FOREBODINGS.
It was with feelings strangely mingled that the concourse prepared to
depart. For their good, the farmer had suffered martyrdom; himself and
his family were swept like insects from the earth, but not from the
grateful memories of the people. No sooner was the inner drawbridge
raised behind the departing despot, than with one accord all meekly
knelt while the Abbess issued orders. Her brow was more sombre than
its wont, her jaw more firmly set, as the troubled elders related what
had happened. She had prayed for light, but Buddha had vouchsafed no
answer. What was this coil that was winding slowly but surely round
the son of him who had been her husband? Ay, round her own son as
well, the noble Sampei. It was under misapprehension that Koshiu had
included him in his anathema, supposing him the seducer of his child;
yet here was the child, clad now in the crape of a nun, as pure as she
had ever been. The farmer was in error, and surely idle curses recoil
on those who launch them. Sampei, the brave and generous, was without
reproach. Even sleepy Buddha must know that. Perchance he was at this
moment rating Koshiu, on the further bank of the mystic Sandzu, for
his precipitate injustice. Masago strove to persuade herself that it
must be so, whilst striving to console the terror-stricken Mine, and
yet at the bottom of her heart there was apprehension, a dull weight
of cold foreboding.
The ways of Heaven are so strange, so unaccountable sometimes, and to
our purblind vision so unjust, that the most robust of faith is
sometimes sorely shaken. Mine wrung her hands, refusing comfort. As
with trembling fingers she untied the bonds which supported her dead
father, she prayed to him with cries and lamentations. It was through
her own wrongheaded madness that the mistake had occurred. Sure her
parent knew it now. If the curse must fall on one of the two, let it
be on her, for she was in fault, not the glorious young General. Could
he hear her now, her father? Oh, for some sign that he could hear and
would grant her humble petition! Wretched, wretched child! Her
punishment was already greater than she could bear, for was not she
doomed to drag on a sad existence, stripped of all her kin. Had she
but behaved as a dutiful daughter should, instead of grieving now,
heart-broken, she would be standing on the further bank of the river
of death along with Gennosuke, and little Sohei, and sweet Kihachi.
Alack! alack! While the bereaved daughter raved, distracted, the
elders of Tsu and the outlying villages were taking counsel. A notice
had been handed to them, on the part of their lord, which ran
thus:--"The property of the deceased, his rice fields and corn fields,
and forest and mountain land, shall be sold without delay, and divided
into two parts; one shall be paid over to the lord of the estate; the
other, by his extreme condescension, shall be the portion of the
culprit's daughter, who has been permitted to live. This is to show
how godlike and noble is your master; and it is hereby strictly
forbidden to make comments on the sentence, or find fault with this
his decision."
One-half for Mine, who was in some sort an heiress, then. Poor heart!
She little recked of her good fortune. The temple yonder would be the
richer for her portion, for she was Buddha's servant now,--his
handmaid till her spirit was released. With regard to the dead, the
elders consulted awhile, and then with calm decision Zembei, supported
by Rokubei, rose from his knees and spoke.
"Dear friends," he said, "Koshiu, who suffered this day, bruised his
bones and crushed his soul for your sakes. In appealing direct to the
Most Holy Mikado he sinned greatly, but 'twas from excess of zeal; and
in being compelled to see those he loved massacred before his eyes,
his punishment was in excess of his misdemeanour. We have decided that
honour shall be paid to him, for indeed before his death he was the
mouthpiece of the Eternal, who deigned to speak through his lips.
It is meet therefore that we, his old friends, who loved him and
his as ourselves--though perhaps on one occasion we were unduly
selfish--should undertake this matter. We will leave our homes and
lands in possession of our heirs, and, shaving our heads, will retire
for a while to the top of the holy mountain; and after a period of
probation, will descend from Mount Koya in Kishiu, and, becoming
priests, will wander from town to town, praying at every shrine for
the souls of the departed, collecting as we go from the charity of all
good people. And then, having collected enough, we will erect a temple
over their bones, with six Buddhas in bronze to do them honour, and
there shall prayers be offered up for ever for them, and also for us."
The people listened to the oration, and bowed their heads without a
word, for the decision of the elders was good and natural. All
therefore lighting paper lanterns, for it was dark now, turned to
follow across the outer moat, away along the straggling interminable
street, the procession of the dead.
Masago had accepted a temporary trust, and it was well. Within the
darkling groves of her sacred pines should the victims lie at peace,
until such time as, by divine grace, the elders should return to
fulfil their holy task; and it behoved those here assembled, who had
witnessed the sacrifice, to offer a prayer together, and commence
among themselves a collection for the building of a shrine.
Solemn and slow, like an army of glow-worms, the procession wended
along to the sad chant of nuns and bonzes; and, unknown to them, as
the simple people marched, there followed a fervent benison from the
lips of one despairing. The dreary chatelaine was sitting at an upper
casement of the castle, wistfully gazing into the night.
