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The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

by Lewis Wingfield · English · Gutenberg #38853 · 464,114 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

Author: Lewis Wingfield


        
Release date: February 13, 2012 [eBook #38853]
                Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38853

Credits: Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CURSE OF KOSHIU: A CHRONICLE OF OLD JAPAN ***




Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books










Transcriber's Notes:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://books.google.com/books?id=UCQXAAAAYAAJ

   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]; "y" with a circumflex
      above by [^y]; "o" with a macron above by [=o].




                         THE CURSE OF KOSHIU.


                     _A CHRONICLE OF OLD JAPAN_.




                                  BY

                     The Honble. LEWIS WINGFIELD,

                              AUTHOR OF
      "LADY ORIZEL," "IN HER MAJESTY'S KEEPING," "ABIGEL ROWE,"
                       "BARBARA PHILPOT," ETC.





                               LONDON:
                            WARD & DOWNEY,
                    12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
                              *   *   *
                                1888.

                       [_All Rights reserved_.]






                              EDINBURGH
                         COLSTON AND COMPANY
                               PRINTERS






                              CONTENTS.


                              CHAPTER I.

       Boy and Girl.


                             CHAPTER II.

       The Last Hojo.


                             CHAPTER III.

       Married Life.


                             CHAPTER IV.

       The Abbess gives Advice.


                              CHAPTER V.

       The Farmer girds His Loins.


                             CHAPTER VI.

       The Young Mikado.


                             CHAPTER VII.

       The Farmer's Sentence.


                            CHAPTER VIII.

       Destiny is Busy.


                             CHAPTER IX.

       The Execution.


                              CHAPTER X.

       Forebodings.


                             CHAPTER XI.

       The Curse begins to Work.


                            CHAPTER XII.

       The Daimio of Nara Begins to Work.


                            CHAPTER XIII.

       The Despot obeys Orders.


                             CHAPTER XIV.

       The Mikado does Business.


                             CHAPTER XV.

       Will Buddha Speak?


                             CHAPTER XVI.

       Masago takes the Reins.


                            CHAPTER XVII.

       Under the Moon.


                            CHAPTER XVIII.

       Face to Face.


                             CHAPTER XIX.

       The Web Is Woven.






                         THE CURSE OF KOSHIU.




                              CHAPTER I.

                            BOY AND GIRL.


It was towards the end of the fourteenth century that the grandeur of
the Hojo family rose to its acme, then fell with awful crash. The
feudal story of the Land of the Rising Sun is a long dark chronicle of
blood and tears, of crime and rapine, of vengeance and vendetta, out
of which there glints at intervals a gleam of glorious heroism, of
holy devotion, of pure love and unsullied faith.

In the stately roll of the great names of old Japan, there is none so
terrible as Hojo. From time to time the patient people were ruled by
one race or another of despots, cruel and selfish; the most cruel of
all, the Hojos. Even now, after five hundred years of war and havoc,
of vain aspirations, power misused, and wrecked ambitions, mothers
still hush their babes to silence by breathing the dreaded name. The
most destructive insect that ravages the fairest island in the
world--the most voracious and omnivorous--is yet known as the Hojo
beetle. When the first of the line erected a strong fortress--the
Castle of Tsu, which will serve as background to many scenes in this
our chronicle--he gave to it a bloody baptism, by burying beneath the
foundations two hundred living men. Although their baleful course was
marked by an ensanguined streak like a gory finger drawn across a map,
they were not all black, these gruesome daimios, or even Buddha, whom
we know to be deaf, and prone to somnolence, would earlier in the day
have bestirred himself to punish them. Maybe Buddha drinks too much
sake, for though we piously crack our finger-joints, and beat our
palms, each morn at sunrise, and bang the gongs and pull the
bell-strings each evening in the temple, he recks little of mere
mundane worries, letting things go from bad to worse in grievous
fashion. And yet, once roused to wakefulness, his vengeance is swift
as the typhoon, as destructive and as sweeping.

No. The lurid Hojo cloud that for a hundred years brooded over
long-suffering Japan, had silver breaks in it. The Mikados, as nominal
rulers, dwelt at Ki[^y]oto; while the Shoguns, as military viceroys,
reigned at Kamakura; but the dominating family, as wire-pullers,
directed their movements from behind. The father of Hojo No-Kami, last
of the race, had his good points. None of his supercilious ancestors
was more superbly overbearing, more sublimely indifferent to human
pain; and yet his worst enemies were compelled to admit that, if
stern, his rule was sagacious. The Mikado, and his court of _kuges_ or
lords-in-waiting, shivered before him, for his dirk was loose in the
scabbard, and the order promptly to depart into another world by
uncompromising _harakiri_ was ever trembling on his lips. During his
career three emperors had been summoned to shave their heads and
retire into monkish solitude, each puppet bowled over in its turn for
daring to dispute his will; and yet the very fact of his disdaining to
mask the iron hand under the glove of silk, even in dealing with the
highest, compelled the unwilling admiration of his turbulent and
light-hearted countrymen.

The upper class--Samurai, two-sword men, hatamotos, soldiers--could
appreciate his martial bearing, as, in gallant bravery of scarlet
armour and gold-studded helm, he rode forth to battle, with his
martial wife beside him. For the beautiful Tomoye was a fit mother for
lion whelps. Of great personal strength as well as graceful carriage,
sheathed in armour like her lord, astride on a swift horse, she was
ever in the van of conflict. With her own hand she cut off the head of
a rival daimio who crossed swords with her; and when her lord died,
pierced through the heart by an arrow she fought till she fell beside
him. The lower class of the unarmed--mechanics, mere farmers,
paltry merchants--could also from their inferior standpoint admire
their ruler, whilst grieving at his rough treatment of the Holy
Mikado--mystic head of all--for he protected the workers of the hive
from the depredations of other tyrants. The burthen of taxes was
nicely weighed to suit the backs of the bearers. The ken of the Hojo
was as piercing, and minutely attentive to details, as it was
farsighted. A petition from the elders of the meanest village was sure
of immediate attention. No petty feudal master, however recklessly
bold or savagely contemptuous, dared to overstep his rights.

The result of the adamantine rule of the last Hojo but one was peace.
The land that was given over usually to turmoil and bloodshed, with
intervals of complete anarchy, enjoyed rest for fifteen years, during
which the despot set himself to consolidate his power, and fix yet
more firmly the family yoke on the necks of lords and people.

He had two sons, the elder of whom--by Japanese paradox--was treated
as if he had been the younger. Sampei, three years older than No-Kami,
was the offspring of a second wife or concubine. The latter,
heir-apparent, was the whelp of the war-queen Tomoye. Now in Japan
concubinage is a recognised institution, and the son of the handmaid
is no bastard. And yet the child of the bondwoman is not co-heir with
the child of the free. The latter, in the case of a great family, is
undisputed head of the clan, and to him the former owes allegiance,
however much older in years, in the same degree as lesser clansmen.
The institution is so firmly welded into the constitution of the land
as, save in a few cases, to preclude jealousy.

Of course, as in all Eastern countries, ambitious men have striven to
supplant their brothers--have hacked off their heads and reigned in
their stead--but this does not affect the principle. The two sons of
Hojo grew up side by side in perfect amity. Together they learned to
ride and wield the sword and spear under the approving gaze of their
martial parents. They were both soldiers--with a difference. Even
Tomoye was forced to admit that of the twain Sampei, son of the
concubine, was the most promising. His nature was clear and bright
as running water, simple and unsmirched, unlike that of the
heir-apparent. None more brave than he, more quick and skilful with
his weapons, more ready to smite hard and heavily; and yet on occasion
he could be soft and tender as a woman. A polished politeness and
chivalrous demeanour were so innate in him as to win the admiration of
the ladies. For seductive luxury he had nothing but contempt. No-Kami,
on the other hand, if brave and skilled in arms, was fierce and
selfish and debauched; overfond of the harem and perfumed bath and
sake cup; sullen, too, as an ill-conditioned animal; brutal to women,
ruthlessly tossing them aside like shattered toys when sated with
their charms. People nodded their pates and whispered of him the
timeworn proverb which says that there is no seed to a great man. In
sooth it has ever been a common thing in this otherwise favoured land
to see a great house crumble into speedy ruin through the supineness
and debauchery of its sons.

There was no need for anxiety as to the future of Sampei. A soldier
and a gentleman to the tips of his trim finger-nails, his career, in
the most war-ridden of countries, was carved clear before him. It came
to pass that Corea, conquered long since by the Amazon Empress Jingo,
threw off allegiance.. Who more fitted than doughty young Sampei to
reduce the rebel to obedience? Accordingly, five years before this
story opens, the gay young general, full of life and hope, and
rippling with high spirits, bade a respectful farewell to the father
he was never to see again, a more tender one of his fond mother,
Masago, who, like many another discarded concubine, was now the Abbess
of a convent, and sailed with a fleet and army for Corea, whence news
arrived from time to time, praising his deeds of valour.

As for the future of No-Kami, it was more difficult to prophesy, and
his parents were no little anxious. His prospects were splendid; but
although his father had endeavoured to foresee contingencies, and
build barriers against accidents, the path of the next tyrant must
needs be beset with thorns. His _role_ in the future would be arduous,
thick strewn with snares and difficulties. To keep the _entourage_ of
the Mikado in subjection--to hold the daimios--powerful and wealthy
princes as sturdy as the barons of the English John--in the requisite
condition of meekness, would require more statecraft, diplomacy, and
force of iron will, than could be expected of a model youth. And
No-Kami, as we have seen, was by no means a model youth. None knew
better than his astute and experienced parent how difficult to a young
man this task would prove; none was more distinctly aware of the frail
tenure of a despot's life. At any moment he, the father, might be
taken, and what then would happen to his boy?

Treachery stalks through the history of Japan. At any instant the
dominant Hojo might be murdered under his son's eyes. Would the
self-indulgent No-Kami be prepared with vigorous promptitude to avenge
the slain, and, seizing the dropped reins, pursue his policy? Both
father and mother sadly shook their heads. Even their partial vision
could not but perceive that the hope of the house was a leper,
abnormally sinful, inclined to become a sybarite. Was this young man
to be left to steer the bark without a pilot? Certainly not. In case
of anything unexpected arising, a staff must be prepared for him to
lean upon. A man must be placed by his side, old in years and in
experience, whose position and wisdom would command respect, whose
interest it would be to bestow sound advice and timely sage reproof.

What better guide than a prudent father-in-law? What surer loadstone
to lure an embryo debauchee from the muddy byways of low company than
a beautiful patrician bride? one of the pure and slender, refined and
high-bred maidens of noble lineage--fair and sweet as the fragrant
mountain-lily--who now, as five hundred years ago, are the brightest
glory of Japan.

A crafty combination this on the part of the warrior-statesman, which
would doubtless have been crowned with success, if he had not chanced
to live in a world where mischievous spirits delight in frustrating
plans the most cleverly matured. Tomoye heard, and listened dubiously.
Even among the most elevated Japanese, as well as in the highest
European circles, papas and mammas will differ as to the ideal bride.
What was the precise article that would suit No-Kami? Unfortunately
there was not time to have one specially ordered. Since perfection is
chary of repetition, it was not to be expected that another Tomoye--a
stern yet loving lioness--could be found for the precious youth.
Indeed, so recreant a scion was he of the stock, that he might have
objected possibly to a muscular and fiery wife whose pastime was the
chopping of heads. And yet not so. A true lion-whelp was he in blood
enjoyment. Even the low-born _Geisha_ singing girls who stocked his
harem, had often cried under his buffets, and shouted shame, with
tears, at his barbarous treatment of his servants.

Alas! how sad it is that even the most sapient in mundane experience
will be guilty of errors sometimes that are patent to the lesser fry.
Is it over-anxiety that blinds them? The problem was to put the finger
on a great noble--daimio among daimios--who could compare in descent
and grandeur _almost_ with the line of Hojo; who, of weight in
counsel, and rather cool than hot, would stem precipitate rashness. He
must have no son, and but one daughter, and devoid therefore of the
ambition which accompanies male issue, must adopt his daughter's
husband as his son; and by thus uniting the two families in closest
bonds, make their interests identical. The child of the magnate (given
that the two were found) must be mentally perfect, and a vision of
corporeal loveliness.

"My dear!" quoth the broad-shouldered but practical Tomoye, as with
one eye critically closed she assayed the temper of a brand new sword.
The lady was apt to get vexed when her lord grew warm and garrulous.
"My dear," she observed, "we have many rounds of mortal life to climb
ere, reaching the summit, we attain Nirvana. Though you are good
enough to be blind to my blemishes, even I am not quite perfect.
Perfection, in our present low cycle, is so very scarce, you know."
With this she beamed upon her lord, whilst artlessly belying her words
by approvingly fingering her muscles. She was inwardly aware, with
pardonable pride, that no other daimio's daughter could boast such an
arm as hers.

My lord was provoked, and rubbed his nose. When you are erecting airy
towers, practical people are exasperating. It was evident she had
gained a point, so she proceeded to follow it up.

"Where in broad Japan do you propose to seek these paragons? This pink
of perfect daimios, and his yet more model child?"

There was a tendency to irreverence in this tone, which required
nipping in the bud. The eye of the Mikado's master shot forth a gleam,
before which even the lioness cowered. When his mind was made up, the
Hojo brooked no argument.

"Be it as you will!" Tomoye dutifully murmured. "My lord is all-wise,
all-powerful; his wife his willing slave. Go forth and seek the
paragons, and let us hope you will find them soon."

To please him whom she loved best on earth, Tomoye made believe to be
convinced; and yet her woman's tact whispered down in the deep
recesses of her manly bosom, that my lord, for all his wiliness, was
wrong; that he was building a fool's paradise far up in [OE]ther, out
of which her dear boy might tumble.

Curious to relate, the paragons concerning whom she was tempted to be
disrespectful were not far to seek. With but little hocus-pocus father
and daughter were conjured on the scene, as absolutely the "very
thing," to all appearance, as the cunning Hojo had conceived them. He
declared as much at least, and dutiful Tomoye acquiesced, slightly
pinching her lips in silent protest. Instead of the "very thing" which
was to bring about complete success before its time in our weary
pilgrimage of cycles, the mother's instinct beheld with prophetic
vision, in the proposed alliance, the worst elements of discord and
defeat,--of so dire and dread a tragedy as should shake Japan to its
centre, and annihilate the dominating house. Yet who was she, the
warrior wife reflected in her humility, to set up puny instincts
against the ripened statecraft of my lord? Her muscles were better
than her brains. Should she presume to know more than he who held in
his hand Mikado, nobles, people?--whose nod was law in the land
beloved of Buddha? who had preserved it from contamination from
without? Her place was to bend before the will of the dictator, and
offer prayers for her husband and her son.


                          *   *   *   *   *


The most perfectly poetic spot in all poetic Japan, whose ensanguined
history is made beauteous to the eye of a fastidious posterity by the
flora of chivalry and valour, is Nara.

Lovely and secluded, sweet-smelling and umbrageous Nara! The Nara of
to-day--how much more the Nara of five hundred years ago--suggests to
the incursive foreigner a bit of Eden's garden.

In very early times the central mart of Japanese opulence (which ebbed
by-and-by to Ki[^y]oto), it came after a while to be recognised as the
special home of holiness. Accepting the better part, it exchanged the
shimmering sham glory of mundane ambition for the sheen reflected from
above. Some twenty miles from Ki[^y]oto--time-honoured residence of
Mikados, and therefore a sacred city--the small town of Nara stands on
a plain surrounded by rugged hills. Passing through low grey streets,
leaving on the left a huge and ornate pagoda, you enter a tangle of
wild greenery--an ideal wood of immense cryptomerias darkling skyward
after light. A jungle of variegated foliage, so sweet and fresh, masks
half their altitude, while the undulating ground beneath is broken
into verdant waves chequered with blossoms of all hues. This forest is
vast and silent, save where a white-robed group of pilgrims saunters
along its glades--undefended by barriers, save those of religious
custom. And what more tough than they? If sprightly and given to
skull-cracking, the Japanese live in terror of their deities, who
without exception are vindictive. Buddha and the lesser lights
are awful and threatening and ever-present, and the favourite
hunting-grounds of Buddha are the hallowed groves of Nara.

The thickets teem with game. All kinds of coy animals which usually
flee at sight of man, here hold undisputed sway. The intruder is on
their territory, and they let him know it. The timorous doe stands
with soft unstartled eyes across the path, sniffing with moist
nostrils the expected cake. And if the white-clad pilgrim should have
striven to combine economy with cure of soul by investing in cheap
offerings, the scornful stag and his following will shake their ears,
and bound away to relate to the gods the insult. With head on one
side, birds look critically down from boughs, nor think of flight;
hares, taught by impunity, instead of making off, white scut in air,
groom nose with paw, undaunted.

Hidden away, centre of an intricate labyrinth--enclosed in many
courts, each hung with myriad lamps in bronze-like fringes round the
eaves--stands the Holy of Holies, Buddha's hunting-box, wherein a band
of virgins perform weird shinto rites for the behoof of awe-struck
pilgrims. At stated seasons this bevy of priestesses, emerging from
strict retirement, performs the _kagura_, a slow swanlike measure,
with many and intricate figures and waving of fans and bells and
kerchiefs, accompanied by priestly flutes--which (doubtless good for
the soul, since its weary length is interminable) is soothing also to
ear and eye, for the ladies are graceful and slender in their loose
red trousers and gossamer robes, their long locks flowing as they
float to and fro, with a background of gold screens, and beyond the
antique forest. How peaceful a life, free from sordid cares, must
these holy damsels lead! Far from the fretful striving of the churlish
world--its hate and jealousy and bitterness and disillusion--no call
to arms or shock of war invades this calm retreat. They share
ungrudgingly their Eden with the beasts and butterflies, guileless and
content as they, strumming the three-stringed samisen, sailing through
maze of solemn _kagura_, doing tender service in the temple.

Among the troop of maidens was one who wore no religious habit.
Although she had taken no vows, priests and virgins loved her as much
as if one of themselves. Brought up among them with the hares and
birds for comrades, as stately and as gentle as the deer, she shared
from childhood, being motherless, their pure and contemplative life.
Strangers often said that the fairest thing in lovely Nara was the
tall and pale O'Tei. Some compared her to the unblown white lotos as
it sways dreamily in the breeze. Others dubbed her pearl; but later
all agreed that young Sanjo the armourer was delivered of the neatest
simile when he fashioned a white fawn of purest silver and gave it to
the maiden for a hairpin. As a child she had always been still and
given to day-dreams, peering into the flowers as if she could read
secrets there, or gazing into the opal sky in search of angels, or
watching the pallid stars as they glimmered forth out of the deepening
blue. Yet was she as gay as the chirping cicadas in the trees, as
light and fleet as her four-footed friends, as, pattering on dainty
clogs in wayward mood, she would leave the forest for the town, and
peeping in at Sanjo's, shake an arch finger at the brawny armourers,
while they wiped their swart brows, and laughed.

It was by a whimsical coincidence that the celebrated family of Sanjo,
from time immemorial armourers in chief to the Mikados, as the
Miochins were to the Shoguns, should have set up the forge, emblem of
war, hard by the sacred wood, the type of peace. But so it was.
Indeed, as I write, the existing Sanjos occupy the ancestral dwelling.
They are poor now. Their occupation is gone, for civilisation and
European ways have stepped in and ruined them. At the period which
occupies us, the blowing of the forge-bellows and the welding of iron
on the anvil were in curious contrast to the surrounding calm. Many
lords who came hither in pilgrim guise to improve their soul's estate,
looked in at Sanjo's ere they went away, to buy new blades and armour.
The holy forest was an oasis of peace in a world of uproar; for was
not the castle of the powerful lord of Nara but a mile beyond the
town; and did not close by (happily concealed by a hill from his proud
gaze) the fortress of the Daimio of Osaka rear its majestic front,
home of his hereditary foe? Of course it was enough for two great
feudal lords to dwell cheek by jowl for them to hate one another
cordially. These two were as jealous as two rival beauties. The outer
moat at Nara was wider than that of my lord of Osaka, but then the
interior of Osaka's stronghold was the more splendid, and its armoury
more richly furnished. Hence frowns and jibes and backbitings from
generation to generation, varied now and then by siege or battle,
accompanied by fire and massacre.

Among the many who were firm friends of the Sanjos, was, naturally
enough, Sampei. Of course, so gallant a young gentleman could wear no
armour but Sanjo's, could wield no sword but one that bore his mark.
One morning, standing beside the anvil, and laying down the law to an
obsequious audience, on military subjects, he beheld, framed in the
doorway, such a delightful vision, that his heart gave a great thump,
and he dropped the precious blade, whose temper he was critically
testing by the bisecting of a coin. It was only for a second. Startled
by the apparition of a distinguished stranger, and grown unaccountably
bashful of a sudden, the blushing and beautiful O'Tei cried Oh! and,
turning on her clogs, scampered back into the wood, whither the
inflammable Sampei would swiftly have followed, had he not been
restrained by the armourer.

"Beware!" the latter whispered, grasping him tightly by the skirt.
"That maid is not for thee! The heiress of the Daimio of Nara will
look higher than a soldier of fortune!"

