TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Accents and diacritical marks have generally been standardised. Where there is a single instance of a word with an accent, and one without, no change has been made to the original (e.g. Shigenari/Shigénari, Uesugi/Uésugi).

The letter o with a macron is represented as ō.

The letter u with a macron is represented as ū.

The letter e with a macron is represented as ē.

If you cannot see the above letters with macrons, you may need to change the font in your browser.

The italicisation of Japanese words has been standardised.

Hyphenation and capitalisation has been standardised.

Punctuation and obvious printer's errors have been corrected. For a complete list, please see [the bottom of this document].

LEGEND.

The outline of the map is that found in Volume I. of the Edo Sunago, published Keio 2nd year (1866). The detail of district maps found in the book is worked in, together with that from the sectional map of Edo published Ansei 4th year (1857), and from the Go Edo Zusetsu Shūran published Kaei 6th year (1853). The map therefore shows in rough outline the state of the city just before the removal of the capital from Kyōto; the distribution of the castes.

The Pre-Tokugawa villages (Eiroku: 1558-1569) indicated on the map found in the "Shūran" are:—

North and South Shinagawa: Meguro-Motomura: Gin-Mitamura: Mitamura: Ōnemura: Upper and Lower Shibuya: Harajuku-mura: Kokubunji: Azabu: Kawaza Ichi: Ōzawa-mura: Imai-mura: Sendagaya: Yamanaka-mura: Ichigaya: Ushigome: Kobiko-mura: Upper and Lower Hirakawa-mura: Ochiya: Sekihon: Ikebukuroya: Tomizaka-mura: Ishibukero-mura: Tanibaragaike: Neruma-mura: Okurikyōakarai-mura: Koishikawa: Zoshigayatsu: Ōji: Shimura: Takinogawa: Kinsoboku-mura: Harajuku-mura (II.): Komegome-mura: Taninaka-mura: Shimbori-mura: Mikawajima-mura: Ashigahara-mura: Haratsuka: Ishihama-mura: Senjū-mura: Suda-mura: Sumidagawa: Yanagijima: Jujō-mura: Itabashi: Sugamo-mura: Arakawa (river): Kandagawa pool (ike): Kanda-mura: Shibasaki-mura: Shin-Horima-mura: Yushima-mura: Shitaya-mura: Torigoe-mura: Shirosawa-mura: Asakusa-mura: Harai-mura: Some-Ushigome: Ishiwara: Kinoshitagawa: Ubagaike (pool): Negishi-mura: Kinsoki-mura: Kameido-mura (near Ueno): Shinobazu-ike (pool).

From South to North circling by the West.

Shinagawa: Mita-mura: Takanawa:
Near Imai-mura is a Myōjin shrine,
close by the mouth of the present Akabane river.

Ikura: Hibiya: Tsukiji: Tsukuda: Tame-ike (pool): Tsukuda Myōjin: Ota's castle: Sanke-in: Hirakawa-mura: Sakurada-mura: Honjū-mura: Ōtamage-ike: Kametaka-mura. To the East.

77 villages, total.

Pronounce as in Italian, giving vowels full value: ch- as in "church."

[NIROKUDŌ ISSUES]

TALES OF THE TOKUGAWA II

BAKÉMONO YASHIKI

(THE HAUNTED HOUSE)

RETOLD FROM THE JAPANESE ORIGINALS

BY

JAMES S. DE BENNEVILLE

"Woman's greatest need,
The base of all governance,
Is governance; Seldom found,
And rarely applied."

