THE FUNERAL PILE.
"No one shall die!" suddenly shouted a voice, as Fide-Yori turned his
blade against himself.
The Prince of Nagato appeared on the threshold; Loo stood beside him.
"Oh, my brother!" cried the Shogun, rushing towards him, "I did not
hope to see you again."
"I knew that victory was impossible," said Nagato, "and I was busy
preparing means for your escape when your final effort should fail. You
are the sole offshoot of your race; you are vanquished now; but later
your dynasty may flourish."
"Is it really in your power to save us?" said the Shogun.
"Yes, master," said Iwakura. "A boat awaits you on the shores of the
Yedogawa; it is manned by Raiden, a brave sailor, whose loyalty I know.
He will take you out to sea. There a large junk, belonging to the
Prince of Satsuma, lies at anchor ready to receive you. As soon as you
embark in her she will set sail for the Island of Kiu-Shiu. The lord of
Satsuma, the most powerful prince of your kingdom, the most faithful
of your subjects, will open his province and his castle to you; there
you may live happily with the wife of your choice until the day of
vengeance dawns."
"I recognize your untiring devotion," said the Shogun, his eyes dim
with tears. "But how can I leave the castle,--how pass through the
frenzied hordes which surround it,--without being massacred?"
"You will leave as I entered," said the Prince, "undisturbed by any
one. If you will follow me to my palace," he added, bowing low to the
two princesses, "I will show you the road that you must take to quit
the fortress."
"Prince," said Yodogimi, "your generosity fills me with confusion; I,
who have so often striven to injure you, now see how unjust and blind I
was. Tell me that you pardon my past errors, or I cannot submit to be
saved by you."
"I have nothing to forgive, Princess," said Nagato; "it is I who am
guilty of the boundless misfortune to have displeased you."
"Come, let us begone," said the Shogun, "you can explain yourselves
later."
They left the hall; Loo walked before.
In the outer court of the palace the insignia of Taiko-Sama still
burned, forming a mass of smouldering coals. As he passed them,
Fide-Yori turned away his head. They reached the Prince of Nagato's
dwelling, and entered his chamber. The trap-door leading to the
subterranean path by which the brave Sado was wont to gain admittance
to the palace was open.
"This is the way," said he; "it leads to a fisherman's hut on the banks
of the Yedogawa. There Raiden awaits you with the boat. Go; Loo will
guide you through this underground road."
"What!" cried Fide-Yori, "will you not go with us?"
"No, master, I remain here; I have work yet to do."
"Are you mad? To linger in this palace, which will soon be entirely
overrun! What have you yet to do? You will be unable to escape."
"Do not be anxious about me," said Iwakura, with a strange smile; "I
shall escape, I promise you."
"Iwakura!" cried the Shogun, gazing at his friend in alarm, "you mean
to die! I understand you; but I will not accept safety at such a price.
I am master still, am I not? Very well; I command you to follow me."
"My beloved lord," said Nagato, in a firm voice, "if it be true that
I have served you loyally, do not refuse me the first favor that I
ask,--do not order me to leave this palace."
"I do not order, friend, I conjure you not to rob me of a companion
such as you; I entreat you to fly with us."
"I join my supplications to those of my son," said Yodogimi; "do not
send us forth with sorrow in our hearts."
"Illustrious Prince," said Omiti, in her sweet, shy tones, "it is
the first time I have ever spoken to you; but I too would venture to
entreat you not to persist in your cruel resolution."
Loo fell upon his knees. "Master!" he cried; but he could say no more,
and burst into tears.
"I recommend this boy to you," said Nagato.
"Then you are deaf to our prayers?" said the Shogun. "Can nothing that
we say move you?"
"If she were lost to you," said the Prince, turning to Omiti, "could
you consent to live? Oh, cannot you, to whom I have confided the dread
secret of my life, understand how painful my existence is? Do you not
see the joy that sparkles in my eyes, now that I approach the end of my
sufferings? Had I been unable to serve you, I should long since have
ended the torment of life. You are not victorious, as I would wish to
see you; but I behold you in some safe retreat, full of flowers, joy,
and love. You will be happy, if not powerful; you need me no longer. I
am free; I can die."
"Ah, cruel friend!" said Fide-Yori, "I see that your resolve is
irrevocable."
"Make haste!" said the Prince; "you have delayed too long. Reach the
shore; Raiden will conceal you under the sail in the bottom of the
boat; then he will take the oars. Loo will hold the helm."
