CHAPTER XVI.
MASAGO TAKES THE REINS.
Now it came to pass that after the mental torture she had endured, thesoul-racking perplexities, the days of prayer and nights of vigil, thestrong frame of the Abbess gave way under her burthen. She was deeplythankful for the god's decision,--that her prayers had been heard andanswered. But her body was worn out--the lamp was burning low, and shewas compelled to remain in her chamber, wrapped in many quilts, withMine, hapless victim of unrequited love, in anxious attendance on her.That unfortunate maiden had never recovered the effect of the dreadfulday,--the massacre of her dear ones,--her parents' departure,unforgiving. She moved about her sacred duties like a phantom, withremorse gnawing at her vitals. No need now to keep watch over her lestshe should again fling herself into the reluctant arms of the toofascinating young General. He was no more to her seared heart than anyother man, for it had lost all sense of feeling. It was scorched outof life on the day of the massacre, and she bore only its ashes in herbreast.
Masago had sunk into that deep sleep which is the greatest boon tounhappy mortality, and Mine, bending over the hibachi, was stirringthe charcoal with a rod, immersed in sad reflection, when thereentered a certain bonze who enjoyed reputation as a doctor. He was alearned and a holy man, who dwelt in a monastery on the mountain,--waswise of counsel, and learned in the use of simples.
Hearing by chance that the venerated Abbess of Tsu was lying sick, hetook his bundle, his lacquered medicine-box, and his staff; put on histall clogs, and great mushroom priestly hat, and hied towards theconvent. Sleep, he observed, after a brief survey, was a betteranodyne than simples, and he would therefore await the waking. Warminghis fingers: over the glow he chatted with Mine in undertones,exchanged the gossip of Tsu for the last reports from Ki[^y]oto,inquired of what new atrocity my lord the Daimio had been guilty. Oh,yes; he was aware that my lord was away,--summoned to the capital; andadded, with mysterious head-shakings, that a surprise was preparingfor his return. "_You_ should be pleased to hear of it," went on thegood garrulous old gentleman, "after all that your family havesuffered at his hands--'tis only fitting retribution;" and then,chattering in whispers, he proceeded to tell of soldiers' shadowycohorts, who by night had marched past the monastery. "They aremassing troops in all the defiles," he whispered. "Your father'sanathema has taken effect. The race of the Hojos is run."
The bonze was so intent upon his tale, and so long-winded in thetelling of it, that he, as well as his listener, forgot all about thepatient. Though deep wrapt in slumber, she moved now and againuneasily, tossing from off a surcharged bosom the multitude of futonsthat covered it. Then gradually the sleep-goddess relaxed her embrace,folded her arms less closely, and she of dreams spread forth theshadow of her pinions. The Abbess dreamed a dreadful dream, offspringof trouble and of fever. She thought that her own lord was aliveagain,--that, covered with crimson stains streaming from many a wound,he stood over dead Tomoye. Why was Tomoye dead? In sober truth ofhistory past and gone, it was she who had stood over him. There hestood, however, reeling from loss of blood, his favourite katanahacked and notched from the battle. Then there appeared the boyNo-Kami, also gashed and wounded. To her, the sleeper, turned herrevered lord, stretching forth imploring hands. "Save _him_," hehoarsely gasped. "My time and hers is come, and it is well; but he ison the threshold of his life!" She, the dreamer, could not save him,for she was bound herself with cords, the which perceiving, her lordlooked down reproachfully, and died; and then from out a crystal brookthere rose a silver form that clasped the boy, and his woundsclosed,--a slim shimmering form, daughter of the moon, which, shapingitself out of argent vapour, became O'Tei the chatelaine.