—Seishin

YOKOHAMA
1921

PREFACE

In 1590 a.d. the Hōjō were overthrown at Odawara by the Taikō Hidéyoshi, and the provinces once under their sway were intrusted to his second in command, Tokugawa Iyeyasu. This latter, on removing to the castle of Chiyoda near Edo, at first paid main attention to strengthening his position in the military sense. From his fief in Tōtōmi and Suruga he had brought with him a band of noted captains, devoted to his service through years of hardest warfare. He placed them around his castle ward, from East to South in a great sweeping arc of detached fortresses, extending from Shimōsa province to that of Sagami. Koga was the chief stronghold on the North, against what was left of the Uésugi power. The most devoted of his captains, Honda Tadakatsu, was established at Kawagoé. Odawara, under an Ōkubo, as always, blocked the way from the Hakoné and Ashigara passes. In the hands of Iyeyasu and his captains, the formidable garrison here established was not likely to offer opportunity of a second "Odawara conference," during which dalliance with compromise and surrender would bring sudden attack and disaster. At this period there is no sign that in his personal service Prince Iyeyasu made changes from the system common to the great military Houses of the time. The castle ward and attendance always were divided up among the immediate vassals of the lord. The basis was strictly military, not domestic. Even the beautiful kami-shimo (X), or butterfly hempen cloth garb of ceremonial attendance was an obvious reminder of the armour worn in the field.

Great statesman and warrior that he was, the Taikō Hidéyoshi must have realised the difficulties confronting his House. The formidable power he had created in the North was no small part of them. On several occasions he sought a quarrel with Iyeyasu; sought to humiliate him in small ways, to lower his prestige and provoke an outbreak. Such was the trifling incident of the lavish donation required of Iyeyasu to the Hachiman shrine at Kamakura. But Hidéyoshi, as with Elizabeth of England, looked rather to the balance of cost against result, always with possibility of failure in view. When he died in 1598, and left Tokugawa Iyeyasu practically regent of the land, his expectation can be judged to be, either that the loyal members of the council of regency would at least balance the Tokugawa power for their own sakes, or that the majority of his son Hidéyori, then a mere infant, would witness no question of supremacy. In the one event the glory and prestige of his House would stand. In the second case the safety of his posterity would be assured. With his experience, and belief in the over-riding power of Nobunaga and himself, the first was as likely to happen as the second; and the influence of the Toyotomi House was the means necessary to insure to Iyeyasu the position already secured, against the jealousy of the other lords. Time showed that he granted a perspicuity and energy to the members of his council which Iyeyasu alone possessed.

With Sekigahara (1600) the situation was definitely changed. In 1603 Iyeyasu was made Shōgun, and the first steps were to organize the Eastern capital at Edo on an Imperial scale. The modest proportions of the Chiyoda castle of Hōjō times—the present inner keep—had already grown to the outer moat. Around these precincts were thrown the vassals of the Shōgun. The distribution at first was without much method, beyond the establishment of greater lords in close proximity to the person of the Shōgun. This feature was accentuated in the time of the third Shōgun Iyemitsu. Immediately allied Houses and vassals occupied the castle ward between the inner and outer moats, from the Hitotsubashi gate on the North, sweeping East and South to the Hanzō gate on the West. The Nishimaru, or western inclosure of the castle, faced this Hanzō Gomon. From this gate to a line drawn diagonally north eastward from the Kanda-bashi Gomon to the Sujikae Gomon, the section of the circle was devoted to the yashiki (mansions) of the hatamoto or minor lords in immediate vassalage of the Shōgun's service. Kanda, Banchō, Kōjimachi (within the outer moat), the larger parts of Asakusa, Shitaya, Hongō, Koishikawa, Ushigomé (Ichigaya), Yotsuya, Akasaka, Azabu, and Shiba, were occupied by yashiki of hatamoto and daimyō—with an ample proportion of temple land. It would seem that there was little left for commercial Edo. Such was the case. The scattered towns of Kanda, Tayasu, Kōjichō, several score of villages on the city outskirts, are found in this quarter. The townsmen's houses were crowded into the made ground between the outer moat of the castle and the yashiki which lined the Sumida River between Shiba and the Edogawa. In 1624 the reclaimed ground extended almost to the present line of the river. The deepening of the beds of the Kanda and Edo Rivers had drained the marshes. The use of the waters of the Kandagawa for the castle moat had made dry land of the large marsh just to the south of the present Ueno district. Thus Hongō, in its more particular sense, became a building site.

