A TOMB.
The news of the victory gained at Soumiossi by General Harounaga was
swiftly conveyed to Osaka. Yodogimi herself announced it to Fide-Yori
with rapturous joy; nor did she disguise the pride which her lover's
triumph caused her. But some peasants, coming from Soumiossi, related
the details of the battle; and the Prince of Nagato's name was
universally substituted for that of Harounaga. Yodogimi forbade the
circulation of such a slander under penalty of severe punishment;
she lost her temper, and wearied her son with fierce recriminations.
Fide-Yori let her rave, loudly praising Harounaga, and quietly thanking
his faithful friend for his untiring devotion.
Unluckily other and sad tidings soon effaced the joy caused by this
first victory. Hieyas did not execute any of the movements anticipated;
he did not attack Osaka on the south. General Signenari was therefore
inactive in the Island of Awadsi, and yet no one dared recall him
thence; nor did he make any attempt to break through the lines which
barred the Island of Nipon. His army, divided into small detachments,
came by sea, landed at different points on the coast near Osaka; then,
by night, surprised and carried a position.
Attiska, Hieyas' general, soon took possession of a village near the
capital. This news spread through Osaka, and terror ran riot. The
Shogun's soldiers were massacred. At the moment of attack, their
leader, Oussouda, was absent; he was revelling in a suburban tea-house.
General Sanada-Sayemon-Yoke-Moura was anxious to attack the victors at
once, and if possible dislodge them from the position they had won.
Fide-Yori begged him to do nothing of the sort.
"Your army is not large enough to lay siege to a village," said he;
"and if by any mishap you were defeated, the city would be left
defenceless. Recall the troops which you sent to Yamashiro, and until
their arrival let us be content to defend Osaka."
Yoke-Moura reluctantly obeyed; but he employed skilful spies to watch
the enemy's movements. Soon the troops came back from Yamashiro. A
conflict was imminent. But now Yoke-Moura refused to quit the city or
to give battle.
He no longer left the fortress; he paced to and fro day and night,
restless and uneasy, apparently seeking for something. At night
especially, accompanied only by his son Daiske, a lad of sixteen, he
wandered incessantly along the outer wall.
The sentinels, who saw him pass and repass with his son, carrying a
lantern, could not fathom his conduct, and thought that the General had
gone mad. Every now and then Yoke-Moura would fall on his knees and
press his ear to the ground. Daiske held his breath. Once, the General
sprang up Hastily, greatly agitated.
"Is it the blood buzzing in my ears?" he cried; "I thought I heard
something. Listen, my son, and see if I was mistaken."
The boy knelt in his turn, and laid his ear to the ground.
"Father," said he, "I distinctly hear distant blows,--muffled, but
regular."
The General listened again.
"Yes, yes!" said he; "I hear them very plainly too; they are the
strokes of a pick against the earth. It is there! We have them now; we
are saved from a terrible danger!"
"What is it, father?" asked Daiske.
"What is it? Hieyas' soldiers are digging an underground passage, which
leads from their camp, passes below the city, and the moat, and will
open here."
"Is it possible?" cried Daiske.
"Fortunately a spy warned me betimes of the work which they had in
hand; but no one knew where the mouth of the tunnel was to be. If I had
left the castle, as Fide-Yori wished, we should have been lost."
"It was high time to discover the point they had chosen for invading
the fortress," said Daiske, who was still listening; "they are not far
off."
"They have one day's labor more," said Yoke-Moura. "Now I know where
they are, I will watch them. But follow me, my son; I would confide to
you alone the delicate mission which must now be executed."
The General returned to the pavilion which he occupied in the castle
grounds. He wrote a long letter to the commander of the troops returned
from Yamashiro, whose name was Aroufza, and who was a brother of
Harounaga. He gave this officer all the necessary instructions for
the next day's battle. When he had done, he called a peasant, who was
waiting in the next room.
"This fellow knows the place where the tunnel begins," said Yoke-Moura
to his son. "When the moment has come, he will lead the army thither.