Bedewed with sweat the old woman awoke, and for a space lay panting.What awful vision was this? All good Buddhists know that when we areasleep the soul goes forth upon its errands. If we waken a person toosuddenly he will die, because the wanderer cannot return with needfulquickness to his tenement. When the soul is merely out at play thedream is of no importance, and its pictures are rapidly effaced; butwhen the truant is on serious duty bent, the vision remains distinct,and it behoves us to accept its lesson. Waking, the portrayal of O'Teiclosing No-Kami's wounds was as distinct as if the two were standingthere before her; also the reproachful gaze of her dear lord ere hegave up his spirit. The gods were indeed good to speak so plainly totheir handmaid. It was the honour of her dear lord's name that shedesired saved at any cost, wishing for his son no ill. The geisha wasto die, No-Kami to repent, and O'Tei was somehow to dissect thetangle. Masago found herself to-day more weak than usual, and muchunhinged. Perchance her time was near. It behoved her to see thechatelaine, to reason with her while yet her voice was strong, herbrain still clear. Then there rose upon her dimmed senses a sound ofwhispering, and she distinctly heard some one say, "The race of theHojos is run."
The long moan which burst from her breast recalled the attention ofthe watchers. The bonze was full of solicitude,--grieved to perceivehow fluttering was the patient's pulse,--vastly busy in thepreparation of remedies. He could have bitten his tongue through forhis imprudence. How could he have been such a fool as to forget thatthe patient was herself a Hojo, and that fevered sleep is treacherous?He chattered and chirruped to and fro, shot forth his most brilliantsallies, showed his teeth as he twanged bolts of merry satire atthat unreceptive target Mine. The eyes of the old woman--smilelessnow--knit in intense inquiry, never left his face, while with feeblepersistence she repeated the question,--"How are the Hojos doomed?"
Having committed one egregious error, he was not going to be guilty ofanother. Regardless of the severe course of penance which followedlying, he boldly averred that he had never mentioned Hojo at all, orthe race,--that he was talking about the Daimio of Osaka, who washovering on the verge of the grave,--that under no circumstanceswhatever would he have breathed a syllable about the Hojos in thepresence of the late lord's wife. And twittering thus, he at lengthretired, with good wishes for the patient's recovery, glad that bywonderful presence of mind he had lulled the Abbess's suspicions.
But Masago knew better than to be hoodwinked by the plausible gabbleof a blundering bonze. Out of delicacy she would refrain fromcross-questioning Mine. Well, the warning was twofold. The Hojo was inimminent peril of some kind, from which apparently he was to berescued by his wife.
For many hours she lay staring upwards in deep thought. The wintrylight was quickly waning. Who might tell how near the peril was? Herown strength was ebbing rapidly. She must see the chatelaine at once.
The brief twilight of Japan was darkening over the bleak landscapelike a sable veil, when a breathless messenger arrived at thedrawbridge of the fortress, demanding an interview with the lady.
"With the lady!" jeered the soldier, who had been so long upon hiswatch as to be glad to chat with any one. "She has other things to dojust now, our lady, than listen to beggars from the town. Wasever such a lady--so restless, so domineering, so devoted topleasure--always seeking new excitement in the dreary absence of mylord? The moon rises late, and will be full to-night, and what mustshe do, dost think, heedless of her delicate situation, but go to thetea-house by the river, to gaze at the light upon the snow? 'Tis alovely sight, no doubt, dear to the eyes of our people, be they highor low,--the green glimmer on the water, the black banks of reeds, andwhite expanse beyond; but plaguey cold. Of course there will be supperwhen she returns, and singing and wassail and jollity, warming to thecockles of the heart. Ah, well! if such as I were admitted to thejunketings, I'd not mind this weary watch."
"'Tis with the lady O'Tei that I must speak, and quickly," said themessenger.
The sentinel, leaning over the parapet, discerned by the conical shapeof the speaker's hat that he was a priest.
"Oh!" he grumbled, "some wretched coolie sick? Such vermin as thesedon't come after the lady O'Kiku. You may come in and seek her, an youwill. She's likely in her bower--we've not seen her this many a day."
Not so. There was a twinkling tiny light above, and like the hum of aninsect there reached his ear the tinkle of a distant samisen. Heknocked, and the sound ceased; a paper window was pushed aside; amaiden's head peeped forth.
"Who dares at this hour," she inquired angrily, "to intrude upon mylady's privacy? A pretty pass! Was not the castle large enough for itsdebauched inmates that this retired eyrie might not be treated withrespect?"
