THE palace, and indeed the whole domain of the Lord Catzu, presented the
appearance of being constantly armed as though for attack, a not
uncommon thing in the latter days of feudalism. The Shogun had been
artful in his disposal of the various lords of the provinces. Families
attached personally to him were stationed in provinces lying between
those administered by families friendly to the Emperor. Thus none of the
Emperor’s friends could meet to revolt against the Shogun.
So it happened that while the Lord Catzu was one of the most intimate
and confidential of the advisers of the Shogun, his neighbor, the old
Prince Mori, Daimio of the province of Choshui, desired to see the
Mikado once more, the real, instead of the nominal, ruler of Japan.
Consequently the two neighboring clans, while displaying extravagant
courtesy towards each other in public, were in reality unfriendly. Only
during that portion of the year when the Shogun’s edict ordered a Yedo
residence for all daimios, did the lords of the provinces meet one
another, and that under the Shogun’s eyes in his Yedo seat of
government. In the capital they simulated suavity and cordiality, but
once back at their provincial capitals they preserved towards each other
an attitude of polite defiance which made all intercourse between them
impossible save that of the sword, when their respective samurai and
vassals, coming in contact with one another, fought out their lords’
political differences.
Imbittering still more the feeling existing naturally between the Mori
and Catzu clans, there was a personal element in the situation. When
Catzu had first been made lord of the province he had met on a visit to
the Shogun’s Yedo court the Lady Evening Glory, whose brother and
guardian (she being an orphan) was a young samurai in the service of the
Prince Mori. Having fallen a victim to the lady’s beauty and charms, the
lord of Catzu was determined to have her for wife despite the opposition
of the Mori Prince. Bold, brave, fearless, and with a grand contempt for
the power of his rival, the Lord Catzu had carried off the fair lady
from his neighbor’s dominions, though it was generally understood that
both the lady herself and her samurai brother lent their assistance to
the young lord. The young samurai, incurring thereby the deep
displeasure and enmity of his Prince, was deprived of his title and
estates and sent into exile upon the first convenient pretext. Strange
tales told without shadow of authority diversified the nature of the
crime for which the samurai had been exiled, but the two lords remained
silent. All who had been concerned in the affair were commanded to the
same silence by the Shogun.
Whatever were the many reasons responsible for the constant attitude of
antagonism of these two clans towards each other, the lords carefully
guarded their lands—more particularly those in the vicinity of their
palaces—with all the rigor of a fortress prepared for the fiercest
onslaught. Seemingly unapproachable and impenetrable as were the grounds
of the Catzu palace, yet there must have existed at some spot in their
watchful walls a vulnerable point, the heel of the stone Achilles.
A courtier, by his dress and demeanor plainly a member of the Mori
household, lingered in the private gardens of the palace. The day had
long since folded its wings of light, but an early March moon was
enveloping the land in an ethereal glow. The courtier remained under the
friendly shadow of a grove of pine-trees. His eyes were cast upon the
stately Catzu shiro (palace). It seemed as though the moon-rays had
singled out the graceful old castle and was bathing it tenderly in a
halo of soft light.
It was cold, not bitterly so, but sharply chill, as it is at night
betwixt the winter and the spring. But unconscious of the chill, erect
and graceful, the courtier leaned against a tree-trunk, his arms crossed
over his breast, his eyes full of moist sentiment, drinking in the
beauty of the night scene, which had an added enchantment for him, a man
in love.
All about him, before, behind, and around him, graceful pine-trees
raised their slender, pointed heads up to the silver light. In the
distance, like a strange, white mirage set in the moonlit sky, a
snow-capped mountain seemed hung as in mid-air. The grass beneath his
feet was young and intensely soft, with dewy moisture upon it.
A nightingale on the tip of a tall bamboo sang with such passionate
sweetness that it brought the lover out from the shelter of the shadow.
Quivering with emotion, his soul responding and vibrating to the song of
love, he strode into the light of the moon. Unmindful of the danger of
his exposure to possible observation, he drew forth from the bosom of
his haori a little roll of rice-paper. Once more he read it through, and
yet once again.
“MY LORD,—I write this augustly insignificant letter to you,
trusting that your health is good. Also the health of all your
honorable relatives and ancestors.
“I have received your most honorably magnificent compliments.
Accept my humblest thanks.
“Now I deign to write unto you, beseeching you to abandon so
foolhardy a purpose as to follow me to my uncle’s home. I would
feign warn you that my uncle’s guards are fierce and ofttimes
cruel, and to one wearing the garb of a hostile clan, I fear
they would show no mercy. Therefore I beseech you, do you pray
abandon your honorable purpose.
“Also condescend to permit me to add, that if you must indeed
truly attempt so hazardous an undertaking, I would beg to inform
you, that though the grounds are surrounded by such great walls
that I fear me not even a tailless cat might climb them, and
also the gates are guarded by the fiercest samurai,
nevertheless, on the south there is a small river. Mayhap you
will hire a boat. Then do you come up this honorable river,
keeping close to the shore, and I do assure you that you will
discover a break in the south wall, which leads into the gardens
surrounding the palace.
“My lord, my uncle’s guards are not so vigilant before sunrise,
as I myself have ofttimes remarked when I have arisen early of a
morning and have looked from my casement, which is also on the
south side of the palace, facing the river and the outlet
thereto.”
The nightingale paused in its song, and then broke out again, its long,
piercing trill filling the night.
The lover returned to the shelter of the pine grove, and, throwing
himself upon the grass, drew his cape close about him. Leaning his head
upon his hand, he gave himself up to his dreams.
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[Illustration: Decoration]