The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

"My task will be the easier," he muttered, unfastening the thongs of his rain-coat, and taking in the corners of his mouth the ends of the cloth about his head. The man's attire was strange and incongruous, for though his garb was that of a peasant, the cloth from out of which his sharp eyes peered was of silk broidered with silver. He rose stealthily upon his knees, felt for a dirk in his obi, drew forth the blade and ran a finger along the edge, then laid the scabbard in the water.

"How slow they are," he murmured.

Nearer-nearer still. The bearers were intent upon their task, for there had been a frost last night, and the stones were slippery. Clouds had been rising in banks, masses of cumuli that passed fitfully across the moon. Snowflakes began to fall.

Hist! what was that, another batch of waterfowl? No; a cry as of frighted animals. A commotion-a rush-a panic. Robbers! a gang-a multitude.

Stabbed in the back, the two bettos dropped without a struggle. For an instant the attendants strove to free themselves from cumbrous grass-coats, to disengage their swords from oiled paper coverings, in vain; for it must be at least a dozen nimble blades, wielded by unseen hands, that were swirling through the air with such deadly purpose. Who could have foreseen that on this quiet track assassins were in ambush? With a howl and a cry of treachery the cohort of poltroons abandoned the litter, which fell heavily on its side, and fled over the quicksand, where they buffeted, to lie engulfed. The man, for there was but one-or was it not the god of thunder? – dashed at the fallen kago, tore back with one hand its half-closed curtains, from whose folds there emerged a woman. A sway of two tussling figures, as the clouds swept over the moon, and the snow fell thickly. A tossing of white arms and clutching fingers clasped in a grip of death. A gurgle, a long wild shriek-so terrible a cry of anguish, as a soul was forcibly rent from out its tenement, that boors within their huts crept close together and prayed for protection against goblins. Even the austere figure of the avenger remained for a second spellbound, as, standing erect to wipe his dirk, his ear followed that last piteous wail of agony that faded in the music of the stream.

His task was successfully accomplished: to the gods all gratitude. He peered anxiously around, while he bound up something in a purple kerchief, then, drawing the pick from his katana's sheath, thrust it through the silk for easier carrying. He was alone with slumbering nature, and with it. The relay had fled to give alarm. There was nought to be seen of the others save distant circles on the watery quagmire, with here and there a hand whose groping soon was stilled. At his feet lay the two dead bettos and a heap of sumptuous furs, from out of which there trickled a thick stream that meandered slow over the stones.

Looking upward at the moon, which now unveiled again, the man, smiling softly, pressed to his lips the dirk. "Old friend," he murmured, "beloved of my father, thou hast saved his honour and ours, an evil life the ransom. With speed to my mother now, that she may know the atonement is complete."

He sought for a moment leisurely among the reeds, and seeing the scabbard gleam, replaced it with the dirk within his belt. Then swinging his burthen in his hand, he strode quickly away towards the temple.

His mind was relieved of a great anxiety, and he felt happier than for many a day. All had gone well. In the scurry not one had seen his face, swathed as it was by a cloth. There was nothing to betray whose arm had been that which had struck the ghastly blow. There would be turmoil and uproar among the samurai, a hot pursuit of the assassins; then, search proving vain, silence, and oblivion. The family honour was safe. The concubine would be speedily forgotten, and it would be as if the shadow of the wicked geisha had never crossed their path.

Under the torii, up the long straight flight of stairs, through the temple where Miné and the nuns were praying audibly, to the corridor beyond, off which was the chamber of the Abbess.

A light was flickering. She was awake, anxious for the arrival of the chatelaine. Her ascetic visage was wrapped in holy calm, as with closed eyes she told her beads. The sound of her son's dear footfall, as he strode across the floor, aroused her, and she looked on him with fond inquiry.

"My mother, it is done," he whispered, out of breath. "Here have I brought the proof that your instructions have been obeyed."

Masago, raising herself with difficulty, stretched forth eager hands to claim the bundle, and, her fingers trembling with exultation, hasted to untie its knots. Then from her breast was wrung a wail, racked with the ring of unavailing grief, echo of that shriek along the water.

Out of her grasp, upon the mat, there rolled a woman's head, bloody and waxen. Its delicate features were warped, convulsed in the life battle. Stretched wide in terror were its glassy eyes, its parted lips distorted.

