The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

Both Fountain and attendant kugés were never weary now of discussing "what then?" Of course, the last thing of all was to be harakiri. This means of final exit he could justly claim by right of name and lineage. But before the final tragedy there might, if skilfully thought out, be endless shades of moral torture; and the kugés, squatting in a row, crumpled their foreheads and stared at the gold ceiling in the delightful travail of conception. Every one had an idea which required to be examined and considered, sifted, accepted, or rejected. Meanwhile the Fountain dribbled out wisdom, encouraged brains to nimbleness, distributed applause. One of the nobles had an inspiration, whereon all his fellows cackled. There was a punishment that none had endured for years, but which might be revived with advantage for the behoof of the fallen Hojo. In a public place, before the assembled populace, a series of the lowest and dirtiest Etas were to be placed in a long line, with straddled legs, and under the arcade thus formed-a pilgrimage of consummate degradation-the humbled noble, on hands and knees, was to be condemned to crawl. An admirable suggestion! Traitorous nobles condemned to this ordeal had been known to die from very shame-their soul crushed out of them, ere half the journey was accomplished. Sure the proud-stomached Hojo would not survive, and thus would go out of the world deprived of the honour of harakiri.

The Mikado, enchanted, could conjure up the scene. He longed for the moment to arrive when the culprit, erst so domineering, would shuffle in, nervous and unstrung. A new and charming sensation this to one who was wont himself to quiver. Yes, he longed for the moment, but the wretch should not be admitted at once. Certainly not. He should be shown his place; he who had ridden roughshod should be kept waiting in an ante-room. He-Hark! what sound was that? Rapid and dreadfully familiar? Could it indeed be? A footfall, too well known, was creaking quickly along the bare boards of the corridor. Shuffling, forsooth! it was as brisk and elastic as of yore. With a glance of dismayed reproach the Mikado turned to Nara, then concealed behind a fan his burning face. Nara frowned, surprised. The crouching kugés twittered.

Mice gambol when their hereditary foe is slumbering; then, when the green gleaming eyes re-open, scuffle into holes. For these poor mice there were no holes. The footstep was crunching-crunching on their hearts. Though it approached more near, more near, with dreadful swiftness, they might not move, since no shelter was at hand, and they had not wings to fly. Alack! with idle presumption they had uncorked a bottle, and out had popped a gin that spread his bat's pinions over the sky with stifling sulphurous stench.

Dread in his shaking hand indeed! Oh, Nara! Nara! Peeping nervously between his fan-sticks, as the commanding figure that he knew too well darkened the doorway, the Fountain of Honour perceived a threatening outline in which there was no sign of decadence. As with hand lightly poised on hip, and proud head raised, the Hojo strode into the Presence, the Mikado marked that he was pale and thin, but his eye, if bloodshot, was piercing as ever-fierce as the untamed eagle's. That Nara, who boasted of experience and acumen, should be so grievously taken in. Well, well! it was all the fault of that old fool. The embroglio was of his making; it must be for him to get them out of the hobble.

But Nara, save for a deepening line between the brows, and teeth that bit the lip, seemed unaware of the apparition. Red and wrinkled lids blinked over glazed eyes which stared stonily into space from under a white and shaggy penthouse. The Daimio of Tsu, erect and menacing, glanced slowly down at the assembled lords, who, with bent backs, were contemplating the floor-then at the fan and bundle of silks which concealed the Fountain of Honour-then at the crowd without, who stood with craned necks on the verandahs, or grouped about the garden. From between his fan-sticks the Mikado followed the motions of the despot with increasing trepidation.

If only he dared to command the closing of the doors-but his tongue refused its office. Instinct told him that the cup of disgrace was again to be presented to his lips, and that it would be more bitter than ever to the taste. How hard was fate! Every one of the court circle-hatamotos, lords, knights, dependants-was to witness the unpleasing ceremony.

As the Daimio stood quietly glancing round without a word, the silence became each second less endurable. By bearing and power of eye, combined with an eloquent past, the tyrant held them cowed. Insolent! He had presumed to appear in the presence in ordinary garb, – had not deigned to don the Uye-no-Bakama; or the regulation white silk shirt, or Ō Katabira. And the attitude of the courtiers, too! A pack of grovelling cowards! fine weather friends. A minute since they were gabbling, one against another, of future deeds of prowess-of dazzling achievements; now not one among the startled herd had courage to sacrifice himself-to save his lord from the dilemma. Piteously the Mikado looked at Nara, who made no response; then-since it was absolutely essential that some one should break the silence-he closed his fan and whispered meekly, -

"Lord Hojo, you are welcome."

