The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

What was he here for, this inconvenient guest? What could his object be in swooping down on Tsu? The question buzzed in her head as she moved hither and thither, on hospitality intent. He must know that he, was little welcome. Had the chatelaine been goaded at last out of her silence? Did the tiny pins at last lacerate her skin? Had she summoned her father to rescue her from a position that was unbearable?

What then? Would Nara, interfering on his child's behalf, insist upon the prompt suppression of the second wife? And if he did, would his mandate be obeyed, or was No-Kami still strong enough to do battle for his siren? The prestige of Japan's despot had not paled as yet, for the secret of his peculiar mental condition was well kept. Such precautions had been taken that, though many knew the Daimio to be ill, none but O'Kikú and Sampei were aware of his critical state. Had Sampei, pursuing a tortuous game of his own, summoned Nara to council? The traitor! And what a simpleton she not to have foreseen and parried such a stroke. Nara present and siding with Sampei-made aware of No-Kami's weakness-what easier for the twain than to seize the reins and fling forth the offending concubine? Again was O'Kikú compelled to admit with tingling cheeks how unskilfully she had developed plans which at the start had seemed so promising. By pandering to his fears, and plying my lord with drink, she gained no doubt a measure of extra liberty, but purchased at what a cost! At a time when every man's hand was at his neighbour's throat, to lose your nerve was to lose respect and be toppled over in the fray. Execrated as she knew my lord to be, with myriad and lynx eyes watching for a cranny in his armour, why had she not foreseen that there would be traitors in the camp? O'Kikú had been so careless because she reckoned on her rival's unpopularity. Not a swaggerer among the samurai-as she had long since learned-but looked on his liege mistress with uncomprehending pity. To think that bluff, single-minded Sampei-so skilful in the field, so blundering at home-should have had the inspiration to summon Nara! But had he? Sure his surprise on the arrival of the cavalcade was not feigned? If it were, then was he a dangerous enemy indeed-concealing consummate craft under an appearance of simplicity.

The more O'Kikú pondered and considered, the more nebulous grew the result of her meditations, and on the morrow she was brought to the highest stage of bewilderment by the departure of the Daimio of Nara as abruptly as he had arrived, and in a friendly manner too. Gazing through the hole made by a wetted finger in her paper-covered casement, she had striven to read on the faces of those concerned the result of their interview: and her jaw dropped in sheer amazement. Was the lady O'Tei even more mean-spirited and craven than her rival had supposed? Fearful of retribution and ill-usage in the future, had she masked her wounds from her parent, vowing she was well and happy, when her very looks should betray the truth? In that case, neither she nor her paramour had summoned Nara. Why then was he come? Could it have been of his own accord, so speedily to go away, with no result from his advent? The more she considered, the more knotty did the problem grow-one that her low instincts could never fathom. She wist not that a proud nature, instead of crying out with shrill uproar, will conceal stabs dealt in private by her legitimate lord from the scrutiny even of a father; the more when her parent bears only the name, since he has never won her love.

How surprised would the geisha have been could she have read the riddle aright. It was Masago, the Abbess, who had given the hint. She, who was but too well aware of the position of her favourite, could see that she was dying slowly of a breaking heart, for each time that she visited the temple O'Tei was more frail and wan, more spiritual in aspect; her step more slow and feeble. Moreover, over and above personal affection for her, was it not the duty of the Abbess to give warning to the lady's natural protector, lest her own dear boy Sampei should be goaded to leap into the breach? Knowing all she knew, it was a subject for marvel that Sampei should have refrained till now. School himself as he would, he could not conceal from a mother's anxious gaze the canker that gnawed his entrails. So far as he was concerned, the arrows of O'Kikú had not missed their mark. He pined with sympathy, – was wrung with anguish at the drawn expression of the wistful face, the dimmed eyes that were once so bright, in which hope was quite extinguished.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DAIMIO OF NARA IMITATES THE SPHYNX

What a pity it is that in our odd world the wicked should be so much more clever than the good, – that the combinations of sinners should so easily outwit the simply virtuous. But then, were not the good so naïve, they might not possibly submit so quietly to the unhappiness which is usually their portion. They might scream, and rail, and wax obstreperous, point out the cases of flagrant injustice too often to be observed among their ranks, and become unedifying texts and examples.

