It was late at night on the second day before Sennoske arrived at
Mishima, at the foot of the other side of the mountains. The town was
full of people; for besides the ordinary contingent of travellers, who
always muster here in force, there were a great many _samurai_—some who
had started too late to join the army, others, like Sennoske, already
returning home—and a considerable number of Hōjō adherents fleeing in
various disguises to find an asylum before pursuit was fairly organized
against them. The inns and hostelries were over-crowded; but the Kuwana
nobility had always enjoyed a good reputation on the road, and the charm
of the young man’s manner moreover failed not in its usual effect; so at
the inn at which he determined to stay, two parties of merchants, already
closely packed, were forced to content themselves with even less space in
order to clear a room for the new arrival. Sennoske, who was weary, at
once repaired to the bath, accompanied by Yamagawa, carrying the Muramasa
sword, which was never out of sight or reach of either master or servant.
After his master had retired, the old servitor also indulged in the
luxury of the bath, the daily use of which in Japan is considered almost
a necessity. Already half overcome by the fumes of the wine-cup, the
hot bath and the close air of the room still further increased his
stupefaction; and in returning to his apartment he staggered along the
corridor in a confused, aimless manner, until, mistaking one of the
passages, he stopped at the end of it before what of course was the wrong
room.
The sound of unknown voices from within reached his ears; but thinking
they must belong to visitors of his master, he unhesitatingly opened the
paper sliding-doors, and falling on his hands and knees with his head
bowed down, in the fashion of Japanese servants, he pushed the sword
forward as far as he could, uttering the customary phrase, “Have you any
further orders for me?” Receiving no answer, and fearing that Sennoske
had noticed his drunken condition and was displeased at his showing
it before visitors,—something which heretofore had never happened,—he
remained a minute or two in his prostrate position, bowing his head
still lower, and muttering apologies. At last a voice which he did not
recognize spoke out: “We will excuse you because you insist on being
excused; but tell us first what it is that you require, and what brings
you hither.”
Yamagawa looked up, and the sight that presented itself, unexpected as it
was, partly sobered him. There were six or seven _samurai_, all unknown
to him, seated on the mats; and the foremost among them, who also was the
last speaker, had taken up the sword pushed towards him, and, regarding
it with the eye of a connoisseur, was evidently surprised at the rich
ornamentation and workmanship.
“Give me back my sword,” Yamagawa cried; “it belongs to my master, and
I am responsible for it. Give it back to me, oh! please give it back to
me at once,” he repeated, raising his voice and eagerly holding out his
hands.
“Gently, my man! Of course I shall give it back to you,” said the other;
“but do not be so importunate, and do not speak so loudly before your
superiors, or you will have to be taught better manners. Who is your
master?”
“His name is Sennoske Mutto, from Kuwana, and he is just returning home
from the war,” was the reply. “This is a Muramasa sword, which he values
highly, and he will begin to be anxious about it; so please give it
back to me at once,” pleaded the old man. He was still partly under the
influence of wine; and this fact, together with the mortification of his
position and the anxiety and irritation under which he labored, had made
him forget discretion, common sense, and his dignity as a _samurai_, all
other considerations being merged and lost in his impatient eagerness to
regain possession of the cherished weapon.
“A Muramasa sword, and your master intrusts it to a drunken fool like
you!” said another of the party, who until now had been sitting in the
rear of his companions, but who now moved forward to where the light fell
fully upon him. “Does he attach so little value to it, in spite of what
you say, as to leave it like a toy in the hands of one who in his cups
would not mind trading it off for a measure of wine? His opinion differs
from mine as to the care which he ought to bestow upon it. Be off! and
tell your master that if he wants this sword he must come for it himself.”
