THE ABBESS GIVES ADVICE.
With a great sob O'Tei sprang up, and, clinging closely to Sampei,
burst into tears, while he, embarrassed and somewhat shy, stood
waiting. Why this display of trouble so deep that it racked her frame?
Had his mother concealed aught? She had not led him to suppose that it
was as bad as this. Could No-Kami, careless of the treasure he
possessed, have done her some grievous wrong? At the thought, the
young General's dark face grew darker, and as a flood of wrath surged
over him, he looked a genuine Hojo. And with it came a sense of
something new and astonishing, which was to himself a riddle. Careless
and light of heart, accustomed to look at things from their best
point, and to delve no lower than was needful, he never dreamed of his
old playfellow in her new sphere as wan and wasted and miserable, and
with the feeling of indignation against his brother there was mixed a
whimsical regretful longing. Had he not been wrong, when he might have
taken the maid himself, to leave her for another?
Worldly-wise Sanjo had warned him that so dainty a dish was not for a
soldier of fortune, and he had seen the prudence of the warning. But
cold prudence is a mistake sometimes, as who should know better than a
soldier? He felt sure that if, when playfully talking in the sylvan
glades, he had led her to a pool, and, showing her the two faces
reflected there, had pictured himself as the future lucky one, his
playfellow would have returned his hand-clasp, and submitted to a
lover's embrace. And when a maiden and a youth are of one mind, and
the latter is energetic and determined, nine chances are in his
favour, despite opposition of parents. It was diffidence that had
undone him, and her. Although a rough soldier, he would, at home, have
softened his roughness for her sweet sake, and if careful striving
could have done it, have made her life a pleasant one. And now, fool
that he had been, it was too late! Some such surprising thoughts as
these--dark regretful visions of possibilities vanished--flitted
across the mind of the young man as, her breast against his in
perilous proximity, he kissed her perfumed hair. Scales seem to fall
from his eyes as he questioned his own heart. In his brief career he
had adored many a damsel, and had sworn to each to worship none but
her; but with O'Tei it was quite different. With thought of her was
mingled a respect he had never felt for other women. Once his very
own, he could and would have been true to her,--have made it the joy
of life to give her every pleasure, to watch and guard and shelter her
from the blustering winds of the world--and it was too late! She was
the wife of his own brother,--of him to whom, independent of natural
affection, he owed allegiance as head of his clan. To her also then he
in some sort owed faithful service. Yes, and he would be true and
loyal. He swore it now, silently but fervently, as she lay upon his
bosom. She had never known that he loved her otherwise than as a
brother should. He would be her own true knight, with the privilege of
bestowing all succour and comfort and counsel. Of the three, alas! she
now stood in bitter need.
On his return from his arduous campaign of five years, he had been
received with acclamation by the people, to whom glorious feats of
arms were as the odour of the lily in the nostrils. They had knocked
their foreheads in the dust, had pursued him with shouts in the
streets, nearly tearing his garments from off his back; in their
enthusiasm had well nigh forgotten that he came of the blood of Hojo;
but the sweets of well-earned popularity were no little embittered by
the proceedings of the head of his house. The tales he heard on his
arrival filled him with shame and horror, and his honest soul was sore
perplexed, torn as it was between the traditional blind obedience to
the head of the clan, and indignant disapproval of his acts. He could
not turn against his brother. Death would be better that disloyalty,
and yet it was very terrible by silence to seem to acquiesce in his
misdeeds. When fitting opportunity offered, he would remonstrate
with No-Kami,--point out to him that his course must end in civil
war,--that in his next life he would of a surety be a bear or pig, as
a just and dire retribution for recklessly plunging his country in
blood. It was his duty to remonstrate, and he would do so gently but
firmly, come what might. Not that much good would come of it. He knew
No-Kami to be as headstrong as he was fierce. There would be high
words, and possible estrangement. Estrangement! no, for the sake of
this girl, that must be avoided at all hazards. He must cultivate
diplomacy--he, the simple Sampei. If it was only the pounding of an
enemy, something bluff and straightforward, he would be in his
element. But to smile when inclined to curse, to be compelled to bite
your lip and swallow down the burning words of just anger, to Sampei
would be very difficult. He must try though. His poor sweet sister.
Her sobs were due on this occasion, happily, to joy and relief at his
return, in that she, the lonely and forlorn, had a trusty champion by
her side. Instinct told him this.