Poor Sampei, being less cunning than the geisha, and not perceiving the advantage of which he might have availed himself, naturally did not seize it. It never occurred to him that the appearance of Nara on the scene might have brought about the salvation of his family, – that he and Sampei united might have ousted the female marplot. Clearly this lack of discrimination was due to the interference of the gods.

Sampei was quite as surprised as the concubine at singular conduct of Nara. He took no umbrage at his sullen reception by the lord of Tsu; seemed not to perceive how little he was welcomed; showed a disposition to be easily pleased, a slowness to take offence, such as ill became a daimio. Closeted with his daughter, he refrained from searching questions, conversed about the pleasures of Kiŷoto, and the probabilities of a visit in the summer, while she, stony and indifferent, as reticent as her parent, and dreamily gazing into vacancy, replied in monosyllables. With studied ceremony he took leave of her as though she were a stranger, bade farewell of his sulky host with suave courtesy, and, followed by his brilliant retinue, journeyed slowly up into the mountains. So cautious was he, even under the glances of his own people, that it was not until, resigning his horse to a betto, he retired into a litter, and drew the curtains close, that he permitted his thoughts to appear upon his features. "It is very nearly time," he murmured, "very nearly time, and then shall my child-ay, and all Japan-be avenged, and signally." With gleeful exultation he rubbed his hands together as he revolved a host of little points which had not escaped the eagle ken of his experience. A drunken dissolute cohort now, the redoubtable warriors of Tsu.

Arriving unawares by night, he had found no sentries at the gate. His men had blown the horn, and hammered with lances, and shouted till their throats were hoarse, ere any one had appeared upon the walls; and what a scurry then! The castle, left unprotected in the silent watches, would have fallen without a struggle into the hands of a skilful foe. And-the cognisance and titles of the father of the chatelaine having been recognised, and the drawbridge lowered-the relaxation of discipline everywhere apparent within did not escape his practised eye. Before the presence of a stranger was made known, he had heard sounds of wassail and of quarrelling, – had seen the abandoned concubine of the Hojo toying with the common soldiers. And he was enchanted. What mattered it that his child looked wretched? – women must suffer for the common good. Patience-a little patience-and her burthen would soon be removed.

The Abbess, proud as she was of considering herself in some sort a Hojo, had naturally turned, in her anxiety, to him who had been selected by her now departed lord as the prime adviser of the family. Unwitting of what she did, it was her finger that first pointed out how the joints in the harness were loosening; and with a savage laugh Nara gave her thanks for it.

The young General, who had never learned the arts of diplomacy, blushed crimson as the eyes of the new arrival took in the situation, and stammered awkward excuses. His brother was ill, had for some time past been unable to occupy himself with affairs, and was, moreover, so jealous of interference, that for a while he, the elder, had let things go. But now that my lord had come, his father's friend, the twain would remonstrate, and arrange together. And then, from under the white bettle-brows of the old man there shot a meaning leer which chilled the words upon the lips of the younger, and brought to his mind an earlier interview which had seemed ominous of complications. Was this man a friend, or the worst of enemies, one who wears disguise? Buffeting in a sea of knavery, wherein fraud and chicane and stratagem and pitfall boil into a seething broth, what wonder if the true and single-minded grow bewildered and confused? Sampei was so little skilled in double-dealing, that, lulled by specious sentences, mystified, he concluded that he had been wrong, had misunderstood the purport of lord Nara's talk in the palace. Was he not his father's ally, – the man specially picked out for the guidance of the Hojo's sons? The old Daimio, ever quick to read thoughts, pressed the hand of his young friend with touching affection.

"All will be well by-and-by," he murmured. His dear young General, of whom he and Japan were so justly proud, must sit quiet, and hope for the best. He too, then, was preaching patience. Sure, the venerable Abbess and the hoary statesman must be right-of course they were. The loyal Sampei blamed himself accordingly, and put his suspicions from him.