No-Kami smiled, and remarked shortly, -

"Very welcome, doubtless. As I came hither I heard a sound of mirth-now all sit mumchance. Had I not received a special summons, I should have deemed I had intruded."

The smile and accents of studied courtesy were more galling than rude speech, to which all were well accustomed. 'Twas as when a tamer of animals flicks them playfully with a wand. They are too docile to need whipping, yet, pending possible contingencies, 'tis wholesome that they should receive a tap.

Suddenly dropping the tone of banter, the Daimio strode nearer to his master, and sternly said, -

"May I know why I was summoned? No matter. I have come, and, being here, will ask a question. We are at peace, I think. During the weeks of my retirement I have heard no news of war. Why, then, a stir of arms, – a movement of troops, – marching, countermarching in the night? What is the subject of offence? – is it with China or Corea?"

The sinister eye of No-Kami fell upon Nara, who calmly responded, – "I know nothing."

"You lie!" retorted the Hojo fiercely. "Oh, base and double-faced and craven! False and deceitful is the blood of Nara-rotten is stock and branch! You and your daughter are alike."

Without changing his attitude one tittle, the old man slightly raised his brows.

"My daughter!" he said, with exceeding calm. "Forbear to breathe her name. You have broken her heart; driven her to the gate of Death. I ought to have known that none but a savage was a fit mate for Hojo."

"Pretty innocent!" sneered No-Kami, lashing himself to frenzy as he advanced towards Nara, hand raised as if to smite. "Know that your pure white blossom is my brother's paramour!"

A flush passed over the grim features of the old Daimio, then left them pale. His master nervously scanned the kugés, whose heads were bent lower than ever. From no quarter was there succour against this octopus. The Mikado fairly jumped in his seat when No-Kami spoke again.

"You, boy," he said, "see to this matter of the troops. They were summoned without your knowledge, I am willing to believe, by others, who never troubled to consult one so feeble. Or shall I, since you have called me to your side, undertake to relieve you of the task? Letters shall be despatched forthwith to the effect that 'twas a false alarm, bred of mischief and malice, – that the ronins may be disbanded, the men returned to their homes. I shall remain for the present at the Golden House, ready with my humble service when required. With you and yours, my lord, I will settle later."

With a show of exaggerated humility, which was worse than knife-stabs, and a glare at Nara, the despot departed as he came, leaving in his wake, as he scrunched away, a trail of terror and discomfiture. The sliding doors were closed in haste. For a while, the assembly remained frozen, then the unhappy Mikado heaved a deep sigh, which was met by a flutter of moaning. He was gone for the present, that was a small mercy; but then he might return at any moment, abusive and vindictive instead of caustic. The shuffling step and trembling hand. Oh, Nara, Nara! Broken reed, false friend; vain, impotent wind-bag; purblind, blustering dotard!

Gushing with torrents of weak tears, the Fountain relieved his pent-up anguish with trickling reproaches and sobs, to which the old Daimio listened gloomily. No doubt, he had been wrong in some measure, he admitted with hesitation, for so rapid a recovery had never entered into the complex web of his calculations. Perchance it was but the bright temporary flicker of the expiring lamp. The Fountain of Honour must not be too severe on his aged servant. Had he not kept his temper under grievous provocation, blows would have been exchanged in the holy presence, imperial prestige in the eyes of the whole court would have been lowered.

"Rubbish! A paltry excuse! Why, as he stood there, did none of you rid me of him?" groaned the Fountain, whereupon the abject circle groaned in echo.

"Of a truth, some one should have done it," bleated one; but surprise, after what they had heard, unnerved each arm; and, indeed, the Hojo was a terrible person, an ogre to terrify the doughtiest.

"Bluster and cowardice are sisters!" continued the lamenting Mikado. He could never trust any of them any more-never, never-the cravens! His chains, heavy and numbing, were riveted with adamantine links! and so forth-with a chorus of bleating.

When you know that you have done your best, – that but for some one unforeseen and ineradicable speck your carefully-wrought blade would be faultless, a shimmering masterpiece-it is vastly vexatious for people whom you despise, although they wear the aureole, to go on ungenerously drivelling anent that one undeniable blemish. Nara, as he said, had endured a great deal at the hard hand of Hojo, but to sit calmly any longer under the futile reproaches of the Holy One was beyond his stock of that patience he was so fond of recommending to others.