"I come from Masago," the messenger said. "She is very sick, and hassomewhat of grave import to say to the chatelaine."
Admitted, the priest followed the maiden to the upper floor,where, surrounded by books and embroidery, and choice blossomsand graceful nicknacks, sat, in a soft mellow light, she for whomthe peasants sorrowed. Since last we looked on her, she was muchchanged--improved--for there was something celestial now---refined anddreamy, as if reflected from some other world--about her loveliness.Her manner had that still, self-contained, dignity which is only to beacquired through much trouble. With grieved concern in her dark eyes,she hearkened to the messenger. Masago on the verge of death! Was she,O'Tei, to be left friendless? Of course she would go to her at once.Ah, if she might change places with the holy Abbess, and depart out ofa sphere where no one wanted her! But it is always those who have nowish to stay who are kept loitering here. Was Masago so ill, and shenot told of it? This was wrong, for at any hour of the day or nightshe would have gladly sought her friend. Not a moment was to be lost.Quick, quick! Her litter. Her bearers, where were they? Wandering inthe town, possibly, chattering in some tea-house, their daily dutyover.
"There is a litter below," suggested the priest timidly. "The one thatin old times my lady used to use. Its bearers are standing ready withlanterns lit. Perhaps my lady O'Kiku--"
A look of unusual sternness passed over the features of O'Tei, and ashadow veiled her eyes.
"O'Kiku!" she muttered, "O'Kiku! My state litter is ready, you say?Then I will use it; come!"
And to the amazement of the maidens, the chatelaine took from a screena mantle of costly furs, and bidding her attendants follow with acandle, moved rapidly away down a dark corridor which led to thecentre of the castle.
The geisha was so astonished at the apparition which suddenlypresented itself before her that the sake-cup dropped from herfingers. She turned red and white, and tried, with but poor success,to laugh off her confusion. With heaving breast and dark brows knit,O'Tei looked down on her with disdain ineffable.
"You have ordered my kago. Thank you," she said shortly, "for I wantit. Tell the bearers I am ready; and you, priest, proceed before. I gobut to the temple, so shall not want the soldiers."
With that she moved with stately step to where, in a stream of light,the kago stood.
The braves were breathless, for they beheld the heiress of proud Naranow, no longer the recluse; and there was an easy air about her ofnatural command, which they knew how to admire and appreciate. Not onehad a word to say against the firmly-expressed resolution of theirliege-lady, but stood by sheepishly. O'Tei was the real chatelaine,and, in absence of her lord, supreme mistress of castle and ofwarriors. The bewitching O'Kiku, as if by magic, shrank down into hernatural insignificance. No doubt about it; she was the concubine, lowof birth and common of breeding--the crow by the side of the falcon.The geisha tingled with exasperated shame, for her quick instinctcould read at a glance the open faces of the braves. Had she toiledand schemed and wormed and man[oe]uvred for this?--to be swept with ahand-wave like a beetle from the path by the rival she had soundervalued! Oh, when my lord returned, an effort must be made to savethe situation! Clearing her husky throat, she said sourly,--
"I was about to view the snows by moonlight, but if yours is an urgenterrand, I will gladly give up my litter. The weather is clear, but fora few sailing clouds; the moon will serve to-morrow."
Her foot upon the step, the chatelaine turned.
"I take my own, and crave of you no favour," she remarked haughtily."To the temple, by way of the river bank. I myself will see thesnows."
The scene had passed so swiftly that 'twas over as soon as begun.There was naught to tell the tale of the geisha's discomfiture but theshattered sake-cup. Yes, there was the absent kago, the marks of manyfeet where it had stood; the sheepish faces of the warriors. There wasthe group, too, of O'Tei's maidens huddled behind, where theychattered in high glee. The ambitious and presumptuous geisha had beenput down into her place at last, firmly and quietly by her superior.That was the plain truth which there was no denying. It was written onthe visages of the maidens as well as on those of the samurai.Accustomed to reign unchallenged, the blow was hard to bear. Burstinginto a torrent of tears, brackish with impotent mortification, O'Kikusank upon a cushion, and was as racked by sobs as if she had possesseda heart.
The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan Page 16