With elaboration of the outer defences went elaboration of the immediate service on the Shōgun. There was no sudden change. The military forms of the camp stiffened into the etiquette of the palace. The Shōinban or service of the audience chamber, the Kōshōgumi or immediate attendants, these were the most closely attached to the Shōgun's person. To be added to these are the Ōbangumi or palace guard, the Kojuningumi and the Kachigumi which preceded and surrounded the prince on his outside appearances. These "sections" formed the Go Banshū, the honoured bodyguard. In the time of Iyemitsu a sixth kumi or section was formed, to organize the service of the women attendants of the palace, of the oku or private apartments in distinction from the omoté or public (men's) apartments, to which the Go Banshū were attached. Given the name of Shinban (New) this kumi was annexed to the Banshū. This aroused instant protest. The then lords of the Go Ban inherited their position through the merits of men who had fought on the bloody fields of war. Now "luck, not service," was to be the condition of deserving. The protest was made in form, and regarded. Iyemitsu gave order that the Shinbangumi retain its name, but without connection with the Banshū.

At this point the confusion of terms is to be explained. All through the rule of the first three Shōgun a gradual sifting had been taking place. Into Edo were crowding the daimyō who sought proximity to the great man of the land. Then came the order of compulsory residence, issued by Iyemitsu himself; seconded by the mighty lords of Sendai and Satsuma, who laid hands on sword hilts, and made formal statement that he who balked nourished a treacherous heart. The support of one of them was at least unexpected. The acquiescence of both cut off all opposition. Most of the ground now within the outer moat was devoted to the greater lords in immediate service on the Tokugawa House. The hatamoto were removed to the outer sites in Koishikawa, Ushigomé, Yotsuya; to the Banchō, the only closer ward they retained; or across the river to Honjō and Fukagawa. Those in immediate service were placed nearest to the palace. From the beginning the favoured residence site had been just outside the Hanzō and Tayasu Gomon, across the inner moat from the palace. Hence the district got the name of Banchō. Go Ban (御番) in popular usage was confused with (五番)—"five" instead of "honoured." In course of time the constant removals to this district made it so crowded, its ways so intricate, that one who lived in the Banchō (Ban ward) was not expected to know the locality; a wide departure from the original checker board design on which it had been laid out, and hence the characters 盤町 (Banchō) used at one time. This, however, was when Edo had expanded from its original 808 chō (20200 acres) to 2350 chō (58750 acres). The original Banchō included all the ground of Iidamachi, and extended to the Kōjimachi road. Kōjimachi (the mura or village) was then in the Banchō, and known as samurai kōjimachi 小路 (by-way), not the present 麴 (yeast). In the time of the third Shōgun the Banchō was as yet a lonely place—to the west of the city and on its outskirts. The filling in process, under the Government pressure for ground, was just under way. Daimyō-kōji, between the inner and outer moats, through the heart of which runs the railway spur from Shimbashi to Tōkyō station, was being created by elimination of the minor lords. At the close of Kwanei (1624 a.d.) all the Daimyō-koji was very solid ground; an achievement of no little note when the distance from the Sumidagawa is considered. At Iyeyasu's advent to Edo the shore line ran close to the inner moat of the castle. The monastery of Zōjōji then situated close to the site of the present Watagaru gate, was converted by him into the great establishment at Shiba; and placed as close to the waters of the bay as the present Seikenji of Okitsu in Suruga—its fore-bear in the material and ecclesiastical sense.

The same rapid development of the town took place on the eastern side of the river. Honjō and Fukagawa became covered by the yashiki sites, interspersed with the numerous and extensive temple grounds. Iyeyasu was as liberal to the material comforts of his ghostly advisers, as he was strict in their supervision. One fifth of Edo was ecclesiastical. One eighth of it, perhaps, was given over to the needed handicrafts and tradesmen of the Kyōbashi and Nihonbashi wards along the river, with a moiety of central Honjō—and to the fencing rooms. The balance of the city site was covered by the yashiki. Thus matters remained until the Meiji period swept away feudalism, and substituted for the military town the modern capital of a living nation. So much for the Edo with which we have to deal, apart from its strange legends and superstitions, its malevolent and haunting influences, working ill to the invaders, daring to encroach upon the palace itself and attack the beloved of the Shōgun and his heir, only to be quelled by the divine majesty of his look—as expounded in such tangle of verities as the Honjō-Nana-fushigi (seven marvels of Honjō), the Azabu Nana-fushigi, the Fukagawa Nana-fushigi, the Banchō Nana-fushigi, the Okumura Kiroku, the temple scrolls and traditions, and many kindred volumes.

