, amidst these feelings of anger and dismay, he could not repress a sense of deep joy. To be near her, to see her again, once more to hear that voice, of whose accents his ears were ever greedy! Was it possible? His bosom swelled; a smile hovered on his lips; he saw only her.
"It is Destiny that directs me," he said. "Fate prevented me from going far from Kioto; a presentiment warned me that she would need me."
How did he hope to defend the sacred city against forces which were undoubtedly large? He could not have told himself. Yet he did not doubt that he should triumph over his adversaries, however many they might be. There are sovereign wills which rule events, which carry away the combatants in battle, exalt their courage, render them terrible. The Prince of Nagato felt such an irresistible determination within his breast. To save her, he felt as if he could scatter an army single-handed.
Kioto was only five leagues distant from the camp of Hieyas; but as the victorious party occupied the side towards Fusimi, the Prince of Nagato was obliged to take a roundabout route, by the shores of Lake Biva.
Day was beginning to dawn; darkness still covered the earth. But sky and water began to brighten; a fine mist hung here and there.
The lake is shaped like the musical instrument called a biva; it stretches behind the mountains surrounding Kioto, and divides them from the town. The long and narrow part, forming the handle of the guitar, branches out into a river, and, describing a semicircle, enters Kioto from the south.
By the orders of General Sanada-Sayemon-Yoke-Moura, General Yama-Kava was to encamp with his five thousand men on the shore of the lake at the foot of the mountains; but as he advanced, the Prince of Nagato became sure that Yama-Kava had abandoned the position. He found traces of the camp, ashes of dead fires, and holes dug for the tent-poles.
"What does this mean?" he thought. "If the General has left his post, danger must have called him elsewhere. Perhaps the conflict has not yet begun; perhaps all is over, and I have come too late."
At this idea the Prince, a prey to a terrible pang, urged his horse towards the mountain, and hurried up a steep and almost inaccessible path. If he succeeded in climbing the slope, he could reach Kioto in a few moments, instead of wasting several hours in winding along the shores of the lake and river.
Loo was first to follow in his master's tracks. All the sailors soon imitated his example, after recalling the advance-guard. With great difficulty they gained the crest of the hill; it was connected by a slight descent with another and loftier peak, the mountain of Oudji, upon which the most delicate tea is grown.
The western orchard, the scene of the poetical tourney presided over by the Kisaki, lay in the path of the Prince. He leaped the fence and crossed the orchard, this being the shortest way. The trees were loaded with fruit, the over-burdened boughs bending to the ground.
The Prince paused at the brink of the terrace, where the city lay in full view, just at the spot where the Queen had approached him a few months before, and spoken to him with tears in her eyes. He cast a rapid glance at Kioto. From various points rose a column of black smoke, which was also visible within the precincts of the Dairi. The palace and city must, therefore, have been set on fire. The fortress of Nisio-Nosiro, on Wild Goose River, was besieged; the Knights of Heaven were doubtless defending it. The Mikado must have taken refuge behind its ramparts. Farther off, on the other side of the town, a fight was going on between Yama-Kava's men and the soldiers of Hieyas. The latter were almost masters of Kioto. Yama-Kava still held the eastern portion of the city; but Hieyas' banner floated from every other point.
The Prince of Nagato, with frowning brow, devoured the scene spread out at his feet. He bit his lips till they bled; full of wrath, he preserved his clearness of judgment, and coolly examined the situation.
When a conflict occurs in a city, the combatants are perforce scattered. The plan of the streets, their lack of breadth, necessitates a division of numbers. The battle is parcelled out; there is no unity of movement; each street and square has its individual contest, ignoring the phases of those close by.
The Prince of Nagato instantly saw the advantage to be gained from this disposition of the battle. His little troop, nothing on the plain, where its weakness would be apparent, might produce a happy effect by an impetuous dash, taking the enemy unawares in the rear, and possibly causing confusion in the ranks.
The Prince decided quickly, uttered a shout to rally his men, who had managed to join him by dint of much pains; then he spurred his horse down the opposite slope of the high hill, and cried: "Follow me!"
The descent was most dangerous; but the energy of the men seemed to be communicated to their steeds. They reached the bottom without accident; then plunged with frightful speed into the street most crowded with soldiers.