Sampei laughed, to conceal his annoyance. It is exasperating and
humiliating too, to a handsome young soldier, who as such adores the
sex, to be bluntly informed that the loveliest girl whom he has ever
looked upon is hopelessly out of reach. And yet he could not deny that
his friend was right. The White Fawn of Nara might never be his, for
one so noble and so fair could command the most splendid of _partis_.
But was that any reason why he should not look at her? He was
heartwhole. No doubt of that. His soul was devoted to his sword; but,
as dashing young warriors have done time out of mind, he liked to
dally with maidens, and the prettier they were the better. Instead of
purchasing a blade and departing straightway, he all at once became
fastidious. This one was too light; that one ill-balanced.

Japan is the land of blades. From the tail of the Dragon was born the
sword which the Sun-goddess bestowed on the first Emperor. By the
sword of the clustering clouds, Yamato-Dake subdued the East. It was
quite fitting that our young general should be particular. Sanjo
produced in vain his rarest achievements. There was "Knee-cutter" and
"Beard-divider," unrivalled masterpieces, which Sanjo himself so loved
that he had always declined to part with them. But there was no
satisfying this capricious and arrogant youth. Sanjo would be good
enough to set himself to work and create an inspiration; and Sampei,
to whom time had all at once become no object, would remain at Nara
and superintend the progress of the miracle. And so it came about that
the blade, taking long to make, O'Tei (curious, after the fashion of
maidens) came pattering along the street, just to see if the young
warrior was gone. Oddly enough, he was still there; with face towards
the door too. This was well, if strange; for he was comely; extremely
civil, to boot; courteous, and vastly respectful; could troll rich
snatches of merry song, and tell diverting tales with dancing eye and
glittering teeth; while as for his smile, it did one good to bask
under it--so bright it was, so warm and genial, exuberant with
bubbling youth.

The brawny workers at the anvil vowed with grins and nudges that 'twas
charming to watch these two--she, the type of the patrician beauty of
her country--complexion of palest olive, nose aquiline, cheek bones a
trifle high, perfectly moulded chin and throat, eyes and hair a deep
black, the former raised the least little bit in the world at the
outer corners--as she lounged in a steely _kimono_ of finest crape
drawn up over one of scarlet. And he was in his way as bonny a
spectacle. Exceeding dark of skin; of low stature, as are most of the
Japanese, but admirably proportioned and muscular; his luxuriant sable
locks (shaven away in the centre, lest the eyes should be obscured in
battle), fastened in two tresses at the back, while a becoming blue
fillet bound his temples, knotted at the side in a bow.

I am afraid I must admit at once that Sampei, to whom I am very
partial, was a sad flirt. He invented appalling tales of death and
slaughter, for the pleasure of seeing the cheek of O'Tei grow whiter,
then set himself to woo the delicate sea-shell colour back with
well-timed jest; and was flattered and pleased to find that he could
learn to play upon her as on some fragile instrument. To the girl his
radiant advent was a strange and wondrous break in the sweet monotony
of years,--a revelation like the raising of some veil that masks the
infinite; and she marvelled vaguely whether the perfumed wood would
hold so rich a charm when _he_ was no longer there to rouse the echoes
with his laughter. Hand in hand they wandered--artless children--while
the soft-eyed deer peeped out at them approvingly. They visited her
favourite haunts; the open glade where the glorious lilies grew in
clusters--lemon-yellow, or white, brown centred; where the great
jewelled butterflies tumbled low along like junks under heavy sail;
where beds of scarlet blossoms like geraniums nestled in sheets on the
bank of a crystal stream--home of flights of glittering dragon-flies,
black and iron-blue, like the cohorts of the warlike Osaka. And then
the sharp _twee twee_ of the cicadas, answering or calling one another
out of the deep stillness of the canopy above, the boom of the hoarse
bees, the buzzing of gossamer wings, the click of the cricket, the hum
of the myriad tiny voices up in the dense green, which joining in
harmonious chorus form a silence--a haven of solitude and rest.

It was not possible to linger in the shadowed aisles whose pillars
were the giant cryptomerias, without feeling subdued and softened; and
a suspicion flitted more than once across the mind of the young
soldier that perchance the career of hurly-burly and the clash of
steel were a mistake, the contemplative life a better. What happier
method of getting through the cycle than to muse away the years, till
called to go, with gentle O'Tei, and the forest, and the animals? And
then, the sylvan influence and flash of the clear eyes removed, Sampei
would wake and shake himself in distress, and know that the ground was
dangerous. The contemplative life was good for girls and shaven
priests, and men who had succumbed in the battle. Youths with lives
spread out before like a trail of moonlight on the sea, must gird up
their loins and elbow their way through the medley. Too long already
had the young General dallied, wasting time. And yet, not wasting, for
he and she were to be friends for life--that was quite settled--dear
brother and loving sister, trusting each other without question,
certain, in moments of emergency, of the completest helpfulness and
sympathy. It was delicious to possess such a sister, a soft warm
sunspot on his harsh career; more she might never be, and he
recognised that this was well.

Her gentleness unnerved his arm, he was wont jestingly to say, for her
nature was woven of such frail glass threads that just as the rush of
the herd snapped the slender lily-stems, a rude puff of wind might
shatter it. Some day she would find a suitable husband, and her
adopted brother would love him for her sake; and then they would
recline in the long grass and fall a-talking of what the lucky mortal
would be like. To match with the perfection of O'Tei he must be a
perfect creature. Not a bluff soldier like Sampei. No, that would
never do, for like a tender plant must the dear maid be cherished. To
the end must the White Fawn be screened from din of war and rude
surroundings. Poor hearts! They were both so young and ignorant and
hopeful. They knew not how futile a pastime is the building of
air-palaces. They were unaware that Fate is a sad marplot, and that if
we plan a matter in a certain way, it will surely come out quite
otherwise.

The Shinto virgins were somewhat scandalised by the romantic
proceedings of the fair O'Tei and the too good-looking General. They
were disinclined to approve of him, for they knew he had said that,
with faces painted a dead white, eyebrows at top of foreheads, and
long flat hair well-oiled, they looked like the dolls of Asakusa. A
ribald military person was not expected to have taste, or to know
wherein lies true beauty, but he might show more respect for youthful
gorgons. O'Tei did little credit, they averred, with tart displeasure,
to her education. If she pined for male society, was not the temple
full of holy bonzes? The heiress of Nara showed lamentable signs of
incipient depravity. What business had she with Sanjo, the common
armourer? She who, wayward always and inconsistent, when taught like
every prospective chatelaine to wield a pike, had been wont to toss
down the silver-mounted weapon, with a pout, vowing that she hated
fighting.

Things could not go on as they were, for the situation was a false
one. Sanjo grew nervous. If the Daimio of Nara, who as Kuge or court
noble lived usually at Ki[^y]oto in attendance on the Emperor, were to
hear that his only child, instead of innocently floating through mazes
of _kagura_, was using his (Sanjo's) forge for flirting purposes with
an ineligible man who was the son of a concubine, there would be
trouble; and Sanjo was not unaware of the parable concerning iron pots
and earthen pipkins. All were relieved, therefore, except O'Tei, who
was hazy as to her own sentiments, when the news arrived that the
rebellion in Corea was to be quelled, and that Sampei was to command
the expedition.

When brother and sister parted, O'Tei clung round the neck of the
youth, and, weeping bitterly, shivered she knew not why. Lovingly he
kissed her brow, and disengaged himself from her embrace, and was more
than ever certain as he rode away that, perfect in a congenial sphere,
as wife of some grandee who would appreciate her gentle excellence,
his sweet and sensitive sister would make the worst of consoles for
one whose trade was war.




                             CHAPTER II.

                            THE LAST HOJO.


Being a cunning and artful reader, you have long since guessed that
the pattern maid whose benign influence was destined to reform the
brutish No-Kami, was no other than O'Tei, while the paragon Daimio was
Nara.

The Shinto virgins, as unjust and purblind as young gorgons may be
expected to prove, were quite wrong as to O'Tei, who was no flirt. She
did all credit to her rearing, for, when summoned to leave the
conventual seclusion of the forest and assume the garb and
responsibilities of her rank, she dutifully murmured, "Let my father's
will be done," and accepted the husband of his choice. She had never
been told--for the holy bonzes knew little about the subject--that in
many marriages there are but two cheerful days--the first and the
last--and marched straight upon her fate without a tremor.

The elder Hojo, though a crafty and long-headed statesman, made a sad
mistake while arranging the affairs of his son. The air palace he
built was complete and imposing, beautiful to the eye, but, as the
muscular and practical Tomoye had foreseen, its foundations were of
the weakest. He forgot that old Nara, as lord in waiting, was likely
to be deeply attached to the person as well as to the position of the
Mikado; that he, like the rest of the Kuges, would probably treasure
up the insults which were freely showered on his master, with a view
to future vengeance.

Thanks to the uncompromising tactics of the despot, the reigning
Mikado (there were three in exile) was a boy, a _roi faineant_, a
puppet; but he was hedged about with the intangible and mystic
attributes of the Mikadoate, and the buffets he received reverberated
along the line of Kuges into the hearts of the lower class. To possess
the person of the Emperor was doubtless pleasing to the possessor--a
trump card--but those who did not possess him felt his thraldom
bitterly. That his daughter should wed the heir of the all-powerful
Hojo was satisfactory and flattering to Nara. So long as the tyrant
lived against whom it was hopeless to struggle, he would mask his
game; but after his death, what then? He was expected to assume the
functions of chief adviser, and keep the successor straight--was, in
fact, to tighten the bonds about his master's limbs, for the behoof of
the execrated family.

This was whimsical--illogically planned--and Hojo a fool for his
pains, When he contemplated the folly of the man he hated in his
heart, the grim visage of the cautious Nara was puckered into
unaccustomed smiles. The advice he would give in the future--so the
wily lord decided--must depend on the attitude of his son-in-law, and
be guided by the course of events for the benefit of the imperial
prisoner. In his mind's eye (if Hojo could only have guessed it!) he
beheld with secret exultation the brutish No-Kami sinking lower and
lower by sure degrees into debauchery, until the moment should arrive
when the ruler would become the ruled. And then--and then! Well, time
must show what then. Sufficient for the day is its labour.

Just as a Nimrod of the chase may fly safely over tremendous obstacles
and be undone by a ditch at last, so was it with old Hojo. He sallied
forth one day to put down an insignificant riot in never tranquil
Satsuma, and received there his quietus. As already related, the
faithful Tomoye died with him, and No-Kami--juvenile, inexperienced,
and cruel--was called to reign in his stead. And now, no longer
restrained in the smallest degree by respect for a severe mother or
fear of a fiery father, the new despot, surrounded by parasites, gave
free rein to all his vices.

The unaccustomed period of peace came to an abrupt conclusion. The
young Mikado having been goaded one day to remonstrate with his new
jailor, the latter raised his fan and slapped the august cheek. The
Kuges flew to arms to avenge their outraged lord, but No-Kami, with
the aureole of his father's prestige still about him, was too much for
them. The nobles who dwelt in the palace bore but little of the stamp
of warriors. The astute Nara, whilst hating the young man, saw that
now, while the aureole remained unfaded, it was not yet the time to
strike. He assumed therefore, with much parade of zeal, the _role_ of
mediator between his master and his son-in-law. At first in vain.

An unorganised band of patriots took the field, who were speedily
routed and slain; and No-Kami, like the tyrant that he was,
ungenerously pursued his advantage. Thanks to Nara's intervention, he
refrained from deposing the Mikado; but he made up for this act of
clemency by committing outrageous deeds. Banishment and confiscation
were the order of the day. The estates of those who had dared to
unsheath the _katana_ were distributed among the minions of the
despot. All over Japan, those who loved their country heard with
groans of the annihilation of the loyalists, and the pitiful condition
of the Emperors. There was a puppet Mikado at Ki[^y]oto, and a nominal
Shogun at Kamakura, but they were both under the tutelage of Hojo.

No-Kami, as Nara hoped and expected, flushed with easy victory, and
drunk with blood, resigned himself for a while to luxury, and
neglected public business. A horde of rapacious bravos and licensed
bandits sucked the lifeblood and paralysed the energies of the people.
The weight of taxes, that ever crushes the spirit of the Asiatic
peasant, grew heavier, day by day, until existence became intolerable.
How was an end to be put to this nightmare? That was the question
which all were fearfully whispering, and to which there seemed no
solution.

No-Kami, if self-indulgent and ruthless, was no zany. He knew that his
position was to be maintained by fear and a strong hand, and that
enervation meant destruction. Bundles of bamboo, when bound together,
will dam a stream, though each separate stem is but a feeble wand. The
insurrection of effeminate Kuges had been precipitate and foolish. If
the whole country were to rise like one man, he would, as he was
aware, be swept like rice chaff into the sea. In the mutual jealousy
of the Daimios lay his chief safeguard. While plunging each in
separate discomfort, union at all costs must be prevented. Attempts at
conspiracy among the nobles, or at combinations among the lower
classes, must be frustrated, and to that end he gave strict orders to
officials and tax-collectors to allow of no public meetings. The
people were to pay what was demanded of them, humbly and dutifully, as
best they could, but on no account were to be permitted to hold
gatherings. Even the great festivals of the year were for a while to
be discontinued.

Over and above these precautions, the tyrant surrounded his person
with a picked body-guard of Samurai, or two-sword men; hedged his
fortress with bristling defences; and recalled his brother, the
brilliant Sampei, from his career of victory abroad.

Urged possibly by a spirit of contrariness, a contempt for the society
of his prisoner and the Kuges--perhaps by a sense of freedom from
personal danger there--the favourite abode of No-Kami was his castle
of Tsu, four days' journey from the capital, over precipitous hills.
Here he loved to dwell, surrounded by his brawling warriors;
sojourning from time to time, when business called him to Ki[^y]oto,
at a small but superb villa, called the Golden House, which stood
secluded in a park on the outskirts of the sacred city.

The castle of Tsu was one of the strongest in Japan (the outline of
its foundations still remains to attest to its vast area), and
covered, within the square space of the outer moat, sufficient ground
to accommodate an army. This outer moat, upon which many a shallop
floated, was wide and deep and sluggish on three sides, masked by a
luxuriant crop of lotos; while the fourth wall was washed by a
rapidly-running river, the Iwatagawa, which a couple of miles away
brawled into the sea. Out of the water rose a platform of great
stones, with a fringe of gnarled and rusty pines, through which were
visible battlements of earth crowned by a low parapet. At each corner
was a huge four-storied building, fitted with four wide roofs of
sculptured copper; the walls of whitewashed plaster within frameworks
of unpainted wood. Inside this outer defence was a recreation and
drill-ground of sufficient extent to allow of room for jousts and
spectators, as well as trees and vegetable gardens, and a village of
wooden huts for soldiery and camp followers. Dwellings of a better
class were clustered like seashells about the second or inner moat,
which enclosed a second wall.

Within the inner square was a space of considerable size, in the
centre of which uprose the castle, a four-sided tower three hundred
feet in height, tapering towards the top. By reason of its many roofs
or verandahs of burnished and sculptured bronze, it seemed more like a
cluster of many towers, the centre one the loftiest; and a picturesque
object it was, for owing to the prevalence of earthquakes, all the
walls above the foundation platform were of whitened mud and plaster,
enclosed like the corner buildings within frames of timber; while the
middle roof reared its head with overhanging eaves to a sharp point,
crowned on the apex by a great fish, fashioned of pure gold.

This fortress was, barring miracle or treachery, justly reputed
impregnable. Both moats were crossed by drawbridges, as an extra
caution against surprise. The outer entrance was approached round a
corner, so that the gate with its side postern was doubly commanded
from above. Even if the outer wall were stormed, the inner one frowned
on the intruder with manifold engines, while the ground about it could
be rendered untenable by missiles from the summit of the tower.

A bowshot from the outer moat, westward from the river bank, the town
of Tsu, with straggling suburbs, meandered, low and grey, like a long
serpent. All Japanese towns are of one colour, walls and roofs alike,
of wood unpainted and weatherworn, rendered a shade more silvery by
clusters of pale lichen; but Tsu was more monotonously gloomy in
aspect than most, by reason of damp and misery. The country close
around, with the exception of two low hills, was flat and sedgy,
broken by marshes and shallow rivulets. Away, hazy, melting into blue,
could be discerned the encircling peaks of the range, beyond which is
Ki[^y]oto. Grand mountains these, rugged and austere, with many a
beetling crag. Mikuni Yama; Outake San; and away to the south-east
Asama Yama, the majestic chief volcano of Japan.

The town of Tsu differed from others in that it displayed none of the
spick-and-span cleanliness for which the land of the Rising Sun is as
conspicuous as European Holland. The outlying cottages bore the stamp
of squalor and ague, standing in oozy sludge. So did the people bear
the brand of sorrow, as, listless and inert, they dragged their heavy
feet. As a poor show of enterprise, a few unripe persimmons, which no
one desired to buy, were exposed for sale in the mire; while here and
there a tray of sorrel-like leaves were placed to dry (?)--a plant
used for dying blue the cotton which is the common garment of the
peasant. There was none of the briskness and gaiety to be seen that
make rural Japan so cheery. None of the incessant chatter and laughter
and pattering of clogs, the rush-and-tumble of naked brown babies, the
whirr of the silk-looms, the busy hammer of the carpenters.

The houses, wide open to the street, displayed the usual raised
platform of wood, smoothly planed, covered with matting, with
_hibachi_ or firebox in the middle; but there was no brilliant glimpse
beyond of the wonderful toy gardens, with rocks and dwarfed trees and
straying tortoises and gaudy flowers and crickets in tiny cages, which
distinguish a prosperous village. The paper windows or screens being
always pushed back in their grooves during the day, a rustic Japanese
household of the lower class may be said to live in public; for, till
the screens are replaced, which they usually are at dusk, there may be
said to be no privacy. You have a free view of goodman or matron in
the bath, or at the toilet, or eating, or sleeping, or at work, and
unabashed--with innocence sometimes for only garment--they nod to you
pleasantly with a cheerful "Ohayo!" as you pass. Tsu was too degraded,
steeped to the lips in grinding poverty, to have energy for work or
washing, much less for the homely ornament of a single lily in a
pot. Almost entirely nude the men, unkempt and frowsy, lolled and
slept--such a marvellous variety of attitudes of sleep a sculptor
might find there--while the housewife, thin and sallow, naked to the
waist, fumbled feebly over the weaving of cheap hats, or grass sandals
for man and horse.

Of course the town could boast of a superior quarter, where, in front
of houses of a better kind, were flapping blue cotton awnings, each
one adorned with the dominant daimio's cognisance. Into one of these,
apparently the cleanest and the best, we will enter (first removing
our clogs and swords), for what is proceeding within should interest
us somewhat.

It is evening. The house-platform is raised on stilts as usual, two
feet above ground, and the first room or ante-chamber is open to the
street. When we rap with fan on the paper screen beyond, some one
cries "Enter," and sliding it aside we find ourselves in a large low
room, whose ceiling of unpolished cryptomeria is supported by pillars
of cherry. Above the dais or recess of honour at the end, a single
picture hangs, representing the thirty-three Kwannon; under it is a
gilt image of Buddha; while the monotony of the one wooden wall (the
others are formed by paper screens running in grooves) is broken by a
wandering spray of maple foliage, painted in autumn tints.

Everything is scrupulously clean and severely simple. You only become
aware that this is a superior dwelling, by remarking the fineness of
the mats. In the centre, round a large _hibachi_ of bronze, filled
with charcoal, a group are huddled close, for the all-pervading damp
is chilling to the bones. Two well-known elders of the town are
there--Zembei, and Rokubei his friend--the former talking volubly;
while a man of middle age, the master of the house, is listening with
dubious frown. His wife, Kennui, sits by, his hand in hers; while
apart in a corner, with eyes as bright as a squirrel's, and flushed
cheek, stands their eldest daughter Mine. Her mind--some call her a
forward damsel--is disturbed, for, impatient and annoyed, she pushes
aside a screen, and clatters off into the back garden, to tease with a
finger the darting gold-fish that with mosquitoes reign in a pond.

The frowning man is Koshiu, the most important farmer in these parts,
broad-shouldered, grave, and grizzled, whose opinions are of weight in
the province.

Zembei--aged, with face like a walnut--has brought unpleasant news;
indeed he has often dropped in of late, and each time his tidings are
less agreeable. It is the old story, gruesome and too familiar. The
rapacious Hojo needs more money--is always demanding more. But it is
quite too bad to worry the men of Tsu, his own home, the poorest
district in the Empire. Already the starving population have abandoned
hope. In a former life they must have been very wicked, to suffer so
much in this.

After a long pause of dejection, "Maybe my lord knows not of our
wretchedness," suggests the farmer's wife, by way of pouring oil upon
the waters.

"Peace, Kennui!" sighs her spouse. "As well throw stones at the sun,
or try to scatter a fog with a fan, as look for humanity from a Hojo!
They were ever merciless."

"Too true!" groans Rokubei, the elder. "Thus the matter stands; though
you have shown so little interest of late, that perchance I am wasting
breath."