In reference to the Banchō: the stories outlined in the present volume date from the period of the puppet shows and strolling reciters, men who cast these tales into their present lines, thus reducing popular tradition to the form in which it could be used by the kōdanshi or lecturers on history, or by those diving into the old tales and scandals connected with the yashiki of Edo town. In the present volume main reliance for the detail has been placed on the following kōdan:—

"The Banchō Nana-fushigi" of Matsubayashi Hakuen.

"The Banchō Sarayashiki" of Momogawa Jōen.

"The Banchō Sarayashiki" of Byōhaku Hakuchi, in the "Kwaidan-shū" published by the Hakubunkwan.

"The Banchō Sarayashiki" of Hōgyūsha Tōko.

"Yui Shōsetsu" of Kōganei Koshū.

These references could be extended. The story of the Sarayashiki figures in most of the collections of wonder tales. The Gidayu of the "Banshū Sarayashiki" by Tamenaga Tarōbei and Asada Itchō finds no application. It deals with Himeji in Harima. As for the stories from an esoteric point of view, as illustrations of the period they have a value—to be continued in those more historical, and which deal with the lives and deeds of men of greater note and influence in this early Tokugawa court. The present volume instances the second class of wonder tales referred to in the preface to the Yotsuya Kwaidan.

Ōmarudani,
14th November, 1916.

CONTENTS

PART I

TALES OF THE EDO BANCHŌ
WHO AOYAMA SHŪZEN WAS.

CHAPTER I

The Chūgen Rokuzo

Rokuzo the chūgen sighed as he faced the long slope leading to the Kudanzaka. Pleasant had been his journey to this point. From his master's yashiki in Ichigaya to the shop of the sandal maker Sukébei in lower Kanda it had been one long and easy descent. Sukébei had gratified Rokuzo with the desired and well established commission or "squeeze." Orders for sandals in the yashiki of a nobleman were no small item. Rokuzo was easily satisfied. Though of a scant thirty years in age he had not the vice of women, the exactions of whom were the prime source of rascality in the sphere of chūgen, as well as in the glittering train of the palace. At the turn of the road ahead Rokuzo could eye the massive walls of the moat, which hid the fortress and seraglio built up by the skilful hands of Kasuga no Tsubone in her earnest efforts to overcome the woman hating propensities of the San-dai-ke, the third prince of the Tokugawa line, Iyemitsu Kō. Rokuzo was a chūgen, servant in attendance on his master Endō Saburōzaémon, hatamoto or immediate vassal of the commander-in-chief, the Shōgun or real ruler in the land of Nippon since the long past days of Taira Kiyomori.

Rokuzo had no great lady in charge of his domestic arrangements, one whose obsession it was to overcome his dislike of man's natural mate. Nor had he such mate to administer reproof for his decided liking for the sherry-like rice wine called saké. Sukébei had rigidly performed his part in the matter of the "squeeze"; but Rokuzo considered him decidedly stingy in administration of the wine bottle—or bottles. Willingly would he have sacrificed the commission for an amplitude of the wine. But even chūgen had their formulae of courtesy, and such reflection on his host would have been too gross. With a sigh therefore he had set out from the shop of the sandal maker, eyeing the wine shops passed from time to time, but not fortunate enough to chance upon any acquaintance whose services he could call upon in facing him over a glass. Rokuzo had the virtue of not drinking alone.

Kanda village once passed, the yashiki walls hemmed in the highway which ran through a district now one of the busiest quarters of the city. This sloping ground was popularly known as Ichimenhara, to indicate its uniformity of surface. There was not a hint of the great university, the long street of book-stores close packed side by side for blocks. Their site was covered by the waters of the marsh, almost lake, of the Kanda River, then being slowly drained into the castle moats. The top of the hill reached, at what is now South Jimbochō, the shops and houses of the one village hereabouts, Tayasu-mura, offered a last chance for diversion. The steep slope of the Kudan hill was now before Rokuzo, and beyond he had to pass through the lonely wood which harboured a temple to the war god Hachiman, and which covered the site of the present Shōkonsha or shrine to the spirits of the soldiers killed in Nippon's wars. This road ran through the San-Banchō, then a lonely quarter in which stood isolated from each other yashiki of the hatamoto. The district was filling up, under press of the needs of the castle service for space immediately round about. But the process was a slow one, and the district one much suspected by the lower classes.