Stunned and dazed, crowned with the brain-ache of a hopeless sorrow, the icy grip about his heart of a despair that might never be assuaged, Sampei sank slowly on his knees.

For the eyes that stared upon him now in mute imploring were those he loved best on earth.

The face was the face of O'Tei, the fair, and gentle, and unfortunate.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FACE TO FACE

When the panic-stricken servants rushed into the castle with their appalling tale, there was general consternation. They had been attacked, they swore, by a band of at least fifty ronins. By the last act of the doomed chatelaine she had won back the respect of the warriors, for they perceived, too late, that her gentleness had naught akin with cowardice. Resuming her fit position by force of princely dignity, she had become a liege lady of whom they could be proud. They felt pangs of remorse, too, in having allowed her to sally forth by night unprotected by soldiers. Yet, if they had not cared for her, it was well known that the peasants did, who vowed she was a saint. And sure none could ever have supposed that there were any, even in this bad world, who could be so wicked as to do her to death thus cruelly. The country far and near was scoured, but no trace of a gang was found. The thickly-falling snow had obliterated footmarks. On the fatal spot, seek as they would, nothing was to be found but the overturned litter and mutilated remains of their mistress-hats and garments scattered here and there-and the bodies of the drowned bearers. At dawn, the sad cortége returned home with its freight, having learned nothing; and then a feeling of uneasiness came over the samurai as to what my lord would say. He neglected and disliked his wife, but would surely retaliate swiftly and fearfully upon those whose carelessness had led to so gruesome a catastrophe.

As for O'Kikú, whom all avoided now as if she were plague-stricken, she remained secluded in her chamber, transfixed with growing wonder. The blows of the assassins were aimed at herself-of that she had no doubt-and she had been saved by a miracle. Yet who could there be who wished to kill her, unless it were O'Tei or Masago? Of course, it was not O'Tei, or she would never have marched thus deliberately to her own undoing; and as she was on her way to the temple, summoned thither, it could not be a plot of Masago's, for Masago loved her dearly. The more she thought it out, the more incomprehensible grew the whole affair, and at last she was fain to put it from her as a mystery which time might some day decipher. One thing, however, was plain. By a wondrous stroke of luck, the position of herself, O'Kikú, had vastly improved. A stumbling-block that threatened to become troublesome was swept out of her path. So soon as my lord should learn her secret, he would, if skilfully wheedled, take to his arms, as his first wife, the mother of his child. She would be consort of the Hojo, chatelaine of Tsu, and as she thought of it, her bosom glowed with gratified ambition, and she there and then determined that in the smiling future the castle should contain no concubine.

At early dawn the good-natured bonze hied him down from the mountain to visit his revered patient, and greatly was he shocked by the spectacle that met his view. On the threshold of the Abbess's chamber stood Miné, with finger on lip, and a far-off vacant look of dread that betokened incipient madness. Her father's curse was falling with leaden weight upon the members of the devoted family, and as she beheld the swoop of stroke after stroke her soul was withered within her. She too-she whom he had repulsed unpardoning-she too was doomed with them. What would her end be? Entering the room of Masago with accustomed listless step to attend to duties, she had stood riveted as she read the full horror of the scene. On the floor was Masago, delirious; close by crouched her shuddering son, clasping something-something terrible-in his arms.

From that moment till the arrival of the friendly bonze, Miné had stood a faithful sentinel, lest peradventure prying nuns might learn and spread the truth. Should it become known that Sampei-the once dear Sampei-had been guilty of this awful crime, the town would arise as one man to tear him limb from limb. The young priestess was not capable of deciding what was to be done, but the friendly bonze would think for her, and propound the words of wisdom. Little by little the first distracting throes of misery passed. The Abbess grew calm, and with the death-sweat came resignation.