Moreover, is not the putting aside of what is past and unpleasant a principle approved of by sages? What is done is done. Even after the late scene, wherein a brutal keeper disported himself among his animals, and departed triumphing, all was not lost, The Fountain had been compelled to imbibe another sip of a nauseous draught with which he was so familiar, that surely it did not signify, at any rate, it should be the last His faithful Nara promised it. How the never-sufficiently-to-be-accursed Hojo had ever discovered the approaching advent of cohorts was a puzzle. But the cohorts were near by this time, and they must even make an open stand against the tyrant, since the scheme of treachery had failed. He, the domineering Hojo, would write angry and imperious letters to the approaching daimios, bidding them begone; but in the name of the Holy One letters could also be sent-secretly, of course-exhorting them to ride all the quicker, since the situation had become acute.

"I will gird my old sword again, despite my many winters," Nara concluded pompously. "Dost think that because my hair is white my heart is frozen? Under the snows of Shirané-San and Asama-Yama smoulder the hidden fires. This man's father has immured three Emperors, and he himself is preparing to depose a fourth. He has insulted me, and broken my daughter's heart. A little craft-a very little more-and the crest of the despot is laid low."

The hapless Mikado suffocated. Tears of impotent wrath welled from his august eyelids. Cowardice and bluster to the end, and broken reeds to lean on, while he drained the nauseous cup! Verily the banished Emperors were to be envied. The young man rose, and retired to his inner chamber, and lay prone with moans in darkness.

CHAPTER XV.

WILL BUDDHA SPEAK?

Meanwhile affairs at Tsu were not prospering. Sampei, tossed like a shuttlecock, formed, as usual, a dozen resolutions daily, and broke them all. At one moment he was for the flight of O'Tei from the doomed castle-become now a hell of untramelled debauchery-and her installation with his mother at the temple. There she would be in sanctuary, whence even her husband durst not wrest her. But then what a triumph for O'Kikú! He felt that O'Tei would never consent to a step which would be a tacit admission of defeat, for she was a Nara of pure blood, with all the pride of her race. No. She must stop where she was, and await the unrolling of events; and yet what a life was hers, compelled to remain much in her bower, lest she should be insulted by O'Kikú or the braves. As Nara hoped, the evil germ was working inwardly. A regret rose within the mind of Sampei which scorched and blackened it. Is a faithful clansman and an honest man ever justified in turning on his chief? Before there was no question of it: now he was in more than doubt. May a brother ever be pardoned for taking his brother's life? Cases of fratricide were common enough, as Nara had hinted-there were precedents galore-but then the ruling feature of Sampei's character had always been loyal honesty. The gods in their wisdom had set over him certain superiors. What would be said to him when the end came, and accounts were totted up upon the abacus, if he had rebelled? Buddha, frowning, would demand to know how he dared move out of his place, arrogantly assuming to be the wiser.

His first duty was to the head of his house: surely there should be no doubt whatever about that. But what if another urgent duty had been imposed by his heart-an imperative duty, clashing with the first? There lay the rub, a problem beyond the solving of the simple General. And since the shocking suggestion had been spread by the wily geisha that there were unholy bonds 'twixt him and her whom it was only too plain he loved, the situation had become so strained as to fill him with foreboding and dismay. To save her fair fame ought he indeed to go? To leave her a helpless waif on this whirlpool of black wickedness was out of the question. And yet how was she benefited by his staying, since he dared not approach without compromising her? So miserable did the poor man feel, racked and torn by a difficulty with which he was incapable of coping, that the light was dark to him, his heart stone cold. He knew himself as weak as she, a ball at the foot of Fate; and so he wandered aimless and disconsolate, hearing and seeing nothing, caring not what befell, waiting-as the rudderless do-to see what would happen next.

Oh, heart of man, centre of suffering! When one is said to be heartless, 'tis looked upon as a reproach, instead of a matter for gratulation! The heart of man! 'Tis barely enough for a kite's dinner, yet the whole world is not sufficiently large to satisfy its lust, its greed, its ambition-and how it suffers!