For her sake, then, he must not break with his brother, for, forbidden
access to his sister-in-law, he would be of no service in extremity.
In extremity! What prophetic foreboding was it that whispered to him
of something terrible behind, wherein she would need all the help that
his strong arm could give her? Ah! if he had spoken when he might, how
different it would all have been. Too late--that chapter was closed.
He was to be her knight--vigilant and true. With a deep sigh, he
raised her tear-stained face, and kissed her lips, then put her
gently from him.
Side by side, and hand in hand, as in the old days, they reclined
upon the mat, and the frown deepened on his brow as she told her
story,--the uncomely story of selfishness, and greed, and cruelty, and
wrong, waxing with impunity daily worse, till even sleepy Buddha must
needs wake soon, and be impelled to hurl his thunderbolts. She told of
the starving multitudes, to whom the son of the horse-leech cried
"Give"; of the petition, and his brutal treatment of the elders. "If
only I could serve as sacrifice," she said, in conclusion, with a
fresh burst of tears, "how gladly would I lay down my life. But my
lord and I are strangers. I dwell here, and he at Ki[^y]oto. Does not
that tell its tale? The wind might as well preach to him as I. At
first he liked me a little, but that soon passed. Of late his
presence--knowing of what he is capable--has filled me with a nameless
terror, for I seem to detect something in his eye that suggests a
brain distracted. He is blood-drunk; his very laugh conceals a sword.
And yet 'tis an awful thing for me, his wife, to sit by, attempting
nothing."
No doubt the chatelaine ought to do something--what? Like Philippa, at
Calais, she should wring, by pleading, from her lord, the lives of the
condemned. Yet if the pair were so estranged, would she not be laying
herself open uselessly to some insult, some rebuff? She admitted that
she was growing afraid of her husband. That was bad. The situation was
too many-sided for the soldier's unpolished wits. He pondered, and
held his peace, and looked up with a sense of relief when, a shadow
darkening the light, he beheld his mother, Masago.
The ascetic Abbess gazed proudly and fondly on her son, but with a
tinge of concern. She had followed him from the temple, seeing that he
turned his horse towards the summer-house; for she loved O'Tei, and
was aware of the early passages which had passed between girl and boy.
Sampei had such a free way of making love to every woman, that she,
elderly and sensible, saw keenly the danger to both, if the neglected
wife and pitying brother-in-law were thrown too much together. Side by
side, hand clasped in hand, exchanging confidences. An ominous
beginning. It was well that she had come, for these young people must
be protected against themselves.
While O'Tei, with a ghostly revival of coquetry, was arranging her
tumbled hair by aid of a silver mirror, the Abbess drew her son aside,
pleading urgent and important business.
"My boy," she said, as, out of earshot, the two paced slowly in the
shade, "you are as brave and true as even I could desire, and
gratefully I thank the gods for it; but you are guileless; your arm is
stronger than your head, and your blood is overwarm."
Perceiving a ludicrous expression of bewilderment on the honest face
of her son at this mysterious preamble, she gently smiled, and shook
her head at him.
"The best friend a man has," she observed, "is his mother; for a
mother's love, undervalued often, is tinged with no selfish taint.
Child, child," she sighed, placing a fond hand on his broad shoulder,
"take warning while there's time. Do not think me blind, or foolishly
importunate. You love O'Tei, and, for sake of both, had better keep
apart. Think what tragedy might follow if your brother had cause for
jealousy."
Love O'Tei! Was it so patent, then?--he the last to know it? The
General in silence walked up and down, while his mother gazed upon him
wistfully. There was a deep sadness on his face that pained her.
Perhaps in speaking out so plainly, she had been precipitate. Yet no;
she had never been one to beat about a bush. Her stern creed admitted
no half measures. Presently Sampei spoke.
"For once, most dear and wise of mothers, you are wrong," he said. "I
love her; yes, I will not deny it--how much I did not know until ten
minutes since. My love is so true and pure, that to save her a
momentary grief I would fling myself off yonder rock. Be not afraid;
no harm shall come to her through me."
"Noble and chivalrous in intent, just like my boy," nodded the sapient
Abbess. "Maybe you are strong enough to carry out your resolve
unflinchingly; but what of her? What if she, less prudent and more
weak, were to bestow her heart on you? It would lead to general
wretchedness, if not to her undoing."
Sampei had not considered it from that point, and ruefully rubbed his
nose. It would no doubt be very awkward if O'Tei were to become
enamoured of him. In that case, heroic leaps off rocks would be of
little service. Then he burst into a loud shout of laughter.