The gods, ungenerous and mocking, had fooled their handmaid. Instead of being turned from their purpose by her puny supplications, as she had arrogantly dared to hope, they had singled her out, with a consummate refinement of cruelty as their chief implement of vengeance. By her hand-the hand of the mother and the friend-were stricken down the apple of her eye-her son, and the sweet lady who had loved and trusted her. And in them was she not herself smitten-ay, so crushed and beaten that naught could hurt her more? Alas! alas! that she should have been so blinded as not to take warning by the fateful year-the last of yaka doshi, and have kept herself from dangerous meddling. What should chance henceforth she cared not. Since all were condemned, the sooner fell the last and fatal stroke the better, – on the dear head of the son she loved so fondly-on all. As for Sampei, he appeared as if changed to stone. In the presence of so intense a depth of black despair, Miné trembled-the kindly bonze was awed; for sure there is no sight so pitiful in nature as the whirl and flood of human anguish whose torrent we may not stem.

It was essential that some plan of action should be decided on forthwith; and the bonze was of opinion that the secret of who it was that had done the deed for the present must be kept. Gently raising Sampei from his attitude of utter abandonment, and taking his treasure from him, he led him into the temple, and placed it within a bronze coffer of exceeding sanctity which stood beside the altar.

"He alone who can act," he said, "in such a crisis, is my lord of Nara. To him will I go forthwith."

On foot, with staff and scrip, he made the pilgrimage to Kiŷoto, wrapped as he journeyed in holy ecstasy, thanking the gods for their goodness. Were not the wicked who are set in high places sometimes to receive their meed, the faith of man in truth and God and justice would wane and crumble. As the dragon that browses on the white flesh of innocent young maids is slain at last, so was it to be with the Hojos. Their cup was full. For some good and occult purpose beyond purblind human ken, the scourge for generations had afflicted the earth, but now was the limit placed. Awakening Buddha had said, "So far shalt thou go and no farther, for the punishing of the transgressions of the people." The limit was reached, and now Buddha, merciful, would hold his hand. But how subtle was the means of retribution-so subtle, that as he contemplated it, the bonze was overcome with wonder. Not only was each member of the family to perish miserably, but the nearest and dearest the agent! A woman was to be butchered by him who to save a hair of her dear head would gladly have sacrificed his life. A man was to be brought to a condition worse far than the most lingering of deaths, by the mother who, to save him from a pang, would have bartered her hope of Nirvana.

The bonze, travel-stained and weary, sought my lord of Nara at the Mikado's palace, and found him without difficulty; for it was the policy of that crafty daimio to be of easy access to the people. He was buried to the lips in papers and despatches, for the die was cast now; it was to be a hand-to-hand tussle for existence. Either the Hojo must fall, or they would all be sacrificed. Answers had been received from country magnates. Despite peremptory orders from the Hojo, they were advancing by forced marches. They had gone too far for retreat. To obey the tyrant without a struggle for freedom was to condemn themselves to life-long bondage. What of the Corean army once commanded by Sampei? the magnates inquired. What of the thousands of disbanded ronins? Would they side with the despot, or unite for the saving of their Emperor? "Tush!" Nara muttered, as he wrote replies. "Have not I, the shrewd and the astute, considered these matters? The mountains about Tsu are teeming with faithful men in ambush. When these marching daimios reach their appointed posts, the Holy City will be surrounded by a protecting girdle; and then-and then-we may act!"

But Destiny amused herself as usual by thwarting the intricate plans so carefully conceived by mortal ingenuity. Is it not always so? If we arrange a sequence of events for ourselves, does not something always intervene to mar and derange the scheme? Perhaps in the next life, or the next after, we may be permitted to settle things for ourselves. Clearly in this one it is forbidden. First it had been arranged that the Hojo was to be caught in a trap in his own castle. Since then the aspect of affairs was altered; for after a few days passed in the Golden House among his vassals, their master had again mysteriously gone into retirement. Spies informed Nara that he was heard to groan at night, – that he saw visions, and dreamed dreams of strange and mystic import. He had relapsed into the previous state, as before he came up from Tsu. Had not wise Nara said that his energy was the expiring of the lamp. This being so, difficulties were delightfully smoothed, and Nara was able to improve the occasion for his master's benefit, by pointing out how admirably sage he had been in the keeping of his temper. Is not time the healer of all wounds? A scandal in the palace had been averted. The claws of the bear were rotting piecemeal. So soon as the circle of iron was complete it should close in and crush the tyrant, while a simultaneous movement would be made on Tsu for the capture of his brother and retainers.

