THE POET'S BANISHMENT
Nehachibana in a measure made good her threat, and as Tetsutaisho's
mother was devoted more to her own interests than to doubtful infants,
and had always regarded Kinsan with suspicion, she, too, took particular
pains to keep well out of the way. Tetsutaisho soon came to spending
much of his time at army headquarters, at Ikamon's, or at the council
chamber. Takara's sorrow for the loss of her child, which she had not
been permitted to see since it was taken away from her, though in some
degree mitigated--satisfactorily to everybody except Nehachibana--by
Tetsutaisho's devotion, during the little time he now spent at home,
occupied her attention.
Thus affairs at home adjusted themselves, while at state the lordly
general busied himself principally with getting Ikamon to scheme the
banishment and deportation of the pious, harmless old poet and faithful
servant, Michizane. The prime minister was finally induced to urge so
severe a measure, more through his efforts to hush up every possible
chance for a clash between the two rival factions over Takara's strange
and painful situation, than as a personal favour to his friend. The
venerable sage had been her only confidant, as well as a possible
adviser to the enemy; therefore Tetsutaisho not only desired to get rid
of him, but Ikamon deemed it expedient to do so.
Nor had they long to wait the opportunity, for there was at that time
some question as to whether in case of death there was a lawful
successor to the shogun. While the matter was as yet of no real
importance either to the shogunate or the party, it was seized upon and
agitated by Ikamon for a double purpose. Had there been any real
prospects of Iyesada's losing hold on life there might have been
occasion for the great ado which was being made about it; for the shogun
to die without a lawful successor was considered the greatest misfortune
that could befall the nation. The proper degree of interest having been
aroused, and the shogun himself having taken on the desired state of
susceptibility, it was urged upon his highness to call in the customary
wise man without delay; and as Michizane had already become known for
his premonitions, Ikamon had only to mention the poet's name to induce
his selection.
Michizane was sitting at his accustomed place musing the hours away when
a messenger, escorted by two courtiers with large letters emblazoned
upon their uniforms, approached and with much ceremony handed him a
parchment roll. It was the shogun's command, so Michizane trembled as he
broke the seal and read from the long document, which unrolled from his
hand. It was a great honour conferred, even more than he had dared ever
to dream, and charity should pardon the rise of feeling which he then
experienced.
A chair stood outside awaiting his pleasure, and also a regular
cavalcade of guards, runners, carriers, and attendants was there, in
silk and gold, ready to pay him attention. At first he said not a word;
then glancing around and bowing low, signalled his "honourable
informant" to await his "miserable preparation."
After advising his mistress, and receiving her blessing--amid somewhat
of misgivings--he marched down the line and took his place in the
swaying palanquin. Without delay he was carried directly to the hall of
state, where Ikamon met him and, escorting him to a private chamber held
and coached him until the hour of his presentation had arrived. And
while there, the very first thing impressed upon his mind was his
indebtedness to Ikamon and to no other for the honour of his
appointment. He needed no coaching as to the gravity of the situation;
that was a thing to be understood.
"You are to tell the shogun, the supreme administrator of the divine
mikado, the confidant of Ikamon, and the lover of his loyal subjects,
that there is extreme danger of a failure of succession should his
august highness refuse longer to sojourn without the pale of his
reverend predecessors, and that it now becomes your painful duty to
predict the immediate adoption of one Iyemochi, a member of the legion,
and supporter of the cause."
This is what Ikamon told the innocent Michizane to say, yet he knew it
would so enrage the shogun that he would cause the seer forthwith to be
consigned to harakiri or banishment for life. Ikamon had also
anticipated its other effect upon the doubtful Iyesada, causing him to
brood over the succession and finally to carry out the predicted measure
in the hope of warding off an evil hand. The banishment of the poet
would be a welcome thing because it was pleasing to his friend and war
god, Tetsutaisho. The adoption of Iyemochi, a willing tool, would insure
Ikamon's complete domination of the shogunate upon Iyesada's death,
which he thought might be hastened if not occasioned.
Thus Ikamon planned and the proud, puffed-up scholar obeyed; and before
the day had passed Michizane found his vanity gratified and himself
condemned to banishment for the rest of his life. When night came he was
lashed down with cords, and without a parting word carried far away,
never to return.
The oracle had spoken and the bigoted, suspicious Iyesada had believed
it the voice of Ema-O, and knowing of no safer commitment chose the Isle
of Banishment. Nor did this alone satisfy his overwrought conscience,
but immediately the thing was done he called Ikamon and upon his advice
adopted forthwith the child successor, and proclaimed a universal
rejoicing.
The new heir was hailed with acclamation, Ikamon praised for his
cleverness, and Tetsutaisho applauded by his admiring friends; though
new troubles dawned on every side. Takara's eyes opened to her true
situation, and her faithful adherents rallied to plan her deliverance.
Tetsutaisho observed her growing indifference, but crediting it with no
deeper meaning than personal apathy sought in his old way to revive the
spark which so soon seemed all but dead. It was of no use, for Takara
saw farther than he knew.