“Now for Taka Suke!” cried a younger member of the party, excitedly. But
he said no more, and hung his head abashed; for a stern glance from his
older companions showed him plainly that many words and loud talk were
not only not needed, but even out of place at this moment. In glancing
round the room, Sennoske saw the servant who had attended him, and who,
fascinated by what he had seen and heard, had remained unnoticed in a
corner. He was summoned, and told to put Yamagawa’s head on one of the
platters lying on the floor, and to precede the young soldier to his
enemy’s room. The poor fellow hardly appreciated the active part assigned
to him in this drama. “I am not used to carrying cut-off heads,” he
stammered; “I shall be certain to commit some breach of etiquette: so
please excuse me.” As he spoke, with his head on the floor, raising it at
every few words to look around in a half-frightened, half-foolish sort
of way, and bringing it down again with a hard thump in the unconscious
excess of his apologetic speech, his appearance under other circumstances
would certainly have been sufficiently ludicrous. A reiterated command
caused him to slide upon his knees to where the ghastly head lay on the
floor; but as he brought his hands near it, his courage failed him, and
he made a precipitate rush for the door. He was not allowed to leave,
however, and a sharp blow with a scabbard across his shoulders by one of
the party, an old soldier who had little sympathy for such scruples or
squeamishness, caused the physical pain partly to overcome his nervous
sensitiveness. Sennoske, with his usual consideration for the feelings of
others, seeing the state of mind the man was in, himself gently placed
the head on one of the platters; and the servant, with averted face, then
took heart to raise it up and to proceed to the room of Taka Suke.
The others present followed, but remained slightly in the rear, having
received strict orders from the young soldier not to interfere or take
any active part unless he called upon them. Sennoske felt a wild, fierce
delight at the thought of the struggle before him. Physical action is
always a relief for any great nervous strain, and there are none but
the veriest cravens who will not gladly accept it as a welcome change,
even when accompanied by personal risk and danger. It is natural for
health and strength to look for such an outlet, and in the time in which
Sennoske lived, education and conventional usage did not repress the
play of natural energies. With his physical powers developed almost to
perfection, the young soldier actually hungered for an opportunity where
his harassed feelings might find vent in valorous deeds. The very thought
of a desperate hand-to-hand struggle did much to restore his coolness
and self-possession, which had been considerably disturbed by the tragic
scene through which he had passed, and by the revelations which his old
attendant had made to him.
As they came to the room where he now knew his mortal enemy to be,
Sennoske opened the sliding door to allow the servant to enter; then
following him, and taking the platter with its ghastly burden out of
his hand, he deposited it gently on the floor, while in a clear, firm,
and perhaps slightly authoritative tone he said: “Here is the head of my
retainer, as you demanded it; I now ask you to return to me my sword.”
As soon as he entered he saw that he had come not a moment too soon; for
the packed portmanteaus lying about, as well as other signs, showed that
the party was on the eve of departure. Such, in fact, had been their
intention; it was only the knowledge that a number of Ise _samurai_
had arrived, and a fear that they were watched and would not in a body
be able to decamp with the sword in their possession without being
desperately opposed, that had caused the delay and a parley, in the
midst of which Sennoske came upon them. All of them, and their leader
not the least, were evidently considerably surprised at the prompt and
literal manner in which Taka Suke’s command had been carried out. The
Hōjō chief’s alternative had been presented, it is true, very largely
out of spite against the man whom he hated, because that man had scorned
his offers and eluded his power; for in striking at Yamagawa he felt
he struck at Mutto and at Mutto’s son. Yet he hardly expected that his
extravagant claim would be acceded to, and under any circumstances
he calculated upon a delay that would enable him to escape with the
sword, which to a man in his position was an invaluable prize. In the
event of his being unable to escape,—a contingency which the arrival of
the Ise men rendered probable,—he still believed it would be possible
to represent Sennoske’s loss of the sword in such a way as to appeal
effectually to the prejudices of the extremists on the subject of
sword-etiquette among the _samurai_ travellers who had come to the inn.
He thereby hoped to create a diversion and to make the whole affair a
subject of negotiation, during which time he would have possession of the
sword; and in the end he would not be scrupulous in framing excuses and
contriving means for keeping it permanently.
Both his designs, however, were frustrated. The readiness with which
the man had been sacrificed seemed to argue that, after all, in spite
of what his young master had said, no very high value was attached to
his life; at any rate, the head there exposed took away all excuse for
keeping the sword any longer. This poor head now troubled Taka Suke more
than its possessor had ever done in life; being a man who had seldom
been thwarted, he would have given much to draw the sword and cut the
now inoffensive cause of his disappointment in pieces. Sennoske, who was
watching him narrowly, partly divined what was passing through his mind,
and regained his self-possession more fully as the other showed outward
signs of anger and mortification. He again repeated his demand, but with
a stronger emphasis of authority, which seemed to intimate that he had
means to enforce it; and so Taka Suke, seeing that he could not possibly
frame a valid excuse for retaining the weapon, with a muttered curse,
half handed, half threw it over to his enemy.