And a few hurried sentences from the lips of a simple bonze upset all these elaborate calculations. He hearkened to the dolorous tale, with a choler that might not be suppressed. This was too much! Old Nara had allowed himself to be bearded. Under great provocation, he had curbed his wrath, – had swallowed his pride, and waited. But now he might wait no more. What, his heiress, his only child, the only bearer of his august and honoured name, was to be openly and cruelly slain, because her lord was weary of her, and wished to please a wanton! As with hands behind his back, and distended nostrils, the stately veteran strode hither and thither in the chamber, his old eyes flashed fire as of yore. In truth, under the snows, the volcano had slept, and, stirred to its centre, now blazed forth. Come what might, with his own shrivelled arm, since he had no son, would he wipe out this stain, or be dishonoured for aye in the noble annals of Japan. Narrowly he questioned the priest. Then the bonze had no idea, he said, who had been the butcher? It mattered not. There was no one but the Hojo and his wanton who desired the poor lady's death. It was at their bidding that the crime had been committed. First the Hojo and then his harlot. The fortress should be demolished stone by stone, the geisha executed on its ruins.

As he hearkened to the wrathful diatribes of the now furious lord, the bonze mused in ever-increasing admiration. Verily the working of the divine decrees is worthy of humble worship. The priest had promised Miné that Sampei should not be betrayed, 'Twas probable that when he rallied, as human nature will rally, to some small extent, however severe the shock, the rest of his days would be spent in the holy garb, and that comfort would come to him at last. For public edification and example, the soldier's remaining years were to be passed in prayer. The Hojo himself was to fall by the hand of Nara; that much was evident now, and it was fitting as well as just.

He who was wont to be over-prudent, even under stress of extreme and unendurable provocation, now threw prudence to the winds. Without delay he girded on his swords and dirk, mounted his horse, and galloped to the Golden House. Consequences were as rice straw in the wind. To fight and kill another daimio within the sacred city-within a given distance of the palace, meant death by harakiri. Himself to be slain meant confiscation of all his goods. His goods! a fig for them! He was childless now, and honour is worth more than goods. Peradventure when the stain had been wiped out, the Holy Mikado would forgive, in consideration for past service. No doubt he would be grateful for the removal of the incubus. If not, what mattered it? The childless old man would die, having saved at least his honour, and to the paltry dross of this world his sovereign lord was welcome.

Hearing the clatter of a single horseman's hoofs, the watchful samurai at the gate of the Golden House came forth and shaded their eyes with their palms to reconnoitre the visitor. Among themselves they were somewhat disturbed, for rumours of approaching troops were rife; the warriors of other magnates were unfriendly to the dominating one; and their lord was curiously inactive. Indeed, for the last day or two, he had not stepped abroad. That he was at home, and sick, was evident, for they could hear his muffled ejaculations; and now and then his distempered visage peered from an upper window with disordered mien, gazing on the wood and lake. The Daimio of Nara, with care upon his brow-in haste-unattended-alone? Strange! But events were moving strangely. The father-in-law of my lord; his parent's chosen guide and counsellor. With respectful salutes and genuflections the Daimio was allowed to pass. For of a certainty my lord required helpful counsel, and Nara, all agreed, was the very prince to give it.

The new-comer dashed past without deigning notice, nor drew rein till he reached the entrance of the villa. The heavy foliage of the surrounding pines was bowed down with a glittering burden; the picturesque lake, with its rocks and tiny islets, was frozen over, and on its surface wandered painfully and slow the myriad of black tortoises that usually slept beneath. A haven of peace and rest, an oasis of silence in a sea of turmoil. Even the sentries, who slowly marched before the doors, seemed under the spell of winter, their senses blunted by the nipping air.

The whirling mind of Nara was too much engrossed to heed such trivial matters. Flinging his bridle to a sentinel, he inquired where was his master. The man pointed upward with his lance, but added in troubled accents, that my lord was sick, – had given special orders that he was on no account to be disturbed.

"I have come to cure his sickness," the old man said, with a grim smile of peculiar meaning. "I have brought him medicine. See that we are left alone."

The Golden House, as we saw when we were here some time since, is a dwelling of small proportions on the lake bank, built of wood, with a huge towering roof bedizened with much gold. The upper chambers are reached by a ladder-stair of extreme exiguity, so frail and narrow that one person only can mount at a time, and only then by bowing his head.