What was it which, at the sight of the new speaker and at the first
word uttered by him, made the old man look as if petrified with horror
and stupefaction, clammy perspiration bathing his face, while his hair
literally stood on end? Only his eyes spoke; and although fastened with
almost stony fixedness upon the man who had just addressed him, they yet
had an expression of such intense, deadly hatred that the other, as he
fairly caught sight of it, involuntarily recoiled a step and laid his
hand on the sword he carried at his side.
[Illustration: YAMAGAWA DISCOVERING HIS MISTAKE.]
Gradually, by a series of sharp, convulsive movements, Yamagawa’s form
and features relaxed from their rigid cast, and it was evident that a
full consciousness of his position and surroundings was slowly taking
hold of him, and that as it did so he was making powerful efforts to
regain his self-control. Every trace of drunkenness had disappeared, and
it was only extreme mental and nervous excitement which made his voice
tremble when he again spoke:—
“Give me back the sword, Taka Suke; and after returning it to my young
master, I will try to refrain from telling him or his father that I have
again met you. Perhaps I am selfish enough not to wish to stand disgraced
before one in the service of whose family I have become old and gray,
whose welfare has occupied every thought of my mind, to whom every fibre
of my body is devoted, and for whose sake I would willingly shed my blood
drop by drop. Perhaps I have become too feeble in mind as well as in body
fully to realize the duties of a _samurai_, for I would fain save my
young master from facing one who has been the curse of his house, instead
of doing my utmost to bring about a meeting, so that he could either kill
you or fall as a _samurai_ should. As for me, I know I shall not long be
able to endure the thought of having met you and not only failed myself
to take vengeance, but even shielded you against punishment by those
whose right and duty it is to inflict it. For twelve years there has
never been a day when you have been absent from my thoughts, and I could
never think of you without cursing you. Yet all the sufferings I have so
far endured are as nothing compared with the humiliating misery of this
hour, when I find myself compelled, through my own fault, to plead to one
who has caused blight and ruin to fall upon those I love and hold dear.”
“I will give you still further reason to curse me, then,” said the
other. “The gods seem kind to me; for although our cause has failed, I
am still able to strike at the only one whom, from some foolish whim, I
spared, leaving him life and liberty when I had the power to take both.
So Numa is still alive, and you now serve his son. Well, the brat has his
father’s courage, as he showed in the war; and I have no doubt he has
also the same conceit. Curse you all, with your pretended fine feelings
and virtues, which you constantly flaunt before our eyes! They will not
impose upon me, however. Go, and repeat to your master what has been told
to you here; go, and tell him that if he knows a _samurai’s_ duties, of
which his father always prated so much, he must be aware that a drunkard
is not fit to be intrusted with a sword, least of all with one like this.
Go, and tell him that if he cares for it more than you seem to have done,
he must come and humbly beg for it himself.”
There was somewhat of truth in this taunt, which the devilish cunning
of the other had formulated so as to make it more cutting than the
keenest-edged weapon. Seeing from the tenor of it that all further parley
would be useless, Yamagawa without another word or look made his way back
to his master’s room. As he entered, Sennoske started in amazement and
affright at the change which half an hour had effected in the appearance
of his old servant. The signs of acute physical pain, as well as of
mental anguish, were graven in deep lines on his features, and spoke
with equal emphasis out of his hollow, sunken eyes; shuffling along as
he did on his right side, with his right hand convulsively clasping his
left bosom, it is probable that the terrible ordeal through which he had
passed, had brought on a partial heart-stroke. Yet overlying all these
manifestations of suffering, which became almost tangible and somatic as
it were by comparison, there was a look of utter, hopeless despair,—such
a look as is seen in certain types of incurable madness; such a look as
hunters see in some animals hunted down to the last stages of exhaustion,
with the dogs fastening on them, and no hope of escape.