Sennoske caught it; and as he found, with his accustomed grasp, that it
was indeed his trusty blade, he felt a shock which caused his heart to
beat almost audibly as it seemed to him, while his brain seethed and
throbbed against his temples with the tumultuous flood of emotions which
agitated it. But this excitement was only momentary. He had slightly bent
his head on receiving the weapon; but quickly raising it again, he spoke
calmly and clearly, with quiet self-possession: “You have given me back
my sword, my beloved _samurai_ sword; but the mere return of it is not
sufficient. A faithful and dearly cherished life had to be sacrificed
to your ‘feelings of honor,’ as you called them: all your heads must
accompany the return of this sword to satisfy _my_ feelings of honor!” He
had drawn the sword as he concluded, and waited with chivalrous courage
for a second or two, until at least one other blade should be bared.
[Illustration: A FENCING MATCH.]
The combat was not as unequal as it looked at first sight. A heavy
Japanese sword, held as it is with both hands, and not admitting of any
great celerity of movement when wielded by an ordinary man, enables a
master of the art, with quickness and agility to match, as was here the
case, easily to keep at bay two, or even three opponents. Sennoske had
placed himself against a corner of the room; his foes were all in front
of him, and the necessity of requiring considerable room to wield their
weapons prevented them from overpowering him by too many rushing upon him
at once. Moreover, they were at a disadvantage. They had in a vague sort
of way expected a struggle of some kind, but they were not prepared for
this sudden demonstration. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps in
the hall spoke of a reserve force of unknown strength ready to assist, or
if need were to avenge, the young champion.
But by far the most powerful influence was exerted by the flashing sword
before them. It was not like other swords. In the uncertain light of the
flickering candles it gleamed and glistened with a wicked, reddish sort
of color, such as is seen in newly shed blood. It cut through space with
a hissing, seething sound, as if it were going through waves, not of air,
but of water or blood, which parted in affright before its sharp edge.
As it was raised and lowered, it looked like a phantom snake elongating
and contracting itself at will. All the dark tales about Muramasa, all
the sinister import which popular belief attached to the product of
his handicraft, and which was household lore in Japan, almost found
justification in the way that this blade had caused the death of Yamagawa
and had bred the present struggle.
Great, however, as was the influence of such thoughts and feelings, they
could not altogether paralyze _samurai_ instincts, and in response to
Sennoske’s challenge three blades were drawn almost immediately. With
a motion so light that it implied no effort, the young soldier’s weapon
whizzed through the air, causing the head of one of his antagonists to
roll on the floor, and in its downward sweep striking a second one under
the shoulder, cutting the arm clean off. It was the work of a few seconds
merely; but by this time two more of the party, among whom was Taka Suke,
had unsheathed their swords.
The Hōjō chief, the only one of the party who was entirely free from the
influence of the superstitious spell which worked upon the others, leaped
forward with a yell of rage as he saw his two companions fall. As he did
so, he stumbled against the platter containing Yamagawa’s head, and in
falling, the point of his sword pierced his knee through and through,
inflicting an extremely painful wound, and bringing him to the ground
with a wail of anguish while the cry of his onslaught was yet ringing
through the room. He lay there helpless, his fall utterly demoralizing
the surviving men-at-arms. Two of them took no active part whatsoever,
one having drawn his sword without attempting to use it; while the other
had not even done as much, but had remained in his seat gazing upon every
movement of Sennoske’s weapon with a stupid, helpless stare, evidently
the outgrowth of superstitious fears. The remaining two who still stood
opposed to the young champion, dismayed by the scene before them, wielded
their swords mechanically and aimlessly, and seemed almost to rush upon
their own destruction as they were cut down by Sennoske’s blade. The
young man proceeded in his self-imposed task almost like an executioner
carrying out a sentence, and sparing none. Last of all he turned upon
Taka Suke, who, having drawn the weapon from his leg, lay writhing on the
floor in transports of pain and rage, making wild, ineffectual attempts
to strike his opponent. By this time numbers of the visitors in the house
had hurried to the doors of the room where the tragedy was being enacted;
these had been opened, but the Ise men prevented any one from entering,
and a crowd of faces looked in upon the tragic spectacle. _Kataki-uchi!
kataki-uchi!_ resounded from every side, causing all within ear-shot
to rush to the spot; but the reason being known, no one would have
interfered, even if the Ise men had not guarded the entrance.
[Illustration: SENNOSKE FACING HIS ENEMIES.]
As Sennoske looked at the man writhing at his feet, he thought of
his dead mother, of his father’s manhood blighted and seared by foul
machinations, and of his faithful attendant’s untimely death; and a
savage feeling of revengeful joy, utterly foreign to his brave but gentle
nature, took possession of him. He lowered his blade, which he had raised
already, and addressing the other, spoke to him in words which fell upon
his ears like molten lead injected into living veins. As he called him by
name,—by the hated name of Taka Suke, than which none was more execrated
in the country,—the spectators gave unmistakable signs of satisfaction.