"Ay, that hath he!" chimes in Zembei. "Why is it? You, Koshiu, whose
words were ever of moment, and treated with respect, although from
your stubborn pride you were never popular, instead of helping us,
have been hanging back, content with grumbling complaint. We must act
now, I tell you, and rend the air no more with idle moaning, or else
we perish all! Gird up your loins, man. Awake! For unless this torrent
of greed be stemmed, although less poor than most, you will soon be a
beggar like the rest."

"My husband," interrupted Kennui, "is misjudged. He loves the people,
and grieves for them, but perceives that resistance is useless--idle
remonstrance will but make their plight more pitiful."

"The beetle in combat with the bear!" laughed the farmer drearily.
"Act, forsooth! All this is idle prate, believe me. What can we do but
die?"

"No idle prate," retorted Zembei. "Listen. By deputation--of which you
would not form one--we humbly prayed and entreated the local
counsellors of my lord:--the leeches--to be more lenient; but they
replied that they were only tools, exactly performing his bidding.
Then, after anxious thought and discussion, gathering together in
secret the chiefs of a hundred villages, at peril of our heads, we
resolved to draw up and send a solemn petition, signed by all, to my
lord's golden dwelling at Ki[^y]oto, imploring justice. Twelve of the
most respected elders, chosen from the assembly by lot, undertook the
dangerous task. Clad in their grass rain-coats, they sallied forth,
and arrived in time at Ki[^y]oto."

"Idiots!" scoffed Koshiu. "Did they pay a long farewell to wives and
little ones?"

"Arrived at the Golden House, they were received at the gate with
blows and contumely."

"What else did they expect?" inquired the farmer--"to be feasted in
the room of honour? Other lords perhaps, dreading public exposure of
their misdeeds, might, if pushed, hasten to repair a wrong--the Hojos
never; for the Hojos have no shame."

Mine pouted, and rapped the pavement with impatient clog.

"To be sweeping is always to be unjust!" she cried shrilly, from the
border of the pond. "There are good as well as bad in every family."

"Hush, child, hush! Be dutiful!" reproved her mother. "Thou wast
bewitched by soft empty speeches and a bold bearing. It was a bad day
for thee when the lord Sampei came among us!"

"He is good and brave and generous," returned the girl, with burning
face, "my lord Sampei!"

Mine cooed out the name that was on every one's lips, with such an
exceeding abandonment of tenderness as startled her father into
attention.

"More words less sense!" he remarked testily. "My lord Sampei! what
hast thou to do with him or his? My lord Sampei forsooth! Wouldst be a
Hojo's concubine? Never! I'd see thee dead first."

"The maid speaks not untruly," nodded Rokubei. "Sampei is in all
things, save his name, unlike his brother. Through his mother Masago,
the holy Abbess, he has peasant blood in his veins."

"And she," chimed in the girl, "the late lord's concubine, although of
peasant stock, is worthy to be noble. As good as her son is the Abbess
Masago. Cold and severe, no doubt, but just and lovable."

"How the child prates!" cried Madam Koshiu. "The lord Sampei has been
absent these five years, skull-cracking, and is but just returned.
What canst thou know of him? When he sailed, thou wert a little maid,
and even than now more foolish."

"From his mother I have heard of him," admitted the blushing girl.

"So this was thy religious fervour, praying so often at the temple!"
exclaimed the angry farmer. "Take heed, thou silly wench, or I will
punish thee, and grievously. What! A cur can bark loudly before its
own gate, and I can defend my own. Once for all, no more of the lord
Sampei, or it will go ill with thee. Banish from thy feather-pate idle
worship of thy betters."

The mien of Koshiu was so stern and threatening, that though words of
indignant protest rose to her lips, the girl was silent.

"What if he were prevailed upon to intercede for us?" mused Rokubei.
"He is as generous as brave--no doubt of that. My lord, after his
brother's career of victory, could scarce refuse him a favour."

"Five years bring about great changes," growled the farmer. "Five
years ago Hojo No-Kami was no worse than others of his rank. You will
never persuade me that aught of good is to be found in a Hojo,
legitimate or otherwise. Enough of him. Go on with your story of the
elders."

"They were received, as I told you, at the outer gate with blows and
curses. Had they not fled, murder would have been done, for a posse of
samurai rushed out of the guardhouse, like devils, brandishing pikes.
Disconcerted, grieved, and bruised, they returned to their inn to
consult. Was the journey to go for nothing? Were they to return like
beaten dogs, without even seeing my lord? Peradventure face to face
with him something might yet be done, and his hard heart softened by
their dismal catalogue of woe. They plumed their ruffled feathers,
therefore, and lay in wait, and when he rode forth citywards, emerged
from a clump of trees, and kneeling humbly in the dust, presented
their petition. He took it, and, grinding his teeth with eyes aflame,
turned savagely to his attendants.

"'Remove these wretches!' he thundered, 'who by persistent insolence
have deserved more than death. By-and-by will I pass judgment on them.
Torment shall reward their temerity.'"

A silence of dismay followed the elder's narrative. Koshiu was surely
right--his deep hate justified. It seemed that the existing Hojo was
worse than any of his ancestors--and so young too! What a gloomy
future for unhappy fatherland! What a sunless roll of years!

"The land is ripe for revolt, if we could find a leader we could
trust," observed Zembei, who had been nursing his knees in silence.
"The other lords are weary of the Hojo, but unfortunately jealous of
each other. If they would bury for a time their private feuds, things
might yet come right. He who ventures not within the den, will never
take the cub."

"There is no trusty leader, except the victorious General, himself a
Hojo!" added the other elder. "Buddha has forgotten us. The case is
beyond mortal settling. There is left for us nothing but to die."

Here was a dismal and unsatisfactory conclusion to the debate, and it
seemed that there was no other, for each with dolorous visage eyed his
neighbour, with nothing more to say.

Mine, tossing off her _geta_ on the garden stones, and springing up
with pretty pink feet upon the matted floor, came forward.

"I am but a girl," she said timidly, "and, my father tells me,
foolish. Yet from mouths of fools sometimes come words of wisdom. You
can die, you say. Is not death the last resource, when all else has
failed, for escaping from earthly woe? Masago, the dear Abbess, is
worshipped for miles around. Prejudiced though you are, you have
nought to say but praise of her goodness and her piety. Sampei is her
son--nay, I will speak--and who should know a son better than his
mother? In your grief you are prone to believe evil, and speak harsh
and unjust words of him you know not. Seek him out, and implore his
intercession with his brother. Seek out the lady O'Tei--an angel come
to earth. She, the chatelaine, is now at the castle yonder. Entreat
her help as well, and sure betwixt the two that stony heart shall
melt."

Mine blushed like a tea-rose at finding herself thus boldly haranguing
a trio of grizzled pates, and flinging herself down by her mother's
side in sudden bashfulness, buried her hot face in her bosom.

"Buddha is not asleep," observed Madame Koshiu, with conviction, as
she stroked her daughter's head. "Verily the child speaks wisely words
that are put into her mouth."

"We will follow her counsel," assented the marvelling Zembei, "for the
gods--whose names be praised--are with us. Urged by his brother and
his wife, my lord will surely give us the lives of the devoted elders.
We--Rokubei and Zembei--will journey ourselves to Ki[^y]oto, and make
another effort. Learn, O stubborn Koshiu, a lesson from thy child, who
has given us the counsel that we needed."

The farmer shook his head.

"Cursed be the tree of Hojo, root and branch!" he cried. "Its fruit is
crime, its blossom, wickedness. My lord Sampei and my lord No-Kami are
scourges both! Go your ways, and do as you think fit. I tell you your
errand will be vain."

Was there ever any one so obstinate as this sturdy Koshiu?--a man who
could only rail instead of bestowing help. The two elders were about
to upbraid him for his mulishness, for they, like others, had naught
but admiration for Sampei, when, raising his hand, he said,--

"Listen, wife and friends. You deem me supine,--my judgment warped by
bias. In this you wrong me. I am ready to lay down my life, if need
be, for the common good, but not to fling it uselessly away. Try your
plan first: go to Ki[^y]oto, and fail; then it shall be my turn. The
arrogance of my lord reached its highest point when, some brief while
ago, he smote with his fan the face of the revered one. For that sin,
vengeance, if tardy, will be complete some day. The horror that flowed
over the land warned him of the danger of his folly, of which,
for safety's sake, he will never again be guilty. The Hojos are
merciless--you will gain nothing from them but stripes. Here is my
plan. I will gird my loins, and journey alone to the capital, and,
biding my time in secret, will, with Heaven's help, thrust a copy of
the petition into the hand of the Mikado himself, as in a litter he
takes the air. Then will he, grieving for us, demand a public
explanation from my lord as to why the poorest portion of the country
should be ground down with such heavy burthens. So will my lord, weary
with much admonishing, be stirred to lighten our backs."

The farmer's wife, hearkening to his decision, groaned and wept, for
she felt that the tyrant, even if he gave way under strong pressure,
would seek a victim for his wrath--that one the weakest. The elders
saw the situation in the same light. They did not strive, however, to
combat his resolve, for though their friend would probably be
sacrificed, themselves would be gainers by his deed. If he chose to
immolate himself, why not? They expressed approval, therefore, nodding
topknots in unison, and, rising, departed to their homes, gossiping in
whispers by the way.

What a relief to know that they had been deceived in Koshiu. 'Twas a
boldly-devised scheme that, whereby a peasant was to dare in person to
address the Holy One. Peradventure he would be cut down by the guards
ere he could present the paper. Well, well, time would show; and if,
in the people's cause, he perished, his name would go down with
blessings to posterity.

His decision was a relief, in other ways, as the two friends agreed,
pattering side by side in the quiet of the night. It was vastly heroic
on their part, considering what had already been undergone by the
other elders, to declare that they would cast themselves in the
breach. If my lord Sampei could be induced to interest himself, they
would be the bearers of his missive to his brother, and so gain credit
in the town for wondrous' devotion to the people's cause. Not that for
them there would be real danger (they had made up their minds of
that), for No-Kami, however ferocious, would surely refrain from
maltreating his brother's messengers. And yet now as they walked
along, it seemed wise to give up the risk. Caution becomes old men.
The independent Koshiu was resolved to make a journey on his own
account: clearly there was nothing to be gained by everybody going.
They would let him go, for obstinate men will have their way. All
things considered, themselves having gained credit by proposing to go,
would stop at home and do honour, by-and-by, to the escaped elders,
when released.

This much satisfactorily settled, they gabbled of other things. Only
to think of that little Mine being so clear-headed. Verily love works
wonders. A comely maid, if unduly ambitious, and warm, to boot, of
temper. How her blood mantled at her father's railing. How undaunted
was her defence of the young General. She must love him much to be
stung into bearding, for his sake, her sturdy parent. He must have won
her heart before he sailed, and had long since, no doubt, forgotten
her.

A silly wench to look so high. A great General might stoop to pluck a
flower as he passed, but, loosely caught, it would speedily fall from
his breast, and he unwitting of the loss. She certainly was pretty;
would develop some day, obstinate and headstrong like her father, into
a shrew. Yes, she was young and fair to look upon at present, and,
perhaps, were she so brazen as to cast herself at the young man's
feet, he might deign to raise her for a moment.

Chattering thus, the cronies parted, each trudging his own way by the
glimmer of his paper lantern. Could they have delved into the mind of
the farmer's daughter, and have seen what was passing there, they
would have had genuine cause for wonder.

Mine, as with frowning brow and dejected step she moved among the
stones in the garden, struck her palms impatiently together.

"I cannot bear it, and I will not!" she muttered. "Hard and unjust and
narrow is my father! Of these taunts there shall be an end. I gave my
heart to _him_ to trample on, and do not regret the gift. His I am or
no one's until death. Each day and hour to hear him and his reviled
and vilified, is constant torture. I will leave a home that is not to
be endured, and take refuge for the present with the Abbess."

Mine was a true daughter of Koshiu. Once her mind made up, there was
no further indecision. Wrapping a mantle around her, she moved on
tiptoe to where her three brothers slept, and then stealing forth into
the night, closed the shutters behind her.

"Adieu, my darlings, perchance for ever!" she murmured tenderly; "for
better or for worse the die is cast. He will soon visit the temple to
see the mother whom he loves. If he will have me, I am his, to do with
according to his pleasure; if not, I will remain to pray for him
within the temple, in the garb of Buddha's handmaid."




                             CHAPTER III.

                            MARRIED LIFE.


The meek obedience of O'Tei to her father's wishes was but ill
requited. The gulf between past and present was so wide that for a
while she was dazed and stunned. It seemed to her that she must have
passed in sleep through the gates of Death, and have been born again
into a new dark world--desolate and drear--which was all evil. How
calm and happy by contrast appeared that other life, as she recalled
to mind the company of prim priestesses slowly floating in the dance;
the lazy, sweet-tempered bonzes tinkling on bells, droning amiably
through noses--their weightiest duty, adoration of the sun with
foreheads in the dust; their loving labour, the cleaning of temple
precincts; their pastime, the gentle craft of gardening. Now she found
herself surrounded by a roistering crew of fierce, rough, ignorant
retainers--scowling, swearing, swaggering samurai--swash-bucklers who
were eternally cleaning and polishing their two swords and dirk, or
practising some horribly nimble feat of arms, or with set teeth in
sudden rage like red-eyed rats flying at one another's throats.

Nuptial pomp and ceremony over, bride and groom retired to their
castle, where, with the laudable intent of making other magnates
jealous, a series of sham fights and sumptuous jousts were
inaugurated, whose unaccustomed din confused the brain of the
chatelaine. For a space No-Kami appeared in his best light, for he was
subjugated by the beauty of his young wife, and unconsciously a little
afraid of her quiet high-bred demeanour. Bravely she strove to
interest herself in his pursuits; with unflagging patience watched the
retainers wrestling or riding at the ring; compelled herself to bestow
applause on bouts at quarter-staff which wearied her. And yet,
discipline herself as she would, the constant thud of stick on skull,
or blade on helm--the guttural shrieks and execrations--chilled her to
the marrow. There could be no sympathy 'twixt the sensitive and poetic
nature reared in the sacred groves, and these grim and savage
warriors. And, sharp to read faces, if ignorant of letters, they knew
it as well as she, for her virtues were strange riddles beyond their
comprehension. What they could be sure of was that their lady was
regrettably white and slender,--too soft and delicate for a hard world
of struggle, where the weak were deservedly mangled. Sorrowfully they
compared her with the late chatelaine, unhappily deceased, the lioness
Tomoye, much (as is the usual practice) to the disadvantage of the
living one. There is nothing that such men hold in more withering
contempt than weakness. The chivalry of mediaeval Europe was mostly
theory. Discontented, they did their liege lady a pathetic and
grudging service, ashamed of her as unsuited to her station.

One day as she sat listless, wondering at the emptiness of life,
No-Kami strode into her bower to claim admiration for a new and
wondrous sword, fresh from Sanjo's anvil. In his nervous grasp it
whizzed through the air with diabolic whistling sound, as he showed
exultantly how he meant to slash off the head with it of the Daimio of
Bizen, and other abominable rivals.

Now although O'Tei, in careless girlish fashion, had been rather fond
of watching the armourers at work (the more perhaps because of the
disapproval of sniffing gorgons), she had never clearly associated the
results of their skill with their true purpose. She had always been
bidden to observe the spring of the glittering blade, the clouded
lines so deftly worked into the steel; the patterned _kogai_ or
stilettoes fitted in the scabbard; the elaborately ornate _tsuba_ or
hilt-guard; and saw as she admired details beautiful works of art fit
to adorn a dwelling. But now when she beheld her husband making fierce
passes, with a blood-curdling expression of ferocity upon his face,
she became aware, for the first time, of his animal greed for blood,
and shuddered as she looked, turning a shade more pale. To this wild
beast she had been tied for life. What sort of existence could she
hope for in the future? Would it be possible to go on to the end
pretending to sympathise with that which in her heart she loathed?
Power, unless kept in leash by thongs and bridles, degenerates into a
tyranny that, feeding on itself, grows every day more infamous. She
had learnt by report that her lord was a tyrant, and disliked by many,
though as yet she knew no details.

She had been taught vaguely by the learned bonzes that the human
animal is by nature a beast of prey, blood-raw till cooked by
education. The man before her was as ignorant, and more lawless than
his own retainers. Was it her task to show him the right path?--to
wean him to better things by gentle influence? A noble mission, for
one who was strong of purpose, firm of will. The girl resolved that
she would try, but felt, with a sinking of the heart, that the task
was beyond her strength. No-Kami discerned upon her features a look of
pained bewilderment out of tune with the occasion, and bluntly growled
his discontent. He was surprised and angry. When a chatelaine is
called on to sympathise and exult with her lord, why does she show
disgust? It came suddenly upon him that there was a barrier between
them which, though intangible, neither might ever pass. A pretty
helpmeet for a Hojo was this degenerate child of Nara's! Strolling
through the well-appointed armoury, displeased and concerned, he
selected the light silver-mounted lance which his grandam had used to
splendid purpose when, in the absence of her spouse, she defended this
very castle. More doughty even than the much-regretted Tomoye had been
this grandam, and no wonder, for, of noblest lineage, was she not the
direct descendant of that famous Empress Jingo, who, leaving her
new-born babe in the charge of her ministers, sallied forth armed
_cap-a-pie_ to conquer Corea?

"Did O'Tei know even how to hold a lance?" sneered No-Kami.

Of course she did, she replied, with a forced smile. Was not every
noble damsel taught how to defend her home?

At the outset she had made a mistake by showing her thoughts upon her
features, an error that might be yet retrieved. To smooth the
disappointed furrows from his wrinkled brow, she took the lance from
him, and straightway went through the exercise. For a moment it
pleased his vanity to watch the graceful movements of her tall lithe
form as, gathering in one hand the ample folds of her long robe, she
ran forward, thrust, and recovered. And then, happening to glance at
the tell-tale countenance, he cursed and ground his teeth, for her
martial exercise was a sham.

Her thoughts were far away. Like a patient automaton wound up with a
spring, she half consciously did what was required, but clearly found
no pleasure in the act. With a great oath he roughly wrenched the
weapon from her, and bade her go mind her distaff.

She sighed, and, obeying with aggravating meekness, retired to her
chamber; and from this moment there grew up between the wedded
pair a thicket which waxed stronger each day and thicker. The
parasites--braggart samurai, turbulent officers and soldiers, and
truculent hangers-on--were quick to perceive a change with which they
sympathised, and prompt to act upon it. Boisterous, rude, ill-mannered
at the best, they saw that, like themselves, their lord was ashamed
of his handsome and cold but fragile wife, and by insensible
gradations--he unwitting of it--their perfunctory respect dropped from
them. No-Kami was heard one day, in unguarded whirl of wrath, due to
baulked hope and disappointment, to dub her "Puling baby-face," and
loud was the laughter at the _sobriquet_, for one and all they
unconsciously chafed under a refinement of which they had no
experience, and came to hate her for her gentleness.

And so it came about that, abandoning as hopeless at the initial stage
the mission for which (by the late statesman's cunning) she had been
destined, O'Tei withdrew from serious attempts at influencing the
despot, and made the first fatal downward step on her dark and stony
road.

Entrenching herself behind a screen of pride, she withdrew herself
from contact with the samurai, by whom she was treated with a surly
carelessness that was insult but half concealed. When etiquette
required it, she appeared in public beside No-Kami, whose attitude was
sulky and displeased; at other times she abode in her own bower
overlooking the swift river, a retreat where she could not hear the
yells and sword-thuds, embroidering among her maidens, or reading
poetry, or playing on the three-stringed samisen. Though secluded, it
was by her own choice, and she in no sense a prisoner. No-Kami, when
in amiable mood--which, as time went on, became a more and more
unusual circumstance--displayed for his wife an uncouth, sulky,
snarling respect, like that of a wolf under a whip; for instinct
whispered that he was totally unworthy,--that as she came to read
him better she would despise him more,--that already she saw with
those calm clear eyes his many faults and mental smallness, though too
well-mannered and too haughty to admit it. A rude and proud as well as
licentious and undisciplined man finds contempt from her who should be
his congenial helpmeet a constantly galling spur.

If O'Tei, descending from that lofty pedestal, would only have abused
him roundly,--have bandied sharp words,--have stooped to scold him, he
would have breathed more freely. The air would have been cleared of
its oppressiveness, for he would have known himself nearer to her
level. How exasperating was it to the self-indulgent and unscrupulous
tyrant to have this pale and silent and superior woman always at his
elbow dispassionately contemplating his peccadilloes with disapproval
peeping from her eyes. The worst of it was that he knew her to be
right in her estimate of him, and secretly admired his chill and
independent wife. Yet at the same time her presence was irksome, and
goaded her spouse to flashes of rage which drove him, as it were in
protest, to deeds of violence. It was the old story, which is ever
new, of the 'little rift;' of two young lives starting side by side
from standpoints far as the poles, with mutual misunderstanding and
distrust, that increase like a rolling snowball till they grow into
active detestation.

