THE WEB IS WOVEN.
Typhoon was the best charger in the Daimio's stable, and worthy of his
name; but this was his last journey. He was so hard pressed by his
frantic master, that at the castle gate he sank and died.
The sudden arrival of my lord, a fugitive, without a single follower,
created within the fortress a commotion which was no little aggravated
by the news of which he was the bearer. How swift was the cumulation
of events. My lord of Nara and his heiress murdered. A siege in
immediate prospect, and after that--what? A long course of excess and
idleness had sapped the discipline of the braves, and instead of
hailing the coming fray with the joy that becomes heroes, they showed
signs of sullen discontent. No-Kami had slain in a secret manner,
without witnesses, the venerable Nara, the esteemed friend of the Holy
Mikado.
This was going too far, even for so overbearing a despot. Even the
samurai of Tsu were aware that Japan at bay would arise and shake off
its incubus. The castle would be invested by the foes of Hojo, who
were legion. Look where he would, there was no single ally who could
be counted on for succour. There was but one consummation possible. An
iron wall would hem the fortress, and all within would perish. Under
these circumstances, the warriors (privately discussing the situation)
were divided in opinion. Would it be well to accept the inevitable and
bow the neck at once, suing for mercy; or would it perchance be
better to baulk the foe, to act as the celebrated forty-seven ronins
did--revered for ever by the Japanese--namely, to perform harakiri in
concert? Thus it will be seen that the glamour of evil fortune had
wrapped the castle like a mist. Even the bold retainers of the
crumbling family lost heart, and if they prepared to show any
resistance at all, it was owing to the presence of Sampei, the heroic
subduer of Corea.
Even Sampei, whilom bravest of the brave, showed no enthusiasm. He had
stumbled along the stony road of the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
and seemed to look down from afar upon the petty frettings of
humanity, as you might idly watch the proceedings in an opened
anthill.
The first acute bitterness waned insensibly, and he grew resigned to
life-long pain. Had it not been so, reason would have fallen from her
throne. He could think of O'Tei not as corruption but as
_transformed_. The sap of a tree, the glow of a gem, the plumage of a
bird, contained her outward part. Nature had taken back and set to
other purpose that which she had lent. As to the other, who might tell
where it wandered? Where was her pure soul hovering?
Was the gulf that yawned in front as dark as the path already trodden?
If the gods were really good, they could not but be mild to one who
was so gentle. After all, for himself it mattered not. What, to a
mortal so maimed as he, was a little more or less of suffering, after
that wound from which the life-drops of his heart were slowly
dripping?
He would not desert his brother, Sampei declared with quiet gravity.
So long as the gods willed that he should fight, he would fight; but
the sooner suspense was over, the greater the relief for all.
The bewitching O'Kiku when, rosy and wreathed with smiles, she flew
from her bower in the most becoming of costumes to embrace her love,
was considerably disconcerted by her reception. She had carefully gone
over details, and planned within her mind exactly how it was all to
be. He would be a little upset, possibly, on his arrival, to hear of
the sudden and mysterious end of his icicle. He would pretend concern,
and probably show anger, relieved all the while by her flitting. She,
O'Kiku, would condole, clasp her husband--all her own now--in white
arms, and, breast to breast, divulge the delicious secret. He would be
enchanted, of course. She would make herself so agreeable bringing
forth the entire armoury of her blandishments for his behoof, that
memory of O'Tei would speedily be relegated to the limbo prepared for
the ghosts of marplots. This point reached, she would summon all her
skill and tact, wheedle and cajole and flatter, so as to achieve the
desired prize.
By making herself absolutely necessary to No-Kami, then turning on the
tap of tears, the living wife would advance a step, be lifted to the
dead one's place. And he should never have cause to regret the signal
favour. His interests would then be hers completely. No prospect in
the future, then, of being put away,--compelled, like Masago, to
assume the crape. She would take her lord in hand,--be a long-headed
little counsellor, chide his faults with gentleness, teach him to curb
his passions, help him to replace on the neck of struggling Japan the
yoke that was ominously-loose. And lo! how quickly did her toy palace
tumble! No-Kami looked twenty years older than when he went away.
