WITHOUT the Imperial city of Kioto, in an open field, lay encamped a
little army of thirteen hundred men. It was some months following the
decisive action of Mori at Shimonoseki. Imperialists of the neighborhood
could not have told who the commander of this force was. They were known
simply as the “Irregulars.”
Small as was the force, it was admirably trained and drilled in all
three of its divisions of cavalry, infantry, and artillery. Each
division was the flower and choice of some larger body. The force, which
had remained in inaction for a considerable period, showed nevertheless
a state of ruling vigilance, whether for attack or defence could not
have been told from its appearance.
The camp was in the shape of an elongated circle, whose circumference
was regularly defined by field-pieces set at regular intervals, and
trained to oppose any invading force. Near each cannon were tethered the
horses furnishing the motive power. Hard by, stretched upon the ground,
or lounging within the scant shadows of the gun-carriages, were the
artillerymen. Infantry guards, in armor, and for the most part armed
with rifles, patrolled the space without the circle. Other soldiers and
samurai, armed only with swords, sat in the openings of tents assigned
to their division, or occupied the time in sword exercise in the open
spaces between their shelters. Near the centre of the encampment were
assembled the horses of the cavalry division, saddled and in complete
readiness for their riders, who lounged near by.
Within a short stone’s-throw of the horsemen was pitched what seemed,
from its commanding position on a little eminence, the tent of the
commander of the “Irregulars.” Close by its entrance stood an enormous
samurai, whose naked sword was held lightly, carelessly, in his hand. In
conversation with him stood a hardy youth, attired as a cavalryman.
The curtains of the tent on the eminence were parted deftly, and the
slight figure of a boy hastened towards the two.
“My Lord of Catzu,” he said, “the Prince Mori desires your presence, and
that of you also, Sir Genji.”
Toro smiled at the youth’s ceremoniousness.
“Is there news, my Jiro?” he asked.
“Oguri, as you know, has arrived from the south, and our enemies have
reported concerning the condition of the city.”
The three hastened within, where they found Oguri and Mori.
“Now, then, Oguri, your news,” commanded Mori.
“Your highness,” said Oguri, “the British have bombarded Kagoshima as a
result of our attack upon the foreign fleet.”
“Kagoshima!” exclaimed Mori—“the capital of our old friend Satsuma.
Then, indeed, have we brought trouble upon our allies.”
Other members of Mori’s staff sent through Kioto reported the results of
their investigations. The premier Echizen had abolished the custom of
the daimio’s compulsory residence in Yedo during a portion of each year,
and now all these territorial lords resided in Kioto. Within the
Imperial palace of Kommei Tenno the Lord Aidzu appeared to have
controlling influence. The Lord of Catzu was there with him in
consultation. Troops of the Aidzu clan had arrived at the palace in
great numbers and were encamped in the flower-gardens. Though loathing
the shogunate, the Mikado appeared to be completely under its control.
Having ascertained these facts, Mori dismissed all the staff save Oguri,
Toro, Genji, and Jiro.
“No answer has come to our petition?” he asked.
The four shook their heads.
“None,” they said.
“You have heard the reports,” continued Mori, “and will perceive that
the Aidzu-Catzu party, now in possession of the Emperor’s person and the
palace, are determined upon something. These constant arrivals of new
troops, the silence of the Mikado to our petition, the crowding of the
palace with armed samurai—all these things mean that we are to be
punished for having petitioned the Mikado to remove from us the ban of
outlaw.”
“Then, your highness,” broke in Toro, “since the petition was not signed
by you, but came from us, your followers, they may now know of your
arrival here, and may be preparing to send out an expedition against you
in the south.”
“No,” replied Mori, “I think they know I am here with you, and propose
to attack me at once here in my camp. Now, my friends, the time has come
for me to disclose to you the real purpose of this expedition. We have
respectfully petitioned the Mikado to admit us again to his favor. He is
silent. He is surrounded by his enemies. We must attack the palace and
rid it of the Aidzu-Catzu combination, thus allowing the Mikado once
more to become a free agent.”
Oguri and Genji leaped to their swords.
“Now, on the instant, my lord,” they cried.
Mori answered, calmly:
“No; we must first gain some knowledge of the exact plans of those
within the palace. I want a volunteer for this service.”
Simultaneously the four cried out for the service. Mori considered.
“No, not you, Toro; you would be recognized too quickly; nor you, Oguri,
for you are needed sorely here. Perhaps you, Genji, but you are too
large.”
“I am small. The task is mine,” broke in Jiro. “I will go.”
“Not without me,” said Genji.
“Why not without you, Sir Genji?” inquired Mori, mildly. “The boy Jiro
needs no guardian. He has proved his valor and discretion upon many an
occasion.”
With a smile whose influence was ever potent with the Shining Prince,
Jiro moved nearer his commander. He said, gently:
“Permit Sir Genji to accompany me. I have resources within the palace I
need not speak of now, which will insure me complete safety, but I would
ask that the samurai be placed”—he smiled boyishly—“under my command, so
that if I am forced to remain within the palace he may carry to you
whatever news I may gain.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Mori. “What resources can you have in the
Mikado’s palace?”
The lad, stammering, blushed.
“My lord,” he said, “you know I visited the palace before, and—and—”
He broke off in confusion.
“As you will,” said Mori, turning aside.
An hour later the samurai Genji strode through the eastern gate of
Kommei Tenno’s palace, accompanied by a young woman with the air of a
princess. They were allowed to pass, while Genji answered the challenge
of the guard readily.