The Hojo neglected and avoided his consort, but was not wilfully
cruel. If he chanced to have it by him, he would, when asked, give her
money for charities; for, like many another misunderstood lady, she
sought a salve for lacerated feelings in good works. It would have
been most impolitic to have been patently unkind to her, because it
was not well to make a foe of Nara by openly ill-using his heiress. He
wist not of the conduct of the samurai, who took their cue from him;
but he certainly saw as little as he conveniently could of his
beautiful better half, spending considerable time at Ki[^y]oto
quarrelling with other daimios, browbeating his imperial lord.

For her part, reared in retirement, and a stranger to town gaieties,
she preferred the castle--when No-Kami was absent with his scowling
retinue. Then, her own mistress, she would order her kago,--a heavy
gorgeous litter, gold lacquered and emblazoned, adorned with rich
curtains, and cushions, and tassels, borne on the shoulders of twelve
staggering men--and penetrating, when the fancy seized her, along the
centipede street of Tsu, make for a garden beyond, to which she had
taken a liking. Reaching the favoured spot was the difficulty, for it
was necessary to pass along two miles and more of straggling street
and suburb, where poverty, if speechless, was rampant. To her pale
face, though, it always showed its less hideous side, for the poor of
Tsu (how many there were of them!) soon learned to adore their
chatelaine.

She could not with her feeble force even attempt to stem the tide of
suffering due to my lord's oppression; but the crushed creatures knew
right well that behind the marble mask was a deep fund of pity--that
their lady would sometimes go dinnerless herself for the sake of
starving children. When she passed by, the toilworn women would look
up, and show their blackened teeth in a wan smile; and the brown
naked children, with their comical shaved pates and elf-locks--their
bat-ears, wide mouths and eyes _a fleur de tete_ like slits--would
come trooping and crowing about her. She was always interested in the
details of their poor homes,--ready with soothing words, and such
money as she happened to possess; would converse with the old men as
they wove sandals, the two straw loops caught on their great toes;
criticise the painting of the ph[oe]nixes on the umbrellas of oil
paper, an industry in vogue in these parts; exhort the languishing men
to renewed courage and hope; and all the while her revolted soul died
within her at contemplation of the wretched huts of mud and bamboo,
some of them mere mats stretched on sticks, and stiffened with wire,
with rotten crumbling roofs of decayed rice thatch, and mud floors
that were never dry. Her heart bled for the patient, suffering people,
and she was glad to get away to her garden, where the sun shone forth
with halcyon brightness, and nature at least was happy. For Tsu, I
would have you know, is not all ugliness. Passing out of the low-lying
oozy suburb, you reach a wooden bridge over one of the numberless
streams that intersect the marsh, and a little further on come to
rising ground, well wooded with the luxuriant vegetation which in
Japan is the lavish gift of the rain-god. At the top of the hill,
under the lee of a group of ancient pines, much tossed and
wind-beaten, is a summer-house. From the road it is not visible, so
deeply is it embowered in cherry and maple, each so glorious and
lovely in its season, the which are closely tangled and entwined with
such cataracts of purple wisteria as no western mind can realise. This
hill or hillock, and another one hard by, stand alone on a wide plain,
and from them may be gained a singularly varied view of flat marsh,
and sedge, and vivid green rice fields, and scattered villages, and
far-off hazy mountains. In front--and this was the view that brought
back peace into the empty breast of the young chatelaine, the ground
shelved gradually, thick strewn with flowers, until--a semicircle of
yellow sand--it was washed by the softly-rippling waves of a blue bay,
land-locked. Here nature, casting her golden glamour over all, masked
the prevailing squalor. No typhoon ever vexed these enchanted waters,
that washed to and fro in slow cadence the clumps of bamboo with which
their edge was feathered. The tiny toy villages on the opposite brink
were mirrored in long shadow. The festooned sails of the little
fishing-boats, and trim white junks, were pictured in quivering double
four times their height. The mountains beyond, of a deep reddish
purple, without detail in the haze, were topped with strange
silhouettes of single pines, clear against opal ether, or sharp cut
against the blue with chasm and precipice. Many rocky islets were
dotted here and there--volcanic, peaked, flat-topped--each with its
long reflection, fringed with feathery foliage, hanging apparently to
nothing--around, a flight of boats, like sea-birds floating. Sitting
for hours gazing down on the fairy scene, her stalwart naked
kago-bearers asleep like statues of warm bronze away in the shade,
O'Tei could forget her disillusions; but then with setting sun the
shadow darkened, for the time was arrived when she must go home again,
and with a return to the panoply of war, and swagger of the sentinels,
peace and light faded out, and her heart was as sick as ever.
Sometimes, more sad than usual, she would make to the sister hill a
pilgrimage.

The gateway or torii at the bottom (one heavy beam curled at the
corners, resting on two others) and the long straight flight of stone
steps leading to a building with huge top-heavy roof, nestling in a
grove of cryptomerias, showed that this was a holy hill surmounted by
a temple. A very important temple too, with an immense gilt Buddha
looming out of twilight on a bronze lotus, in an attitude of perpetual
repose; gardens; fish-ponds, crowded with lotus plants; and a long low
building glinting through the trees, wherein dwelt an abbess and her
nuns.

What would happen to the Japanese if the lotus were banished from
their midst? In winter, a mere yellow whisp languishing in mud; in
early summer there rises a fairy thing from out the ooze--a concave
shield of vivid green, with a blue down as of a grape, and dewdrops
glistening like diamonds. Then a round ball appears, which slowly
opens, trembling upon the water, and gradually reveals the loveliest
flower that blows. To the Japanese child who strives to pluck its
white or roseate blossom, it is a picture of unearthly loveliness; to
the adult it is the symbol of religious truth, the emblem of the
eternal calm which is the highest ultimate reward. Taught from
earliest childhood to love its beauty, the mature Buddhist sees in its
petals creative power and world growth, and knows that when his mortal
body approaches the cremation house, his weary cycle done, a stone
carved to represent a lotus flower will support his bier and receive
the last ashes of his fleshly prison-house.

During her three years of married life, O'Tei had made, under shadow
of these groves, a firm and steady friend, without whose support she
thought sometimes that she must lie down and die--the cold but kindly
Abbess Masago.

As has been told, the second wife or concubine of the late Hojo, so
soon as her fickle lord grew weary of her, shaved off her hair and
donned the Buddhist habit. Monastic life in Japan is a strange
anomaly. Many an abbess or abbot, supposed to have retired from the
world, bestows from the seclusion of the grove mundane advice and
counsel. Some, indeed, gain weight and influence of an important
political kind with the loss of their shaven hair; and so it was with
Masago. As Abbess of Tsu, many of the weary or unstable of lofty
lineage came to crave counsel of her--lords and dames who would have
scoffed at the concubine of Hojo. The religious establishments of
Japan become asylums for the afflicted or the persecuted. In
them the defeated soldier or refugee from the vendetta finds
inviolate sanctuary. Many a man hopelessly crossed in love, or a
grief-stricken father, or fallen minister, has--mundane illusions
vanished--devoted himself to a priestly life. To the nunneries,
widowhood furnishes the greater number of fervent nuns; but a
necessity of evading an uncongenial match, or the brutal lusts of rude
men in unsettled times, gave many an inmate to the convents.

Often enough, after communing with Masago under the solemn
cryptomerias, O'Tei had gone home comforted. There was something
consoling and supporting in the low-toned strong voice of the Abbess,
in the touch of her firm white hand. Her face was more set and stern
than Sampei's, but his kindly eyes looked out from under the shaven
brows, and O'Tei could feel almost as if her dear adopted brother was
walking hand-in-hand with her as in the good old days. Ah, me, how far
away they seemed, those days of five years ago! The gleeful white fawn
was a hundred years older, at least, than then, stricken and
grievously wounded. Her breast was empty; nobody cared whether she was
alive or dead; she loved none, had none to love, and yet there was a
longing within that was positive physical pain, to twine her
affectionate tendrils around something, and exhale to it the treasures
of her sweetness.

Alack, what a cycle is this; what a hard and rugged stage in the long
journey! What are we to think, when injustice rules paramount?--when
we see in this life how many are punished for their virtues, as a
set-off to the peculiar manner in which others are rewarded for their
vices?

On a certain morning, which must now occupy us, our stately lily was
lying disconsolate. Acutely suffering, and much perturbed in mind,
power of judging and weighing all agog, O'Tei crouched on the mat of
her favourite summer-house, watching the swaying waves, yet seeing
nothing; on her finely-chiselled features a grey pallor.

As a rule, the misery through which her bearers carried her was chary
of complaint, for the poor folk had room in their sorrowing hearts for
pity for their solitary lady; but on this morning she had come on such
a scene of anguish that she stopped her kago and alighted. The
housewife was tearing her dishevelled hair, and wringing hands, and
writhing her tortured body, while a young family stood grouped around
in varied attitudes of woe. What could this mean? The house was of the
better kind; there was rice in the brazen pot; unless she was
mistaken, it was the dwelling of one of the elders.

Yes. It was the dwelling of an elder--was--who never would dwell there
more--was dead now, probably. He had dared to go to Ki[^y]oto, and
make one of a set of insolent varlets who had presumed to waylay their
lord, despite of warnings, and, with brow in dust, present a written
prayer. His lord had resented the impertinence, had incarcerated him
and his audacious fellows, with a view to making an example of such
wretches by an end of exquisite torment. For him it was not so bad,
for he would shuffle out of yet another life--one more of that dreary
series so many of which have yet to be endured before we reach
Nirvana. But what of his wife and family without the breadwinner? Like
a faithful spouse, she had borne many children; how now was she to
fill their mouths? Would the dear and noble lady vouchsafe to lend a
hand, and implore her husband's clemency?

O'Tei turned deathly pale, and, catching her breath painfully, leant
against the screen. She would indeed have fallen, if one of the
kago-bearers had not presumed to catch and hold her in his arms. Her
lord! How long was it ago that she had disdainfully given up all hope
of influencing him? She was weak and wrong. It was a crime--she saw it
now--but too late--too late! That separating thicket had grown so
dense, that there was no hewing a passage through it. If the harrowed
wife of the victim was suffering, how much more the sensitive young
chatelaine, whose nerves were so highly strung! The man, if he
perished, was a martyr in the cause of right. Each new delinquency of
the Hojo was a fresh hammer-stroke on his wife's heart.

Out of his sight, O'Tei strove to forget his wickedness, the full
measure of which she had learned to guess by this time. On her
frequent visits to the temple she prayed with sweat of agony for his
reformation, for the repentance of him who, alas! was bone of her bone
for life. She was his--part and parcel of himself--and yet she saw,
with a sickening horror and sense of self-upbraiding, that he grew
worse and worse--more cruel and more reckless,--while she, with folded
hands, looked on. In a vague, terror-stricken way she wondered what
grisly phantom lurked behind the veil, what vengeance would fall from
heaven. And might not this moral descent be in some sort her own
doing, in that, while interference might have been of service, she had
been too hurt and proud to attempt to stay his course? If he had no
conscience, she had enough for both. Oh, for a dose of Tomoye's
spirit,--of the unbending pluck of the militant grandam concerning
whom the samurai were always trolling ditties.

But no!--the warriors were right--she unfitted for her station. Her
burthen--the sooner the better--might crush and kill her. She quailed
at the thought of ever seeing again the tyrant in whom there were no
bowels of compassion, and who seemed to take delight in augmenting the
calamities of his fellows.

Herself as grey as a corpse, she bent down and kissed the writhing
woman, and without a word (how could she console her?), with parched
lips and catching breath, swung away to her garden on the mountain.
What was she to do? What could she do? If, by giving over her own
tender body to the pincers of the torturers, she could assuage the
growing trouble of the people, how gladly would she bare her breast.
But no--she was condemned to sit and watch, with idle hands and dread
forebodings, a horror-stricken spectator of her husband's deepening
sin, and the lingering anguish of his victims.

What was she to do? What could she do? If madness might be wooed, it
would bring oblivion and relief. Who would have thought that a
delicate and tender girl, so little used to suffering, could bear such
pain and live? As she lay upon the mat, she revolved that unanswerable
question which worries a good many of us. What could she have done in
a previous phase of existence to make the present one so exceedingly
painful? To lie thus in dumb pain was intolerable: action of some kind
was imperative. She would go to the temple and pray, and ask the
advice of Masago.

Turning towards the other hill, she was astonished to see on the
top of the long flight of steps a man--by his dress apparently a
noble--who slowly descended, and mounting a horse, trotted in the
direction of the summer-house. Her heart gave a great bound, then
seemed to stand still. Could it be? Yes! it was Sampei--returned home
at last--and he was coming here!

Yes, it was the victorious Sampei, who, having duly visited his
mother, was coming to see his sister. For she was really his sister
now; and he had heard from the Abbess an account of the condition of
things, which, though guarded, pleased him little. When far away, he
had received the news of the marriage, he had been amazed, and
laughed; annoyed somewhat, he scarcely knew why. To think that the
destined husband should be his own brother! And then he had felt grave
doubts as to the success of the union; and then, light and
_debonnaire_, and occupied with much cheerful splitting of skulls, he
had put the subject from him. He was no marrying man--not he. His
sword was his true love; to others he had not the smallest intention
of being true. To cull the most fragrant flowers while the sun was
shining--as many and as various as possible--and get others when they
were faded, was his soldierly but scarcely moral code of ethics. And
yet, while gaily slaughtering the Coreans, he had time now and then to
hope that all was right at home, and that his white fawn was happy;
and it was gruesome now on his return to discover that she was
wretched instead of happy,--his half-suspected previsions justified.

He flung his bridle to his betto, and striding with the firm and
springy step of buoyant youth through the plantation of cherries and
maples, stood still to take in the scene. And a pretty picture it was
that his vision lighted on. An awning of fine blue linen, broidered
with deer, in memory of beloved Nara, cast a shadow upon the mats of
the summer-house, which were further shaded by a natural cascade of
wisteria. Around the raised platform were tall camellias in full blow,
scarlet and white; and within, the carved but unvarnished woodwork
showed its grain like the pattern on watered silk. A low gilt screen,
painted with chrysanthemums, divided the floor in two, in the front
part of which was a firebox in finest bronze, representing a dragon
coiled round a blossom of the lotus. A long flat _koto_, with thirteen
strings, encrusted with gold and ebony, stood close by; and on the
yellow matting, half raised expectantly, reclined the young mistress
of the hermitage. The eyes of Sampei moistened with unaccustomed
tears, and a knot rose in his throat as he contemplated his old ally.
She was matured--fairer than of yore, paler and thinner, and more
delicately beautiful; but there was that about her that seemed too
ethereal, stamped with predestined misfortune. He seemed to be aware
of a something, reflected in light from the glow of another world. The
roundness of youth was gone. The arch wayward tricks of irresponsible
maidenhood had given place to a reserved and haughty dignity that was
unnaturally still. The eyes were unduly large, and, surrounded with
bistre circles, glistened with feverish lustre. Sampei's affectionate
gaze could mark all this, though the winsome face was brightened now
with the radiance of a glad surprise.

Sampei, bluff and careless though he generally was, could not but
trace with sinking of the heart the line of precocious sorrow ploughed
large and deep upon it. The coils of massive hair appeared heavier and
more sombre by contrast with the ivory whiteness of the skin, slightly
relieved as they were by a bunch of fresh red blossoms, which the
loving hand of a tirewoman had tucked under the comb.

In accordance with the exigencies of her rank, she wore four
under-robes of silk, the edges of which, in stripes of varied colour,
showed at throat and open sleeves, while the ample folds of the heavy
and voluminous outer robe, broidered in a design of fans, were held
together by a magnificent obi--pale brown, bedizened with black
butterflies.

Never had Sampei, whom a wide experience had made an expert in such
matters, looked on a more complete embodiment of patrician womanhood.
Strange! He, so well versed in female charms, so used to the spectacle
of beauty in all ranks and phases, felt his heart throb in quite
unaccustomed fashion, and yearn unaccountably towards his sister.




                             CHAPTER IV.

                       THE ABBESS GIVES ADVICE.


With a great sob O'Tei sprang up, and, clinging closely to Sampei,
burst into tears, while he, embarrassed and somewhat shy, stood
waiting. Why this display of trouble so deep that it racked her frame?
Had his mother concealed aught? She had not led him to suppose that it
was as bad as this. Could No-Kami, careless of the treasure he
possessed, have done her some grievous wrong? At the thought, the
young General's dark face grew darker, and as a flood of wrath surged
over him, he looked a genuine Hojo. And with it came a sense of
something new and astonishing, which was to himself a riddle. Careless
and light of heart, accustomed to look at things from their best
point, and to delve no lower than was needful, he never dreamed of his
old playfellow in her new sphere as wan and wasted and miserable, and
with the feeling of indignation against his brother there was mixed a
whimsical regretful longing. Had he not been wrong, when he might have
taken the maid himself, to leave her for another?

Worldly-wise Sanjo had warned him that so dainty a dish was not for a
soldier of fortune, and he had seen the prudence of the warning. But
cold prudence is a mistake sometimes, as who should know better than a
soldier? He felt sure that if, when playfully talking in the sylvan
glades, he had led her to a pool, and, showing her the two faces
reflected there, had pictured himself as the future lucky one, his
playfellow would have returned his hand-clasp, and submitted to a
lover's embrace. And when a maiden and a youth are of one mind, and
the latter is energetic and determined, nine chances are in his
favour, despite opposition of parents. It was diffidence that had
undone him, and her. Although a rough soldier, he would, at home, have
softened his roughness for her sweet sake, and if careful striving
could have done it, have made her life a pleasant one. And now, fool
that he had been, it was too late! Some such surprising thoughts as
these--dark regretful visions of possibilities vanished--flitted
across the mind of the young man as, her breast against his in
perilous proximity, he kissed her perfumed hair. Scales seem to fall
from his eyes as he questioned his own heart. In his brief career he
had adored many a damsel, and had sworn to each to worship none but
her; but with O'Tei it was quite different. With thought of her was
mingled a respect he had never felt for other women. Once his very
own, he could and would have been true to her,--have made it the joy
of life to give her every pleasure, to watch and guard and shelter her
from the blustering winds of the world--and it was too late! She was
the wife of his own brother,--of him to whom, independent of natural
affection, he owed allegiance as head of his clan. To her also then he
in some sort owed faithful service. Yes, and he would be true and
loyal. He swore it now, silently but fervently, as she lay upon his
bosom. She had never known that he loved her otherwise than as a
brother should. He would be her own true knight, with the privilege of
bestowing all succour and comfort and counsel. Of the three, alas! she
now stood in bitter need.

On his return from his arduous campaign of five years, he had been
received with acclamation by the people, to whom glorious feats of
arms were as the odour of the lily in the nostrils. They had knocked
their foreheads in the dust, had pursued him with shouts in the
streets, nearly tearing his garments from off his back; in their
enthusiasm had well nigh forgotten that he came of the blood of Hojo;
but the sweets of well-earned popularity were no little embittered by
the proceedings of the head of his house. The tales he heard on his
arrival filled him with shame and horror, and his honest soul was sore
perplexed, torn as it was between the traditional blind obedience to
the head of the clan, and indignant disapproval of his acts. He could
not turn against his brother. Death would be better that disloyalty,
and yet it was very terrible by silence to seem to acquiesce in his
misdeeds. When fitting opportunity offered, he would remonstrate
with No-Kami,--point out to him that his course must end in civil
war,--that in his next life he would of a surety be a bear or pig, as
a just and dire retribution for recklessly plunging his country in
blood. It was his duty to remonstrate, and he would do so gently but
firmly, come what might. Not that much good would come of it. He knew
No-Kami to be as headstrong as he was fierce. There would be high
words, and possible estrangement. Estrangement! no, for the sake of
this girl, that must be avoided at all hazards. He must cultivate
diplomacy--he, the simple Sampei. If it was only the pounding of an
enemy, something bluff and straightforward, he would be in his
element. But to smile when inclined to curse, to be compelled to bite
your lip and swallow down the burning words of just anger, to Sampei
would be very difficult. He must try though. His poor sweet sister.
Her sobs were due on this occasion, happily, to joy and relief at his
return, in that she, the lonely and forlorn, had a trusty champion by
her side. Instinct told him this.

For her sake, then, he must not break with his brother, for, forbidden
access to his sister-in-law, he would be of no service in extremity.
In extremity! What prophetic foreboding was it that whispered to him
of something terrible behind, wherein she would need all the help that
his strong arm could give her? Ah! if he had spoken when he might, how
different it would all have been. Too late--that chapter was closed.
He was to be her knight--vigilant and true. With a deep sigh, he
raised her tear-stained face, and kissed her lips, then put her
gently from him.

Side by side, and hand in hand, as in the old days, they reclined
upon the mat, and the frown deepened on his brow as she told her
story,--the uncomely story of selfishness, and greed, and cruelty, and
wrong, waxing with impunity daily worse, till even sleepy Buddha must
needs wake soon, and be impelled to hurl his thunderbolts. She told of
the starving multitudes, to whom the son of the horse-leech cried
"Give"; of the petition, and his brutal treatment of the elders. "If
only I could serve as sacrifice," she said, in conclusion, with a
fresh burst of tears, "how gladly would I lay down my life. But my
lord and I are strangers. I dwell here, and he at Ki[^y]oto. Does not
that tell its tale? The wind might as well preach to him as I. At
first he liked me a little, but that soon passed. Of late his
presence--knowing of what he is capable--has filled me with a nameless
terror, for I seem to detect something in his eye that suggests a
brain distracted. He is blood-drunk; his very laugh conceals a sword.
And yet 'tis an awful thing for me, his wife, to sit by, attempting
nothing."