Nara's tall and bulky form had much ado to reach the landing; but, arrived there, he loosed his katana in its sheath, and, with a strength, for which none would have credited him, seized the ladder, and, wrenching it from its iron fastening, hurled it clattering down.

The paper windows were closed; the light was dim; a voice, tuned low by world-worn weariness, demanded who was there.

Nara strode into the inner room where, wrapped in quilts, the Hojo lay, a hibachi close at hand, his swords in their rack beside him.

"You!" he said, rising to a sitting posture.

"I," was the rejoinder. "I, murderer! The father of O'Tei, the wife whom you have slaughtered."

No-Kami looked dreamily at the figure that stood over him, then felt his garb with a vague, uncertain movement of twitching fingers.

"Murderer?" he muttered, with a cynic's laugh.

The wrath of the old man flared up. Grinding his teeth, he spurned the prostrate figure.

"Yes, murderer!" he hissed, "and I, the father of your victim. No one can interrupt us. O'Tei is dead-you know it-and by your decree. Only one, if one, will leave this room alive. Have you any manhood left, degenerate spawn of tyrants? Take up your sword, and quickly, or I'll slay you like a dog, as you deserve."

Had not the old man been so distraught he would have seen by No-Kami's face that the intelligence was bewildering news to him. He sat gazing at his persecutor open-mouthed, till he, goaded beyond control, smote him with flat blade across the face.

It left a livid mark, the rest of the visage purple, the veins swollen and congested. With a hoarse growl like an animal at bay, No-Kami sprang to his feet, seized his katana, and attacked the aggressor with set teeth. Glaring one at the other, with starting eyeballs and foaming lips, the two-the old man and the young-fought on in the small space and the dim light. Both were too furious for caution, and hacked each at each, smearing walls and floor, without a sound but labouring breath and clashing steel. The old man, taller, with longer arm, was getting the mastery. He had step by step driven No-Kami to the corner, where stood an idol of bronze, against which he leaned. Uncovering himself to deliver the final blow, he slipped in the blood upon the floor, and received the point of the Hojo right through his breast, below the nipple. Dropping his weapon, and flinging up his arms, he fell with a sob upon his back.

No-Kami withdrew his sword and wiped it carefully, then sat him down to think.

O'Tei murdered! By whom? what for? It must be true, or the crafty old lord would never have been driven to such frenzy. It was quieted now, that same frenzy, however. He lay still enough, his skin as grey as was his hair. "Not my fault," No-Kami murmured, with compunction; for, debauched though he was, the Hojo had respect for bravery. "He has brought his end upon himself. Now, what of me? Who will believe me if I say that one who was the soul of caution came and smote me like a rat? Within the prohibited distance, the Mikado's favourite counsellor, and I so ill, so spectre-ridden." Clasping his burning forehead in his hands, No-Kami looked hungrily at the dirk which seemed to invite him from its rack, and thought, as he had once done before, that it would be well to make an end on't. Not yet. He was taken by an uncontrollable desire to know more of the tragedy at home. O'Tei murdered! The words seemed burnt into his brain; and as he contemplated them, with her father dead at his feet, an ineffable sadness-a cold sense of extreme loneliness-crept over his soul. The past rose up before his vision. For a little while they had been happy, he and the fair O'Tei. She had been cold and haughty and repellent, despising him always, and that had maddened him. And was she not right to do so-fully justified? She was better than he, – far above his level, and it was this that had made him hate her. But did he hate her? No! Now that she was gone, he became aware of a singular sensation. Down in the deeps of his being there was a profound pity for her fate. Why did he feel so lonely? Why did he shudder at the shadows whose chills encompassed him about?

Who had planned her murder? Like a green ray of lightning it flashed on him-O'Kikú! His curse and hers. Oh, wretched, infatuated man-O'Kikú! Poor O'Tei, murdered by her rival! The punishment of the concubine was the only reparation possible. She should be punished. If he was to leave Kiŷoto unmolested, there was not a minute to be lost. The ladder was gone, the distance to the ground but small. No-Kami, his nerves strung again by a distinct purpose, moved to the verandah, and swung himself down its column. With steady tread he appeared before the sleepy sentinel, and with stern, sharp accents issued his instructions.