In a sufficiently coherent way to make himself understood, Yamagawa
explained the circumstances attending the loss of the sword, without,
however, hinting at the identity of the _samurai_ whom he had recognized
among his despoilers. Sennoske, although greatly annoyed and angry at the
impudence of the demand transmitted to him, showed no outward signs of
perturbation, and in reality a sincere pity for the poor old man before
him mastered every other emotion. From the version given to him, he could
of course scarcely understand why this accident, although implying a
serious neglect of duty on the part of Yamagawa according to the code
then prevailing, should yet have affected the old servitor in such a
terrible way; and in spite of the latter’s urgent solicitation to go at
once about the recovery of his weapon, he stayed to console and cheer him.
[Illustration: ROADSIDE HOTEL.]
“Sorrow is bad for old age,” he said; “it withers up the tree of
life quicker and surer than the cold north winds wither the blooming
chrysanthemum. Cheer up, and do not let me see you so downcast at this
trumpery business, especially now that we are nearing home. As soon as I
have regained my sword, I shall feel like teaching these gentry a lesson
at which you may have to assist me; so—”
“Yes, as soon as you have regained possession of your sword,” said the
other, interrupting him. “Oh, pray, my dear master, go at once! this
suspense is horrible.”
Sennoske at these words started up, filled with dark forebodings. He felt
that there must be something more in this affair than he yet apprehended,
and he hesitated no longer. Calling a servant, he had himself conducted
to the room which Yamagawa had mistakenly entered; and announcing his
name, made a fair apology for what had occurred, and courteously but
firmly asked for the return of his sword. Taka Suke, who had sent him the
message to come, and who was evidently the leader of the party, replied
to him in what was plainly a prepared speech:—
“I have heard of you, Sennoske, and of the renown which you have gained
on the field of battle; but it seems to me that, in spite of this, you
are greatly deficient in the duties and obligations of a _samurai_.
Courage and bravery and prowess in battle are common enough in our
country; but a sword like this of yours is rarely found, and its
possession probably more than any quality of your own has helped you to
achieve success and renown. You know the old saying, ‘The sword is the
soul of the _samurai_.’ It owes its origin to a feeling hallowed by the
custom of centuries,—a feeling which has been outraged by the careless,
negligent way in which this treasure has been handled. Your youth and
inexperience may plead in extenuation of yourself, but the fault of your
retainer, who is a _samurai_, and old enough to know his duty, cannot be
condoned; and we will listen to no demand for the restoration of this
blade unless it is accompanied by the head of that drunken brute through
whose culpable carelessness it might easily have been lost or spoiled.”
“But this is preposterous,” Sennoske rejoined; “this is horrible! You
surely cannot mean what you say—and yet the life of a faithful old
retainer is not a fit subject for sport. I recollect him from the day
when consciousness first dawned upon me; memory recalls him as watching
over my childhood, guiding and instructing my early youth, in the most
disinterested, self-sacrificing way. I would willingly risk my life for
him at any moment; and sword was never yet forged, nor ever will be,
which could weigh equally in the balance with such faithfulness and such
devotion as he has always shown. I respect your feelings; but this man
has suffered more than enough already for his one fault. I again beg
you to return me the sword which belongs to me, and to which no one but
myself can lay any claim.”
Sennoske, although greatly excited and incensed, had succeeded in
repressing any outward signs of excitement or anger; he had spoken with
quiet dignity, and when referring to the man whom he had left in such a
dejected state his tones became tender and pathetic. It appeared to him
that the whole proceeding was a deliberate attempt to deprive him of his
matchless blade; yet—to his honor be it said—at the moment, the idea of
its possible loss troubled him less than the thought of the probable
effect of that loss on his old retainer. His solicitude for Yamagawa
caused him to be wary, and to show more moderation in his speech than he
otherwise would have done, in view of the arrogant manner in which he
had been treated. The next answer which he received, however, was well
calculated, in its cold, sneering, and evidently studied insolence of
tone and bearing, to make him lose every vestige of self-control.
[Illustration: BUDDHIST TEMPLE. (MONK AND ACOLYTE.)]