Although no open confidences passed between the pair, Nara was satisfied, for he could detect a change in the young man. His easy confidence in the direction of the straight and honest course was gone, had given place to a pained perplexity which boded well for the future. The arrow which the astute kugé had planted during the interview at the palace, was festering. He seemed to perceive that much. Sampei's sense of right and wrong had been disturbed. He was uncomfortable, and half-suspecting he knew not what, held his peace moodily, while his brain groped in darksome byways. Yes, he was mistaken when he deemed Nara to be a foe. Yet how was it possible he could be really friendly, perceiving as he must how bad was his daughter's treatment, how outrageous on every count were the proceedings of her spouse? Could any one who loved Japan be Hojo's friend? Alack, even he, Sampei, his only brother, was but too well aware that he was his country's scourge-that one who should remove the incubus would earn his country's gratitude.

The old Daimio, guessing what knotty problem it was that so vexed the young soldier's mind, evolved a stroke of genius. Suave and sweet in manner, with an engaging air of candour, he communed with himself aloud, "What a sad thing it is," he mused abstractedly, "that the history and the literature of our country should so teem with the enmity of brothers! And yet, in the main, a happy land, more privileged than the dim fog-bound realms of the west." Again, how bewildering was this to one who was groping so anxiously for light.

Looking in the wrinkled face, Sampei could see no meaning there-no special meaning-addressed to himself especially. And then, as the two strolled about the precincts of the castle, Sampei became more bewildered yet and more uneasy, for in some unaccountable way it had come about, without his knowing how, that old Nara concealed no longer that he was No-Kami's enemy, that he was aware of the ill-treatment of his child, and grateful for the sympathy of his companion. He even, as a matter of course, affected to look on him as a willing accomplice; gave him no chance of disavowal. And then, tacit consent to this being given, he dropped mysterious hints. Verily the future was growing strangely dark, the skein of the race more tangled hourly. With helpless resignation Sampei was fain to allow that the fiat had gone forth, that the days of the Hojos were numbered. If, as was growing every moment plainer, the prophecy of the farmer was to be fulfilled to the minutest detail, what was to be gained by struggling?

Patience was in very truth the only virtue which it became the doomed to cultivate. Humbled, therefore, and filled with murky presage, the young man bowed his neck and folded his hands, resolved to float with the stream, obedient to the whim of destiny.

Thus Nara-kugé and devoted servant of the Holy Mikado-having been warned by the Abbess of Tsu of the tottering condition of her house, came and spied out the land, and returned home delighted; while she, hearing in due course how he had come and gone, smiling and dangerously courteous, fell a prey to vague misgivings, and betook herself to prayer and abstinence. Vainly she cross-examined O'Tei, grown stonier and whiter. Since her father's unsatisfactory visit, the unhappy lady appeared to wake from a frozen trance to a sense of feverish existence, only when prostrate on the temple floor praying for the untying of her bonds. The words of Koshiu were seared as by an iron on her heart; sleeping or waking, she saw them burning on the wall.

The scene within the grey circle of weird trees was never absent from her vision. What had she done to deserve the ban? The full horror of the anathema ate into her being slowly. In succeeding cycles she was destined to be accursed. Little by little she realised her doom; for her there was to be no rest, no peace, no change for the better. Why? Because, obedient to her father's commands, she had bestowed her hand upon a tyrant. For blind obedience, punished for all time; for more than time-for ever!

There was no justice, then, in this life, or in the realms beyond the grave. She was created for misfortune and misery, specially picked out for all the worst evils that beset mortality. If accursed in future cycles, she might never rise, – never win Nirvana, – never hope for oblivion. The unflecked blackness of the despair that settled down like a foldless sable curtain upon O'Tei, caused the heart of Masago to bleed for her. The gentlest, noblest, most patient, as well as the most innocent of ladies! Truly the ways of the Eternal are inscrutable. The austere Abbess strove to instil comfort into the numbed soul-without avail. Her arguments, after all, were shallowest platitudes, to be tossed aside by O'Tei with easy scorn. What to her were the puny arts of O'Kikú the second wife? Shielded by the buckler of such suffering as hers, the tiny pins of the geisha fell harmless. Pity that 'twas so, for wholesome indignation might have wakened her from the stupor which, unless broken, must shortly end in dissolution.

