CHAPTER XIV.
THE MIKADO DOES BUSINESS.
Since the return of Nara from his mysterious excursion, the interiorof the sad prison-house of the Mikado was quite lively. The kneelingkuges chirruped like birds; their tall black headdresses waved andnodded like sable plumes in the wind. Excitement being contagious, theun-elect, who might not step within the sacred halls, laughed too andgabbled on the outer verandahs, showing their white teeth, andgossiping hopefully. They wist not why they were so light of heart;but if the privileged denizens of the lugubrious dwelling, usually soglum, were gay, it meant that the Holy Mikado was well pleased; and ifthe Fountain of Honour was content, it was clearly the duty of them,his lowly faithful ones, to vie one with another in sympathy.
After that terrible interview when he was publicly insulted before hiscourt, the miserable Mikado retired into darkness, declining to emergeor to be comforted. He vowed that the three deposed Emperors who weremumbling prayers in remote monasteries were far better off than he,for they at any rate were left in peace, so long as they submittedquietly, and were pitied as well as loved by the Empire. The actualEmperor, so long as he seemed to reign, was held responsible for whatwas done, and he, unfortunately for himself, was of a conscientiousturn of mind. The peasant man who, alas, too trusting, had confidedhimself to the safe keeping of the Holy One, had been torn fromsanctuary, ignominiously executed, together with his innocent family,and the Fountain of Honour was aware that in the eyes of the people hemust be a willing accomplice, or else the meanest of puppets. Hisconscience was torn by pincers. He ought somehow to have saved thatfamily. Humiliation and shame gnawed into his vitals, as rusty gyvesinto the wrists. No slavery, he declared, while he crouched in hisdark chamber, with drops of sweat upon his brow, could possibly beworse than his. A change of masters, if master he must have, would befor the better, since his plight could not be altered for the worse.Not the lowest coolie,--the meanest Eta in his dominions, was of lessaccount than he. If all these chattering kuges, who prostratedthemselves so humbly, drawing in breath like humming insects,professing profound devotion, would only do something practical, thenwould he, the Fountain, sparkle with gratitude, and profuselydistribute benedictions.
Nara was a provoking person. Wise as an owl in aspect, his wisdom wasmuch an imposture as that of the sapient bird. As usual he exhorted topatience, droned platitudes through his nose. The friends of thatmuch-tried individual on a dunghill, whom Christians had been heard toprate about, were no more exasperating. When the octopus holds youwith his tentacles in fell embrace, you must summon all your strengthin a supreme effort to tear him piecemeal. A series of small strugglesare mere waste of tissue. The Hojo, as all within the holy prisonhouse were painfully aware, was a portentous octopus, more awful thanany of the forbidding monsters, with arms of five feet and more, thatare to be seen any day in the fish-market.
Those who would measure lances with him must be cautious--verycautious. Perhaps, looking back on history, the Fountain mightremember Yoriiye, son of Yoritomo the Great, who, banished to thetemple of Idzu, was compelled to shave off his hair. Objecting, herebelled, and, to the general dismay, was found strangled one morningin his bath. The present Fountain was young and impetuous, a boy, andignorant, and must learn to smile and wait--to smile and smile--and_strike!_ That he should have resolved on a change at any cost, waswell. His trusty lords would beat about and see what was to be done.Doth not the ratcatcher's cat hide her claws?--to serve her endperform miracles? With the stirring of the wind the heron rises fromthe stream. A little faith, and patience.
It was fortunate for the conspirators, headed by Nara, that after hisdeplorable exhibition of cruelty at Tsu the tyrant should remainquiescent. The snake, for the moment gorged, was comatose. Takingadvantage of his absence and inaction, the Daimio of Nara threw hisspies broadcast over the land--sent letters to absent magnatesinviting them to unite and march for the emancipation of their lordfrom serfdom. He even sent privately to the Shogun at Kamakura,declaring that if any one was despot in future it should be he, since,by virtue of his post, he was the first General of the Empire, thelegitimate leader of her armies. If the Hojo had been at Ki[^y]oto,and awake, these proceedings would have been at once detected, andcrushed with an iron hand. Why was he so quiet in his distant castle?