"How like a mother!" he crowed. "Her own offspring being, of course,
perfect--a full-plumaged ph[oe]nix--all must needs fall down and
worship. Believe me, she is as pure as the dawn; her affection that of
a sister."
"Now, perhaps, and I sincerely hope so," replied the Abbess quietly;
"but you have no right to place her in temptation. So you deem me a
silly old woman, too partial to her featherpated son? Well, then, I am
forced to tell you, as a warning, that which I intended to conceal, to
show that you are over-modest. I trow there are maids galore who wear
the willow in secret for the most brilliant soldier in Japan. There is
one luckless girl I wot of, who has flung her foolish heart at
you--who weeps and languishes for love of you--swears she will have no
other lord. Fie! She is a good and honest girl, who would never have
thus bestowed herself without encouragement."
"Bestowed herself on _me?_" exclaimed Sampei, round-eyed, and feeling
guilty.
"Her name is Mine."
"Mine!" ejaculated the careless scapegrace. "Tush! I know no Mine."
"For shame! Oh, light and fickle, it is as I guessed," returned the
Abbess, with a head-shake that would have been solemn but for a sly
flash of merriment in the usually stern eyes. "I have no excuse for
the maid, since 'tis vastly reprehensible to throw your heart at one
who does not want it; and yet, when her only child is so extremely
fascinating, a mother must be indulgent." Sampei appearing quite
mystified, Masago pursued more gravely,--"You used to single the poor
thing out, bad boy, she says, at the rustic festivals here five years
ago, and give her fans and hairpins. Unfortunate Mine! You turned her
head, and have forgotten even her name. Do you remember Koshiu, the
farmer?"
Mine, Koshiu's daughter. Dear me! a pretty little thing, with a temper
that it was such sport to play upon. Of course Sampei remembered now,
for indeed the too independent Koshiu, dreading some such misfortune
as had come to pass, had testily turned upon the dallying swain, which
had mightily offended his lordship.
And for hopeless love of him this silly soul had been sighing all
these years, with nothing to feed on but a few idle compliments.
Sampei felt a twinge of conscience, was angry with himself, for
perhaps he had been too ardent. Then he felt annoyed with the
too-confiding maiden too easily won. A few common-place attentions,
that was all, out of mere idleness. A pretty pass if all the young
women whom one ogles were to insist on claiming one for life. What a
pother about nothing. It is extremely immodest and indecent of maidens
to give themselves away unasked.
And then his thoughts reverted to that other lady, sitting yonder
before the mirror, and a pang of distress swept over his features as
he dreamed again of what might have been; the which perceiving the
Abbess whispered,--"Be of good cheer, my son. By divine grace it will
be for the best. My prayers added to hers, the maiden's mind will
recover calm, and through the black passage of this hopeless love be
led from earth to heaven. As a daughter of the people who has bestowed
herself on you, I will cherish her. Already she has sought refuge
under our roof, and ere long will become one of us for life."
He then, the light and jovial, was to be responsible for making of the
poor maid a nun.
Sobered and saddened, and made uncomfortable internally by all he had
seen and heard since his return, Sampei led his mother back towards
the summer-house, where the young chatelaine was beginning to marvel
at the length of their private colloquy. In this retreat, where she
expected no visitors, O'Tei dispensed with the service of her ladies,
for it was a relief to think out her dreary thoughts with none to read
them on her countenance. Now, with a new sprightliness to which she
had been long a stranger, she busied herself with hospitable cares.
Placing on the firebox a daintily-wrought kettle of fine bronze, she
produced from a gold-lacquered cabinet three fairy cups of the
eggshell white porcelain of Hirado, placed a pinch of tea in each, and
waiting for the water to boil, made ready to play the hostess.
It was with a tightening about the heart that Sampei watched her long
fingers arranging sweetmeats on a tray, pouring water on the leaves,
which straightway expanded, and turned the liquid of a pale straw
colour. Had he not been so diffident and addlepated while there was
time, she would not now have been so thin and wan; those teacups might
have been his teacups, and--well, well. He was till death her own true
knight, demanding nothing in exchange for his unselfish devotion. To
his heart he would repeat this o'er and o'er again till it was used to
it. What might have been was not to be. There was nothing now to be
gained by brooding or railing against his own stupidity.
