THE “glorious news,” as they termed it, was given to the children the
following morning. Even Juji was called to the family council, while the
nurse-maid, Norah, held the baby in her arms.
Mr. Kurukawa talked of his going to the front as if it were a cause to
make them happy and rejoice. His words had the desired effect upon the
Japanese children. Taro, Plum Blossom, and Iris were thrilled with pride
and excitement. Taro wanted to rush out to the village at once to
proclaim to every one the great tidings. His father was going to serve
Ten-shi-sama. He was going to recruit a new regiment from their town and
vicinity. And they would all march away, with drums beating and the sun
flag flying. His satisfaction and excitement spread to some extent to
Billy, who began begging his step-father to let him and Taro go, too, as
“drummer-boys,” just as the little boys in the Kipling stories did. But
Marion stole from the room to weep. She loved her step-father as dearly
as if he were her own father, and so in imagination she saw him wounded,
or even killed. Her tender little heart was bruised at the thought. The
pride and elation of her step-brothers and sisters horrified her. She
could not understand it. She cried out her thoughts in her mother’s
arms.
“Oh, mamma, mamma, hear them singing! Oh!—and papa may be killed, and
they are _glad—glad_!”
She had expected her mother at least to understand, and to weep with
her, but to her astonishment her mother put her gently from her arms.
“Listen, Marion! Listen, darling, to what they are singing! Don’t you
know what it is? It is the national hymn, Marion. Oh, my little girl, be
brave, too, with them. There is nothing to cry about—nothing—nothing!”
Taro bounded into the room, his cheeks aflame. “My fadder goin’ ride
away. Mebbe he leave to-marl-low.”
Billy’s voice was heard in raised tones outside.
“Then we can see into the chest to-day!” he cried, excitedly.
“Yes.”
Taro rushed into the hall to speak in excited Japanese to his father.
With the two boys clinging to his arms Mr. Kurukawa came into the room.
“There’s a little ceremony I have promised the boys, mother,” he said.
“It was once customary for Japanese soldiers to look at, and often
worship, the swords of their ancestors before starting for the seat of
war.”
“We are going to look into the ancestor’s chest,” cried Billy; “that old
brown thing in the go-down.”
The “old brown thing” was brought reverently into the room by careful
servants. At Mr. Kurukawa’s quiet command complete silence reigned
before he touched it. Then he said, in the gravest of voices:
“You children must learn to control your feeling. You exhibit too much
excitement. You, Billy, and Taro, both of you, evince the same
excitement over a solemn occasion such as this, as you would over a
festival or a game. Appreciate and remember this occasion, my boys.”
The boys, reproved, hung their heads. Mr. Kurukawa then opened the old
chest. One by one he brought forth the various articles within it. Some
of them were mouldering with age. These he handled with reverent touch.
He explained to the family what each relic was after this fashion:
“This garment, my children, was worn exactly three hundred years ago by
your ancestor, Carsunora. He was in the service of the Emperor. The
Shogun Lyesade set a price upon his head, and after repeated battles
with his clan they succeeded in surrounding his fortress at Carsunora.
Here for fifty-five days they kept a siege. His brave men preferred
death to surrender, despite the promise of Lyesade. Day and night the
assault was made upon the fortress. Its turrets and windows were
demolished. Starvation stared them in the face. Still your ancestor held
out. Finally one of the enemy started a fire under the walls, and the
brave ones were driven out into the open. Your ancestor was surrounded
on all sides. The swords of his enemy pierced him. See, there are the
rents in his garments. It is said there were over a hundred wounds upon
his body. But desperately and valiantly he fought on, killing or
wounding all who came within touch of his sword. See it, my children,
bent and rusty, with the very stains of the enemy’s blood preserved upon
it! But even the most valiant of heroes cannot bear up against a host of
men. With his retainers dead on all sides, wounded by the eager swords
of a thousand enemies, he suddenly signified his intention of committing
supuku.
“For the first time in many hours the enemy, out of respect, lowered
their weapons. Your ancestor broke his shorter sword—here are the
pieces. Then taking the longer one, he thrust it into his bowels, and
expired.”
One bit of grewsome history after another he related to the children,
listening with awe-struck faces.
Subdued and very quiet the children left the room when the “ceremony”
was over. Marion alone had been unable to contain her emotion, and,
weeping bitterly, had been sent from the room. Now husband and wife were
alone for the first time that day.
“Does it seem strange to you,” he said, “that I should repeat such tales
to my children?”
“No,” she said, steadily, “not if they are accustomed to such things.”
“Japanese children are told stories of war from their youngest years.
That is why they seem impassive when their own family’s gory history is
unfolded to them.”
“But the little girls,” she said; “their eyes shone with as great a zeal
as Taro’s.”
“Yes, they are fine girls. You have heard of their ancestry.”
“And Taro?” she said.
“Taro,” smiled the father, “has a great sorrow. He is too young yet to
emulate the deeds of his ancestors. His little heart is almost ready to
burst with his longing.”
“Will it be the same with our baby?” she asked, earnestly.
“Would you have it so?” was his question.
She thought a moment, and then she said: “Yes—yes, indeed. Who would
not? Even our Billy is affected.”
“Billy has inquired most earnestly of me whether when he grew up he
could be a Japanese soldier, and I told him he would have to be a
Japanese citizen first. He said his father—meaning me—was Japanese, and
he would be whatever he was!”
“And so he will be,” said she, earnestly.
“But we will wait till he is a man to decide that,” said her husband.
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