When the message from Masago arrived, declaring that the Daimio of Tsuwas sinking into lowest debauchery, willing victim of a harlot, Narathanked the gods, and rushed to his imperial master. The other item inthe communication--concerning the position of his own daughter--was atrifle. She also must practise patience. She would be amply avengedfor present torment at the same time as the Holy Mikado. Was not thisgrand news, well worth a little waiting--a little suffering? Had henot been right--he, the hoary one, the sage, the experienced, theprudent? They had waited, and the moment was at hand. In exultant joyhe flung himself headlong on the mat, and embraced his master's feet.
Of course the latter was glad that evil should befall his tyrant; butNara was always more glib with tongue than sword. A little patience,quotha. For patience the times were out of joint. A little action now.Answers arrived from east and west, from north and south--somebellicose and ardent, some timid and time-serving. The Fountain ofHonour deigned to come out of darkness like a snail out of its shell;but as he lay supported on his hand in the centre of the floor, hismien was so troubled, his young brow so puckered and scowling, thatthe kuges squatting around in a circle sat wistful, with heads on oneside--motionless. For hours and hours he remained as inanimate asthey--lost in gloomy thoughts and dumb abstraction. The prospect wastoo halcyon. The tyrant, firm in the toils of a low woman, mightbecome sodden and besotted. What of the other--no less than he aHojo--the idol of the army, bravest of the brave? The soul of loyalty(or his face belied him), he would stand by his brother, a tower ofstrength in an emergency.
Plausible and garrulous and self-deceiving as old men are wont to be,Nara had been quite wrong in his estimate of General Sampei. He, theGeneral, had appeared distressed at the proceedings of his feudalsuperior. And yet could it be denied that he had calmly attended andapproved that shocking massacre,--had stood by with hands before himwhile infants were slaughtered,--had remained on the premises eversince, perfectly composed and comfortable? His face was a lying maskthen. He was as bad, every bit, as his brother,--as much to be fearedand hated; for since it was clear that he approved his acts, he would,of course, stand by him to the death.
Nara rubbed his chin, and whilst confessing that that much of theproblem was at present not quite so clear as was desirable, stoutlydeclared that if the distant chiefs could succeed in quietly gatheringtheir adherents, and, unsuspected, mass them within distance of thecapital the desired end would be attained, Sampei or no Sampei. TheHojo must be lulled in false security, and awake to a sense of dangeronly in time to perish. In order to reconnoitre the ground, he, theveteran, would stir his old bones and pay a visit to his son-in-law.There would be naught in this to raise suspicion, for what could bemore natural than that a fond parent should make a pilgrimage to visithis only child?
He went, as we have seen, and in due course returned, so jubilant andradiant that even his glum master perforce believed in him. Theirprayers were heard. The gods were sick of tyranny. The despot,blindfold, was marching to his fate. His foot was on the edge of theabyss. As the Fountain of Honour in his inspired wisdom had pointedout, Sampei was loyal to his chief, so far, but he was evidently fullof disgust, uncertain what he ought to do, harried and worried,wretched. The citadel was more than half undermined already. He, thebrilliant general, soldier to his finger nails, moved in a centre ofundisciplined debauchery; listess, unshocked, uninterested. Why, ahandful of ronins could take and sack in a trice the castle oncedeemed impregnable! The guards were wrapped in drunken sleep, thesentinels, absent from their posts, were engaged in uproarious wassailNot a peasant for miles around but would hail with joyous relief theadvent of a new master; not a farme
r or artizan but, with full faithin Koshiu's dying words, would look on No-Kami's downfall asretribution heaven-born. Nothing would be easier than, guided bypeasants, to march trusty troops by night through the mountain defilesand take the castle by surprise. Sampei, half-hearted as he was, andpreternaturally listless, would acquiesce in the inevitable (would beonly too glad to do so), and, his brother slain--no longer tied byfealty--would appear in his true colours. In the absence of theirhereditary chief, the braves of Tsu would lose their heads, throw downtheir arms. For the stronghold must fall in the absence of the Hojo,or the prestige that hung around his dignity might save him after all.Just see how cautiously and well-prepared were the plans of theveteran counsellor. Hojo must be summoned to Ki[^y]oto on somebusiness; then sent back with a reproof, to fall into a skilfully-settrap. Admitted within the walls that were once his own--but whichwould have surrendered in his absence--he could be seized and bound,and, in this plight, covered with the green net of dishonour, beexhibited before awed crowds, as a sermon against vaulting ambition.