Pondering as she paced the silent groves, the Abbess sought for a clue in vain. If the family was doomed to be smitten root and branch, it was doomed. But what a store of faith is needed humbly to acquiesce in the monstrous belief that the innocent must suffer for the guilty, – that generations yet unborn are to come into the world for the express purpose of bearing on their backs the guilt of their ancestors. With terror Masago felt that she was growing rebellious, – that her faith was trembling, – that she could no longer gaze with trustful veneration upon Buddha, the expressionless and the impassible, reposing cross-legged on his lotus. Herself, O'Tei, the dearly-loved Sampei, were all to suffer for No-Kami. Sure Tomoyé must be writhing on some other sphere for being the mother of such a cockatrice! And so it naturally came about that Masago, as well as others, looked forward to the sacrificing of Hojo-the chief to whom they owed allegiance, – of the head of the family of which she was proud to be one, – that she even prayed for the death of No-Kami as the only possible solution of the problem.

O'Kikú was not above profiting by the lesson which had been taught by Nara's visit. Instead of being permitted to subside into hopeless imbecility, her lord must be aroused, – must be exhorted to tighten the cords of his nervous system, in preparation for a sudden strain. Accordingly, after a period of wonder at Nara's visit and its apparent abortiveness, she began to suspect that, courteous as his manner was, and suavely ceremonious his departure, they had not yet heard the last of the kugé's irruption; and that it behoved her, as the guiding spirit of the castle, to practise caution. That snake, Sampei, was wriggling in the grass in inconvenient proximity, darting glances of adoration at the chatelaine. For the dignity of her dear lord's name (and her own future comfort), she must accentuate and renew her exposure of the villain and his paramour, now that the coast was clear. To this end, in order that vengeance might be tempered with sang froid, their deluded victim must be taught to mingle vigilance with circumspection, which would require a measure of sobriety. It would be vexatious to have to resign a modicum of personal liberty, but the sacking of the castle by a watchful enemy, who knew of its master's sottishness, would be a worse evil. It behoved her for her own sake to protect my lord from the enemy within the citadel. Arguing from her own ways of thought, it was a logical deduction that, in love with No-Kami's wife, Sampei must desire his death.

The geisha, adapting herself to the circumstances of the moment, became outwardly more circumspect in her behaviour; watched over her lord with affectionate care; exhorted and chid him with tender patience till his paroxysms of fear were past; made herself so absolutely needful to his existence, that he could not but fondly mark the contrast betwixt her and his legitimate consort. And she was not slow in administering the deadly drops when occasion served. What should the lady O'Tei care? she would babble artlessly, that her lord was well or ill, since her affections were engrossed by another, who all along had possessed her heart. The silent twilight of cryptomeria groves is conducive to holy meditation, but is also vastly convenient for mundane dallying. But no! he must not excite himself. Why should my lord exercise his shattered nerves, and pace like a caged bear? What mattered it what they did, or how frequently they met? For her part, his faithful O'Kikú thought it very diverting that any warm-blooded man should elect to fall in love with an icicle.

No-Kami hearkened, and although his reason rejected the geisha's hints, they set him pondering. Of O'Tei's character he had never seen any side, after the first few days, but the cold, repellent one, made more obnoxious sometimes by that lack of proper pride, which to his nostrils was as an evil savour. His brother was also a riddle; as a soldier brave to a fault, in other concerns hesitating, even timid, beset with petty scruples incomprehensible to the broader views of his feudal master. At the bottom of his heart he was afraid of his first wife, and disliked his brother, who, instinct whispered, was more worthy than himself. But to suspect those two of love passages! O'Kikú, unable to read correctly the characters of either, was led astray by over anxiety on his behalf. And yet, what if she were right?

That dreadful curse that was ringing ever in his ears. Was this one of the ways in which he was to be stricken? Was he to be held up by wife and brother as a laughing-stock in the eyes of his assembled warriors? He had been weak, unnerved; had groaned and grovelled, forgetting his name and lineage; had all but been lured to submit to degradation that night among the enchanted trees. He would battle with the phantoms now, like a true son of his father and Tomoyé-would conquer, by force of indomitable will, even the goblins that pursued him. Rising up, and girding his loins, thankful that the samurai had never beheld his throes of terror, he appeared once more in the hall, overbearing and stern and firm of step-as fierce and harsh as heretofore, if haggard and ashen of hue.