There was a haggard wildness in his face--an expression, as he glanced
at the enchantress, curiously akin, if it were possible, to aversion.
His hands twitched; foam gathered on his lips. When, cooing, she laid
her head upon his bosom, her hair new dressed with fresh camellia oil,
he pushed her so rudely from him, that, reeling, with bruised arms,
she tottered against the wall.
Could it, oh could it be, that he could have ever loved that woman?
Could it be that his fiery nature was consuming, torn by the pincers
of remorse? Surely he could feel naught at most for an icicle but a
cold regret that would soon pass. Was it possible that in a revulsion
of feeling he had actually come to detest the enchanting siren who so
easily had won him? Verily it seemed like it. With eyes lowered in
antipathy, he seemed to avoid her gaze with loathing. And what was
that he muttered as he so roughly threw her off. Was it _murderess?_
And what a look accompanied the word. Her tongue clove to the roof of
her mouth, and though she ardently wished to repel the accusation, her
lips refused their office. Did he really believe her guilty of such a
foolish prank, of such a stupid blunder? She had no doubt arranged to
oust the rival, to procure her expulsion from the castle; but to shed
her blood and create a scandal, that would have been too foolish.
Before she had time to recover from shocked surprise, my lord was
gone. He gave a few brief husky orders, then groped his way, as if in
darkness, to the retired eyrie where had dwelt the vanished
chatelaine. Thither she felt that she dared not follow him. With
forebodings gathering within her breast, O'Kiku withdrew to her
apartments, fearing she knew not what.
There, on the mat, where she had laid it down, was O'Tei's samisen,
encrusted with gold and ivory; yonder her broidery-frame, a book of
poems open, a hundred pathetic evidences, eloquent of her who was
gone. Far removed from the hum of preparation, No-Kami sat, dumbly
gazing from the casement across the river towards the sea.
And then, for the first time, there passed across the mental ken of
Hojo the phantoms of a gloomy retrospect. He seemed, as they swept by,
to hear a forlorn chant, with the saddest of refrains--"Too late!"
He had been given a life full of brilliant opportunities and had cast
them all away. His name was a byword in the land. There was not one
living thing that loved him, while thousands clamoured for his death.
The chill of a desolation, novel and surprising, crept over his heart,
as, glancing around the bower, small objects recalled the past. Why
had they tied him to O'Tei? With one more congenial the asperities of
his character might have softened. O'Tei, the soft and clinging, had
never loved him; no--never--not for a single moment. Something
whispered now that, had he been more kind, she might have come
to like him. Then, as if stung by an adder, he sprang upon his feet,
with beads of perspiration on his forehead. Fool! what spell was
this?--what disgraceful, infatuated weakness? Had he been more kind!
_Had she not loved his brother?_ The poison instilled by the geisha,
dormant through the rapid passage of stirring events, throbbed through
his veins, and he gasped and grew faint under the pain of it. Both
false--his wife and brother. _She_ was dead; no wonder _he_ looked so
glum! Perturbed though his own mind was, No-Kami could not but notice
the change which had come over the face of Sampei. The sharp iron
share of an ineffable sorrow had passed over his features, ploughing
deep lines of grief.
On second thoughts, it was well that she was dead. She had sinned, and
was justly punished. Thus far was his honour satisfied. The murderess
must suffer also. By-and-by, when there should be breathing time. And
the paramour as well. With staggering steps the Daimio roamed like a
caged animal about the chamber, revolving direful designs. Then
suddenly stopping, he laughed aloud and clapped his palms together.
By-and-by, in the future! Was there any future except a yawning,
bottomless gulf down which he and his were sliding? Honour, forsooth!
He and his had as little to do with honour as with a future, or with
life.
From far away across the sunlit waters a voice whispered mockingly,
"Accursed and doomed! betrayed and friendless! Oh, desolate, solitary
soul, the gods have set their brand on thee! In worlds to come an
outcast!"