So fluent was the old man, so completely self-convinced, that theMikado revived and sat up, while the eyes of the circle of kugesgoggled in their heads with mingled admiration and alarm. No-Kami, aswe have seen, was sent for in peremptory fashion. The Fountainsuggested timidly that this was rash, perhaps; and then old Naralaughed loud and long and savagely.
"Time was, O Holy One!" he cried, with wagging headpiece, "when 'twasI who prated of prudence. Now I say be brave! There is naught to fear:his claws are cut. I have looked on him! There is terror in hisbloodshot eyes, dread in his shaking hands and shuffling footsteps.The dying farmer called down a curse, and it works visibly, for hisconfidence in himself has gone--his belief in a lucky star!"
All this was vastly refreshing to the inhabitants of the palace,accustomed as they were to groaning. The Mikado, with mind at ease,sat on his lacquered chair within the white-curtained tent, and gaveaudience to all and sundry. The weather was bitterly cold.
A cutting wind blew down from the hills, sheeted last night with snow.Nevertheless, so benignantly disposed was he, that the Fountain ofHonour ordered the shutters of the Great Hall to be removed, thatthose without might see him, and fall in ecstasy upon their faces.With a hibachi of fine bronze before him, clad in wadded robes withseven linings, his wizened visage was cut clear against the backgroundby the towering black gauze leaf that he only of mortals was permittedto wear erect. Despite his wadding and his charcoal he was chilly; butwhat matters that when the heart is warm, the spirits high? The momentof triumph was approaching when he would claim an eye for an eye and atooth for a tooth,--exact a cry of pain for each that himself haduttered. Since the despot was already so stricken by outraged Buddhaas to be spiritless, he, the Fountain, would improve the occasion whenthe culprit arrived, in order that all might perceive and applaud theseasonable resumption of his free will and dignity. Openly now hediscussed with assembled kuges each succeeding step. Troops werealready moving silently, under cover of the dark, towards the castle.Others were approaching from afar in the direction of the centralrendezvous. On the arrival of the culprit--news had already beenreceived of his starting--he should be solemnly arraigned andadmonished, then banished in disgrace to his lands at Tsu. There hewould fall into the snare, be brought back with every mark of insultand ignominy to the capital--and then--and then! What was to happenafter that was too delicious to be too promptly settled. It was amorsel to be turned over and over on the tongue, not swallowed with agulp.
Both Fountain and attendant kuges were never weary now of discussing"what then?" Of course, the last thing of all was to be harakiri. Thismeans of final exit he could justly claim by right of name andlineage. But before the final tragedy there might, if skilfullythought out, be endless shades of moral torture; and the kuges,squatting in a row, crumpled their foreheads and stared at the goldceiling in the delightful travail of conception. Every one had an ideawhich required to be examined and considered, sifted, accepted, orrejected. Meanwhile the Fountain dribbled out wisdom, encouragedbrains to nimbleness, distributed applause. One of the nobles had aninspiration, whereon all his fellows cackled. There was a punishmentthat none had endured for years, but which might be revived withadvantage for the behoof of the fallen Hojo. In a public place, beforethe assembled populace, a series of the lowest and dirtiest Etas wereto be placed in a long line, with straddled legs, and under the arcadethus formed--a pilgrimage of consummate degradation--the humblednoble, on hands and knees, was to be condemned to crawl. An admirablesuggestion! Traitorous nobles condemned to this ordeal had been knownto die from very shame--their soul crushed out of them, ere half thejourney was accomplished. Sure the proud-stomached Hojo would notsurvive, and thus would go out of the world deprived of the honour ofharakiri.
The Mikado, enchanted, could conjure up the scene. He longed for themoment to arrive when the culprit, erst so domineering, would shufflein, nervous and unstrung. A new and charming sensation this to one whowas wont himself to quiver. Yes, he longed for the moment, but thewretch should not be admitted at once. Certainly not. He should beshown his place; he who had ridden roughshod should be kept waiting inan ante-room. He----Hark! what sound was that? Rapid and dreadfullyfamiliar? Could it indeed be? A footfall, too well known, was creakingquickly along the bare boards of the corridor. Shuffling, forsooth! itwas as brisk and elastic as of yore. With a glance of dismayedreproach the Mikado turned to Nara, then concealed behind a fan hisburning face. Nara frowned, surprised. The crouching kuges twittered.