Recovering consciousness, the Lady O'Tei found herself in her bower,
surrounded by grieving maidens, and was relieved, glancing fearfully
around, to miss the figure of my lord. She was spared his hateful
presence. For that small mercy, thanks. For, still and self-possessed
as she had appeared during the ordeal, thereby winning the admiration
of Sampei, and, even for a time, the grudging approval of No-Kami, the
chatelaine had suffered so intensely as to produce a crisis in her
nature.
During the short while that the scene lasted, years seemed to have
passed over her head. Hitherto she had been weary and empty and
unhappy--deeply miserable, but yet with a germ of hope half stifled.
That germ was quite dead now, shrivelled and black. She was beset with
an intense craving for rest and sleep,--for the fragrant perfume of
the earth. Although the execrated name of Hojo was hers, the scathing
curse on all who bore the name passed harmless over her. Her
conscience was clear. She had done all that within her lay to save the
victims, and, calm and still in outward aspect, had suffered far more
than they. A threat of proximate death?--release! The world, whose
beauty she had so intensely enjoyed ages ago at Nara, was repellent
now,--a hideous mockery,--a skull crowned with flowers. For how false
was its song of sweetness, since such wickedness and injustice
flourished in its midst. A world of disease and pain and sorrow. In
this life are not many punished for their virtues, as a set-off to the
manner in which others are rewarded for their vices? What wonder if
people fall under burthens too heavy for their backs?
Koshiu and his had already entered on a new and smiling existence; if
his dying words might be believed, had started under sunny auspices on
the next round of life. And at the same time he had prophesied that no
Hojo henceforth might ever win peace. They were doomed to wander from
one globe to another, gaining no step, rising no higher on the earth,
for all eternity! How horrible! So dread a bolt overshot its mark; for
sure the universe must be ruled by fiends if those whose crime is to
bear an execrated name are for that to be undone for ever. To die, and
try again, and yet again, in vain--a weary prospect. The sooner the
better, after all, for no future phase could be less tolerable to the
Lady O'Tei than the present one. She was condemned, as it seemed,
never to attain aught that she desired; never to have a prayer
answered, or a wish gratified. And all that she now longed for was
repose. Ah, how vain that wish! For never may we enjoy perfect rest
save in far-off Nirvana--away in the incalculable and limitless
Nirvana! where, when time is dead for us, refined and freed from the
last speck of dross, we are to achieve the reward of nonexistence.
O'Tei had learned to despise her husband more and more, but now
she had a new and positive feeling for him--active and sore and
gnawing--one of _intensest hatred_. And she was his--bound to obey his
whim. How long? For his part, he took little trouble to conceal that
he hated her, and would be glad to be rid of an encumbrance. Should
she fling herself at his feet, and, baring her white bosom, implore
the mercy of his dirk? No. She shuddered as she thought that he would
laugh--that fierce and ugly laugh of his that made her blood run
cold--would spurn and revile, hissing forth _recreant_, but yet would
forbear to strike her. There was nothing for it but plodding
patience,--a stringing of the nerves to endurance--slow, continuous,
monotonous--the hardest of all tasks to an overwrought and nervous
woman.
Meanwhile Masago, moving like a tall still ghost at the head of the
procession, was disturbed and exercised in mind. How strangely things
were going. If she might only be allowed to see. What thunderous
clouds were gathering? Was the appalling prophecy to be accomplished
to the letter? Like the chatelaine, her being rose in protest. Was her
own brave boy, innocent of all wrong, to be involved with the rest,
simply because his name was Hojo--the guiltless suffering for the
guilty? Why, so was hers. Though but a second wife or concubine, she
was mother of a Hojo--proud to call herself Hojo--jealous of the
family honour, although of plebeian birth. She could quite understand
the feelings of the rough warriors towards a chatelaine who was to
them a riddle; but she, discerning, renowned for subtle acumen, could
see under the rind what a fragrant nature was O'Tei's, if it had not
been nipped half-blown. She sighed heavily as she walked, and pondered
of O'Tei. What of this new element introduced into the castle--of
discord surely? Not of necessity so. Should No-Kami elect to take the
new-comer to himself, as folk already whispered, what of it? Had not
his father done the same? And she, Masago (concubine), and the
bellicose Tomoye (wife) had never quarrelled.
But then O'Tei was so different from her predecessor. She was so odd
and sensitive and self-contained, given to contemplative fancies which
served no good purpose. Masago, the sage, was quite angry sometimes
when she considered the education of O'Tei. She, an abbess, should
know something of such matters, and there was no doubt about it that
the bonzes and priestesses of Nara had blundered. The heiress of Nara
was destined by her birth to a grand alliance, to reign in a world of
strife, and they should have combated, while the nature of their pupil
was yet malleable, such tendencies as might be likely to interfere
with the young lady's future happiness. Dancing the kagura in a wood
was all very well for priestesses, but in a fierce age, when every
man's hand is at his fellow's throat, the female head of a warlike
household should be taught to hold her own. Poor O'Tei had never been
properly prepared, and was in truth no more fit to cope with the
difficulties of her high position than would be the merest coolie's
daughter.