Over their refection the trio returned to the all-engrossing
topic,--what was to be done for the poor suffering people?--how was
the despot to be softened, and the imprisoned elders saved? Sampei
related that the news of his coming must have preceded him, for no
sooner had he clattered over the long wooden bridge which gives access
to the main street of Tsu, than two ancient men had stopped him, and
craved an immediate audience. Unlike my lord No-Kami, he had drawn
rein at once, and listened; and the ancient men, with profuse
grovellings, had implored my lord Sampei to use his personal influence
for the rescue of the incarcerated headmen. It was indeed a heinous
deed of insolence, they admitted with groans, to have sinned to the
extent of imploring to be lightened of their burthens, but death of
any kind was preferable to such a life as they endured at present.
They reverently allowed that torments were deserved, but humbly
implored mercy and consideration, for the sake of wives and children
Sampei had been much shocked, for, to his generous nature, grovelling
humility was offensive; and did not know what to do. He, as well as
O'Tei, was resolved that something must be done for the sake of
humanity, as well as to rescue from execration the unpopular name of
Hojo. Perhaps the Abbess, the wise counsellor, would be good enough to
settle what.
Now if Masago had a weakness (I am not prepared to say she had not),
it was an appreciation of her position as chief adviser to every one.
She therefore drank another cup of tea, then clearing her throat,
began,--
"My counsel is this. My lord Hojo No-Kami must be brought to yield.
Probably he will not be sorry of an excuse to do so, considering that
after such an act of clemency as the remitting of torment, the elders,
cowed and abashed, will be too frightened to say more about the taxes;
whereas, if the men suffer, there will be further outcry, and the tax
question will come yet more prominently forward, producing lamentable
results. Hence my lord will probably, as I say, be glad of an excuse
to send the people back, if they promise to be more amenable in
future. It would be well if he owed his way out of the difficulty to
his wife, for it would soften his animosity against her, and would
cause the people to venerate her even more than they do already. My
son, Sampei, could not be more popular than he is--praise be to the
gods--but it would be pleasing to his mother if he were joined in the
work of mercy. I therefore propose that the Lady O'Tei forthwith do
indite upon a roll a personal request to her husband, craving as a
boon the lives of the condemned, and tying it in a box of
tortoiseshell, do consign it to her brother-in-law, that he may ride
with all speed to Ki[^y]oto, and, delivering the box, do add his own
entreaties to his sister's--so may we be sure to gain our end, and
avert a serious danger."
So succinct an oration, brief, and to the point, and patly delivered,
deserved another cup of tea, and while she sipped it leisurely, Masago
improved the occasion.
"My dear," she said, "I saw you shudder. This will never do. It is the
greatest of mistakes to let such a man as Mylord No-Kami know that you
are afraid of him. I noted in his childhood how he always treated more
scurvily the hirelings who cringed."
"I never cringed!" exclaimed O'Tei proudly.
"No; but if I mistake not, you have let him perceive fear, under a
veil of contempt. Should he realise this, he will follow up the
advantage, and all will indeed be lost. You should have coped with him
at first, my lily. It would have been better for both, believe me."
O'Tei twined her fingers together in distress. Had not the small voice
within her whispered this long since. She did fear him, and dislike
him, and despise him. Cope with him forsooth! How could she do it now?
How could she ever have summoned sufficient moral courage? No; having
retired into her shell of pride, she would stop there to the end, but
in this matter of the elders she might bestir herself. Drawing forth a
roll of paper, O'Tei and Sampei, with heads closer together than
Masago approved, proceeded to concoct a warily-worded epistle.
Masago was truly an extremely clever old dame, for with her one stone
she slew a variety of birds. O'Tei would be the happier in that she
had been induced to intercede. She would gain points in the affections
of the people, and so would the beloved Sampei. The latter, as bearer
of the missive, would be removed forthwith from perilous association
with his sister-in-law; he would also be removed from the temptation
to reconnoitre Mine, who, the Abbess firmly resolved, was to shave her
head immediately. This, being obstinate like her father, she would,
doubtless, decline to do if the too warm-blooded warrior were to see
and fancy her afresh.
The combination was artful from all points of view, and did credit to
the adviser of every one. The elders would return unharmed, and, after
a severe lesson, would be more dutiful. The storm would blow over, and
all might repose in peace.
Alack! Masago knew nothing of the resolve of Koshiu. Had she known
that he proposed to call, if necessary, for the individual
intervention of the sublime Mikado himself, her eyes would have
goggled in her head at his audacity, and her counsel might have been
of a different order.