Mice gambol when their hereditary foe is slumbering; then, when thegreen gleaming eyes re-open, scuffle into holes. For these poor micethere were no holes. The footstep was crunching--crunching on theirhearts. Though it approached more near, more near, with dreadfulswiftness, they might not move, since no shelter was at hand, and theyhad not wings to fly. Alack! with idle presumption they had uncorked abottle, and out had popped a gin that spread his bat's pinions overthe sky with stifling sulphurous stench.
Dread in his shaking hand indeed! Oh, Nara! Nara! Peeping nervouslybetween his fan-sticks, as the commanding figure that he knew too welldarkened the doorway, the Fountain of Honour perceived a threateningoutline in which there was no sign of decadence. As with hand lightlypoised on hip, and proud head raised, the Hojo strode into thePresence, the Mikado marked that he was pale and thin, but his eye, ifbloodshot, was piercing as ever--fierce as the untamed eagle's. ThatNara, who boasted of experience and acumen, should be so grievouslytaken in. Well, well! it was all the fault of that old fool. Theembroglio was of his making; it must be for him to get them out of thehobble.
But Nara, save for a deepening line between the brows, and teeth thatbit the lip, seemed unaware of the apparition. Red and wrinkled lidsblinked over glazed eyes which stared stonily into space from under awhite and shaggy penthouse. The Daimio of Tsu, erect and menacing,glanced slowly down at the assembled lords, who, with bent backs, werecontemplating the floor--then at the fan and bundle of silks whichconcealed the Fountain of Honour--then at the crowd without, who stoodwith craned necks on the verandahs, or grouped about the garden. Frombetween his fan-sticks the Mikado followed the motions of the despotwith increasing trepidation.
If only he dared to command the closing of the doors--but his tonguerefused its office. Instinct told him that the cup of disgrace wasagain to be presented to his lips, and that it would be more bitterthan ever to the taste. How hard was fate! Every one of the courtcircle--hatamotos, lords, knights, dependants--was to witness theunpleasing ceremony.
As the Daimio stood quietly glancing round without a word, the silencebecame each second less endurable. By bearing and power of eye,combined with an eloquent past, the tyrant held them cowed. Insolent!He had presumed to appear in the presence in ordinary garb,--had notdeigned to don the _Uye-no-Bakama_; or the regulation white silkshirt, or _[=O] Katabira_. And the attitude of the courtiers, too! Apack of grovelling cowards! fine weather friends. A minute since theywere gabbling, one against anoth
er, of future deeds of prowess--ofdazzling achievements; now not one among the startled herd had courageto sacrifice himself--to save his lord from the dilemma. Piteously theMikado looked at Nara, who made no response; then--since it wasabsolutely essential that some one should break the silence--he closedhis fan and whispered meekly,--
"Lord Hojo, you are welcome."
No-Kami smiled, and remarked shortly,--
"Very welcome, doubtless. As I came hither I heard a sound ofmirth--now all sit mumchance. Had I not received a special summons, Ishould have deemed I had intruded."
The smile and accents of studied courtesy were more galling than rudespeech, to which all were well accustomed. 'Twas as when a tamer ofanimals flicks them playfully with a wand. They are too docile to needwhipping, yet, pending possible contingencies, 'tis wholesome thatthey should receive a tap.
Suddenly dropping the tone of banter, the Daimio strode nearer to hismaster, and sternly said,--
"May I know why I was summoned? No matter. I have come, and, beinghere, will ask a question. We are at peace, I think. During the weeksof my retirement I have heard no news of war. Why, then, a stir ofarms,--a movement of troops,--marching, countermarching in the night?What is the subject of offence?--is it with China or Corea?"
The sinister eye of No-Kami fell upon Nara, who calmly responded,--"Iknow nothing."
"You lie!" retorted the Hojo fiercely. "Oh, base and double-faced andcraven! False and deceitful is the blood of Nara--rotten is stock andbranch! You and your daughter are alike."
Without changing his attitude one tittle, the old man slightly raisedhis brows.
"My daughter!" he said, with exceeding calm. "Forbear to breathe hername. You have broken her heart; driven her to the gate of Death. Iought to have known that none but a savage was a fit mate for Hojo."
"Pretty innocent!" sneered No-Kami, lashing himself to frenzy as headvanced towards Nara, hand raised as if to smite. "Know that yourpure white blossom is my brother's paramour!"