“It is small honor, and little cause for deserving men’s esteem, to
fulfil the obligations of _kataki-uchi_ against you, Taka Suke,” he
said, “and it merely becomes a duty like that of the executioner putting
a criminal to death. You have tyrannized over and trampled upon all in
your power, you have, without compunction, bereft them of possessions, of
good name, and of life, as long as the Hōjō influence gave you authority
and means, and left your victims without redress. Now, when this power
no longer shields you, you have been unable, in spite of the assistance
of six stalwart men-at-arms, to defend yourself against a ‘boy,’ as you
call him. But this ‘boy’ is strengthened and inspired by something which
you lack, and which you think of no value. He fights in the holy cause of
right and of a just retribution. In killing you I restore to my father
his honor and prestige, which you tried to take from him; and in his
name, and in the name of all others whom you have unjustly accused and
condemned, I hereby fulfil—”
“Hold, hold!” interrupted the doomed man. “Let me commit _seppuku_. It is
a privilege which is granted to the lowest of our class, and one which
by virtue of my rank I claim; I appeal to all within hearing to see that
it is granted to me.” As he spoke, his voice became almost pleading, and
for the first time an unmistakable sign of fear showed itself together
with the sneering malice and the evil hate of which the face still spoke
so strongly. Added to this were the traces of physical pain; and the
whole effect was so repulsive that those at the doors, many of whom
were no strangers to scenes of death, turned aside, half in disgust,
half in dread. As they did so, the wretched man reiterated his request
frantically, without giving time for a response, shrieking it out at
last in an agony of wild terror. This man, who during his life had been
bound by no knightly law, who while in the fulness of health had remained
untouched alike by feelings of veneration for what others held sacred,
and by feelings of dread for what others feared, now, with death before
him, clung desperately to the thought of dying like a _samurai_. He had
known scores of men in the flower of their years die in such a way serene
and contented, and probably the thought of this prompted his demand. He
could not feel resigned to death; he clung to life with fierce desire,
with some wild hope of escape, or at least delay, from the doom which he
yet knew to be inevitable.
[Illustration: A FUNERAL.]
“Your appeal is in vain,” said Sennoske, not altogether unmoved at the
sight. “_Seppuku_ was designed as a knightly punishment for _samurai_
whose errors are errors of judgment, but whose deeds are the deeds of
_samurai_. This does not apply to you, who have ever had recourse to
intrigue, to circumvention and low cunning, rather than to arbitration
by the sword. Men who were opposed to you you have stabbed in the dark,
giving them no opportunity to defend or to justify themselves; you have
even, as in the case of my father, prevented them from finding relief
in an honorable death. The memory of his wrongs and sufferings stands
between us, and steels my heart against any feelings of pity it might
otherwise entertain for one who has fallen as low as you have.”
As Sennoske spoke, he himself experienced a thrill of unutterable horror.
Without volition of his own he felt the sword in his hand raise and
extend itself so as to oblige him to hold the hilt as firmly as he could,
to prevent it from slipping out of his grasp. Was it merely a trick of
his heated fancy? It seemed to him he was becoming unconscious. All the
incidents of his young life passed before him in review. One picture
however stood out in bold relief: it was that of his father leaving the
presence of Taka Suke utterly prostrate in body and in mind, with only
spirit enough left to pray that, impossible as it then seemed, he or his
descendants might yet be able to carry out his just vengeance. Sennoske
distinctly heard the prayer, and by a powerful effort roused himself to
consciousness. As he did so, and looked before him, he saw the head of
Taka Suke, severed from the body, lying at his feet, and at the same
instant heard a low murmur of approbation from those who stood around. “I
hardly saw your sword move, so quickly you did it,” said the leader of
the Ise men. “These Muramasas will almost of themselves, I believe, cut
off a man’s head.”
For the first time in his life the young soldier felt faint and weak,
and it required all his strength of mind and will to complete the short
ceremony he had to go through. Taking the head of Yamagawa and placing
it by itself on the raised daïs at one end of the room, he put the heads
of the six retainers of Taka Suke below and in front of it. As to the
head of the Hōjō chief, he placed it by itself, adding a small piece of
paper, on which he wrote in a few words the cause and purport of this
_kataki-uchi_. Every one who saw it would thereby know the reason of this
vendetta; and the gallant courage with which the deed had been performed
was of itself sufficient to convince the many spectators of the justness
of the cause.
It was long past midnight when Sennoske at last returned to his room;
and after the excitement of the last few hours he found that sleep was
impossible. He and his companions felt it a relief to remain awake and
confer upon the events that had occurred, uniting them in a general way
with that inexhaustible topic of conversation, _kataki-uchi_. Toward
morning one of the party, wishing that their brave young leader should
have a little rest, proposed that a day’s halt should be made; and the
others, divining his reason, agreed to it. Sennoske strenuously objected,
stating his determination to start with the dawn. To this the other
wilily replied that such a course would look like flight, and might be
called such by any of Taka Suke’s supporters either still present or
liable to arrive in the course of the day. Every one, including Sennoske,
felt that this was a weak reason; yet it was effectual, as such appeals
often are when good arguments prove unavailing. It was determined,
however, at once to send a courier to the court of Kuwana to carry the
documents and despatches which they had brought with them from Kamakura,
and a younger member of the party immediately volunteered for the service.
[Illustration: HELMET.]