THE CHILD'S FATE
Though the earthquake had spared no part of the capital, and devastated
equally among the high and the lowly, the tidal wave did not rise to the
top of the numerous hills spreading over the city. Thus many were saved,
and by some unknown freak of fate Ikamon remained among them.
Nor did he suffer much regret; for it had been the certain means of
destroying the unsightly evidence of his dastardly act, as well as an
occasion for the distraction of the public mind. He had been anxious
enough to get rid of his accounted enemies, but did not much relish the
talk about it; and now that the nation had been inflicted with a great
calamity that would distract their minds, he appeared really glad at
heart. The dead daimyos' succession engaged his attention first, and
hastening to bury the official notification beneath the excitement of
the moment he began on the very next day to forward letters of advice
and condolence.
The prime minister's expressions of sorrow, especially to Shibusawa,
were more than profuse; they were prodigal, and ended by admonishing
this young daimyo to repose in him that implicit confidence which "it
had been the good fortune of his happy father before him to possess." He
cautioned him to look well to the shogun's procedures, and speed the day
of his coming to Tokyo to prostrate his person at the feet of his august
highness.
While Ikamon had been so fortunate in escaping disaster, the same did
not prove entirely so with Tetsutaisho. At his house the first shock
occasioned much excitement, and dire disaster followed in the wake of
the phenomenon. Kinsan had not retired for the night, but sat trilling
and musing in her chamber. The child in its kimono lay sleeping on the
floor near by, while the warm, sultry air floated in at the house sides,
where the slides had not yet been closed. The tall trees overhanging her
veranda seemed more shadowless than ever before, and she peered, as she
so often did, into the dark solitude outside.
At the first tremor she ran and clasped Sodachinojoi in her arms; then
crouched upon the floor, waiting with breathless expectation. In a
moment--it seemed an age--Nehachibana flew into the room, with her hair
dishevelled and eyes wild and furtive. Shrieking and wailing she
implored Ninigi, now god of earth, to forego his quarrel with Sosanoo,
and cease tormenting the good people of Jimmu. Kinsan parleyed with her
to be calm, and come and sit by her side; but this she would not do, for
she now bitterly hated her whom she thought to be her only rival. She
would not be consoled, and when the second shock rent the earth beneath
them and the house timbers parted and the heavy tiling fell upon their
heads a ghastly smile crossed her face, and she played and snapped her
fingers, and stole toward the deep, hollow crater opening beneath the
rent in the floor.
A falling tile had struck Kinsan a blow on the head and she lay helpless
at the edge of the gap in the floor, held only by her clothing from
sliding into the yawning crevice below. The child was unhurt; it played
upon the tilted mat, and cooed without a sense of its own peril.
Nehachibana leaned over it, anxious and breathless. Her eyes flashed and
she spoke incoherently, saying;
"Shall I end this wicked sorrow?"
Suddenly the mat slipped and the child slid into the gaping earth, and
not a sound arose to tell of its terrible fate. Nehachibana made no
effort to stay death's angry claim, but recoiled from it and charged
herself with remorse at having lost the chance to take revenge with her
own hand. Then she braced herself and with set teeth said:
"It is not too late!"
Plunging forward and grappling the listless, helpless form that lay
heavily upon the brink, she tugged and pushed it almost over, then
stopped and weirdly looked around. There was no one there, but the
thought startled her, and she said:
"No. I can take a better revenge."
Pulling her intended victim away from the dangerous place, Nehachibana
brought water in a dish, and showered it in her face; then went away,
and by the time she had revived she returned, offering assistance and
nourishment. Many weeks passed before Kinsan fully recovered, and not
until then had she been told of the fate of Tetsutaisho's son.
No one had witnessed the sad scene except Nehachibana, and she took care
to remain silent and undiscovered. Kinsan took the blame all upon
herself and sorrowed deeply and pined much over the loss. Tetsutaisho
was grief stricken, and for a long time unable to reconcile himself to
his only son's destruction, hence became more kindly disposed toward
Kinsan and solicitous for her love. She, however, remained steadfast and
true to herself, seeking in every right way to serve her master and
atone for the great sorrow that she charged herself with having brought
upon him. The disappointed wife in the meantime resorted to every
artifice within her weakened range to win Tetsutaisho for herself, and
no material change took place among them until she had fully resolved
that no hope remained.
Takara had not heard of the disappearance of the child. In fact, having
little means of gaining any knowledge of him without too great danger to
all concerned, she had long ago ceased to worry about his fortunes. The
past was now more than ever a blank to her. She devoted herself to the
day at hand, untrammelled by that which had gone before.
Kido, her friend and counsellor, had called a new meeting of the
daimyos, confining his invitations to the south and only such others as
he knew to be safe. They had been warned against Daikomitsu by Takara,
and wisely heeded her advice: the mikado's cause was a sacred right, and
its supporters knew no such thing as disloyalty; their claims were
founded upon principle and their measures smacked not of the charlatan.
Kido, the recognised "head and pen," Saigo, the accredited "heart and
sword"--they planned nobly and stood ready to fight honourably.
As they had been anxious to secure Maido's friendship before, they were
hopeful of claiming Shibusawa's after the succession, and Takara,
bending all her energies to that end, would gladly have sacrificed home,
position, everything, to secure and advance him at the mikado's court.
No one knew better than she that his sympathies were more in accord with
their ideals than with the shogunate's; and could they but enlist him
they would be in a position to withstand, if not overwhelm, the enemy.
It became a duty with Takara, and Shibusawa rose to be her god.
He on the other hand, knowing himself, and cognisant of his strength,
dared not act so quickly. True, his faith in the shogunate was rapidly
being shattered--not alone because of his father's wanton
destruction--nor did bitterness poison him; he could see beyond vicious
revenge. There were at stake the destinies of a nation, the survival of
a civilisation, and the maintenance of a principle that gave or took the
liberties of mankind. He must first see the right, then succeed even at
the cost of life.
He still doubted Takara, even, in a measure, after learning something of
her heroic sacrifices. In serving Maido, she had also served him, told
him that his father had died by an honourable rite, to Shibusawa not the
chiefest, but a high aim. He thanked her from his heart and promised a
blessing, though Daikomitsu he dismissed as unworthy a hearing. He had
less desire to avenge an act than to right a wrong, and when the
would-be-trickster sought his aid in setting the ronin to move on what
he professed to be a common enemy, Shibusawa frowned him away, saying:
"Please do not encourage the thought, much less the act."
Daikomitsu, however, not so easily frustrated, had a purpose of his own,
and sought in other ways to further his schemes, though a tangle ensued
where he least desired. The ronin were his fit instruments, and knowing
their readiness he sought and before the winter had passed set them well
in motion. He not only had done this, but knew better than others just
how the forces of state were scattered; and carrying his knowledge with
him went to Tokyo and there posed as the wise man from the south, and
incidentally, among the prime minister's enemies, as a most likely
successor to Ikamon.
The malcontents offered the means, Ikamon's removal the place, and the
ronin the instrument, through which Daikomitsu was to rise and prepare
the way to reach Takara's heart. Keeping well out of the way of
Shibusawa, who, therefore, gave his movements no further concern, the
apparent dullard proved equal to the occasion, and along these lines
made the advance.