When he sailed so blythely for Corea with his enthusiastic army, how halcyon was the world to Sampei; what wonders he was going to perform; what a career of ambition was before him. And now, ambition was dead. Life had become Endurance. His candid spirit was warped by suspicion. He, once so open and trustful, saw in everything a hidden meaning; in every event an occult snare.

In due course the betto brought him the letter of his chief, and he smiled with pitying derision. Was he to be taken in so easily? Had he not seen the betto ride off with the missive of O'Kikú? Had he not heard the woman herself urging the servant to speed? A puerile trick. The letter had counselled the infatuated Daimio to remove his brother from her path, that O'Tei, left unprotected and alone, might lie at her mercy. What other reason could there be for so sudden a summons to Kiŷoto? With disdain he tore the letter up, resolved more firmly than ever to stick to his post, to carry out his mission to the end. When my lord should return, there would be time enough for explanations. They were burning to be rid of O'Tei-the guilty couple. From this crowning sin, at least, Sampei would save his brother.

It required no little resolution unblenchingly to follow the straight but rugged path. O'Kikú smarted more than ever under his cold and implacable disdain. All her arts were useless. Maddened, she strove to pique him by excesses of abandonment under his very nose, and was convulsed by fits of corroding acrimony to discover how futile were her efforts. Against all her attacks he was armed cap-à-pié. If my lord would but return, that she might wreak envenomed spite upon these two, whom now with her whole soul she hated! Meanwhile the only result produced by her reckless behaviour was that the samurai, for the most part, disapproved of her more and more; while Sampei, to shun the sight of one so odious, devoted himself to excursions and the chase.

Away upon the hill, with its temple and solemn arcades of greenery, as in the hum of the houses below, the cloud of anxiety was thickening.

The still dim shrine no longer lulled to devout prayer the soul of Masago. In the midst of supplication her mind turned worldwards. She yearned over her son and the tottering family. She grieved so for O'Tei, when the chatelaine arrived for prayers, that her hard face grew wondrous soft, and she marvelled at the stoniness of destiny. Seeing now with clearer ken than in the past, when she had admired the warlike Tomoyé, adored her rude lord, had almost persuaded herself to believe that all that he did was good, she began to have a denned perception of his crimes, mingled with a startled regret. He had been guilty of much that was deplorable. No-Kami had been brought up in his father's school, had from the first gone lengths that were much more regrettable, to end in deeds which she preferred not to contemplate. He deserved to be accursed, and was accursed. Our sins, like sable ravens, return to roost. Ever since the culminating crime, events had moved so directly towards a visible goal that the finger of fate was plain. But why Sampei? Why the fair and good O'Tei, a symbol of all that was pure? These questions, so bewildering, would rise persistently to the surface. Why should these two, mixed up in this horror, without overt act of theirs, be marched as victims to the sacrifice?

She had heard from Sampei that my lord had rallied suddenly before he went to Kiŷoto, and this started a fresh train of thought. O'Kikú, the baleful geisha, was at the bottom of all the trouble. She had suddenly appeared, emissary of devils, on the fatal day, and ever since had been a scourge. Thanks to an inspiration from above, the Abbess had been the means of separating my lord from his concubine. Oh, what if, Heaven relenting, the separation might become final-No-Kami himself reformed? The soul of Masago gave a great leap. Yes, she saw light at last-the light for which she had besought so fervently. She was to be the humble means of unravelling the tangle, of saving the family honour.

But how was this to be accomplished? With trepidation she remembered that she was in her sixty-first year, which, as all the world knows, is the last of the yaku doshi, or evil years, after which a woman may be at peace. During her thirty-third and forty-second (the other yaku-doshi-happily passed) she had been very careful lest, tempted by Ratatzu, she should be capable of something dreadful, that would ruin her and hers. And now it was terrible to think that in this last year of ordeal-the one of a long life which was most beset with brambles-she was called upon to act with decision, to stand forth for the succour of the innocent, for the shriving and salvation of the guilty. This state of things would call for much vigil, much putting off of earth-trammels, and adoration of the sun-god at his rising, that her old eyes might clearly see.