Rokuzo was not fat. He was short, thick necked, sturdy with a barrel-like roundness, and, owing to his drinking propensities, endowed with legs the thinness of which found the conveyance of the upper massiveness no mean task. Hence he stopped at the foot of the hill to wipe the sweat from his face. He eyed with envy a low caste being, a heimin and labourer. Clad in a breech-clout the fellow swung rapidly down the hill with his load of charcoal balanced at each end of the carrying pole. It was etiquette, not modesty, which confined Rokuzo to the livery of his master. He was compelled to a coat which, light and thin as it was, cut off all the breeze from his muscular shoulders. Well! Up the hill he must get. The rolling down was a matter of the past. The yashiki, the house officer (kyūnin) to whom report was to be made, lay beyond. About to make the start a voice spoke in his ear. Though soft and gentle it would have had no particular attraction for the now thirsty Rokuzo. But apart from thirst Rokuzo was of the thoroughly good natured kind. He was surprised at the beauty of the face on which his eyes rested; still more so at the size of the bundle she was trying to carry, and which plainly was far beyond her strength. The rashness of benevolence overcame the not too energetic Rokuzo. Sigh as he did over the conveyance of his carcass up the steep hill, he sighed still more at thought of this fragile creature attempting to carry such a burden.

She followed his eyes to the bundle. "Alas! Honoured Sir, what is to be done? The furoshiki is far beyond one's poor strength. Though the distance is not great—only to Go Banchō—yet it could as well be a pilgrimage to Isé. Surely the hills of Hakoné and Iga are no steeper than this Kudanzaka." She sighed; and apart from a weariness of voice there was a suspicion of moisture in her eyes. The more Rokuzo looked at her, the greater waxed his pity and benevolence. Barely of eighteen years she was a beautiful girl; not a servant, yet not one of the secluded and guarded daughters of a noble House. Perhaps she was the young wife of some soldier, and he was surprised at her being unattended. She noted this, and readily explained the fact. There were purchases yet to make, close by in Tayasu. Here a servant was to be at hand, but wearied by waiting the woman had made off. "To offer a wage, good sir, seems impolite; yet the way being the same deign to grant the favour of your strength." In the petition her face was wreathed in admiring smiles at Rokuzo's fine figure of a man. A light in the eyes, captious and coquettish, the furtive glances at his broad shoulders and stout neck, betrayed him into the indiscretion of volunteering a service promptly accepted. This done, the lady, without losing sight of display of her charm of manner, was all business.

Rokuzo had much to learn, and he was not one to profit much by his lessons. If he was virtuous, he was by nature a very Simple Simon. A greater liking for women might by contact have sharpened wits rather dulled by drinking. As it was, anyone in the yashiki, who wished to shift some unpleasant obligation, found in Rokuzo the one to be impressed by the most specious excuse, and the one whose kindness of heart undertook and carried out the purpose of avoidance by assumption of the task. Instead of concocting some pretext to carry off Sukébei, or one, or all, of his apprentices to the neighbouring street and a grog shop, his inexperience and diffidence had carried him away still thirsty. Instead of bumping into some passing fellow chūgen on the street, and wiping out the insult with wine, he had idled along, leaving to every man his share of the roadway, and to the thirsty with burdens more than their share. Hence this uncongenial company of thirst and a woman. She had halted at a grocer's shop, and his eyes were soon agog at sight of her investments—mushrooms, not of much weight, but in bulk forming almost a mound; the dried sliced gourd called kambyoku, of which she seemed very fond; marrow, tōgan (gourd-melon),[1] the new and expensive potato (imo), for money was no object in her purchases. A second shop close by caught her eye. Here were added to the pile the long string beans, doubtless to roast in the pod for an afternoon's amusement and repast, kabocha or squashes, large stalks of daikon (radish) two feet in length, gōbō or burdock, and a huge watermelon. The list is too long to quote except for the report of a produce exchange. Indeed it was rather a case of what she did not buy, on a scale to furnish forth a yashiki. Then she made her way to a confection and fruit shop just opposite the scene of her last purchases. Pears were coming into season—weighty in measure and on the stomach. But the lady was not frightened. She bought for yesterday, to-day, and to-morrows, in fruit and cakes of all kinds. Conveyed by the divers attendants her goods lay piled up at the last source of supply. Puzzled, she regarded the huge mass; then took eye measure of the shoulders of Rokuzo. They inspired confidence. She laid a gentle and admiring hand on his massiveness. She looked into his face with enticing smile. There was a silvery little laugh in her voice. Concealing their grins the shop attendants fled to their different haunts. Here they smothered cries and roars of coarse merriment; and one man nearly smothered himself by sticking his head in the brine cask. This chūgen was no servant of the lady. He was a volunteer conveyancer caught by a pretty face. They knew her.