The sound made by the sudden tramp of horses' hoofs upon the paved road was tremendous. The soldiers turned, saw the street filled with cavalry, and with the instinctive dread which men on foot feel for men on horseback, they strove to keep out of the way; pushing and stumbling over each other, in an attempt to reach a cross street. The riders fired a few shots, which only hastened the flight of the pedestrians. In the twinkling of an eye the street was emptied; and the fugitives spread terror as they ran, supposing that they were trapped between two armies.
The street entered by Nagato was very long, traversing almost the entire town, and ending in a small square. At the other extremity, the streets opening into it were occupied by Yama-Kava's soldiers. Upon the square itself the enemy had centred their forces.
The conflict had but just begun. Although inferior in numbers, the partisans of Fide-Yori did not flinch. At the mouth of the square the Prince halted; he was master of the street; it was important to keep it.
"Let twenty men defend the other end of this street," he cried, "and two men station themselves at every alley opening into it. Now we must let Yama-Kava's soldiers know that they are to make an effort to join us."
Raiden sprang forward. A hailstorm of arrows wrapped, him round; his horse fell; the sailor rose; he was wounded; but he managed to reach the other side of the square. A discharge of musketry rattled, and picked off a number of men. An empty space was formed in front of the street occupied by the Prince; the hostile troops gathered about their leaders, to devise measures; and they decided to abandon the square and fall back upon the neighboring streets. They executed this movement, which was almost a retreat.
Nothing was easier now for Yama-Kava's men than to effect a junction with those of Nagato. The former crossed the square in double-quick time, and gained the conquered street. Soon their General himself appeared, on horseback, masked, clad in his armor of black shell, lance in hand.
"It is the lord of Nagato!" he exclaimed, as he recognized the Prince. "I am no longer amazed to see the enemy so roughly repulsed. Victory seems to be your slave."
"If it be true that I have her in my chains, may she never recover her liberty!" said the Prince. "What is going on here?" he added. "What sacrilege, what unprecedented crime, do we behold?"
"Incredible indeed," said the General. "Hieyas proposes to carry off the Mikado, and burn the town."
"For what purpose?"
"I do not know."
"I think I can guess," said the Prince; "the Mikado, once in his power, would be forced to proclaim Hieyas Shogun; the entire nation would declare itself for Hieyas, and Fide-Yori would be obliged to lay down his arms."
"There is no limit to that man's audacity!"
"Where is the Mikado now?" asked the Prince.
"In the fortress of Nisio-Nosiro."
"So I supposed; and I fancy that you and I have hit upon the same plan of battle."
"You honor me," said the General.
"You mean to spread your army, I fancy, from this street, like a lake becoming a river, and surround the foe. In this way the enemy will be cut off from the shores of the Kamon-Gawa, and the attack on the fortress, of scanty numbers, as it seems to me, will be isolated. You will then fall back upon the fortress and seek shelter within its walls."
"That was indeed my intention," said the General; "but without your help I fear I should have failed to force my way through the hostile ranks."
"Well, now lead your men towards the fortress, while I hold our adversaries here as long as possible."
The General set off. The soldiers of Hieyas returned. The nascent panic was allayed. From every lane on the left they attacked the street which separated them from the river; they were received with volleys of shot and arrows. They retreated; then returned to the charge.
"We must barricade those alleys," said the Prince.
"With what?"
The hermetically closed houses seemed dead. Their mute, blind aspect showed that it would be useless to knock; for it would awake no echo in the soul of the terrified inhabitants. The blinds were wrenched from their hinges, the windows broken open, the houses entered. A sort of pillage began; everything was thrown into the street,—screens, bronze vases, lacquer chests, mattresses, and lanterns. With astonishing rapidity all this was heaped up pell-mell at the mouth of the different lanes. A tea-merchant was entirely stripped; all the exquisite varieties of the aromatic herb, wrapped in silk paper, in leaden boxes, or in valuable caskets, went to swell the pile, and were offered to the ravages of arrows and shot. The air was filled with perfume.
The enemy fought furiously, but could not cross the street. In the direction of the river was heard the sound of another conflict raging there. The Prince sent one of his men that way, saying: "Come and tell us as soon as Yama-Kava wins."