No doubt the chatelaine ought to do something--what? Like Philippa, at
Calais, she should wring, by pleading, from her lord, the lives of the
condemned. Yet if the pair were so estranged, would she not be laying
herself open uselessly to some insult, some rebuff? She admitted that
she was growing afraid of her husband. That was bad. The situation was
too many-sided for the soldier's unpolished wits. He pondered, and
held his peace, and looked up with a sense of relief when, a shadow
darkening the light, he beheld his mother, Masago.

The ascetic Abbess gazed proudly and fondly on her son, but with a
tinge of concern. She had followed him from the temple, seeing that he
turned his horse towards the summer-house; for she loved O'Tei, and
was aware of the early passages which had passed between girl and boy.
Sampei had such a free way of making love to every woman, that she,
elderly and sensible, saw keenly the danger to both, if the neglected
wife and pitying brother-in-law were thrown too much together. Side by
side, hand clasped in hand, exchanging confidences. An ominous
beginning. It was well that she had come, for these young people must
be protected against themselves.

While O'Tei, with a ghostly revival of coquetry, was arranging her
tumbled hair by aid of a silver mirror, the Abbess drew her son aside,
pleading urgent and important business.

"My boy," she said, as, out of earshot, the two paced slowly in the
shade, "you are as brave and true as even I could desire, and
gratefully I thank the gods for it; but you are guileless; your arm is
stronger than your head, and your blood is overwarm."

Perceiving a ludicrous expression of bewilderment on the honest face
of her son at this mysterious preamble, she gently smiled, and shook
her head at him.

"The best friend a man has," she observed, "is his mother; for a
mother's love, undervalued often, is tinged with no selfish taint.
Child, child," she sighed, placing a fond hand on his broad shoulder,
"take warning while there's time. Do not think me blind, or foolishly
importunate. You love O'Tei, and, for sake of both, had better keep
apart. Think what tragedy might follow if your brother had cause for
jealousy."

Love O'Tei! Was it so patent, then?--he the last to know it? The
General in silence walked up and down, while his mother gazed upon him
wistfully. There was a deep sadness on his face that pained her.
Perhaps in speaking out so plainly, she had been precipitate. Yet no;
she had never been one to beat about a bush. Her stern creed admitted
no half measures. Presently Sampei spoke.

"For once, most dear and wise of mothers, you are wrong," he said. "I
love her; yes, I will not deny it--how much I did not know until ten
minutes since. My love is so true and pure, that to save her a
momentary grief I would fling myself off yonder rock. Be not afraid;
no harm shall come to her through me."

"Noble and chivalrous in intent, just like my boy," nodded the sapient
Abbess. "Maybe you are strong enough to carry out your resolve
unflinchingly; but what of her? What if she, less prudent and more
weak, were to bestow her heart on you? It would lead to general
wretchedness, if not to her undoing."

Sampei had not considered it from that point, and ruefully rubbed his
nose. It would no doubt be very awkward if O'Tei were to become
enamoured of him. In that case, heroic leaps off rocks would be of
little service. Then he burst into a loud shout of laughter.

"How like a mother!" he crowed. "Her own offspring being, of course,
perfect--a full-plumaged ph[oe]nix--all must needs fall down and
worship. Believe me, she is as pure as the dawn; her affection that of
a sister."

"Now, perhaps, and I sincerely hope so," replied the Abbess quietly;
"but you have no right to place her in temptation. So you deem me a
silly old woman, too partial to her featherpated son? Well, then, I am
forced to tell you, as a warning, that which I intended to conceal, to
show that you are over-modest. I trow there are maids galore who wear
the willow in secret for the most brilliant soldier in Japan. There is
one luckless girl I wot of, who has flung her foolish heart at
you--who weeps and languishes for love of you--swears she will have no
other lord. Fie! She is a good and honest girl, who would never have
thus bestowed herself without encouragement."

"Bestowed herself on _me?_" exclaimed Sampei, round-eyed, and feeling
guilty.

"Her name is Mine."

"Mine!" ejaculated the careless scapegrace. "Tush! I know no Mine."

"For shame! Oh, light and fickle, it is as I guessed," returned the
Abbess, with a head-shake that would have been solemn but for a sly
flash of merriment in the usually stern eyes. "I have no excuse for
the maid, since 'tis vastly reprehensible to throw your heart at one
who does not want it; and yet, when her only child is so extremely
fascinating, a mother must be indulgent." Sampei appearing quite
mystified, Masago pursued more gravely,--"You used to single the poor
thing out, bad boy, she says, at the rustic festivals here five years
ago, and give her fans and hairpins. Unfortunate Mine! You turned her
head, and have forgotten even her name. Do you remember Koshiu, the
farmer?"

Mine, Koshiu's daughter. Dear me! a pretty little thing, with a temper
that it was such sport to play upon. Of course Sampei remembered now,
for indeed the too independent Koshiu, dreading some such misfortune
as had come to pass, had testily turned upon the dallying swain, which
had mightily offended his lordship.

And for hopeless love of him this silly soul had been sighing all
these years, with nothing to feed on but a few idle compliments.
Sampei felt a twinge of conscience, was angry with himself, for
perhaps he had been too ardent. Then he felt annoyed with the
too-confiding maiden too easily won. A few common-place attentions,
that was all, out of mere idleness. A pretty pass if all the young
women whom one ogles were to insist on claiming one for life. What a
pother about nothing. It is extremely immodest and indecent of maidens
to give themselves away unasked.

And then his thoughts reverted to that other lady, sitting yonder
before the mirror, and a pang of distress swept over his features as
he dreamed again of what might have been; the which perceiving the
Abbess whispered,--"Be of good cheer, my son. By divine grace it will
be for the best. My prayers added to hers, the maiden's mind will
recover calm, and through the black passage of this hopeless love be
led from earth to heaven. As a daughter of the people who has bestowed
herself on you, I will cherish her. Already she has sought refuge
under our roof, and ere long will become one of us for life."

He then, the light and jovial, was to be responsible for making of the
poor maid a nun.

Sobered and saddened, and made uncomfortable internally by all he had
seen and heard since his return, Sampei led his mother back towards
the summer-house, where the young chatelaine was beginning to marvel
at the length of their private colloquy. In this retreat, where she
expected no visitors, O'Tei dispensed with the service of her ladies,
for it was a relief to think out her dreary thoughts with none to read
them on her countenance. Now, with a new sprightliness to which she
had been long a stranger, she busied herself with hospitable cares.
Placing on the firebox a daintily-wrought kettle of fine bronze, she
produced from a gold-lacquered cabinet three fairy cups of the
eggshell white porcelain of Hirado, placed a pinch of tea in each, and
waiting for the water to boil, made ready to play the hostess.

It was with a tightening about the heart that Sampei watched her long
fingers arranging sweetmeats on a tray, pouring water on the leaves,
which straightway expanded, and turned the liquid of a pale straw
colour. Had he not been so diffident and addlepated while there was
time, she would not now have been so thin and wan; those teacups might
have been his teacups, and--well, well. He was till death her own true
knight, demanding nothing in exchange for his unselfish devotion. To
his heart he would repeat this o'er and o'er again till it was used to
it. What might have been was not to be. There was nothing now to be
gained by brooding or railing against his own stupidity.

Over their refection the trio returned to the all-engrossing
topic,--what was to be done for the poor suffering people?--how was
the despot to be softened, and the imprisoned elders saved? Sampei
related that the news of his coming must have preceded him, for no
sooner had he clattered over the long wooden bridge which gives access
to the main street of Tsu, than two ancient men had stopped him, and
craved an immediate audience. Unlike my lord No-Kami, he had drawn
rein at once, and listened; and the ancient men, with profuse
grovellings, had implored my lord Sampei to use his personal influence
for the rescue of the incarcerated headmen. It was indeed a heinous
deed of insolence, they admitted with groans, to have sinned to the
extent of imploring to be lightened of their burthens, but death of
any kind was preferable to such a life as they endured at present.
They reverently allowed that torments were deserved, but humbly
implored mercy and consideration, for the sake of wives and children
Sampei had been much shocked, for, to his generous nature, grovelling
humility was offensive; and did not know what to do. He, as well as
O'Tei, was resolved that something must be done for the sake of
humanity, as well as to rescue from execration the unpopular name of
Hojo. Perhaps the Abbess, the wise counsellor, would be good enough to
settle what.

Now if Masago had a weakness (I am not prepared to say she had not),
it was an appreciation of her position as chief adviser to every one.
She therefore drank another cup of tea, then clearing her throat,
began,--

"My counsel is this. My lord Hojo No-Kami must be brought to yield.
Probably he will not be sorry of an excuse to do so, considering that
after such an act of clemency as the remitting of torment, the elders,
cowed and abashed, will be too frightened to say more about the taxes;
whereas, if the men suffer, there will be further outcry, and the tax
question will come yet more prominently forward, producing lamentable
results. Hence my lord will probably, as I say, be glad of an excuse
to send the people back, if they promise to be more amenable in
future. It would be well if he owed his way out of the difficulty to
his wife, for it would soften his animosity against her, and would
cause the people to venerate her even more than they do already. My
son, Sampei, could not be more popular than he is--praise be to the
gods--but it would be pleasing to his mother if he were joined in the
work of mercy. I therefore propose that the Lady O'Tei forthwith do
indite upon a roll a personal request to her husband, craving as a
boon the lives of the condemned, and tying it in a box of
tortoiseshell, do consign it to her brother-in-law, that he may ride
with all speed to Ki[^y]oto, and, delivering the box, do add his own
entreaties to his sister's--so may we be sure to gain our end, and
avert a serious danger."

So succinct an oration, brief, and to the point, and patly delivered,
deserved another cup of tea, and while she sipped it leisurely, Masago
improved the occasion.

"My dear," she said, "I saw you shudder. This will never do. It is the
greatest of mistakes to let such a man as Mylord No-Kami know that you
are afraid of him. I noted in his childhood how he always treated more
scurvily the hirelings who cringed."

"I never cringed!" exclaimed O'Tei proudly.

"No; but if I mistake not, you have let him perceive fear, under a
veil of contempt. Should he realise this, he will follow up the
advantage, and all will indeed be lost. You should have coped with him
at first, my lily. It would have been better for both, believe me."

O'Tei twined her fingers together in distress. Had not the small voice
within her whispered this long since. She did fear him, and dislike
him, and despise him. Cope with him forsooth! How could she do it now?
How could she ever have summoned sufficient moral courage? No; having
retired into her shell of pride, she would stop there to the end, but
in this matter of the elders she might bestir herself. Drawing forth a
roll of paper, O'Tei and Sampei, with heads closer together than
Masago approved, proceeded to concoct a warily-worded epistle.

Masago was truly an extremely clever old dame, for with her one stone
she slew a variety of birds. O'Tei would be the happier in that she
had been induced to intercede. She would gain points in the affections
of the people, and so would the beloved Sampei. The latter, as bearer
of the missive, would be removed forthwith from perilous association
with his sister-in-law; he would also be removed from the temptation
to reconnoitre Mine, who, the Abbess firmly resolved, was to shave her
head immediately. This, being obstinate like her father, she would,
doubtless, decline to do if the too warm-blooded warrior were to see
and fancy her afresh.

The combination was artful from all points of view, and did credit to
the adviser of every one. The elders would return unharmed, and, after
a severe lesson, would be more dutiful. The storm would blow over, and
all might repose in peace.

Alack! Masago knew nothing of the resolve of Koshiu. Had she known
that he proposed to call, if necessary, for the individual
intervention of the sublime Mikado himself, her eyes would have
goggled in her head at his audacity, and her counsel might have been
of a different order.




                              CHAPTER V.

                     THE FARMER GIRDS HIS LOINS.


The journey from Tsu to Ki[^y]oto may be made by one in haste, mounted
on a strong horse, in two days, but in a land where trade is carried
on in perfunctory fashion, time is and ever was a cheap commodity. In
a shop the traders squat smoking on the mat, grin, prostrate
themselves with head-knockings on your entrance, offer a cup of tea
and a pipe, and consider that all has been done that may in fairness
be required of them. In need of goods, you must search yourself, pull
things from shelves, till you do or do not find the object you
require. As with trade so is it to this day with travel. An
energetic foreigner, by a liberal showering of yens, may induce his
kuruma-runners to cover thirty miles per diem; but the Japanese of all
ranks prefer to journey quietly, jogging along in kagos, at the
favourite and decorous pace of the familiar snail. Indeed the higher
the social status of the traveller, the slower will be his progress,
for impedimenta are symbols of dignity.

Our magnificent young General, although on horseback, was surrounded
and followed by a rabble, who for the most part were on foot. There
was the inevitable bodyguard of swaggering samurai, who, with hair
shorn from temples, and swords in red lacquer scabbards ostentatiously
displayed, cultivated a scowling expression of perpetual defiance,
incarnation of haughtiness, fanatical patriotism, and contempt of
everybody but themselves. Then there were cotton-coated and
straw-sandalled baggage-men by scores in charge of strings of
packhorses; a group of sutlers; and, swaying in rear of the
procession, an unwieldy but gaily-bedizened kago, for my lord to
recline in when fatigued.

There being no professional fun toward, neither master nor men were in
a hurry. To come upon a roadside tea-house, with its bevy of laughing
waitresses, meant the performance of a variety of operations:
tea-sipping, smoking, drowsy lounging, jesting, active dallying, and
then unlimited sleep.

At first the method of progression was of the slowest, for the marshy
plain was cut by various rivers, which had to be crossed in barges;
then came a stretch of paddy, or rice fields; a green sea of slush
bisected by a narrow gangway of stones, along which two men were
unable to trudge abreast. Then, the foot of the hills being reached,
there was a long and weariful ascent of rock and sliding stones--a
climb over precipice and crag by a way that could scarce be called a
path--and a descent on the other side as difficult. This feat
accomplished, it was, of course, necessary to bathe, and worship in an
adjoining temple, and rest and sleep again, and so it took more than a
week for the cavalcade to reach the capital.

At approach of the noisy procession the mountaineer cottagers peeped
out of their secluded dwellings, but perceiving the company of
samurai, speedily put up their paper shutters, and made believe to be
not at home. For the two-sword man was apt to ape the vices of his
betters, and leave behind a trail of ruin such as marks the passage of
the locust.

Sampei was too busy with his own thoughts--which were gloomy enough,
in sooth--to take heed of those he passed; and even if he had done so,
would probably have failed to recognise an elderly pedestrian, who
glared with hate from under beetle-brows, at the young noble riding
by. Having forgotten even the name of the luckless Mine, it was not
likely that he would quickly recognise her father, clad now in dusty
pilgrim garb of white, and wide mushroom hat of rice straw. For
Koshiu, true to his resolve, was also going to Ki[^y]oto to watch
events, and fulfil, if need were, his self-imposed and dangerous
mission. Like all fervent worshippers of Buddha, the sturdy farmer had
no fear of death; like other natives of Japan, he was eminently
superstitious. Among the Asiatic poor, where ceaseless drudgery,
and hunger never fully satisfied, are the common lot; where the
tax-gatherer and the avaricious noble are the representatives of
government; where earthquake and typhoon cause the forces of nature to
be feared as malignant influences; life is not so pleasant as to cause
the earthly wayfarer to long for its continuance.

The announcement of the Christian dogma that "the gift of God is
eternal life," would rather pain than delight a Japanese, for to him
life in any form is to be dreaded--not because death is at the end of
it, but because another birth and death must follow (possibly more
painful still)--then other births and deaths--links in a long and
weary chain, before attaining the ultimate haven. The moral pang that
may possibly attend decease, consists in the parting from those whom
he holds dear, and will, save under miraculous circumstances, never
see again; for the Christian hope of meeting in a better world finds
place but rarely in the Buddhist's mind. The chief deity, if slow and
somniferous was just, and would (Koshiu argued) surely protect the
family of him who was sacrificed for the common weal. There is a
temple even now at Ki[^y]oto, standing on a dizzy height, whose
terrace is protected by a strong pallisade, for, unless prevented, it
is the practice of the faithful to crave a boon of the god, then fling
themselves over the precipice, in the firm belief that--if the boon is
to be granted--the deity will hold them scathless. It is strange that
the number of bodies shattered on the stones below should not have
shaken their faith either in the goodness or the power of the god.
Having made up his mind that, if need were, he, the humble peasant,
would invoke the sacred and mysterious Mikado's aid, Koshiu passed a
night in prayer, then washed and dressed himself in the attire common
to high and low who are engaged on a holy mission, and took a tender
farewell of his family. There was his dear wife, Kennui; his three
boys, Gennosuke, Sokei, and Kibachi, ranging in years from thirteen to
seven. Mine was unaccountably absent, but she was always a froward and
unruly maid, wild and disobedient. On this solemn occasion, however,
her father left for her a tender message of farewell, and amid the
tears and outcries of those who feared that they never again might
look on him, tore himself away.

This was on the day before Sampei's arrival,--on the morning which
followed the consultation in the farmer's dwelling. The elders, filled
with admiration for the single-minded heroism of the man whom they had
deemed slow and selfish, went with him, marshalled by Rokubei and
Zembei, to the entrance of the town, and with many blessings and
prayers, wished the traveller success.

Urged on to speed by an engrossing object, he caught up, and, strong
and stout of limb, passed the straggling array of Sampei, arriving in
the capital two days before him. The imprisoned envoys were still in
durance, he learned from one of those who had escaped, and lurked in
hiding. My lord No-Kami--orders having in heat been issued for seizure
and incarceration--had apparently forgotten their existence. The
threatened vengeance of torment had not been wreaked, and yet their
position was no pleasing one, for my lord's soldiers--the peasants
and the military class were never friendly--amused themselves with
the poor wretches, as cats play with mice--haling them out for
diversion--depriving them of drink--pretending to offer sake, and when
they held out eager hands for it, playfully pricking them with dirks.
At the relation, the blood of Koshiu boiled within him.

These men--honoured and revered at home--who had done naught save
humbly to implore redress of grievances, were being murdered
piecemeal. It mattered not that my lord had never ordered it. His
lawless myrmidons took from him their cue, satisfied that they would
not be punished. If the poor things must die, the more speedily the
better; but Koshiu swore, with oaths that terrified his listeners,
that their deaths should be avenged. Alack! Koshiu must be mad. He
prated as if himself a daimio, or a least a samurai or hatamoto! A
mosquito on a wall might as well shake a paw, and vow to avenge the
slaughter of his fellows! And then at the boldness of his speech they
shivered, considering whether it would not be more prudent to withdraw
from the society of so rash a person, and sneak back to their
crumbling homes. Of a certainty it would, for with even the Mikado
himself, the revered and mystical, the insect presumed to find fault.
Next he would be falling foul of Buddha, who, putting out a finger,
would crush him--and them along with him--the blasphemer; and what
then would be their fate in the next cycle? In horror and dread they
wrung their hands, and banged their apologetic foreheads on the floor,
and, drawing forth beads, told them with feverish rapidity.

These were the words that entered their astounded ears. "For
generations stretching back into the shadow of time," the over-bold
farmer said, "has our master dwelt behind a screen, looked on by no
eyes but those of the kuges and his attendants. Nothing outside the
screen penetrates to him save through the mouths of these. Being a
mortal, if a highly-privileged one, he cannot see all, like Buddha,
himself unseen. We are his, and we revere him, but he knows naught of
us, and can know naught, secluded and fenced about, and thereby
neglects his duty--for even he has duties; and if, which is unhappily
true, the latter-day Mikados have been evilly entreated and dethroned
and sent into banishment, 'tis by reason of this sin, and the vile
Hojos have been but instruments of retribution in the hand of an
offended deity."

What subversive doctrines were these uttered by a presuming pigmy? The
horror-stricken elders glanced furtively one at the other with the
same thought. Instead of a possible saviour, this man was a firebrand
who would involve others in his well-merited ruin. Perchance it would
be well to betray him at once to my lord No-Kami, and thereby earn
their pardon? Koshiu read their thoughts, and sighed, wishing them no
evil. The views of the sturdy farmer were beyond them. As well talk to
the trees--better, for the leaves would not shake with terror, and
consider the expediency of treachery. He resolved to shut up his
opinions therefore within his own bosom, and calmly discussed, without
further blasphemy, what the next move should be.