Rokuzo had more than sturdy shoulders. He stuck to his bargain. Plainly something must be done; and the lady did it. In a trice she haled him to a draper's shop. "A five-fold furoshiki—at once." The draper gaped not; he obeyed. The cloth was produced, and his several apprentices were engaged in sewing together one of those square package cloths, so convenient in the conveyance of scattered parcels. It was a portentous product, a very sheet. Obsequiously offered and accepted, the draper watched his customers depart with curious eyes. It was not the first of its kind bought by the lady. He hoped it would not be the last; for his own sake and that of his fellow traders. The money at least was always good. The girl must be popular and rich. A number of chūgen were employed in her service. Never did she bring the same man. Then the purchases were piled into one bundle. At this both Rokuzo and the dispenser of sweets were skilled hands. The lady looked anxiously up and down the road. She tripped into this place and that. Finally she came back to the bundle, looking as if about to cry. Of the servant's return there was no sign. Stolidly the shop-keeper maintained his pose. His shop could not be left to itself; the lady could not wait. Outside was the blazing sun of the sixth month (July), then at its hottest period of the hour of the ape (after 3 p.m.). She looked at Rokuzo. He twisted uneasily.

His good nature yielded again to the caressing glance. "Come! As boy this Rokuzo has carried many a farmer's frame of grass from the mountain to Shibukawa village. Nay; many a sick man has he shouldered on the hills leading to the healing springs of Ikao and Kusatsu." He ran an eye over the bundle. "Ah! A terrific bundle; one to cause fright. There is nothing else to do." He would have liked to measure strength with this truant servant; doubtless a terrific female. The confectioner puffed and blew, with straining, swelling neck. The furoshiki at last was on the shoulders of the unhappy Rokuzo. Fortunately the shops of Nippon have no doors. A most mountainous and monstrous wrestler, a very Daniel Lambert, can be carried forth feet first from such a front. The shop keeper followed the pair with his eyes. He passed his hand over the money. Then he looked again. The lady went lightly up the hill. Puffing and blowing at last Rokuzo was compelled to zig-zag on its steepness. Then she followed after his movements, gently encouraging him with words, and a cheerful pleased giggle that was a very goad in his rear. The grocer crossed to consultation with the baker. "Bah! He has a ring in his nose." Said the man of confections—"He is Rokuzo, chūgen of Endō Sama. But the other day it was Isuké, chūgen of Okumura Sama, who did her service. And so with others. Truly entertainment at Yoshiwara costs less effort and wage. These cats are all one colour in the dark." The philosophic and cynical shop-keepers, each departed to his own place, arguing more shrewdness in a chūgen, and the greater freedom, if less honour, implied in the gains and amusements of the townsman. Again and again the baker inspected his coin. There were still houses for women in the Kōjimachi road. This satisfied his doubts.