“Go to, boy,” said Take Suke, “go to! This sentimental twaddle may do
when you meet half-grown girls who admire softness or meekness, or when
you are in the company of enervated Shingon or Obaku priests, who would
fain palliate their own condition by holding up soft-hearted effeminacy
as something to be admired. I would sacrifice by the score and by the
hundred as good serving-men as ever drew breath to gain possession of
this sword—or of one like it,” he corrected himself. “More than ever I
insist: bring me the head of that drunken beast, and I will return you
your sword.”
It was the very extremity of the provocation which for a moment paralyzed
Sennoske, and that moment was sufficient for his presence of mind
partially at least to assert itself. He understood the object of the
insult offered to him, and he could see that the least indiscretion, a
single false step, would insure his own destruction. Taka Suke while
talking had, contrary to all rule and etiquette, drawn the sword out of
its scabbard, and while apparently playing with the naked blade, and
weighing it in his hand, had never allowed his sinister eye for a second
to be removed from the face of the young soldier. All the other inmates
of the room had half risen, and their hands were suspiciously near their
sword-hilts. It had flashed through Sennoske’s mind to throw himself
forward and try to wrench the sword from the other’s hands; but opposed
as he was by seven resolute men, and only partially armed himself, with
nothing but his short dirk in his girdle, he abandoned the thought as
soon as it came, knowing that such an attempt would be the height of
madness. Yet he felt that his self-command was fast leaving him, and that
another speech like the last would surely precipitate him to his own
destruction; so he withdrew abruptly, to collect himself and to resolve
upon some course of action.
[Illustration: YAMAGAWA COMMITTING SEPPUKU (HARA-KIRI).]
The servant who had brought him hither, and who under pretence, probably,
of waiting for orders had listened to the whole conversation, conducted
him back to his own room. On entering it he found there a number of
superior Ise officers, who, hurrying back like himself, had just arrived,
and to whom Yamagawa had told the affair of the sword. One look at his
master satisfied the old servitor that the former’s mission had been
unsuccessful; but he could learn no particulars, for to all inquiries
Sennoske, who wished to spare him the shock of the communication, at
least for the present, gave only evasive replies. Happening to look at
the servant of the house, still standing by the half-open door, with eyes
and ears intent upon what was going on, Yamagawa immediately divined that
the fellow had listened at the other room; and pulling him in by the
sleeve, he ordered him, with short word of command, to tell all he had
heard there. To do this was of course a serious breach of etiquette; it
was, however, with no thought of taking umbrage at the freedom assumed
by his old servitor, but only to spare him the shock of what was coming,
that Sennoske interfered. Nevertheless, his assumed displeasure remained
unheeded, and even unnoticed. Giving the young fellow a good shaking,
Yamagawa again ordered him to repeat what had taken place in the other
room; and trembling and stammering, the other, in spite of his fright,
gave a sufficiently lucid account of what he had witnessed.
A muttered word, or rather ejaculation, unintelligible to those present,
was the old _samurai’s_ only reply as he returned to his seat,—in which,
however, he moved round, so as partly to turn his back to his companions.
No one spoke. The men present were mostly veterans, men of action and not
of words; and every one was considering the circumstances of the case,
revolving within himself what had best be done before he gave tongue
to his thoughts. The dead silence, which was in strange contrast with
the sound of laughter and revelry borne to them from other parts of the
house, was gloomy, and had begun to be oppressive, when it was broken by
the sound of something trickling on the mats. All started, but Sennoske
was the first to divine its terrible import. A single bound brought him
to the side of Yamagawa; but it was too late. The latter on turning round
had arranged his dress in conformity with the rule on such occasions,
and had quietly and noiselessly committed _hara-kiri_. He had done it
deliberately and carefully, and the wound which he had inflicted upon
himself was the regulation cut of six inches in length by one inch deep.
[Illustration: ARROWS AND MILITARY HEAD-DRESS.]