A flush passed over the grim features of the old Daimio, then leftthem pale. His master nervously scanned the kuges, whose heads werebent lower than ever. From no quarter was there succour against thisoctopus. The Mikado fairly jumped in his seat when No-Kami spokeagain.
"You, boy," he said, "see to this matter of the troops. They weresummoned without your knowledge, I am willing to believe, by others,who never troubled to consult one so feeble. Or shall I, since youhave called me to your side, undertake to relieve you of the task?Letters shall be despatched forthwith to the effect that 'twas a falsealarm, bred of mischief and malice,--that the ronins may be disbanded,the men returned to their homes. I shall remain for the present at theGolden House, ready with my humble service when required. With you andyours, my lord, I will settle later."
With a show of exaggerated humility, which was worse than knife-stabs,and a glare at Nara, the despot departed as he came, leaving in hiswake, as he scrunched away, a trail of terror and discomfiture. Thesliding doors were closed in haste. For a while, the assembly remainedfrozen, then the unhappy Mikado heaved a deep sigh, which was met by aflutter of moaning. He was gone for the present, that was a smallmercy; but then he might return at any moment, abusive and vindictiveinstead of caustic. The shuffling step and trembling hand. Oh, Nara,Nara! Broken reed, false friend; vain, impotent wind-bag; purblind,blustering dotard!
Gushing with torrents of weak tears, the Fountain relieved his pent-upanguish with trickling reproaches and sobs, to which the old Daimiolistened gloomily. No doubt, he had been wrong in some measure, headmitted with hesitation, for so rapid a recovery had never enteredinto the complex web of his calculations. Perchance it was but thebright temporary flicker of the expiring lamp. The Fountain of Honourmust not be too severe on his aged servant. Had he not kept his temperunder grievous provocation, blows would have been exchanged in theholy presence, imperial prestige in the eyes of the whole court wouldhave been lowered.
"Rubbish! A paltry excuse! Why, as he stood there, did none of you ridme of him?" groaned the Fountain, whereupon the abject circle groanedin echo.
"Of a truth, some one should have done it," bleated one; but surprise,after what they had heard, unnerved each arm; and, indeed, the Hojowas a terrible person, an ogre to terrify the doughtiest.
"Bluster and cowardice are sisters!" continued the lamenting Mikado.He could never trust any of them any more--never, never--the cravens!His chains, heavy and numbing, were riveted with adamantine links! andso forth--with a chorus of bleating.
When you know that you have done your best,--that but for some oneunforeseen and ineradicable speck your carefully-wrought blade wouldbe faultless, a shimmering masterpiece--it is vastly vexatious forpeople whom you despise, although they wear the aureole, to go onungenerously drivelling anent that one undeniable blemish. Nara, as hesaid, had endured a great deal at the hard hand of Hojo, but to sitcalmly any longer under the futile reproaches of the Holy One wasbeyond his stock of that patience he was so fond of recommending toothers.
Moreover, is not the putting aside of what is past and unpleasant aprinciple approved of by sages? What is done is done. Even after thelate scene, wherein a brutal keeper disported himself among hisanimals, and departed triumphing, all was not lost, The Fountainhad been compelled to imbibe another sip of a nauseous draught withwhich he was so familiar, that surely it did not signify, at anyrate, it should be the last His faithful Nara promised it. How thenever-sufficiently-to-be-accursed Hojo had ever discovered theapproaching advent of cohorts was a puzzle. But the cohorts were nearby this time, and they must even make an open stand against thetyrant, since the scheme of treachery had failed. He, the domineeringHojo, would write angry and imperious letters to the approachingdaimios, bidding them begone; but in the name of the Holy One letterscould also be sent--secretly, of course--exhorting them to ride allthe quicker, since the situation had become acute.
"I will gird my old sword again, despite my many winters," Naraconcluded pompously. "Dost think that because my hair is white myheart is frozen? Under the snows of Shirane-San and Asama-Yamasmoulder the hidden fires. This man's father has immured threeEmperors, and he himself is preparing to depose a fourth. He hasinsulted me, and broken my daughter's heart. A little craft--a verylittle more--and the crest of the despot is laid low."
The hapless Mikado suffocated. Tears of impotent wrath welled from hisaugust eyelids. Cowardice and bluster to the end, and broken reeds tolean on, while he drained the nauseous cup! Verily the banishedEmperors were to be envied. The young man rose, and retired to hisinner chamber, and lay prone with moans in darkness.
The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan Page 14