Trembling, the Daimio peered around. Some one had spoken. Who? No one
in the corridor without. No one beneath the window. That unearthly
jibing merriment! Two bloodshot eyes glaring from the cloudless sky.
Cursed and doomed! Predestined to endless travail! Moaning, the Daimio
cowered down and rocked himself in terror.
It was soon understood that, my lord being unhinged, and grievously
sick in body and mind, Sampei would assume command. So long as the
gods willed it, there should be defence, the General had determined,
and to that end he moved hither and thither with forced calm,
arranging details by the light of a shrewd experience; steady as some
strong machine that does its work unconsciously.
The contents of the armoury were overhauled and furbished. Seasoned
wood was sought throughout the town, for the making of countless
arrows; thick porous paper for dressing wounds, according to the
standard rules of rough field surgery. The ground within the inner
moat was covered over with boards and canvas, to conceal what was done
inside; for an investing army is ever full of stratagems for learning
the weak points of the besieged. Lofty trees, or high peaks of rock,
were sure to be occupied at once, tall towers to be erected on points
of vantage. It was even a common thing to fly huge kites, large enough
to support a man, and so obtain a bird's-eye view of the interior of
an enemy's castle. Sampei organised a band of scouts, and sent them
forth to crawl by night along the narrow causeways that intersected
the oozy rice fields, bidding them return with earliest information
with regard to the coming of the foe. Parties of braves were
despatched in all directions to annex the scanty stores which
oppression had left to the peasantry. All possible precautions taken,
he divided his men into watches, taught each his post and duty, then
waited for the future to unroll.
Nor had he long to wait. As though rising by magic through the ground,
an army of combatants appeared, who surrounded the fortress with their
engines. From the top of the central tower, crowned with its copper
roof and golden fish, could be descried a host so numerous and
well-equipped that Sampei stood marvelling how they could be here so
quickly. It soon became manifest that they had no intention of
endeavouring to storm the place, at least not yet, for they
methodically set about the forming of a line of pallisades, consisting
of heavy planks propped by hinged supports, behind which they could
safely repose, and starve the foe to extremity.
There is nothing so soul-depressing to those hemmed in as a siege thus
coldly carried out. The sense of being an animal shut in a trap, the
lack of incident and excitement, the feeling of being without the pale
of busy humanity, damp the courage, and chill the spirits. There is
something so prosaic about a war waged against the stomach. The
samurai of Tsu, disorganised already, their native prowess undermined,
soon felt the pinch, and began to brawl and murmur. Their lord they
saw no more, for, reason rocking on its pedestal, he remained shut
up, refusing consolation, within the apartments of the deceased. But
for the prestige that clung like a halo round his brother, and
enforced a surly and half mutinous obedience, the braves would have
thrown open the gates, have attempted to fraternise with the host of
invading warriors. But the stoutest among them stood in dread of
Sampei,---quailed before the bluff, uncompromising severity which,
without the wink of an eyelid, would have made an example of traitors.
The vassals of the Hojo fought, discharging arrows and javelins,
occasionally making a feeble show of a sortie: but all knew that the
end was imminent, that suspense would soon be over.
O'Kiku, grasping, sly, and unheroic, fretted, as may be imagined,
bitterly. How different was the present state of things from her
cherished rainbow-dream. That sharp repulse, followed by utter
neglect, upset her calculations. She appeared of a sudden to have lost
influence over all her willing slaves. My lord, absorbed in his own
troubles, ignored the fact of her existence. The braves, with whom she
was once so popular--many of whom, it must be confessed, were vain at
one time of being numbered among her lovers--now gnashed their teeth
in her face, and poured on her head twofold the obloquy that had been
the portion of O'Tei.