The struggle now became desperate; several barricades were forced; men fought hand to hand in the street filled with dust and smoke.
"Courage, courage!" shouted Nagato to his troops; "a moment more!"
At last the messenger returned.
"Victory!" he cried; "Yama-Kava has crossed the river."
Then Nagato's men began to fall back. Yama-Kava, protected by the Knights of Heaven, who overwhelmed his assailants with arrows from the top of the towers, entered the fortress with his five thousand soldiers. The Mikado was thenceforth out of danger; seven thousand men behind the ramparts being fully equal to the ten thousand exposed troops of the hostile General. The latter, filled with wrath, his orders unheeded, seeing the mistake he had made by involving his men in the labyrinth of streets, sprang to the head of his troops, to inspire them with fresh courage, force the passage so bravely defended, and reach the banks of the Kamon-Gawa.
He found himself face to face with the Prince of Nagato; both were on horseback. They gazed at each other for an instant.
"It is you, then," cried the Prince, "who serve as the instrument of a crime so odious that it seems incredible! It is you who have the impudence to raise your hand against the divine Mikado!"
For his only answer, the General flung a dart at Nagato, which grazed his sleeve. The Prince responded by a shot, fired at close range. The warrior fell upon his horse's neck without a sound,—to rise no more.
The news of his death spread quickly; the soldiers, left without a leader, wavered.
"His sacrilegious daring brought him ill luck," said they; "it may well be fatal to us too."
The Prince, who noted this hesitation and the vague remorse springing up in the souls of the soldiers, hit upon a scheme adapted to render the victory decisive if it produced the effect which he expected. He ran to the brink of the Wild Goose River, and shouted to the soldiers who guarded the fortress: "Lead the Mikado to the top of the tower."
His idea was caught. Go-Mitzou-No was sought in all haste, and conducted by force, more dead than alive, to the highest tower of the castle.
The Sun Goddess seemed to cast all her rays upon that divine man, who was fully her peer. The Mikado's red robes shone resplendent; the lofty sheet of gold which formed, his crown gleamed upon his brow.
"The Son of the Gods! the Son of the Gods!" was the universal shout.
The soldiers raised their heads; they saw that dazzling mass of purple and gold at the top of the tower,—the man whom they were forbidden to behold, the man surrounded by an awful spell, and whom they had just outraged. They thought that the Mikado was about to take his flight and leave earth behind forever, in punishment of the wickedness of men. They threw down their arms and fell upon their knees.
"Mercy!" they cried; "do not desert us! What will become of us without you?"
"Sublime lord! all-powerful master! we are base wretches; but thy goodness is infinite!"
"We will abase ourselves in the dust; we will moisten it with the tears of our repentance."
Then they burst into invectives against their leaders.
"They drove us to it, they led us astray!" "They intoxicated us with saki, to take away our senses!" "The General paid for his crime with his life!" "Let him be accursed!" "May he be devoured by foxes!" "May the great judge of hell be pitiless towards him!"
The Mikado's eyes wandered over the city; he saw smoke rising on every hand. He extended his arm, and pointed with his finger to the burning buildings.
The soldiers below imagined this gesture to be an order; they rose and flew to extinguish the flames which they themselves had kindled.
The victory was complete. The Prince of Nagato smiled as he saw how exactly the Mikado's appearance had answered his anticipations.
But all at once, just as he was about to step upon the drawbridge and enter the fortress in his turn, frantic servants came running along the banks of the Kamon-Gawa.
"The Queen!" they cried; "they are carrying off the Queen!"
"What say you?" exclaimed the Prince, turning pale. "Then the Queen is not in the fortress?"
"She had no time to seek refuge there, she is at the summer-palace."
Without staying to hear more, 'Nagato sprang like an arrow in the direction of the palace, followed by such of his soldiers as were left,—scarcely fifty able-bodied men.
But they soon lost sight of the Prince; and, not knowing their way, went astray.
Nagato quickly reached the door of the summer-palace. Pages stood at the threshold.
"That way! that way!" they cried to the Prince, pointing to the road which led to the base of the mountains.
Nagato turned and put the spurs to his horse. Unfortunately the road was bordered by trees, and was very winding, so that he could see but a short distance before him. Nothing was visible. His horse reared, and sprang forward. To lighten its load, he throw away his gun.