"No, no!" shrieked the boy, clinging fast to his master's dress, "I
cannot go; I will die with you."
"Obedience is a good servant's first duty, Loo," said the Prince,
gently. "I command you henceforth to obey the master of us both, and to
serve him unto death."
Loo flung himself, sobbing, down the dark stairs of the underground
passage. The two women followed him; then the Shogun descended in his
turn.
"Farewell! farewell! my friend, my brother! noblest, best, most
faithful of my subjects!" he exclaimed, his tears flowing fast.
"Farewell, illustrious friend!" said the Prince; "may your happiness
last as long as your life!"
He then closed the trap-door. At last he was alone. Then he returned
to the courtyard of the palace; and taking a burning brand from the
still smouldering brazier, set fire to all the princely pavilions and
to Fide-Yori's palace, going through every room. Then he reached the
goldfish tower, and kindled a conflagration on every floor. At the top
he flung away his brand, and leaned upon the red lacquer railing of the
platform, which was surmounted by a broad roof turned up at the corners
and supported by four substantial pillars.
The Prince gazed towards the sea. The little boat was already at the
mouth of the Yedogawa. Alone upon the water, it seemed to attract the
attention of the victorious soldiers encamped upon the beach; but
Raiden the fisher cast his net, and the reassured soldiers allowed the
boat to pass. In the offing the Prince of Satsuma's junk formed a tiny
dark spot against the purple of the setting sun. The atmosphere was
incomparably clear; the sea seemed like a huge turquoise.
The shouts of the soldiers were heard around the castle.
"Fide-Yori has set fire to the palace; he will perish in the flames,"
they yelled.
Those who were still within the shelter of the third courtyard opened
the doors and rushed out; they surrendered. Besides, the battle had
ceased; the Usurper was at the gate of the fortress. The spectators
knelt as he passed; he was greeted with cheers, and proclaimed the sole
and legitimate Shogun. This was on the second day of the sixth moon of
the first year of Nengo-Gen-Va.[1]
From the summit of the tower the Prince of Nagato saw the litter in
which Hieyas lay; he heard the triumphant clamor which hailed him.
"Glory and royal power are nothing in comparison with happy love," he
murmured, turning back to look at the boat which held his friends.
It was out at sea now, out of reach of the soldiers; the sail was set,
and the boat skimmed swiftly over the waves.
"They are safe," said the Prince.
Then he turned his eyes in another direction, towards Kioto and Naikou.
He saw the beginning of the road that leads to the sacred city, which
he had travelled so often; he saw the coast outlined against the azure
sea, and stretching away till it was lost in the distance, towards the
province where the ancient temple of Ten-Sio-Dai-Tsin stands. He seemed
longing to distinguish, across the distance, the form of her whom he
was never to see again.
The sun disappeared; the glare of the conflagration began to overpower
the light of day. The palace of the Shogun, at the foot of the tower,
was a vast furnace, which, seen from above, appeared like a lake of
fire tossed by a tempest. The flames surged and seethed, and reared
lofty crests, like waves in a storm. Now and then a cloud of red smoke
passed before the Prince's eyes, obscuring the horizon. The entire
tower was burning; a fearful roar, mingled with a continual crackling
sound, filled its walls. The topmost platform, however, was not yet
kindled, but already the floor cracked and shook. A jet of flame leaped
up and touched the edge of the roof.
"Come, liberating fire!" cried the Prince; "come and allay
the devouring fires of my soul! Extinguish, if you can, the
inextinguishable flame of my love."
He took from his bosom a crumpled paper, and unfolding it, raised it
to his lips; then read it for the last time by the lurid light of the
conflagration.
"One day these flowers hung their heads to die. They let fall their
luminous soul like a diamond. Then the two drops of dew met at last,
and were mingled in the stream."
The heat was intolerable. The paper suddenly blazed up in the Prince's
fingers. He gasped for breath; he felt that he was dying.
"My beloved," he cried, "I go before! Do not make me wait too long at
the tryst!"
Like the huge petals of a fiery flower, the flames shut in the last
floor; they spread to the roof. The two monstrous goldfish writhed on
the ridge-pole as if suddenly endowed with life; then they melted, and
flowed down in two incandescent streams. Soon the entire edifice fell
in with a terrible crash, and an immense sheaf of sparks and flame
streamed up to heaven.
[1] June 2, 1615.