And why was this? Doubtless the truculent and unlettered samurai
could scarcely be expected to be logical. Yet having witnessed the
passage-of-arms between the ladies, they must know as well as she that
the concubine was innocent of the catastrophe. And yet somehow or
other it had become plain to their obtuse intelligence that the siren
was at the bottom of the trouble. There was no arguing the point,
since none could deny that it was from her advent that the run of
disaster must be dated. Accustomed to be pampered and petted, she was
devoured with smouldering rage, and unreasoning hate of Tsu and Hojo,
and all connected with the race, in finding herself treated like a
leper. What a pity it was that, lured by a sham glitter, she should
have turned aside from the pilgrimage to Ise, for the gathering of
mundane baubles. What had she gained by it? Troubles and
disappointments, and illusions roughly shattered. And perhaps in the
background something even worse was lurking; for she realised with
apprehension that she was hedged round with a phalanx of enemies, who
persisted in connecting her, in spite of evidence, with the untimely
death of the chatelaine. Was there ever anything so unreasonable, and
yet fraught with graver peril? My lord was a madman, beset by absurd
hallucinations; a furious tiger, accustomed to batten upon blood, as
devoid of conscience as of scruple. He had called her murderess, and
in the crooked recesses of his muddy brain was concocting some
frightful retribution; There was no escape for her by flight, for she
was in the position of a kid locked in a den of lions.
In case of personal peril, to whom might O'Kiku turn for succour?
Sampei was honest and upright, but on his worn face, when turned to
her, was a horrible expression of icy vindictiveness. That he had
idolised O'Tei none knew better than she, and she was in some
manner connected in his mind with that most unfortunate murder. He
also was evidently brooding over some unpleasant form of reprisal.
Enemies--nothing but enemies--inside and out; she their future target.
At all events Sampei could be counted upon as straight and above mean
treason. Gulping down the lees of offended vanity, O'Kiku resolved
to clear herself in his eyes from any complicity in the tragedy. He
would believe her--for once in her life she would really speak the
truth--and he would stand by her if assaulted by the madman. But when,
waylaying him one day, with a poor ghostly show of the old coquetry,
she entered on the subject, such a wave of blank despair seemed to
sweep over him that the words froze on her lips, and he was gone
before she had recovered.
Condemned to inaction, deprived of amusement and male companionship,
relegated to the uninteresting society of tire-women, the unhappy
geisha pined as well as fretted. If they would only let her out,--set
the caged bird free! Dreams of ambition faded, she now desired no more
than liberty. Several times each day she climbed to the top of the
central tower, just under the fish of gold, and gazed--oh, with what
longing--at the cohorts of the invading host. The strictest guard was
kept at the openings in the palisading, but soldiers off duty were
free to amuse themselves. She could see bands of them engaged in
military sports. Some went a-hunting, and returned laden. Oh, if she
were only with them, outside these horrid walls, beyond which lay
tantalising freedom! And what was to be the end? There was only one
end possible. All could see that now. Scanty stores, hastily
collected, were waning. What then? Gaunt famine stalked already. Would
those without linger inactive till the besieged were dead to a man,
then march in over the corpses? or would they in a more martial spirit
wait only till the braves were weak, and then take the place by
escalade? It was too revolting to die thus by inches. The idea
suddenly flashed upon the wretched woman, whose moral sense, never
acute, was blunting hourly, that the key of the situation was in her
own little hand. Why should she not open the postern, let in the foe,
who in gratitude would spare her life--maybe applaud and treat her
with homage as a heroine? What to her were the Hojos; their
illustrious name which was hers--that name about which the silly
Masago had preached so loftily--now that they were on the brink of
ruin? She had good cause to hate the Hojos. Many a lady in the annals
of Japan has bared her breast to her husband's dirk in just such an
emergency as this. When the famed Shibata knew all was lost, he gave a
final banquet, at the conclusion of which he said to his wife, "You
women must go, for it is time for us men to die." And what answer made
she? With tears she thanked her lord, she, the sister of Nobunago the
Great, composed a farewell verse of poetry, and received his sword
into her bosom.
But then O'Kiku was not of noble birth, and such flights did not suit
her fancy. She knew herself to be still young and lovely, and full of
life, and burning for fresh fields to conquer. If all had gone well,
and she had stepped into the dead one's place, she would, outwardly at
least, have been henceforth as demure as prudery could desire. Rank
and honour and power and appetites pampered, form one condition of
things. Untimely death, trapped within four walls, is quite another.