Encouraged by the lady Rokuzo reached the top of the Kudan hill. In all his experience of burden bearing never before had he shouldered the like. It seemed at times as if the lady herself had floated up on its broad surface, to deposit a weight far beyond her appearance. Perhaps she did; for Rokuzo, blinded by the pouring sweat, hardly knew what occurred. From time to time the sweet voice gave direction. Skirting the castle moat she led him up the short slope of the Gomizaka. A fitting name, thought Rokuzo. There were more than "five flavours" on his back, without counting the nasty taste in a very dry mouth. His journey was almost at an end. At least he had so determined, when suddenly the destination was reached. The lady knocked at the side door of a splendid gate set in a long stretch of wall. So much Rokuzo could see through the damp stream from his brow; and that the surroundings were very rural. A rattling of the bar and he turned eagerly to the gate. Its opening gave a vision of beauty. Clean swept was the ground beneath the splendid pine trees; graceful the curves of the roofs of the villa seen beyond; and still more beautiful, and little more mature than his companion, was the figure of the girl framed in the doorway.

Forgetful of his burden Rokuzo gaged. Forgetful of etiquette the girl stared. She scanned Rokuzo from head to foot. The squat and sturdy figure of the man, in combination with the huge burden, turned him into some new and useful kind of beast. Astonishment passed into a smile; the smile into a mad burst of laughter in which the other girl more discreetly joined. "Nēsan (elder sister) the hour is late, but to-day the opportunity of assistance was slow to appear. With such sturdy support it was thought well to make ample provision."—"Provision indeed! Merry will be the feast. Truly sister, great has been the good fortune. Honoured Sir, deign to furnish forth the entertainment." Again came the merry peal, this time from both the girls. Rokuzo hardly appreciated such reward of his efforts. He had a strong suspicion that this merriment was directed at him; that the courtesy and gentle voices were on the surface. There was a snappy nasal sneering ring in the laughter, most unpleasant and savouring of derision. However there was certain to be something at the end of the task. Why neglect to take the reward now close to hand? He passed through the large gate, opened by the elder maiden to admit the size of his burden. Under her guidance he struggled along past the corner of the house and into the more removed privacy. Of this he could note the carefully kept inner garden, the massive old well curb standing in its centre, and the scent and strange beauty of the flowering plants. Attention was attracted by the conduct of his three employers; for another and older girl now made her appearance at the rōka (verandah). She too gave the same short sharp exclamation of amusement at the sight of the porter and his portentous load. She leaped down quickly from the verandah and ran up to peer into his face. Then she went off into the same mad peal of laughter, in which she was joined without stint by her sisters.

Rokuzo was now angry beyond measure; yet as a man and good natured he found it difficult of expression with such beautiful women. All the terms of revilement came to his lips—rude rascals (burei na yatsu), scoundrels (berabōmé), vile beasts (chikushōmé). These were freely loaded on himself in time of displeasure of master or fellows. But somehow now they stayed in his throat. "Rude"—yes; "rascals"—yes. These words reached to a murmur. But the crowning insult of calling these beautiful women "beasts" stuck in his gorge and he nearly choked. Said the oldest girl—and she was not over twenty years—"Sister, you are wearied by the heat and your efforts. Deign to enter the bath. All is ready. Come! We will enter it together." Hand in hand the three were about to depart. Rokuzo found speech. He stuttered in his indignation—"Honoured ladies! Heigh there! This bundle—how now? Truly it is as if this Rokuzo had been carrying a child. His back is wet through. It is very unpleasant. Where is the package to be bestowed? Deign to indicate." At the sharpness of his tone the elder girl turned in surprise. His anger dropped before the attraction of smile and address. Truly these creatures had attention but for the passing moment. "Ah! In joy at the sister's return the burden and its bearer have been completely forgotten. This is to be very rude. Aré! Honoured Sir, you are melting away with heat. Place the burden here. At the well yonder is water. Deign to wipe off the sweat which pours from your honoured person."