Sampei marked the change with approval; for the idea that the head of the house was to turn coward seemed the most grievous of possibilities in connection with the martyr's curse. At this juncture an event occurred which added yet further to his relief. The lord of Tsu was summoned, by sudden mandate of the Mikado, and was ordered to present himself in the sacred precincts of Kiŷoto without delay, accompanied by a small following. This order, publicly given, he must perforce obey, and, removed from the bad influence of the favourite, there was no knowing what happy turn might follow. Though polygamy was a recognised institution, it was not etiquette for any other than the first wife to hold communion with the ladies of the imperial court.

The peremptory nature of the summons surprised and offended the lord of Tsu. Old Nara, doubtless, had perceived how unstrung he was, had whispered to the silly babbling kugés and their infatuated head that the lion was toothless, that the poison-bag of the serpent was removed. A sense of their mistake, and the speedy discomfiture of the feeble gang, acted on the system of the despot like a dash of fresh salt brine. He laughed aloud, as, detaching the clinging arm of the siren from about his neck, he leapt lightly on Typhoon, his war-horse. The day was crisp and brightly cold-exhilarating-the sky cloudless, as he galloped towards the hills. In the frosty reviving air of the mountains the vengeful shades were exorcised; Koshiu and Kennui and their baleful family lingered behind in the plains, and stretch forth in vain their talons. The ghosts faded into thin vapour-nightmare was shaken off-No-Kami felt ten years younger than yesterday. A fig for the farmer and his curse! The tyrant of Japan must have been sick indeed to have shivered under a peasant's puling!

Of a surety a signal change had come over my lord. Peradventure there was to be an alteration in the mind as well as the body-greater miracles have come to pass. So mused Sampei-strangely relieved-while he watched the knot of horsemen as they wound upwards and over the sky-line. The gods grant it! O'Kikú also mused as she stood watching. My lord was better-that was a comfort, – would prove to the trembling courtiers that they had reckoned wrongly. She had a secret for him on his return which should bind him yet closer to her. Meanwhile she could enjoy a time of absolute freedom, give vent to her proclivities, whilst narrowly watching the young General and his love, and weaving the web of her intrigues.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE DESPOT OBEYS ORDERS

The little cavalcade sped swiftly on, for the frost-bound roads were pleasant travelling, and towards evening a dim mass appeared on the horizon, which presaged a fall of snow. It behoved the Daimio and his escort to ascend the wild and rugged pass, and seek the sheltered plains, before the coming of the storm.

Yes, No-Kami was himself again. The eyes, like burning coals, no longer glared at him. The good horse Typhoon, idle too long, chafed under the bit, buffeted with his lord for mastery. A distempered dream, no more, one that was past and gone. Light of heart and jovially inclined, he gratified his taste for cruelty by lashing his steed into a fever. Even he, the horse, was aware how sick he had been-was mutinous and restive-needed a sharp lesson. The samurai, he remarked, were more familiar than of yore. There was a shade less of submission in their manner. One went so far as to bandy a broad jest, putting forth lips too close to his master's ear, upon which he received a smart blow upon the cheek, as a hint to keep his distance.

Their lord was himself again, and the warriors were glad. That he should be fooled by a wanton to their benefit was amusing for a while, but with satiety rose a feeling of disgust. The fascinating geisha's heart had room for too many occupants, and the warriors began to reflect some while since that, by betraying their lord in their society, she was shaming the house they served. As the charm of novelty waned, they began to see her as she was. Removed from the range of O'Kikú's orbs, the more sober among then grieved about that second marriage. As a dancing-girl-a passing fancy-O'Kikú was all that could be desired-but as a permanent second wife? – no. On the whole, even the mawkish chatelaine was less grievous as a mistress. Her sins were of omission only. Never by word or look had she disgraced the name she bore. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the concubine.