As there was no possibility of, for the present at least, making any
move at all, they were still idly chattering when, a few days later,
they were startled by the appearance of the very envoys whose rescue
was under discussion. They were thin, and gnarled, and haggard, and
wrinkled--but then a Japanese peasant over the age of twenty is never
a pretty object--yet in health seemed well enough. The tale of the
sake and dirks must have been the invention of the foe. And yet to
Koshiu these village elders looked suspiciously meek and lowly, more
so than the humblest peasant should; indeed their bearing was not
unlike that of a mongrel dog, that still smarts under severe
correction. At first it was impossible to get anything out of them but
fawning praise of the Hojo, uttered in trembling accents, in which
fear battled with incoherence. Hojo was excellent and merciful. Had he
not deigned to forgive their unpardonable sin, and set them free
unhurt? Let them live under their own hats and be content, he had
declared. If there were any noble individuals more admirable than the
gracious lord No-Kami--and that was scarcely possible--those two were
their liege lady and the General Sampei; for 'twas through the
intervention of these that my lord had condescended to remember the
existence of his humblest tenants, who might otherwise have been still
in duress.

With lowering brow Koshiu looked upon his fellows, for these cringing,
spirit-broken villagers belonged to the same class as he. Were they
worth saving, at the risk of his own life? And then a vision of the
misery at Tsu, the growing suffering of all down-trodden Japan, rose
upon his vision. No-Kami, thanks to the pleading of his wife and
brother, had been pleased, after outrage and ignominy, to release the
men who had committed no crime. But what of their petition? The
petition? Let it go hang! The well-whipped hounds preferred that the
subject should be dropped. How ill-timed was any mention of the
petition. It had brought nothing but trouble--the less said about it
the better. All they desired was to depart with speed. The sportive
samurai might swoop again. Baring their arms, the envoys showed their
wounds. The story of the sake was true, then. Little wonder if the
starved wretches had had enough of the facetious horseplay of the
soldiers.

Koshiu paced the mat with folded arms. Yes, they were right, and had
better go and save their wizened carcases. Here they were of no
service, only butts for scoffers. My lady O'Tei all knew to be an
angel; but that the newly-arrived General should interest himself in
peasants, was curious; and then the thought flashed suddenly on the
indignant father that the absence of Mine from her home had coincided
with the arrival of Sampei. Her tender pronunciation of his name, and
constant championship, recurred to his memory, and he shrank as from
strokes of the bamboo. As profligate as all the Hojos, he had, of
course, signalled his return by the seduction of an innocent and
too-trusting maiden, who, by-and-by, he would fling away. Perhaps from
out that curtained kago on the road his erring daughter may have
peeped at him. If it were so, never, never would he forgive his child.
Had he not warned her of his undying hatred of Hojos, of all connected
with bloodthirsty brutal tyrants? With difficulty controlling his
emotions, while his comrades more than ever deemed him dangerously
insane, he told them they were right. Since they could serve no
further purpose, they had better go back to Tsu, and speedily. For his
own part, he would remain, and bide his time, and, when opportunity
offered, present the petition to the Emperor.

And so, after a sad and parting feast, the band of elders returned to
their place, and Koshiu dwelt alone, brooding over his wrongs, over
the oppression of his class, and the ruin of his daughter, while his
family bewailed at home. His impression was that the Mikado's
supineness rose not from weakness but from indifference, out of which
he might be roused. One day arrived a pedlar with news from Tsu, and a
melancholy message from his wife, the faithful Kennui, which
completely satisfied his mind that his suspicions were but too well
founded. Mine had never again sought the legitimate shelter of her
parents' roof, but was dwelling, if report spoke truly, with the
mother of Sampei. Even she, then, the peasant-born, suffered under the
taint which enveloped that hated race. The Abbess, who pretended to be
pious, could stoop to shield his daughter's infamy, and give shelter
to the mistress of her son. Poor soul, had she not been herself a
concubine, and debased by pernicious surroundings? Ah, but the
position of second wife--acknowledged concubine--was different from
that of his own degraded daughter. No fixed position was hers, of
course, or ever would be, since she had been so misguided as to throw
herself into her lover's arms. And when he was weary of her? It would
not bear thinking of, for Koshiu in his way was proud as any noble.
Sampei and his mother were as bad as the rest, worthy to wear the
cognisance of Hojo. The longer the farmer brooded, the harder grew his
heart, the more bitter his resentment, and he hailed with fierce joy
the news, at last, that the Mikado was to visit Nara.

It was a solemn ceremony the pilgrimage of the Emperor to the Sacred
Groves of Nara, one which, although the distance was short, he was
expected to perform but once or twice during his career. Unlike lesser
magnates, who were content with kagos--litters, more or less
sumptuous, borne on men's shoulders--the Mikado travelled in a
ponderous carriage on huge cumbrous wheels, its roof thatched with the
long grey straws of a peculiar grass, its wood-work elaborately
lacquered with the imperial crest, its windows closely curtained with
the finest matting, which flapped with many tassels. The progress of
so unwieldy a machine over a primitive road was slow. In front went a
bodyguard on foot, followed by soldiers on horseback; then came the
weighty kagos of the kuges in attendance, brave with banners and
devices; then the Mikado's swaying uneasy carriage, drawn by eight
horses in broidered housings; then more heavy litters and more
soldiers, and a long straggling tail like that of a kite, composed of
servants and rabble. It took many hours to penetrate through the
tortuous and squalid suburbs of the capital, consisting for the most
part of the shops of pawnbrokers and vendors of cheap toys and idols,
jutting at will into the road, the procession stopped from time to
time by hosts of the faithful on their faces.

Once free of buildings, the imperial _cortege_ advanced by a wide way
straight as an arrow across a plain devoted to the cultivation of tea,
and by nightfall reached Uji. Here there was a villa overhanging with
wide, wooden balconies a rushing stream--the Uji-Kawa, which rises in
lake Biwa--spanned by a semicircular bridge formed of an intricate
network of heavy timbers, for in winter this river swells into a
torrent, sweeping all that is weak before it. This villa was for the
special use of the sovereign, as might be guessed, from its lack of
adornment. So high is the Mikado, that, in a general way, he is above
the employment of ornament. His villas and summer-houses (unlike those
of his brother of China) are as conspicuous for simplicity as his
dress. Everything is of the very best that skill can produce, the
woodwork of the very finest which the hand of man can command, the
mats trimmed with a red and white braid forbidden to other men. His
eyes look upon no pictures or porcelains or bronzes, for to one who
communes at will with deities or spirits, and may peep even sometimes
into Nirvana, such trivialities are, of course, superfluous. In the
Imperial Palace of Ki[^y]oto it is different, for there he deigns to
associate in a degree with mere common nobles and wives, to whom
austere simplicity would be depressing if not soul-withering. In this
villa, the Emperor, by time-honoured custom, was to pass the night,
his _cortege_ camping around for the protection of the sacred person.

Now Koshiu, whose object in life was the presenting of a memorial
which should lead to the abrogation of imposts, and the holding up of
the Hojos to deserved obloquy, knew right well that there was no
reaching the imperial ear, either in Ki[^y]oto or on the road to Uji,
by reason of a throng of guards. During the next day's route over the
mountains, on the other side of which was Nara, the cumbrous carriage
would be prevented from toppling over by myriad hands pressed on
either wheel, but the brilliant idea had occurred to the farmer that
in crossing the timber bridge, whose width was just sufficient for the
passage of the vehicle, there would be none to defend either of the
curtained windows, the guards of necessity passing on in front or
dropping behind until the stream was crossed, and that here lay his
only chance. In the night therefore, after prayers and ablutions, he
took advantage of the darkness to swim into mid-stream unnoticed, and
being washed against one of the pillars, to make good his footing, and
climbing on the bridge, to secrete himself under a convenient shadow.
Then with his knife he pruned a long bamboo, split it at the top, and
inserting the memorial therein, awaited day.

The journey was yet long to Nara, and over the mountains fraught with
possible disaster, so all were early astir. With wildly-beating heart
and throbbing temples Koshiu heard the clatter of horses overhead, the
rhythmed step of infantry, and then the thunder of the great wheels
grinding under their heavy load. Now or never. Calculating his time to
a nicety, the farmer nimbly climbed upon the parapet, and before the
astonished guards could stop him, lifted a corner of the mat, and
inserting his bamboo, cried in a loud voice,--

"Take, O great Mikado! Fountain of Honour, this the petition of your
humblest slave. Have pity on your people, O sovereign lord, ground
down by the wicked Hojo!"

The driver of the horses, aghast, stopped open-mouthed; the cavalcade
stood still; the guards, with a yell, dashed clambering forward, to
fling into the stream this audacious one, riddled with sword-thrusts;
but the old Daimio of Nara, who, disdaining a kago, rode close behind,
spurred quickly through the men, and, raising both hands, bade them
refrain. He had caught the words "wicked Hojo," saw that what might
have been a spear was already withdrawn, and was no more than a cleft
stick, and guessed the purport of the attempt.

"'Tis a petition," Nara cried. "Our imperial lord already holds the
man's paper in his sacred hand. It is for him, and not for us, to
decide upon his fate."

Clutched by a dozen fists, Koshiu remained poised and stifled on the
parapet, and presently a low voice issued from the shadow.

"I will read the petition on my return from the sacred groves. Keep
the man close and safe. See that no harm comes to him."

The Daimio of Nara, with a cunning smile lurking about his lips, gave
orders that the pilgrim should be safely conducted to his own private
apartment in the palace, and then the ponderous procession moved on
again, and crawled up the mountain.




                             CHAPTER VI.

                          THE YOUNG MIKADO.


Tomoye, the brawny but practical, proved herself more clear-sighted
than the statesman-warrior her husband. Hojo, the elder, certainly
made the most serious blunder of his life when he arranged that
marriage for his heir. A gulf 'twixt a husband and a wife cannot but
widen daily, and the part of the latter, right or wrong, is sure to be
espoused by her father. The admirable combinations that were to result
from an alliance of the houses of Hojo and Nara were conspicuous by
absence. As time went on, the haughty No-Kami, averse at all times to
advice, showed to his wife's parent his most aggressive side, lest he
should presume to lecture.

Although the Daimio of Nara had seen but little of his child, he had
received from time to time such affectionate reports concerning the
maiden, from the priests and priestesses who had supervised her
education, that he was fully conscious of her worth. Between the two
lords there was a show of courtesy, which masked on the one side
jealousy of interference, on the other, hate. The father of O'Tei,
although he pretended to perceive nothing, resented bitterly the
scornful neglect with which she was treated by her spouse. During the
rare visits of the young chatelaine to the capital, he could see how
sad she was, and worn and listless, instead of vivacious and gay, as
became her years; and in his heart, antipathy for the despot,
implanted by cruelty to the Mikado, increased a hundredfold. He was
too wary to quarrel yet with Hojo, but whenever he vouchsafed advice
(as he did now and then, for the sake, as he said, of the departed),
it was of a kind which rendered No-Kami more execrated still, more
unpopular with the people he oppressed. The return of Sampei, and the
demeanour of that warrior, produced fresh combinations in the subtle
brain of Nara. It was plain that he was shocked by the excesses of his
brother. He came of ambitious stock, and the long bloody tale of the
history of Japan is full of the rivalry of brothers. What if he could
be cajoled or goaded to take arms against him? The unruly army which
he had brought back from Corea, accustomed to plunder and lawless
licence, would have to be employed somehow, for idleness begets
mischief. So long as Mikado and Daimios remained quiescent, the
swash-bucklers could not be used against them, and, unemployed they
would soon be a source of trouble. What if, by waiting, the enemies of
the Hojo could succeed in turning against him the very troops he had
summoned for his defence; and what if, by crafty man[oe]uvring, the
disgust of Sampei could be raised to such a pitch as to induce him to
resume their command?

As the general who had led them from victory to victory, his soldiers
adored Sampei. In time, they might probably be made useful as a
scourge for Hojo, without their commander, by prospect of pillaging
castles, but if he whom they idolised were to summon them forth in the
direction of their inclinations, there was no doubt they would follow
in a mass. While his master was telling his beads before the great
bronze idol in the Nara temple, the thoughts of the lord of the soil
were engaged elsewhere, and he resolved on the first opportunity to
sound Sampei, and to arrange his plans accordingly.

It was a fortnight after the incident on the bridge of Uji that the
imperial _cortege_ wound down the mountain, and returned to the palace
in the capital. What a dreary spot this same palace, more like a
prison than a free residence, well suited to the ghastly life of blank
monotony led by its miserable occupant.

The chief abode of the Mikado occupies a vast space of ground in
the centre of the city of Ki[^y]oto, surrounded by a high white
wall, devoid of windows. Passing through a postern in a huge and
highly-decorated gate, crowned by an immense tiled roof, you find
yourself in a labyrinth, where you would speedily be lost without a
guide, for long low buildings meander in and out, and meet at angles,
one exactly like another, forming a series of little courtyards,
adorned with prim grey bushes. The walls of these are of one pattern,
formed of white plaster in timber settings, with heavy roofs and
eaves. None of the buildings boast of more than a single storey, which
is elevated on posts, a yard above the ground; this by reason of
earthquakes, and unclean insects, which have no respect for Emperors.
The long outer passages are protected from the weather by verandahs,
because persons below a certain rank may not venture to breathe under
the same roof as the Fountain of Honour, but must squat humbly in the
air without. All the inner wood-work is of pine, smoothly planed, and
left unpolished, set at points of junction with sumptuously sculptured
nails; while mats are of the finest kind, trimmed white and red with
the imperial braid. Within, the sliding screens which at will divide
most of the space into small or large chambers, are of drab silk,
spotted with gold dots, in form of clouds. There is no furniture,
except a few low red lacquer tables.

The private suite of the Mikado saddens the soul, so small, and
dismal, and uncomfortable are the rooms, or rather hutches, with no
prospect or view outside, but three bare walls, a flag-pavement, and
half-a-dozen bushes; and the mind turns involuntarily to the thought
of Spanish Queens, whose drear existences must have been hilariously
gay when compared with those of the Mikados. Sure many of these must
have gone melancholy mad, or have sought relief from despondency by
drowning care in the sake-cup. For the better protection of the
Fountain of Honour, the two closets he inhabits are buried away in the
centre of the labyrinth. There is nothing for him to hear but low,
respectful sibillation, and the tramp of guards; nothing to see but
nobles sprawling on their faces, with a glum background of whitewash,
and a few tortoises wandering over the stones.

At the period which now concerns us, the Mikado usually sat upon a
chair, while the kuges, in court trousers (Uye no Bakama) many yards
under their feet, wearing high black crape hats, and brocaded
trains--narrow and stiff, and of exceeding length--(kiy[=o]) reclined
around him on the mat. When the potentate felt more bored than usual,
he retired into a square tent (of the size of an old-fashioned
European bed) in the middle of the room; which tent was composed of
snowy silk, embroidered with bamboo and storks, and garnished with
long streamers, red and black, decorated with butterflies. Inside the
tent was placed a chair, and two low stools.

A few yards off is a dark place surrounded by gilt folding screens, in
which is another tent. This was for the Fountain of Honour when
boredom reached a climax, and he felt compelled to flee mankind. On
state occasions he moved into a spacious hall at the back, whose
sliding screens are painted with portraits, full length, of Chinese
sages, and whose look-out is a shade more cheerful; for beyond there
is a garden, with a lake full of speckled fish, some groups of pines,
and quaint stone bridges. In the centre of the hall is yet another
tent, precisely similar to the others--for the purpose of special
audience, for the room is so large, that neither the elect, who knelt
around, or the unelect, who crouched in the verandah, could overhear
what passed within the curtains.

Into this hall, on the day after the return, trooped all who possessed
the privilege, while the yards and passages were full of hatamotos and
retainers; for the Fountain of Honour, refreshed by prayer and change
of scene, declared he would attend to business.

In the first place, audience must be vouchsafed to the victorious
General, that he might relate his deeds of valour, and receive thanks
for faithful service; and then a consultation must be held, with
closed doors, on the subject of the peasant and his petition. At
mention of the audacious peasant, Nara smiled quietly, for he thought
he saw his way to make a weapon of him wherewith to vex the enemy.

Owing to the ruin and banishment of three Emperors, the present
reigning one was a cowed youth, a pale and depressed boy, with a look
of constant apprehension lurking in his eyes. So well drilled was he
that the sound of his tyrant's footfall caused him to tremble; so
acutely did he feel his equivocal position, that many a time, after a
period of reverie, he would start and wince, as if expecting the
descent of the blade that was suspended over his head. Poor Koshiu!
Could he have looked on the liege lord--so timorous and helpless--who
was awful, because invisible, he would probably have thought twice
before making that rash attempt.

When Sampei, after prostration and the orthodox nine head-knockings of
humility, was invited to occupy a stool within the tent, Nara was
bidden, by a wave of the august fan, to take the other, and thus
withdrawn from inquisitive eyes and ears, the Daimio of Nara deemed
this to be a propitious moment for peering into the future. He drew
out the modest General, and, as mouthpiece of his master, made pretty
speeches, while the Mikado was anxiously scanning his face, seeking
his brother's features.

Presently the Emperor gave a sigh of relief. It was a good-natured
open visage, considerably tanned, ornamented (from a military point of
view) by a deep scar across the brow, scored by a Corean spear.
Although a Hojo, it was possible to feel comfortable in his presence,
and the heart of the sad recluse quite warmed to him when Nara, with
insidious flattery, related an episode of his career. He told of how
young Sampei, in camp one day, investing the Taira forces, beheld a
warrior whose crimson armour and golden cognisance marked him for a
Taira noble. "Come hither and fight!" he cried, and both charged
fiercely one at the other with gleaming blades. After a few passes,
the Taira dropped his sword, and Sampei, chivalrous always, flung his
away and rushed to clasp his foe. Close-locked they fell from their
saddles on the sand, the Hojo uppermost. Tearing off the bedizened
helm, with intent to strike, he was amazed to see not a hardy old
campaigner but a delicate and lovely boy! Rising, and handing to the
vanquished his headgear. "So young," he said, "thy mother yet lives,
doubtless. To her I give thee--go!"

Sampei looked down and blushed, not ill-pleased that his lord should
learn to like him; while the Mikado muttered behind his fan, "Can this
be the brother of No-Kami?"

After this jocund opening symphony, Nara changed his tune, and as he
spoke of the suffering people, the General's face grew dark and
sorrowful.

"And all this is due," Nara concluded, with emphasis, "to the head of
the house of Hojo, whom the gods have made pre-eminent. The greater
the gift, the greater will be the punishment for opportunities
misused. Dare you deny that it is so?"

Sampei shuffled on his seat, with lowered head.

"My brother is unduly harsh," he stammered,--"perchance is ignorant--"

"What of the elders, then, and their petition?" demanded Nara.

"He has sent them home unhurt!" quickly responded Sampei.

"Ay, but with wrongs unredressed."

The young General was silent.

"You are the senior in years," observed the Daimio, pursuing his
advantage, "and should claim some authority; further, even, if need
be--"

Sampei drew himself up with dignity.

"You, the Daimio of Nara," he said proudly, "should know what is due
from a vassal to his feudal chief. I am older in years, but not pure
in blood. On my mother's side I am a peasant. I may grieve over my
brother's follies, even chide with respectful gentleness, further than
that I may not venture, as none should know better than yourself."

Nara felt angry and disappointed, for this was not what he expected.
Could this brilliant fellow be destitute of personal ambition?
Perhaps, more cunning than he seemed, he was waiting for something
more explicit.

"You, then, an honest man," sneered the Daimio, "are prepared to stand
by and see your flesh and blood perform the work of fiends? Perhaps I
have made of your character a wrong estimate. Can it be that you enjoy
the grievous plight of those to whose class, as you say, you partially
belong? In crime an appreciative partner--perhaps even my lord Hojo's
willing executioner?"

The Daimio laughed hoarsely, while the Mikado listened with pursed
lips. Apparently the young soldier was not to be roused by taunts, for
with a sigh he replied sadly,--

"You wrong me. If I cannot aid, I can perish with them, and so escape
dishonour."

"By hara-kiri?" retorted Nara, with impatience, "a vastly useful way
of helping the afflicted! When all is lost, death by the dirk is the
only appropriate end to a high-born gentleman; but an honest man and a
brave may not declare that things are hopelessly wrong until he has
tried to right them. That they are wrong at present you will admit,
after perusing this memorial, humbly presented to our common lord by
one of Hojo's vassals."

Sampei took the paper, and, as he read, grew hot and cold with pity
and indignation. And it was his own flesh and blood, as Nara said, who
could act thus! The indictment was terrible in its straightforward
simplicity. No wonder that the gentle wife of the tyrant, knowing
what she must know, was fading slowly. And there was more trouble
brewing--even simple Sampei could foresee that. If No-Kami had been so
incensed at the elders daring to present a petition to himself, what
would his feeling be when he knew that another had been handed to the
Emperor? The Mikado having publicly received, would be bound to take
some notice of it,--to make some attempt to check the excesses of the
despot. And, knowing his brother as he now learned to know him, Sampei
looked forward in dismay, for the wheel set rolling down a hill may
not be stopped, and it was but too probable that, goaded by passion
uncontrolled, crime heaped upon crime would, as O'Tei had suggested,
induce some dire catastrophe.