You will go with him. Try not to be seen by any one. Carry this letter
to Aroufza, and tell him that he must carry out my orders exactly, and
allow himself to be guided by this man. Be prudent, be adroit, my boy!
It is easy to reach Aroufza's camp; but remember that you must get
there unseen, that you may not rouse the suspicions of the spies whom
Hieyas doubtless has in our midst. As soon as you arrive, send me a
messenger."
"I will start at once, under cover of darkness," said Daiske. "In a few
hours, father, you shall hear from me."
The young man then set off with the spy.
At daybreak Yoke-Moura proceeded to pay his respects to the Shogun.
Fide-Yori received him coldly. He was displeased with the General, not
understanding his inaction.
"Yoke-Moura," said he, "my confidence in your great valor and your
devotion to my person alone prevent me from ordering you to make an
immediate attack. Here are three whole days lost. What are you about?
Why delay so long?"
"I could not begin until I had found something which I was seeking,"
said Yoke-Moura.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed the Shogun, seized by a dreadful fear;
and in his turn he wondered if the General's mind was affected. He
examined him; but the warrior's face expressed a cheerful tranquillity.
"I have indeed heard," continued Fide-Yori, "that for some time you
have been roaming about, day and night, like a lunatic."
"I am resting now," said the General; "I have found what I was looking
for."
The Shogun bowed his head. "Decidedly," he thought, "he is mad."
But Yoke-Moura answered his thought. "Wait till to-morrow before you
judge me," said he; "and do not be uneasy, master, if you hear a
noise to-night." With these words, he withdrew to issue orders to his
soldiers. He sent two thousand men out of the city, to, encamp upon a
slight eminence in sight of the enemy.
"He is preparing for the attack," said the people of Osaka; and they
swarmed over the hills, to the towers of pagodas, and all high places.
Fide-Yori himself, with a few courtiers, climbed to the topmost story
of the great Goldfish tower, in the centre of the fortress. From there
he could see Aroufza's troops in the plain, about eight thousand
strong; and farther away, betrayed by the flashing of their weapons and
of their armor, the enemy, encamped near a small wood. In the direction
of the sea, in the bay, the war squadron was taking in stores; nearer
at hand, the city streets, intersected by innumerable canals, like
azure ribbons, were filled with an anxious crowd. All labor was
suspended; every one was waiting for what was to come. The troops never
budged. Fide-Yori grew tired of looking; a secret irritation began to
rise within him. He asked for Yoke-Moura.
"The General is nowhere to be found," was the answer. "His men are
under arms, ready to start at the first signal; but up to the present
moment only two thousand troops have left the fortress."
Finally, towards evening, the enemy made a movement, and advanced
towards the city. Instantly the soldiers posted on the hill by
Yoke-Moura rushed furiously down. A few shots were fired. The fight
began. The enemy were superior in numbers. At the first shock the
Shogun's men were driven back.
"Why does not Aroufza move?" said the Shogun. "Is there a traitor in
the camp? I really cannot understand the matter."
Hurried footsteps were now heard in the tower, and in a moment
Yoke-Moura appeared upon the platform. He held in his arms a great
truss of rice-straw. The men who followed him carried brushwood. The
General hurriedly thrust aside the courtiers, and even the Shogun,
built an enormous pile, and set fire to it. The flame soon rose, clear
and bright. Its light illumined the tower, and hid the plain, now
dimmed by twilight.
Yoke-Moura, leaning over the balustrade, shielded his eyes with his
hands, and strove to pierce the darkness with his gaze. He saw that
Aroufza's army moved. "Good!" said he; and he went rapidly down the
stairs without answering the many questions with which he was plied.
He took up his post at some distance from the point where the tunnel
was to open. It was finished; for the strokes of the pick had ceased at
noon. Only a thin layer of earth was left, which might be pierced at
the last moment.