It would be merciful,--a deed worthy of commendation, to let the enemy
in, and put these doomed ones out of misery. My lord, a prey to
goblins, was become quite too contemptible. What a delight to be
present at the slaying of the hateful Sampei! Doubtless in yonder host
there were many as noble as he who would, when opportunity offered,
vie with one another for her favours. Her mind was made up. A fig for
the race of Hojo. She would start upon her scheme forthwith.
Changing her tactics, the geisha, braving the scowls of the samurai,
became interested in military operations, and despite their new-born
dislike of one whom they had come to esteem as a bad angel, it was
cheering to be commended by the lips of a pretty woman. She organised
her maidens into a band of mercy for the relief of those who were
wounded; helped with her own hands to prepare and carry food; filled
and passed the sake-cup, declaring that wine gives strength. Sampei
observed these proceedings with displeasure, but did not interfere.
One morning when the commander was busy, and she knew herself
unwatched, O'Kiku crept to the top of the tower with her dainty bow,
and discharged into the air an arrow, round which was wrapped a paper.
As she marked its flight, and perceived that it fell beyond the
palisade, "So far well," she murmured. "This suspense will conclude
to-night."
The weather was exceeding cold, the blood of the soldiers thin, by
reason of under-feeding. Both food and drink were scrupulously
measured now in gradually shrinking rations. But the wily damsel had a
private supply of _sake_, remnant of that with which she used to ply
my lord before his late visit to Ki[^y]oto. She prepared and warmed a
pot of it, in which she distilled some seeds, and waited with
philosophic patience for the night. Then, robed in a dark soft kimono,
she stole through the first gate, and round under shadow of the fatal
belt of trees, regardless of their wooing and their sighing (she was
not one to be tricked to suicide), and thus reached unseen the corner
of the outer gate. The muffled sentinel was leaning upon his lance
against the parapet, and started from doleful reverie as she appeared
before him.
"Hush," she murmured rapidly, "it is I, O'Kiku. You used to love me
once--false that you are--or told me so. See how I love you still.
Risking my good name for you, I have brought you this, lest haply you
be frozen by the morning."
The man looked at her with feelings of self-reproach. Yes, he had
fancied her once, more fickle apparently than she; and as she stood
before him now, so small and dark, with eyes of mouse-like brightness,
and ravishing dimples playing at hide-and-seek, he liked her yet
again. But she fluttered like a bird in his embrace.
"No, no," she whispered, as she passed over his rough face caressing
fingers. "Remember duty, and the plight we are in. Folly is over, and
stern reality is here. You wronged me in your thoughts, deeming I had
forgotten you. Admit you did. Fie, fie--for shame! There, you are
forgiven! Drink!"
She held forth the sake pot, kept warm with a woollen covering. He
took a long draught, his gaze on her the while, and she shook her
shapely head in arch reproach. And then, with set teeth and no dimples
showing now, she caught the sake-pot as it escaped from his hand, and
he fell insensible upon his back.
"Idiot!" she said, with a curl of her full lip, "lie there undisturbed
until your foolish throat is cut," and peering cautiously around,
descended quickly to the postern.
It will be remembered that the outer gate stood at right angles to the
road, for the better purpose of defence, but that there was a small
postern in the angle facing it. In her outgoings and incomings she had
always, as a matter of convenience, used this postern, and had kept
the key of it. How provoking were these plaguy clouds over the moon.
At one moment it was dark--at another as light as day--dazzling,
puzzling. She stood in the open doorway peeping forth, when a mailed
man in ambush seized her by the arm, and pinched it so suddenly that
she had much ado to suppress a scream.
"I have you!" he said; "you are our hostage. We got your billet, and
are ready."
"You hurt me, sir," she answered, struggling. "Brute! let me go. The
door is open as I promised. Here is the key of the inner gate."
She endeavoured to shake off the iron grip and flee in the direction
of liberty, but the man held her as in a vice.
"Softly, softly!" he chuckled, "or this tender flesh will suffer. She
who can wantonly betray her people may not be trusted. You shall go
before and lead us to the inner gate. When once we are within the
citadel you shall receive reward, I promise."