The more she pondered-a slow, tall figure pacing among the moss-grown tombs, under the stately criptomerias-the more plain her duty seemed. Thanks to the benign deities, her prayers for light were answered, and she saw. It was by Heaven's decree that the geisha had travelled hitherward, an agent for the fulfilling of a purpose pre-ordained. Buddha, with omniscient vision, had caused her to come to Tsu for the accomplishment of the curse of the martyr. But now, through the prayers and entreaties of his humble handmaid, he had relented, – been turned from his intent. What a scaffold was the Abbess raising. When No-Kami should come back, his evil genius would be gone. This favour granted, Buddha would vouchsafe another. By force of supplication Masago would obtain that the temper of the Hojo might be changed. He would repent him of his evil ways, and atone in the future for the past. Then it should be her proud privilege to bring together again the husband and the wife. O'Tei must be taught to forgive, to break down the barrier of ice behind which her better nature had been shrouded. Warming in the radiance of a new happiness her frozen petals would unfold, give forth their sweetness, and No-Kami would come to know the treasure that he had ignorantly tossed aside. The wan cheek of the old Abbess was flushed, her dimmed eyes sparkled, as she revolved these things, devoutly giving thanks to Heaven. Is it not the greatest joy that may be tasted by mortals-the permission to intervene in the house of discord, and bring to it peace and happiness? The end was plain to the prophetic vision of Masago, but the way to it was long. The gentle O'Tei would be brought with little trouble to play her part.

The difficulty lay with the geisha. The Abbess, mindful of yaku doshi, resolved to be prudent and cautious-not precipitate; and yet, whatever had to be done must be done before the return of No-Kami to the castle. There was not time then for protracted cogitation. She would appeal in person to the siren, – speak words inspired from on high which should touch her flinty heart. Seizing her staff, the gaunt figure in its flowing draperies of crape descended the long flight of stairs, passed under the torii at the bottom, and strode, buoyed by celestial fervour, along the winding street which led to the castle gate. O'Kikú was in a boat upon the river-O'Tei's own favourite shallop, which she had robbed her of, as of other things-and marvelled greatly to behold the Abbess of the temple beckoning to her from the shore.

Approaching, she reclined idly at the bottom of the boat, toying with some winter blossoms she had plucked; dipping, in saucy contempt of cold, the fingers of the other hand into the running water. She was muffled in a robe of furs, her head swathed in a kerchief of thick silk; and Masago remarked that she looked worn, – had lost that freshness which had been her most piquant charm. Earnestly the Abbess spoke; pleaded for the family honour on the verge of wreck; discoursed with proud eloquence of the illustrious house of which she was a lowly member; reminded her hearer that she, O'Kikú, also now was one of the house, in precisely the same position as she, the speaker, had been. There were two ways open to her. Lest she should bring upon herself the reproach of having brought a great family to ruin, she must turn over a new leaf, and eschew in future the vices for which she was notorious; or, if waywardness was in her blood, she must depart, and by self-sacrifice atone for the past, and save the family. Amused with the thought that the Abbess must be mad, the geisha lay listening, a sly smile playing about her lips, until the unlucky pleader began to talk about her son. Then starting, as if bitten by an adder, uprose the concubine, and, taking up the pole, leisurely pushed off from the bank.

"Sampei, forsooth! A ridiculous old lunatic!" she scoffed, with a superb head-toss. "You must be very insane. What! You'd have me go hence and prison myself for the behoof of the pale idiot yonder? Even if I were myself mad enough to consent, my lord would never love her. The contemptible creature is barren; whereas I, the second wife-" and with a trail of mocking merriment, and an attempt to raise a blush, she smiled at the astounded Abbess, and propelled her bark into the stream.

Masago remained standing, her tall figure mirrored in the water, her shrunken hands crossed upon her breast, amazed and troubled. What was this new factor in the embroglio? She was with child-the interloper. There would soon be a new bond, a fresh silver link to unite more closely the pair whom she was bound to separate. The woman's influence over my lord would be greater than ever; and, all for evil as of yore. The breach between No-Kami and O'Tei would grow wider. As in a dream-with slow gait and corrugated brow-the Abbess passed back towards the grove, heedless of the salutations of the peasants, – of the brown urchins that plucked at her skirts. A child-a son, perhaps-that woman's son! Swiftly there passed through her brain a sense of the results that would accrue. The wife, ambitious and unscrupulous, who was a mother, would become all-powerful. Fresh insults would day by day be heaped on the one who was not thus blessed among women. In her mind's eye Masago beheld a long train of disasters and calamities, O'Kikú the active agent. Crouched down before the altar, her chin supported by her palms, she gazed at the bronze symbol that sat so calm and still and upright, with mouth shut and eyelids closed.