A furtive glance at the dull weak face of the Emperor was not
comforting. There was vacillation in every line of it. A gleam from
No-Kami's wrathful eyes and he would shrivel up. Was it indeed the
duty of his elder brother to stand forward and attempt to stay his
junior's downward course? 'Tis a terrible thing when two of the same
kin hold swords at one another's throats. And languishing O'Tei, what
of her, whom he had secretly sworn to guard and cherish? Perhaps, by
slaying her husband, he would be doing her a service as well as
freeing the oppressed; but that husband his brother! To slay his
brother! As the picture appeared upon his mental retina, Sampei
shuddered; and then the thought flashed on him with vivid clearness
that the stroke which slew his brother would delve for aye an
impassable chasm 'twixt himself and her he loved. The young man heaved
a sigh of relief, and raised his head. He was rescued from temptation
for the time being, O'Tei the saving talisman. And then, his eye
falling on the petition, he grew sorely perplexed. Was the old man
right? Was it his bounden duty to interfere between the tyrant and his
victims? What good would come of interference? Had he not intervened
already for the behoof of the unlucky elders? It was not likely that
the head of his house would brook incessant meddling. Slow-witted at
the best, Sampei, the more he pondered, grew more wretched and
uncertain. Nara marked with approving eye the extent of his
uncertainty, and cast a keen glance of intelligence at his master. The
poison instilled would slowly work, or Nara had mistaken his man. The
seed was sown--must be left to swell and burst. Enough was done for
the present.

Obedient to the signal of his most trusted counsellor, the Mikado
graciously dismissed his General, with hope revived in the future. But
the hope was short-lived. Scarcely had he emerged with lightened heart
from out the tent, and, summoning the kuges together, had commanded
the shutters to be closed, that the petition might be privately
considered, than the sound of the awful footstep was heard on the
creaking boards, and the soul of the hapless Emperor died within him.
He writhed and turned scarlet under the insult, when, pushing back the
shutter with a crash, No-Kami unannounced strode in.

"What is this?" he cried, in a harsh voice, omitting the customary
obeisance. "I should not believe it, if I did not see you shivering
there, red with conscious guilt. Leniency to the scum is worse than a
crime--it is a fault. It was to please your daughter, Nara--that she
should condescend to plead for such insolent vermin, says little for
her rearing--that I forgave those villagers. And no sooner have I
committed that insensate act, than I am most justly punished for it.
Where is he--he who presumed to present to you a paper? He shall never
present another."

The trembling Mikado looked piteously at Nara, who, stolid, and
apparently both deaf and blind, moved no muscle.

"My lord No-Kami--" began the Emperor, but was quickly silenced.

"I ask no explanation," remarked the tyrant sternly, waving away
argument. "I demand the paper and the man. He is my vassal and my
chattel: where is he?"

"Here, under my protection. You forget yourself, my lord!" cried
the Emperor, who, deserted by Nara, was stung to a poor show of
self-assertion. "Under this roof he is safe."

No-Kami raised his brows slightly, and with stiff politeness said,--

"Since when may peasants enter where knights and samurai may not?
These be new manners that we can scarce approve. You, my lord Nara, I
believe took charge of the man. I thank you for your courtesy, and
herewith reclaim my own."

To the consternation of the Emperor, who expected that now, at least,
the one to whom he pinned his faith would speak boldly, the Daimio of
Nara gravely bowed, and said,--

"If such is the pleasure of our master, be it so."

Put to the test, then, Nara was a windbag that had burst! The Mikado
groaned in spirit.

"You will promise that he shall not be injured," stammered he, as,
wincing under the basilisk eye, and seeking support in vain, the poor
boy grew sick and giddy.

"You see, Lord Nara, that 'tis our master's wish," responded No-Kami
bluntly. "I make no promises. My time is valuable, and my retinue
without is waiting. See that the wretch is handed over instantly for
immediate transport to my _yashiki_." And with this the Hojo turned
and strode away, without deigning to await an answer.

The cup was full. The Fountain of Honour overflowed in a torrent of
brackish tears. To be insulted thus before all the court; to be
treated like a child; to be bearded with such dour disdain! The fate
of his three predecessors, in their tranquil monastery, was preferable
to his, alone upon the rack in the midst of empty grandeur. When Nara
attempted to instil words of comfort, he turned on him with the swift,
unreasoning vituperation of the weak.

"You on whom I leaned," he sobbed,--"who are ever prating of the
wondrous things that you are going to do! Before him you tremble more
than all the rest, and sit mumchance! The man will be tormented, and I
thereby eternally disgraced, since I took him under my protection.
When they hear of it, what will my people say, seeing me that
monster's puppet?"

"They, will pity you," replied Nara quietly, "as they pity the other
three. I am not so craven as you think. What if the man be tortured?
He is but a boor of little consequence, and will be none the worse for
martyrdom. Let be, let be--a little patience only. The more scurvily
the man is treated, the better in the end; the deeper the universal
execration for him we all detest. A little time, a little time, and
all will be well, believe me. We have but to sit with hands devoutly
folded, and wait; for the Hojo is preparing his own undoing,--carving
out his own destruction!"




                             CHAPTER VII.

                        THE FARMER'S SENTENCE.


Perhaps the Daimio of Nara was right in his prognostications of the
probable. Although the lives of a few peasants are to Japanese
patricians of but small account, there had been considerable
excitement among the daimios over Hojo's high-handed treatment of the
village elders, a tornado of lamentation among the lower and unarmed
classes. Had the action of the despot been voted orthodox, had he
unwaveringly pursued his course, the other lords would have done the
same as he with joy, to wring out additional sums for pleasant uses;
but as No-Kami gave way with little pressing, and thereby stultified
his action, there was a general chorus of disapproval. If, excited and
cruel, he were now to inflict signal vengeance on the unfortunate
farmer, there would be still further uproar; and each fresh
demonstration tended to a universal rising, for the destruction of the
terrible octopus. Nara was old enough to have learned that the waiting
game is generally best in the end, and preached sage wisdom to his
master, who wept, being foolish, and young, and also uneasy in his
mind.

No-Kami was frantic with wrath when he considered Koshiu's sin. What a
deplorable precedent was this! A petty farmer, little better than the
common labourer, who strews the paddy field with filth, and grubs on
hands on knees like a pig in the mud when the young rice begins to
sprout; this abject, well-nigh four-footed, grovelling creature had
absolutely, erect upon hind legs, dared to approach the head of the
state--the nominal head--with a writing wherein he, the reignina
Hojo--the real head of the state--was impeached and accused of
misdemeanours,--even of deeds called CRIMES! Such audacity to the most
nimble imagination was all but inconceivable. It was no less
preposterous and ludicrous than if the brisk and too sprightly flea
were, with his tiny mandibles, to assault the elephant. As he revolved
the circumstance, the Daimio was so tickled that, as he paced a path
in his garden outside Ki[^y]oto, he laughed a hard and grating
cachination, that was half a snort, and shouted for a cup of warm
sake, the which was brought, with the humblest of genuflections; for
my lord's laugh clanked like rusty chains, and was precursor usually
of bloodshed. But this was really too amusing, or would have been, if
not so impudent. As he drained cup after cup of wine, my lord's mind
became more active, the heat of his resentment more whitely glowing.
What punishment was severe enough for such a caitiff? What was mere
death, even the slowest, with ingeniously long-drawn agonies, but
absurdly insufficient. The doom of the farmer must be something
calculated to appal,--to spread terror broadcast, or his pestilent
example might be followed by other swine. He would be a good riddance,
this Koshiu, for he had always been a dangerous character,--one who
dared to think for himself, actually to think, and frame views and
theories of an independent and subversive kind. Oh for some brilliant
idea, some happy thought, startling and awe-inspiring,--something at
which the ordinary mind would revolt, then shrink down cowering!
Decidedly this was an occasion on which the culprit must be made a
genuine "example;" and as he paced the garden path, the brain of
No-Kami was much exercised to find some awful sentence worthy of his
reputation and his name.

His heart was so hardened by schemes of revenge that the scene around
was powerless to calm his ruffled soul; and yet his villa without
Ki[^y]oto, known as the Golden House (it exists to this day), was a
spot where loving nature had freely given of her best.

On the plain between the city and the mountains is a wood, some three
miles square, wherein branching umbrella pines and lofty cryptomerias
and black-pointed cypresses are mingled in calculated confusion with
the ensanguined foliage of the maple, and a luxuriant shrub covered
with yellow blossoms, which has a scent resembling that of the
apricot. The underbrush being carefully removed, the feet of the trees
stand clear, rising from a tumbled surface of rich moss and rock and
knoll, through which meander crystal streams shaded by grass and
ferns. In a secluded portion of the wood is a large oblong pond,
half-covered with dense reeds, and full offish and tortoises. In this,
between the reed-beds, is mirrored a fairy cot--very small, as
suitable for fairies--with the usual heavy roof and posts, and with
windows inlaid with oyster shell. The peculiarity of the villa, at the
time which occupies us, was that inside and out it was entirely gilt,
which, against the sombre green background, in the limpid atmosphere,
gave it the aspect of an enchanted dwelling. The rooms were of the
smallest, and as naked and uncomfortable as Japanese rooms always are;
and yet, in miniature, there was naught neglected. There was the
porter's lodge, wherein lounged the armed retainers, and where
upright, clean, and ready were the three formidable instruments
designed to entangle, throw down, and pin a quarrelsome or unwelcome
visitor. Stout quarter staves were also ready wherewith to belabour a
struggling wight. There were bows and arrows in plenty, while in a row
hung wooden tickets inscribed with the names of the soldiers in
residence, which, were handed to the keeper of the gate, in token of
absence, as the men passed out. In one corner was a bath--a mere rude
tub--wherein, after the Daimio had bathed, others might be allowed to
plunge; while further on, in the _tokonoma_, or recess of honour, were
ranged in glittering state, ready always for use, the armour of my
lord--his cuirass and greaves, helmet, chainmail, and swords.

As he paced up and down under shadow of the trees, No-Kami had an
inspiration; and summoning his favourite samurai, he bade him produce
the prisoner. With arms crossed on his broad chest, and a mien of
sullen defiance, Koshiu emerged, and having approached, stared hard
into his oppressor's eyes with such undaunted boldness that Hojo felt
almost sorry. It was a pity to have to annihilate so bold a varlet;
and yet the independent ways of these same bold varlets are
pestilent,--dangerous to the lords who are set over them.

"What hast thou to say--what excuse to make?" demanded the imperious
No-Kami.

"The performance of duty calls for no excuse," replied the bluff
farmer.

"Duty!"

"Yes, duty,--to myself, to my fellow-sufferers, to the sublime Mikado,
who, unless told, knows naught--for he dwells apart--of the wicked
such as thee."

"By Buddha's crown, but thou art mad! instead of suing for mercy,
aggravating thy offence."

"The Hojos never knew mercy--thou least of all--and I expect none."

"Will none make a lid for this rascal?" cried the Daimio, his small
stock of patience ebbing. Then, seeing half a score of bright blades
flashing in the sun, he waved them back into their scabbards. "Nay,
nay," he grumbled; "sully not your steel."

"The Hojos were ever bad," observed Koshiu, without blenching. "Thou
and thy brother are the worst."

"Sampei!" exclaimed No-Kami, in surprise. "Why he is half of thy caste
himself, and is adored by the populace. What evil hath he done to
thee?"

"He robbed me of my eldest child, whom I held dear. She has vanished,
seduced by him."

No-Kami laughed long and loud, that very ugly laugh.

"So, so. The General is sly, and keeps his counsel, and hath done thee
and thine far too much honour, ingrate! See, here he comes to answer
for himself."

It was indeed Sampei, who, in extreme haste and heat, was crashing
through the ferns. How unfortunate that the Emperor should not have
detained him ten minutes longer. He would have expostulated with his
brother then and there, in the Imperial presence,--have entreated the
Fountain of Honour not to give up the captive. For in Hojo's greedy
desire to obtain possession of him there was lurking something
sinister. No-Kami's temper was so warm. For his sake, and the name
they both bore, he must be prevented from going to extremities. Thanks
to the gods, he was in time, for there the man stood, unharmed as yet.
Ere he reached the spot where the two were standing, with retainers
grouped in a circle, Sampei cried out, in his strong voice,--

"No-Kami, my brother, give me this man's life!"

"Again," laughed No-Kami. "What a glutton for the lives of prisoners.
Not this one; no, his is a special case; but I'll give thee his little
wanton."

"What wanton?" And then of a sudden the young soldier remembered his
mother's news which had so startled him. This was the father of the
maid whose heart he had unconsciously captured, and whose parent had
five years ago denied to him his doors. It was with a whimsical smile
that he shrugged his shoulders, and said,--"Mine' is no wanton that I
know of. She is as pure for me as Fugi, the holy and snow-capped
mountain."

"Liar!" shouted Koshiu. "What have Hojos to do with truth?"

Whereupon, with a low growl, the retainers drew their dirks and
pressed close round.

Sampei grew a shade paler, but, controlling himself, quietly said,--

"Let be, men! Sheathe your blades! The man labours under a mistake,
and will know better by-and-by. Grant me his life, my brother!"

"Why, of what parentage art thou?" exclaimed No-Kami, with a gesture
of scorn. "He dubbed thee liar! Well, well! A drop of low peasant
blood mingled with the best envenoms the entire stream. Yet am I
ashamed, that thou, who art said to have done deeds of exceeding
prowess, should tamely accept such insolence! And yet--and yet! I see
now that I was wrong, precipitate. So mean a target is not worth your
arrows. Fear not, my sober brother, I will myself avenge thee. Stand
forth thou, and hear thy sentence. Whereas thou--audacious and
stiff-necked--hast set thyself up as a champion and head of the
villagers; and whereas thou hast dared to make light of me, thy feudal
lord, by petitioning the Emperor directly; and whereas thou hast been
guilty of conspiracy--three heinous crimes--it is decreed that thou
shalt be taken in chains to Tsu, in a litter covered with a net of
shame, and there suffer death by crucifixion. Thy wife will suffer
likewise. Thy children shall merely be beheaded. The girl--what is her
name? Mine--alone shall live, since I have bestowed her as a boon upon
my brother."

The samurai knelt down and rested their foreheads on the grass,
clasping their hands in token of admiration and respect; Sampei
covered his glowing face with quivering fingers; the farmer turned
ashen grey. A thunderbolt hurled down to annihilate a family. For
himself he cared not: his life he had known was forfeit. But wife and
innocent babes! Gennosuke, the sturdy little lad; and pretty Sohei,
and Kihachi, who could barely toddle! The unexpected blow was
paralysing--stupefying with overwhelming sweep; and No-Kami, who saw
with delight that the bolt went home, motioned for the condemned to be
removed. Sampei felt stunned,--torn between horror, and the instinct
of blind loyalty to his chief, his creed--the creed in which he had
carefully been nurtured. The innocent and the guilty involved in one
common doom. It was horrible--unjust! Less vindictive by-and-by, the
Daimio would repent him of his severity. Sampei saw clearly that the
man must go. That could not be helped: he had brought on himself his
punishment. But the wife and children! Sampei had hurried hither to
endeavour to rescue the man, and on behalf of the innocent had not
found a word of protest. Thank goodness that, owing to a mistake, Mine
at least was safe. As to the wife and children, he and O'Tei must
combine ere the sentence was carried out, and make a strenuous effort.
There was no help to be looked for from the weak Mikado. What a pity
that he was such a feeble creature! But then, had he been more
formidable, he would have shared the fate of the others long ago. The
Hojo looked so surly, that Sampei felt the moment unpropitious for
remonstrance. Incensed as my lord now was, prayers would but aggravate
him further. Sampei seemed, therefore, to acquiesce in the decision of
the Daimio, and turned to another topic.

"A new eye sees things," he remarked, as they strolled under the
trees, "which escape the ken of him to whom surrounding objects are
familiar. Powerful as you are, swaying with a nod affairs of state,
you strike me as less secure than was our father."

"He governed, as was necessary, with an iron hand, and so do I,"
retorted No-Kami.

"His was not so wet with blood," suggested the other gently.

"Can this be indeed the successful soldier?" asked the Daimio,
stopping in amaze. "More like that puling wife of mine. A pity you did
not wed her!"

Sampei started and winced. Could his brother guess. There was no trace
of suspicion on his visage. His secret was safe. It was only a stray
shot.

"The daimios," he observed quietly, "hate you, and they are
treacherous."

"The daimios always hate him who is in power," replied the other with
composure, "and burn to oust him. And people say that all Japanese are
treacherous. They must be curbed by fear. Hence my severity just now.
Nay, do not speak or waste your breath and anger me. On that my mind
is fixed. I was too mild and compassionate with those elders, and look
on the result! A stupid blunder, due to over-kindliness. The new-born
arrogance of those tillers of the soil must be sternly checked.
Clemency would be construed into a sign of weakness. He who rules with
the sword must not be afraid to use it."

"I would warn you to mistrust Nara," observed Sampei, after a pause of
thought; "he does not wish you well."

"Nara!" echoed the Daimio. "He who our astute father selected as my
special counsellor! You are too suspicious. For Nara I have nothing
but contempt--for him as for his counsel. He assumes sapient airs, and
beneath them is a coward and a fool. Sometimes, in sport, I press down
my heel on him, and he affords no sport, for he does not even writhe.
Since you are a man of valour--the hero of the hour, though I vow you
are more like a girl--furbish up your arms, and drill your cohorts,
and leave policy to me. Drill your troops for my protection, most
doughty of Hojos. As for statecraft, believe me, meddle not with a
complicated tangle which you have not the skill to unravel. Your arm
is more exercised than mine, but of heads, mine is the better."




                            CHAPTER VIII.

                           DESTINY IS BUSY.


When the slow procession of armed men with a guarded litter in its
midst was discerned approaching Tsu, great was the curiosity excited,
for though none spoke of him, the absent farmer, devoted to a forlorn
hope, was uppermost in the minds of all. A vague report gained ground
that he had actually been permitted to see the face of the Sublime
One, who, as just as he was holy, had listened to the tale of wrong.
The stricken people, accustomed to adversity, were dazed by the gleam
of fortune. Buddha had hearkened at last unto their groaning, had
pitied their misery! The Hojo was not so bad after all, for the extra
weight of taxes would doubtless be removed; the elders had returned
forgiven; Koshiu was coming in triumph to his home, where a fitting
reception should be accorded him. The listless men rose up upon their
feet, the hammer and the gong resounded once again, amid blessings on
the name of Koshiu.

The only one who was not joyous was Kennui, the farmer's faithful
wife. She had heard so much from her spouse about the wickedness of
the Hojos, that unconsciously she echoed his words, shaking her head
as she muttered, "The Hojos know not mercy!" As the approaching
procession became clearer to the view, defiling with clank of iron
down the street, she gave a wild shriek, and fell swooning; for in the
litter, under the fatal net, she had recognised the grizzled head and
burly shoulders of him she loved best on earth. Awe-stricken, fearing
they knew not what, the town turned out _en masse_ and silently
followed the procession, until, crossing the bridge that led over the
outer moat of the castle, the ponderous doors closed upon it and the
prisoner. For, strange and incomprehensible as it appeared, there was
no doubt that Koshiu was a prisoner. The net and chains, and scowling
escort told as much. Why? Was the report a false one? Had he not
succeeded in communicating with the Sublime One? Sure he who was the
Fount of Honour had not spurned the humble prayer! If he had been
gracious, why was the victim brought to his home with sinister pomp
and circumstance? While the crowd in scattered knots were discussing
the enigma, the gates opened again, a band of samurai rushed forth,
and presently returned with--wonder of wonders!--Kennui and her little
children, who, driven at point of spear, like the farmer vanished.

Curiosity and impatience were getting the better of alarm, and some of
the elders were about to cross the bridge, and knocking, make
inquiries, when again the door swung upon its hinges, a man posted up
a paper, and the gate was again shut to. A thrill of horror and
consternation shivered over the crowd, as some one, mounting on a
riding block, read aloud the proclamation. Crucifixion for the patriot
and his innocent wife--the annihilation of his family and name! The
injustice and brutality of such a sweeping sentence cried aloud to
Heaven. Japan should ring with it. Come what might, the elders would
remonstrate,--would lift up their voices in supreme protest against
the iniquity of the cold-blooded tyrant.

The head men of the town and surrounding villages assembled, one
hundred and thirty in number, and drew up an appeal, affixing thereto
their seals, and Rokubei and Zembei, whose consciences smote them
somewhat, travelled with it themselves to Ki[^y]oto. There the streets
were in commotion, business was put aside, and men sat on the mats in
groups discussing the darkening future. In whispers, with furtive
glances over the shoulder, they murmured that there must be an end of
it; anything was preferable as a change to such a life as No-Kami
prepared for the people. Submission was making matters worse instead
of better. Letters must be sent to the surrounding provinces. They
must shake off sloth, and rise as one to free themselves and their
Mikado.

Sampei, riding to the Golden House, told his brother of the hubbub. As
he heard, the brow of the despot darkened; his eyeballs became
bloodshot, like those of the demon Razetsu, as in obstinate fume he
gnashed his teeth.

"What?" he cried. "Oh, girl in man's attire, I have borne too long
with your puling! You dare to come hither, and take the part of the
scum against me, your feudal lord! A shivering coward, who calls
himself a soldier! Not a word more, or, despite the army at your back,
I'll have you seized and scourged, and your head flung to the
jackals."