A cry of vexation and abortive spite rose in the geisha's throat, and
choked her. What hardened brutal wretches soldiers are! She who
expected effusive gratitude for a signal favour was to be treated like
a common spy. The biter was bit. The man--an officer of rank, as was
evident by the glittering badge upon his casque--took no pains to
conceal his lack of consideration for the agent whom he stooped to
employ. He looked on her, it was but too evident, as on some
reptile--of service for the moment, which was to be used, then crushed
under the heel. Careless of her pain, he held her soft arm as tightly
in his armoured hand as if he meant to snap the bone.
"Lead on," he threatened, "or--"
There was no help for it. With the sharpest twinge of self-upbraiding
that she had ever felt, O'Kiku turned and led the officer under shadow
of the wall, under the belt of devilish trees that swayed now, and
wheezed and croaked in ghastly merriment, till they reached the inner
moat. She could tell by the dull thud behind that the cohorts were
silently following. One, tripping over the snoring sentinel, gave him
his _coup de grace_. The outer space within the range of huts was
black with the ranks of the invader. Sampei, going his rounds, and
hearing a strange sound, glanced over the parapet, and pressed his two
hands upon his heart to still the commotion there.
It was all over then! So much the better--oh, so much the
better--since the gods were ruthless. By treachery from within all was
lost. The moment he had so yearned for was come at last, when he would
be freed from the bondage that was rotting him.
"My love!" he murmured, spreading wide his arms towards the stars,
while tears poured down his cheeks. "Wait for me, O'Tei, upon the
other bank. Be patient for a few moments more. Stretch forth thy hand
to me, my own; surely such love as mine should win its guerdon. In the
next life we shall be re-united."
The clouds were rent like a curtain, and the light streamed forth. The
whole outer space was covered now by a moving army as of locusts.
Sampei could detect on fluttering banners the butterfly of the Lord of
Bizen, the badges of Shioshiu, and of Satsuma. The moment had arrived
for which his soul had pined, and he was glad. But for his vigilance,
mutiny would have broken out long since; and now that treachery had
unlocked the gates, resistance would be small. He knew full well that
his men would not stand for a moment against panic. There would be a
stampede, a massacre, unless the braves were permitted to make terms.
Befall what might as to the rest, he and his must not be taken alive,
for who might tell what ignominy was prepared for the fallen Hojos?
Hastily summoning his captains, he pointed over the parapet, and laid
a hand upon his dirk with a motion understood by all.
"Act for yourselves," he said; "and the gods, who have deserted us, be
with you, old comrades."
As he rapidly strode away towards the distant corner by the river,
where dwelt No-Kami, there were tears in the eyes of the veterans. Was
this their final parting from the bravest of the brave? Ought they not
to follow, and claim participation in the rites?
"No," a white-haired warrior said. "Let his last wishes be obeyed by
us who love him. Be our last task to keep the gate, in order that they
may not be interrupted. If we do not fall in the assault, and our
lives are given us, it will be time then to follow our chiefs along
the road which they have chosen."
With quick and steady foot Sampei ascended the stair, which to him was
sanctified by the abiding presence of O'Tei. Pushing back the screen,
he entered, and, looking on his brother, there was upon his face a
newborn tenderness.
"The moment has come," he announced abruptly. "The foe is within the
gate."
A great shout went up into the stillness--a double cry--a scream of
fear, a yell of victory. How strangely close the air was--despite the
cold, heavy and sulphurous. Now that the banks of inky cloud had
completely rolled away, the sky was unnaturally clear, the stars like
specks of steel, while low along the bases of the hills was a dense
white vapour rising. Sampei clasped his throat and gasped for air, for
he was suffocating. Shaking back his locks, which, untied, had drifted
about his clammy brow, he took a candle and set fire to the dry
woodwork of the room, which crackled and flared, while No-Kami, in a
daze, looked on.
"You will be my kaishaku?" demanded the Hojo shortly.
"Not I!" returned his brother, with strange emotion. "Each one for
himself now. You take your dirk; I mine. We will have no seconds.