At nightfall the General had listened, and had heard the tread of
feet. The enemy had entered the subterranean passage. It was then that
he kindled the flame upon the tower. At that signal Aroufza was to
attack the enemy at the other end of the tunnel. It was now entirely
dark. Yoke-Moura and his men waited in the most profound silence. At
last slight blows were heard. They were cautiously dealt, to make as
little noise as possible. The General and his men, motionless in the
shadow, listened eagerly. They heard clods of earth drop, and then the
heavy breathing of the laborers. Soon a man put his head and shoulders
through the opening, standing out in relief in shadow more intense than
the darkness itself. He stepped forth, and another followed. No one
stirred. They advanced carefully, looking in every direction, until
about fifty had appeared; then all at once, with ferocious cries, the
watchers rushed upon them. They tried to fall back upon the tunnel.
"We are betrayed!" they shouted to their comrades. "Do not come out!
Fly!"
"Yes, traitors, your plots are discovered," said Yoke-Moura; "and you
have dug your own tomb."
All those who had issued from the tunnel were slaughtered. The shrieks
of the dying filled the palace. People ran up with lights. Fide-Yori
came himself, between two lines of servants bearing torches.
"This is what I was looking for, master," said the General, showing him
the yawning hole. "Do you think now that I was right not to leave the
fortress?"
The Shogun was dumb with surprise at the sight of the danger he had run.
"Not another man shall leave that tunnel alive!" cried the General.
"But they will escape at the other end," said Fide-Yori.
"You were surprised just now at Aroufza's inaction on the plain. He was
waiting for the best part of the hostile army to enter this passage,
that he might close the door on them."
"Then they are lost!" said the Shogun. "Forgive me, bravest of my
warriors, for having doubted you one moment. But why did you not tell
me what was going on?"
"Master," said the General, "there are spies everywhere: they are in
the fortress, in your palace, in my chamber. One word overheard, and
they were warned. At the least alarm, the bird I hoped to catch would
have flown."
The enemy had now ceased coming from the tunnel.
"They fancy they can escape," said Yoke-Moura; "they will return when
they find that their retreat is cut off."
Soon, in fact, cries of distress were heard. They were so heartrending
that Fide-Yori shuddered.
"Unhappy wretches!" he muttered.
Their situation was horrible indeed; in that narrow passage, where two
men could barely move abreast, where it was hard to breathe, those
desperate soldiers, mad with fear, pushed and crushed each other in
the darkness, frantic fur light at any cost, even were it the light of
night, which would have seemed brilliant to them in comparison with
that ill-omened gloom.
A terrible shove forced several men out of the tunnel, only to fall
upon the swords of the enemy.
Amid their shrieks were heard confused cries:--
"Mercy! we surrender."
"Open! let us out."
"No," said Yoke-Moura; "no pity for such traitors as you. I repeat, you
have dug your own tomb."
The General ordered stones and earth to be brought, to fill up the
opening.
"Desist, I entreat you!" said Fide-Yori, pale with emotion; "those
cries tear my heart. They only ask to surrender. Take them prisoners;
that will suffice."
"You need not entreat me, master," said Yoke-Moura; "your wishes are my
commands. Hollo there!" he added, "stop your noise; you are pardoned;
you may come out."
The howls were redoubled. It was impossible to get out. The frightful
crowding had suffocated many of the men, whose corpses blocked the
mouth of the passage; they formed a solid rampart, increased with
every instant, and impassable. All must perish; their struggles shook
the ground; they trod one another down, bit one another; their swords
pierced each the other's side; their armor was broken with their bones;
they died amidst the blackest darkness, stifled in a sepulchre too
narrow for their bodies. All attempts to clear away the mouth of the
tunnel were vain.
"What an awful thing war is!" exclaimed Fide-Yori, hastening away,
entirely overcome.
Soon the cries became less frequent; then utter silence was restored.
"All is over, they are all dead," said Yoke-Moura; "nothing remains but
to close up the tomb!"
Five thousand men had perished in that subterranean passage, but a few
leagues in length!