In the candour of self-communing Masago admitted this much to herself,
making apologies the while for the shortcomings of her favourite, and
laying the blame upon the priesthood.
And again the question would assert itself--Was the new element for
harmony or discord? If she could only know, and help to keep matters
straight. If O'Tei were sensible, she would accept the second wife
with gratitude, for she would be relieved of the society of one whom
she abhorred. But then O'Tei was so peculiar. And so much depended on
the attitude assumed by the second wife, if second wife she were to
be. She, Masago, and Tomoye had got on so splendidly that, as she
thought of the past, a faint blush of self-complacency tinged the
Abbess's ascetic cheek. No doubt about it. She, Masago, had displayed,
as she usually did, consummate tact. In fact, in their instance, the
two wives completed each other. Each had the talent which was denied
to her companion, for Tomoye often declared that though her muscle was
a marvel her brain was wanting, while Masago was the best of advisers,
although no warrior. Hence, whilst both adoring their lord from their
own point of view, they could perfectly trust each other without
jealousy, and play into one another's hands--a fact which was clearly
proven when the regnant Hojo wearied of his concubine. Tomoye did her
best to retain the second wife (not knowing what the next fancy of her
lord might be), and constantly sought counsel from Masago after her
assumption of the crape.
Masago therefore, as she walked, summoned to her side the
devoted elders who were so soon to embrace the priesthood, and
cross-questioned them narrowly. They had observed, had they, in my
lord's visage, how desperately he had become enamoured? They were
certain that his sudden passion would insist on being gratified? But
what if the travelling geisha were a light-o'-love to be picked up too
easily to-day and cast forth to-morrow? Rokubei shook his head. The
astute Masago--all-wise counsellor--would never venture so futile a
suggestion had she once scanned the lady with her searching scrutiny.
Oh, a cunning and fascinating lady! A petulant and wilful lady, and an
obstinate! Ay, and a circumspect. What object could she have had in
insisting on the bodies being given up, except to ingratiate herself
with the lower lieges? What cared she, a stranger from afar, for a
farmer of Tsu or his family? And then, that way she had of sending
gleams out of her dark velvet eyes from under the deep fringes. Even
he, Rokubei, who spoke, and who shortly on the holy hill was to have
his pate shaven, was fain to admit, under the seal of secrecy, that
his own, for the future ascetic, bosom had been pervaded by
inconvenient warmth under the glamour of those lightning shafts, and
all the while he knew that they were intended for another. And my
lord, so inflammable, so given to indulgence, who knew so little of
the curb! Masago might believe, or not, the speaker, but it was clear
to him that in a few days--nay, hours--the too fascinating geisha
O'Kiku would rule the Daimio and his vassals, whether for good or evil
was as yet in the womb of time.
Masago listened, and became more and more uneasy. Could it be possible
that she, who had that day only appeared upon the scene, was the
chosen instrument--selected beforehand and arrived exactly in
time--for the fulfilment of the prophecy? Was she to undermine with
her pink little fingers the great dynasty of Hojo? and, if so, how?
For the advantage of the dynasty she, the discarded second wife, would
gladly sacrifice herself and wear her fingers to the bone; would even
surrender the life of her dearly-beloved son Sampei for its advantage.
Fool! unreasoning woman, and incorrigible fool! Who was she to presume
to combat Destiny?--to raise her weak hand in feeble protest against
the finger of Buddha, the all-seeing? Although the blasphemous
suggestion had unbidden entered her brain, vigils and much praying
would be needed to atone for its presence. She would kneel on
the stones throughout the ensuing darkness, praying for pardon
and for light. How may we, however watchful, guard against
presumption--against pitting our puny sagacity against the Infinite?
And though she fulfilled her self-imposed penance, remaining until
dawn, despite years and infirmities, with forehead resting on the
stones, maternity struggled with asceticism. Her bowels yearned over
Sampei--the pride, the flower of Japan--and she prayed as only a
mother can pray that her boy might escape the curse. How willingly,
she pleaded, would she herself submit for his dear sake to recommence
the ladder from the bottom. She knew not, of course, how high she had
attained by long and painful climbing, but from her present
consideration and eminence she must be considerably advanced on her
pilgrimage. She would sacrifice all--all--with what ecstatic joy--for
his sake. And as she lay convulsed in the dark, with the drops of a
mother's travail coursing down her wrinkled brow, she never dreamed
that in the pure intensity of undimmed devotion she might be in the
act of rising yet another step. In the morning, feeble and exhausted,
she turned her to the newborn orb as he showed above the glorious sea,
and, vaguely relieved, sat basking in his beams. Then struggling up
she groped to her cell with lagging feet, and sank into a stupor of
fatigue.