Quick! Each moment's golden."
"I am your feudal chief, as well as brother," No-Kami said, with
supreme haughtiness, shaking off lethargy like an ill-fitting garment,
"and as such I claim obedience. Shall it be said that the last Hojo
passed away without befitting rites? Would you dare to refuse the last
service to your departing lord?"
There was a tumult in the elder's breast. No, he dared not refuse the
last offices which were claimed thus solemnly. The final tribute of
respect due from the nearest kinsman to the head of a great house was
to act as his kaishaku or executioner. And yet, how hard! O'Tei was
waiting on the other bank. No-Kami would be there before him. Not far
ahead, though, for Sampei disdained a kaishaku. His brother gone, he
would not linger.
"Be it so," he said; and No-Kami nodded gratefully.
The heat of the curling flames was stifling. The air was thick with
smoke,--dense with an overpowering and scorching weight, like the
fumes belched out by a volcano.
Gently the lord of Tsu took from its rack his dirk, while his brother
removed the sleeve from his own right arm and drew his sword, and,
left foot forward, narrowly watched his movements. No-Kami, with
dreamy deliberation, kneeled, supporting his weight upon his heels,
and allowing his upper garment to drop down, tucked the sleeves under
his knees, to save himself from falling backwards. Then, balancing the
dirk, he looked on it with affectionate wistfulness, and, collecting
his thoughts, hearkened musingly to the increasing turmoil. A clash of
arms hard by; a hubbub of approaching voices; a volley of wild shouts
and guttural curses, ever nearer--nearer.
"Despatch!" cried the elder, with impatience, as he tightened the grip
upon his hilt.
No-Kami glanced round at him with a slow, proud smile, in which there
was more of human softness than his features had ever worn. Then,
stabbing himself below the waist on the left side, he drew the dirk
with firm and unswerving hand across, and, twisting it in the wound,
gave it a slight turn upwards.
The eager eyes of his brother sparkled. A flash in the air; a heavy
thud; a crash. No-Kami was gone; his sin-stained soul had flown. His
blood welled out over the floor from his headless trunk.
Sampei reeled, sick and giddy. Strange that the crisp air of a winter
night should be so oppressive!
What sinister new noise was that? A low, rumbling sound, like a great
tremulous sigh--a heaving as though the panting soil were labouring
for breath.
For an instant of awful silence the human storm was stilled, then in a
combined shriek rose heavenward. With swimming eyes Sampei gazed
forth, clinging to the casement for support. A boom, a roar, a rush of
boiling waters. A sweeping blast, a whirlwind--like a conflict of
spirits for a soul. With a groan as of a giant in pain, the hillside
opposite yawned. He beheld the wood of ancient cryptomerias, from
childhood so familiar, slowly descend, leaving in its place a scar. He
saw it slide down with majestic movement into the plain, turning from
its bed the river. As though propelled by hurricane force, trees and
rocks fell thundering, piled in heaps upon the flat, while through
opening gaps and fissures new-born streams gushed out.
Another shock, a long shuddering spasm, a wail of strong men for
mercy. Then with deafening din the central tower rocked and swayed and
split from top to bottom. The huge timbers cracked like wands, and
parted. The ponderous copper roofs and sculptured eaves were torn and
rent, and, toppling upon the crouching multitude, rolled over into the
abyss. Forked tongues of flame shot up with a wild whirl of sparks,
and died; and then from a common grave there curled a dense column of
black smoke. Of all who were within the walls of Tsu not one escaped.
At the gods' behest, nature had arisen in her strength. When the hail
of destruction ceased, nothing remained of the impregnable fortress
but a heap of shapeless ruin. The pride of Hojo was abased; its
cherished home was become a charnel-house; its stronghold a sepulchre;
a wreck its monument.
* * * * *
Thus was the prophecy fulfilled,--the death-cry of the martyr
answered. Buddha was awake, the while he seemed to sleep. By grim
decree of outraged Heaven the race of tyrants was extinguished,
leaving no rack behind save a loathed and dishonoured name.
THE END.
* * * * *
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.