“Of the household of the Lord Catzu,” he said, pointing to the young
woman. “My lord’s apartments?”
The guard indicated the house in which the Lord Catzu had temporarily
taken up his residence. Without further challenge, the two reached the
door of Catzu’s private apartment. The guard at the door, recognizing
the two, ushered them into the presence of the Lord Catzu.
They found him before a table on which were spread plans and letters. In
irritation at being disturbed in the midst of some important employment,
Catzu glanced up from his scrolls.
His face became purple with astonishment and mingled emotions. From the
caverns of flesh surrounding his puffy cheeks his little eyes gleamed.
He stared at the two with his mouth agape. They regarded him smilingly.
Finally Catzu gasped out:
“By the god Bishamon!” and again lapsed speechless.
The woman, advancing, knelt at his feet.
Catzu lifted her into his arms.
“Wistaria!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” she smiled up at him. “It is indeed Wistaria.”
Catzu held her at arm’s-length.
“Ah, my lady,” he chuckled, wagging his head at her, “it is plain to be
seen that a religious life has dried your tears and honorably mended a
foolish heart-break. The mountains have made you as rosy as its flowers
and as strong and hardy as its trees.”
“And thou, dear uncle?” she inquired. “Thou, too, seemest in good health
and spirits.”
Catzu sighed, somewhat out of keeping with his fat and happy appearance.
“Alas, my dear Wistaria,” he said, “your poor old uncle has suffered
much.”
“But how?” asked Wistaria with feigned surprise.
A tear appeared in Catzu’s eyes and rolled over his puffed cheeks.
“I have lost my graceless son,” he said.
“My uncle!” said Wistaria, sympathetically, while she looked past him at
Genji with a knowing glance.
Catzu also turned towards Genji.
“And you, Sir Genji, what became of you? Now, sir, tell me how it comes
that you are here with my lady niece.”
“My lord,” answered Genji, “I joined my lady, summoned by a messenger at
Yokohama, on the day of the reception in the Treaty House. I turned my
prisoners over to another. I trust they were deservedly punished for
their offence.”
“Nay,” said Catzu, “they escaped. But no matter. And you, Wistaria, have
you any love left for that husband of yours who deserted you on your
wedding-day, or have the mountains and the gods taught you of his
baseness?”
Wistaria’s features darkened in seeming hate.
“I could kill him,” she said. Under her breath she added, “Forgive me.”
The Lord Catzu appeared satisfied and turned to Genji.
“You may resume your old place in my train. There will be work for you
soon.”
Genji bowing, withdrew.
“Uncle,” said Wistaria, “tell me what your words just now meant?”
“Presently, presently,” returned Catzu. “I have good news for you. But,
first, what of yourself?”
Wistaria shrugged her pretty shoulders.
“Oh, of myself there is little to tell. I grew tired of the service of
the temple. Thou knowest that I was never meant for a priestess. Thou
didst use to declare,” she added, smiling roguishly, “that the gods
designed me for the court.”
“True, true,” said Catzu, regarding her fondly, “and more than ever I
declare it. Thou hast budded into a very beautiful woman, my little
niece. But continue. Thou wert tired of the temple—yes?”
“Well, I thought I had surely offered up sufficient supplication to the
gods to have saved a hundred ancestors and parents’ august souls. So I
sent for Genji, and have, as thou seest, returned unto thee.”
“Thou didst well. And, what is more, it shall be my task to punish your
husband.”
Wistaria averted her face for a moment. Then seating herself on the
floor, comfortably against his knee, she raised to him innocent eyes.
“Punish him? Why, how can that be, honorable uncle?”
“He is encamped near by with a rebel army,” said Catzu, lowering his
voice confidentially; “the day after to-morrow we send an army of
chastisement against him under the valiant Prince of Mito.”
“The Prince of Mito,” repeated Wistaria, half aloud.
“Yes, a brave nobleman I desire to become your husband in time. You will
be free ere long, I do assure you.” Catzu chuckled confidently.
“What is the offence of—of—this rebel?”
“Your husband dog? He conspires against the Mikado. Oh, we shall drive
him out.”
An attendant, interrupting them, ushered in Aidzu. Wistaria slipped to
the door. Catzu recalled her.
“Thou mayest remain, niece. Hear our plans. They closely concern thee.”
“I will return in a moment; but Genji has my perfume sack, which I
desire.”
Outside the door, Wistaria spoke in an excited whisper to Genji.
“Quick, Genji, you must hasten back to the camp without delay. Tell the
Prince that an army of chastisement under the young Prince of Mito will
attack him the day after to-morrow. You yourself have seen the forces in
the gardens. Go to the camp at once. Make your report and return then to
me.”
“And thou, my lady?”
“I cannot return at this time without exciting suspicion, perhaps
hastening the attack upon my lord by a day. I must remain. I can be of
service here.”
“I like not to leave thee,” said Genji, in great doubt and perplexity.
“Nay, you must do so; I insist.”
“I cannot. My duty—”
“Ah, Genji,” remonstrated Wistaria, “the devotion of a samurai is best
proved by his obedience. Go thou to the camp of my lord; do, I beg—nay,
I command thee.”
Genji bent his forehead to her hand, then very slowly turned and left
her.
Her uncle, grown impatient for his niece, came into the ante-chamber.
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[Illustration: Decoration]