Hot words rose in Sampei's throat, but the mournful face of his pale
love rose before him, and he choked them down. His brother was
distraught with passion,--knew not what he said. His feudal lord! Yes,
that much was true. If danger was brewing, his place was by the side
of his brother, to save him, if might be, from the consequences of the
wickedness instilled by demons; if not, to assist him in his death.

The silence and sullen submission of the young General irritated the
Daimio to frenzy. He cursed and growled like some savage animal,
became the more furious from the conviction that in this matter he
had been precipitate and wrong,--had been guilty of a mistake in
state-craft,--of over-harshness. And yet it would never do to give to
the scum the victory--to the low mechanics, and mean, unarmed
artificers, who were assuming a threatening attitude. What would the
other daimios say, who were eagerly watching the next move, if the
ruler were again to give way,--to succumb like a woman before the
outcry of a few rustics? The prestige of the Hojos would be gone for
ever, and the bearer of the name would be sucked under and drowned by
the torrent which would assuredly break loose. Give way! That, by the
crown of Buddha, he swore he never would; and yet, perceiving too late
the danger, in his heart he longed for a compromise. Hearing that
Rokubei and Zembei, venerable elders, had dared to come pestering, and
that a deputation of priests, headed by the bonzes of Tsu, awaited his
pleasure, he smothered his rage, and bade Sampei admit them. He even
deigned to summon his father's friend, and solicit counsel, placing
the case before him.

Concealing his exultation under an air of sympathy, Nara arrived with
promptitude, and, true to his tactics, gave advice which was
calculated to undo his enemy.

"The peril is extreme," he said, "so I will speak plainly. 'Tis easier
to raise a storm than quell it."

"If you are here to talk platitudes, begone," interrupted No-Kami.

"Be patient, my almost son, and attend," the malicious Daimio
responded, with inward laughter. Like a bear in the toils his foe was
caught, and it should be no fault of his if he became not more closely
enmeshed. "You are right in this," he continued. "It will not do to
lower the proud standard of the Hojos before the rabble; and yet you
must provide them with a sop. Let the sentence stand. What is decreed
should be irrevocable; but grant the boon in the memorial. Remove the
obnoxious taxes. So will you seem clement, as well as stern and
strong. They will fear you more than ever, while compelled to praise
your bounty."

The advice jumped with No-Kami's inclination The more he considered
it, the more crafty it appeared; but, true to his principle of
blood-letting and tyrannising over the weak, he slightly improved on
it. He would pretend to have known nothing of these taxes, and,
as an example, would bring to condign punishment the bailiffs and
tax-gatherers who had so harshly oppressed his vassals.

A master-stroke worthy of his sapient father this. A touch of genius.
He accordingly harangued the deputations; declared his surprise as
well as sympathy and love with such assurance that they scarce could
believe their ears. The sentence, if somewhat harsh, must stand, he
said, for 'twas a grievous crime in a vassal to hold up to obloquy his
feudal lord. The property of the offending farmer should, however, not
all be confiscated, but a part would be handed over to the girl Mine,
who was spared, thanks to his brother's pleading. He assured his
amazed listeners that he grieved over the rapacity of his officers--of
whom he would make an example--in that they had invented new imposts
on their own account, to the detriment of their lord's repute. He was
sorry that the full details of the case had not reached him before.
The town councillors of Tsu would be dismissed from their posts. Four
district governors and three bailiffs would be banished to the
northern island. The chief bailiff of Tsu and one particularly-sinful
officer would be invited to perform harakiri. The objectionable taxes
were abolished.

With this, while his audience stood aghast and dumb, my lord waved his
fan with courteous condescension, in token of dismissal, and retired,
flattering himself that he had got extremely well out of rather an
awkward hobble.

The news which the deputations brought back with them to Tsu was
received with mixed feelings. It was sad that the farmer's family must
perish, but Koshiu would know that they had not died in vain. For the
public good he and his were made a sacrifice. Many litanies should be
chanted in the temples; the martyr should be canonised, enrolled on
the list of saints.

One who was inconsolable was Mine. Spurned by him at whose feet she
had cast herself--for Sampei had never deigned to inquire after
her--she was compelled to admit that her father was right in his
estimate of the reigning family. If he whom she elected to worship as
a hero had not been as cruel as his brother, he would not stand
by--he, a powerful general in command of many soldiers, while so
wicked a sentence was promulgated. Father, mother, brothers--all. And
she had loved this man! Distracted, she rushed to the castle, and
braving the obscene jests of the samurai, implored to be admitted to
her parents. She had done wrong, and must die heartbroken if deprived
of their forgiveness.

A soldier, softened by the maiden's anguish, carried her entreaty, and
returned with the message that her father refused to see her. She who
was the chattel of a Hojo was no child of his, he had declared. Three
beloved sons were his, but no daughter. Mine battered with weak hands
upon the closing door. Her father had judged too harshly, for--alas!
to confess such infamy--the Hojo had repulsed her. She was not his
mistress,--had never even seen him since he sallied forth to war. The
samurai laughed loud at the confession, and gibed at the hapless maid,
bandying foul pleasantries. A likely story. Since, owing to the
General's intervention, she was to have the property, she would
doubtless find some one to pick up that which my lord Sampei had
tossed into the mire. How much would she be worth? Would she set
herself up to auction? By-and-by she could purchase for herself a
husband, if not now a messenger. Her father declined to see her, so if
yet she had a shred of shame left she had best depart, and quickly. If
not, the soldiery would take her in, and for their own delectation
keep her there. In terror she sped away, nor stopped till she reached
the temple; and when in the gloaming the spectral line of nuns and
Abbess entered for the evening prayer, Masago lifted the exhausted and
fainting girl, and pressing cold lips upon her brow, bade her take
rest and comfort. Henceforth she was theirs and Buddha's.

To show that, although clement, he was not to be intimidated, No-Kami
resolved to make of the prospective execution a wholesome precedent,
and to that end journeyed to Tsu in person. He was determined that the
spectacle should abide in the minds of those who were privileged to
witness it, as an ineffaceable lesson and an awful memory. It should
take place within the castle boundaries, he decreed, in the presence
of the Daimio and his suite, in gala robes, and all and sundry were
invited to attend this new and engaging form of public festival.

As the fatal day approached, the fiery temper of the despot was
severely tried, and grew hotter under the trial; for although the
truculent retinue applauded, and looked forward with glee to a rare
frolic, there was hanging over the land a shadow that might be felt.

Men spoke together in isolated knots, scudding away like hares if the
gallop of my lord's escort was heard returning from the chase. This
showed a wholesome and gratifying fear; but there were some who took
no pains to cloke their insolence. The friends of the tax-gatherers
and others who had been condemned, raised an outcry, vowing that they
had obeyed to the letter their lord's behest, and that 'twas hard to
suffer for being only too faithfully obedient. No-Kami increased the
number of his personal attendants, daring no longer to go forth alone,
lest haply some wailing relative should cling to his stirrup, and
decline to be beaten off. Even behind the bristling defences of the
castle he was not secure. Masago and her nuns arrived in solemn
procession at the gate, and the soldiers, hardened though they were,
were afraid to refuse them entrance. The austere Abbess was not to be
browbeaten. Calm and cold, with inflexible mien she looked No-Kami in
the eyes, and in presence of his warriors, in the name of her dead
lord his father, dared him to fulfil his purpose. Solemnly she warned
him of divine rancour. She had had a dream, and, as all the world
knows, the soul during sleep is in active communication with the
departed. Even now, at the eleventh hour, she urged that there was
still time to avert the vengeance of the gods. The growing anger of
Buddha might be appeased by pilgrimage and prayer, self-humbling, and
precious gifts.

But Masago might as well have preached to the lotuses. Her speech was
met with uneasy ribaldry, and smouldering ire.

"Bah! Threats from a troop of women! A made-up ghost to affright
children with. Ye are hungry for the good things of this world,"
snarled the Daimio, "like all the priesthood. Be off! I care not for
nuns or bonzes, self-appointed messengers from Heaven. Chatterers, get
you gone while ye have time, or despite your garb your bodies shall
feel the whip."

With that he bade the doorkeepers open wide the gate, that his guards
might drive forth the embassage.

The unfortunate chatelaine, although none of the castle denizens cared
to know it, was the one who was most hardly stricken by her husband's
culminating sin. When the sad procession arrived with in its midst the
patriot, she was boating outside the walls, deftly guiding her shallop
with a slender pole through the luxuriant floating greenery. The
elders having been spared at her written request, the horizon
seemed less black. This was a first step towards the reclaiming of
No-Kami--by-and-by, little by little, she would by tact and persistent
effort regain over him the influence which at first she had too
quickly abdicated. As she pondered, she blamed herself for lack of
patient perseverance.

What was her own petty pride to the people's good? She had misjudged
No-Kami, for on receipt of her letter he had given way at once. So he
would again, and yet again, till drawn out of himself by tenderness,
he would cast aside his wicked self like a foul garment, and live a
cleanly life. Then she fell a-weaving of plans for assuaging the
misery of her people, and all at once there fell the thunderbolt, and
her new calm was rudely broken.

This horror was worse than all. Retiring to her bower, and dismissing
her maidens, she cast herself upon the floor, and, numbed by despair,
remained inanimate for hours. Had the gods no pity for such frail
things as she? The contemplation of her husband, of the man who could
deliberately plan and execute so vile an atrocity as this, caused her
flesh to creep, her soul to shudder. He proposed, moreover, to
accomplish the dreadful deed _here_, within the precincts of her
house. The smell of the blood would never fade, its stain might never
be effaced; and she was doomed to endure its constant presence for
long years, unless the gods were clement. Some rail at the brief span
of life. To some it seems too short, to others interminable. How
earnestly, lying prone, did O'Tei entreat release. A long vista of
grim dreadful years. No, at bay, she would revolt against the
nightmare, would leap into the waves, and make an end of it. Since men
may relieve themselves with the dirk of a too heavy existence, might
not women seek relief in the embrace of the blessed sea?

He was coming here soon, her husband, to superintend the shocking
details. He would touch, perhaps clasp her in his arms. Oh, no! And
yet, why not? Clutched by him, pressed to the hard heart of the
monster, inhaling the poison of his breath, she must surely wither;
and if her soul were freed, what signified the horror of the means?

Sinking into a condition of dull lethargy, she went forth no more, but
brooded in the quiet of her chamber, from which she could see the hill
crowned by the temple groves. Dim and distant, like the roar in a
sea-shell, she heard the noise of arrival, the neighing of steeds, and
clank of iron, the braying of hoarse throats, the shouts and laughter
at carousal. With sick apprehension she awaited the dreaded footsteps
which soon must cross the threshold. But time went on and it came not,
and she thanked the gods for that. He had inquired for her, the
maidens said, and they had replied that their lady was ill. He had
said no more, and had seemed satisfied. Truth to tell, he was as much
relieved as she at the postponement of a meeting. For, worried and
annoyed by the abominable behaviour of the scum, he was in no mood for
whining, and instinct whispered that on such an occasion as the
forthcoming festival the degenerate O'Tei would whine. When it was
past and over, she would know better than to whimper, since what is
done is done; and once resolved, no whining of silly women-folk should
turn him from his purpose. Whilst dreading the creak of one footfall,
she listened wistfully for another. Where was Sampei, her childhood's
friend? Sure, he would sympathise, for his kind heart would tell him
of the direful condition of his sister. Had he, disgusted with his
brother, deserted him? It was likely; and yet not so, for Sampei--who
should know better than she?--was loyal and true. He had arrived with
my lord; the maidens had seen and admired him, and had grieved to
perceive that he was dejected, the noble young hero. How strange then
that he should not visit his old playmate.

Alack! Sampei avoided O'Tei as diligently as did No-Kami. What could
he say to her that would not increase her sorrow? Fully appreciating
her highly-wrought and reserved and sensitive nature, he knew too well
what she must be suffering; and the sight of her tears, since he might
not dry them, would cut him like a sword-thrust. Moreover, the seed
his mother had prudently sown had taken deep root in his light soil,
by reason of Mine's foolishness. On every account it was well to avoid
personal contact with O'Tei. Without being conceited, the fact was
patent that if one woman fell in love with him without encouragement,
another might. In his ordinary frame of mind, he would cheerfully have
said, "The more the better," and have basked with joy in the sunshine
of unlimited loveliness. But he knew now that he adored O'Tei with an
affection so pure and deep that there was no selfishness in it,--that,
rather than cause her a pang, he would himself make any sacrifice. Her
heart, he knew, was empty. As the Abbess had hinted, it was not at all
impossible that if tempted she might grow to love her brother-in-law
in unbrotherly fashion; and then, what pain to her, to him, to all?
For once the young soldier would be prudent. Near, but unseen, he
would shield his beloved as much as possible,--commune with her as
little as might be,--come forward only in emergency.

With regard to No-Kami, he grew grievously perplexed, marvelling
sometimes whether his brother was sane. The practice of cruelty upon
the weak, for the enjoyment thereof, was something so foreign to his
own open character that he could not comprehend the motives which
moved the Daimio, nor his fits of frenzy when thwarted. Once, since
their arrival at Tsu, he had remonstrated fearlessly with his chief,
who had thereupon threatened to dismiss him into banishment. For the
sake of the chatelaine, in the quickly-clouding future, this must not
be. So Sampei, at his wits' end, like a dutiful son, climbed the
temple stairs and unlocked the secrets of his heart before the shrewd
ken of the Abbess. Masago surveyed him anxiously, then unaccustomed
tears for a moment dimmed her vision as she gave praise to the gods in
that she had been given such a son. Truth and trust looked from out
his eyes. The noble fellow. Placing her firm white hand upon his
shoulder, she kissed his brow.

"The situation is dark," she said; "the skein is tangled. The gods
have marked down for destruction my lord of Tsu. That much is clear to
me. Blindfold he marches to the edge of the abyss. I am a weak,
purblind woman groping in the dark, unable to give counsel in so
difficult a strait. My voice has been raised in vain: he thrust us
forth like dogs. I will pray. Maybe that through prayer and vigil I
may learn to know; and when I know, then will I tell thee, child.
Peradventure divine wrath may yet, by diligent pleading, be turned
aside. The farmer and his family must perish, thou a dumb spectator.
That much cannot be helped. Be patient. Wait. I will prostrate myself
before the altar, that the veil of the future may be rent."

One morning a lull of unaccustomed quietude informed O'Tei that my
lord and all his following had gone scouring over the plain, and her
maids, seeing her listless and sad-eyed, implored their mistress to
mount to the top of the tower, and breathe the fresher air. From the
upper gallery, shaded by the huge copper roof, the weary recluse gazed
over the flat towards the twin hills with an intense longing. Since my
lord's coming, she had not visited her summer-house, for she could not
bear the sight of the mourning which she knew overhung the town. She
yearned to steal forth now and gaze on the lovely view, with its
sequestered temple, and placid land-locked waters, and fishers, and
sunny islets. Alas! all labour was abandoned. The fishers were too
wretched to pursue their avocation. Their boats were drawn up upon the
beach untenanted. She could see them, a white fringe upon the yellow.
Then, as her eye moved homeward, she started, and cried aloud, and
wrung her hands, for down below in the courtyard rose, gaunt and
terrible, the symbols of oppression. In a corner of the space within
the outer moat stood ready a pair of crosses. The preparations were
made then?--the consummation of the tragedy was imminent; and she,
cowering and cowardly, had never attempted to stem the new tide of the
Daimio's anger. A tacit connivance at this villainy!

Shaking herself as from the drowsy clog of sleep, she swiftly
descended the stair with head erect, distended eye, and face as grey
as ashes, and, to the surprise of the sentinels, crossed the first
drawbridge as one in a trance, and made for the place of execution.

It occupied an extreme corner, far from the huts of the soldiers, and
was masked from the path in common use by a belt of trees, concerning
which there were fearsome legends. So many terrible events had taken
place beneath their shade that they were said to be tenanted by souls
of criminals,--to groan at times, and ooze with gore, and be accursed.
To the Asiatic peasant all streams and woods are peopled with
visionary forms,--are the homes of demons or of angels. It was well
known that a sacrilegious cutter had striven once to fell one of these
gnarled trunks, and had been blasted as if by lightning. It was an
equally established fact that their vicinity impelled to suicide, for
many men had, apparently without reason, hung themselves upon their
branches, fascinated to self-destruction by some dread and secret
spell.

O'Tei passed under their shade, and, shivering, recalled the legend,
for though there seemed no wind, they swayed and creaked, spreading
gaunt arms over her head, with trails of grey-green spindles, like
uncanny mildewed hair. Why she had come she knew not--it was in
obedience to no volition of her own. Her heart and temples were
throbbing wildly. Within her swimming brain there was room for but one
idea. The web of a terrible fate was being spun with ruthless fingers
around my lord and her to choke them both. Was she to be permitted
again to intervene between him and his victims?--or, to tear the
meshes which encircled them, were they destined to writhe in vain?
Advocate of mercy, how sweet a privilege! What could she do? Had she
the courage to face that sin-stained man? Irresolute and trembling,
she stood staring at the crosses, marking their shadows as they
lengthened, till, with a gasp and sob, she heard the tread of horses,
accompanied by shouts and laughter.

He had returned from the chase--the tyrant--and it was well that she
was here. She would try not to fear him,--strive hard to do her duty.
They must meet now, and, summoning her puny strength, she would
endeavour to push him from the precipice.

The cavalcade swept past in a cloud of dust--a brilliant, uproarious
company--and clattered across the moat. Two riders were following a
little behind the rest, when one, catching sight of a familiar drapery
among the trees, pulled back his horse upon its haunches.

"The lady O'Tei," he exclaimed, "beneath that baleful canopy!"

And straightway Sampei dismounted, and held the stirrup for his
brother.

And thus they met again, those three, on this fateful day for all---my
lord in an evil mood, for even to him there was something oppressive
in the air. A pall, as of the shadow of death, hung murky over the
land.

With trembling, blue lips, more like a spectre than a woman, O'Tei
awaited my lord's approach, and turning, flung herself upon her knees,
clinging about his feet.

No-Kami glared down in surprised dudgeon, while the soul of Sampei was
thrilled with pity to perceive how wan she looked.

"My lord!" she murmured low, with fluttering heart, "a boon. Oh! spare
them--for my sake--for your own--spare them--spare them--spare them!
Give me at least the lives of the woman and her babes. If the man must
suffer, be it so. You see that for him I say no word, not one--the
gods forgive me! For his act he knew and weighed the penalty. But
those innocents are not to perish. Say 'twas but a pleasantry, and I
will kiss your feet, and bless you."

The visage of No-Kami grew purple as he glowered down upon his wife,
and then, with grinding teeth, he glanced furtively around. There was
no witness to the interview.

"It is well," he hissed, "that the company has gone before, and that I
am spared humiliation in their eyes. Fie! what shameful folly's this?
Can this grovelling thing, like a slave in the dust, be Hojo's wife,
child of the Daimio of Nara? Nay! it is some mean Eta woman, pariah
and outcast. Sampei, raise her up, and quickly, and let us both forget
this spectacle. Arise!" he cried, spurning the prostrate figure with
his foot. "Even among the Etas obedience is a wife's first duty."

Sampei stooped, and gently raising his distracted sister, supported
her upon his breast, whilst the furious despot continued dryly,--

"Know that your existence is a blot on my name and your own. It is
well that you have borne no children to perpetuate disgrace. If any of
the bold samurai had seen you but now, what would they have thought of
me?--of you? how could they respect their lady? Shame, shame! Pluck up
a spirit--borrow one--and make at least pretence to assume a fitting
dignity. The condemned are to die at sundown; no more on that score;
even now the spectators are trooping hitherward. Go; tire your hair
and don your gala robes. When all is ready, I will send for you."

"For me!" gasped O'Tei, turning a shade more white.

"As chatelaine of Tsu, your place is by my side," announced the Daimio
sternly. "Be my will your law. Go now, and try not to degrade us."

His unhappy sister-in-law cast an imploring glance at Sampei, who
stood with head bowed and sullen averted gaze. His blood was coursing
through his veins at fevered speed. Patience, his mother had said, and
wait. How could he wait and practise patience, seeing her he loved so
outraged? Was she to be forced, by the whim of a madman, to give the
sanction of her gracious presence to the deed which all deplored?

Masago, as usual, had been right. The Divine finger was in it, or why
should the heiress of Nara, belying her own pride and the traditions
of her haughty lineage, have selected the very means of interference
which was most sure to offend her lord, and frustrate her own desires?

Had she, with imperious attitude and supercilious air, demanded the
lives of the woman and her offspring, No-Kami might, touched by the
proud beauty of her who was his bone, have, even so late as this, been
surprised into some clemency. Sampei himself, to whom all she did was
dear, felt a sharp twinge of mortification as, burning with sorrowful
regret, he had quickly lifted her.

Both brothers, jealous of the name they bore, suffered in their
tenderest point on seeing her thus prostrate. O'Tei must have been
overcome with grief indeed ere she could have been guilty of so grave
an error. But the Daimio's last demand must be rescinded. He must not
insist upon her being present at the ceremony, or she might succumb
under the ordeal.

Angry words of protest rose to the General's lips, but for her sake
(remembe

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