At once with more than relief he deposited the huge package on the rōka. Pending its disposition Rokuzo devoted himself to his ablutions with decent slowness, to allow the idea of remuneration to filter into the somewhat fat wits of these ladies. At first he was inclined thoroughly to sluice himself inwardly. The water was deliciously cool to the outer person on this hot day. But on approaching the bucket to his mouth there was an indefinable nauseating something about it that made him hesitate. Again he tried to drink. Decidedly it was bad, this water; offensive for drinking. With a sigh he diverted the stream from his gullet to his shoulders. So pleased was Rokuzo with the experience that he repeated it again and again from the inexhaustible coolness of the well. Then with his head towel he began to wipe the nudity of his person, taking in at leisure his surroundings as he did so. Oya! Oya! It was indeed an extraordinarily beautiful place, this which he had entered. The care lavished upon plants and ornamentation was carried to extravagance. The eyes of Rokuzo opened wider and wider. Here was a splendid cherry tree in the full magnificence of its bloom. The square of this inner garden was completed by half a dozen plum trees laden with the scented blossoms, although the fruit hung heavy from the branches. At the opposite corner the polished red of the ripe persimmons made the mouth water. Beyond these trees and the house was a large and splendid bed of iris, the curious and variegated bloom counterfeiting some patterned screen. From the rōka extended a wide trellis heavy with the blossoms of the wisteria. Lotus was in flower in the pond. Wherever he turned his eyes the affection of these ladies for colour and scent showed itself. Jinjōki, hibiscus, pyrus spectabilis, chrysanthemum, peonies, ayamé or the early iris, all were in mad bloom to please the eye. With growing fright Rokuzo gazed from side to side. What could be the social condition of these women, thus treated so familiarly by a mere chūgen? The gardener surely was an extraordinary genius, such as would serve none but the truly great. This was a suspicious place.

These thoughts were interrupted. Abruptly he approached the part of the house that seemed a sort of kitchen. The huge bundle had disappeared. The elder sister showed herself. The two younger girls held back diffidently in the rear. All showed amusement, but the freshness of the bath had wrought a change in manner, and made them still more lovely than before. Said the elder—"Thanks are due for the kindness shown. Though ashamed, deign to accept this trifling acknowledgment as porter's wage." She held out to Rokuzo a hana-furi-kin. This gold coin, worth a bu (the quarter of a ryō) was an extravagant fee.[2] Somewhat strange withal; struck off in the Taikō's day the savour of disloyalty was compensated by the "raining flowers" stamped in the gold. Rokuzo was still more frightened. Ladies of course were ignorant of values. Plainly these were ladies, of but little contact with the world. As an honest and somewhat simple fellow he would have refused the over-payment. But he was not eloquent in explanation, and the acceptance meant the speedier departure. Prostrate with extended hands he gave thanks. Then he thrust the coin into his bosom and rose in good earnest to depart. Here follows the fall of Rokuzo from the grace of good behaviour.

On her way to a room at the end of the garden passed the youngest of the sisters. She was bearing a tray, the burden of which was saké bottles. In the other hand was the heating apparatus, flask included. Rokuzo's nostrils opened wide at the delicious perfume. He stood stock still. As in some surprise the elder sister regarded him. Thereupon the wine bearer halted, in her pose holding the grateful steam directly under his nose. Said the first girl—"Is the wage insufficient? If so...." Rokuzo's nostrils twitched. The younger sister stopped a movement as of further bestowal. "Ah! This honoured Sir can carry more than burdens." She broke into a merry laugh. Said the sister—"Is that so? The saké is object of desire." Beauty was now enhanced a thousand times by the benevolence of their demeanor. With tongue at last eloquent—"Ah, ladies! This Rokuzo is dying of thirst. The well here offers no means to quench it. But for the honoured encounter at Kudanzaka long since would the company at the wine shop of Ichigaya have been sought. For reward deign wine rather than coin." He made a movement as if to restore the gold, but the elder girl stopped him. "So then, Rokuzo likes wine. He shall have both wine and coin, and entertainment in addition." With the request from him their manner had changed. It was now more sedate and purposeful. Rokuzo hardly understood the further course of his experiences. Emerged from the bath he found himself seated before a plentiful repast. The viand contents of the monumental burden together with what sea and hill could provide—these figured. Rokuzo drank first, and plentifully. Never had he tasted such delicious wine. He knew that the Tono Sama drank no better saké; nor did his master occupy a more splendid apartment than this one of the wine feast. The silken figured fusuma (screens), the fretwork crowning them, the many lamps—it was now dark—in bronze and precious metals, dazzled his small understanding.

The women acted as attendants. Rokuzo sat long, now thoroughly fuddled. He listened to an orchestral theme, interpreted by koto, fué, biwa, or the taiko (drum). Perhaps there were better voices. Even in their singing the three girls had that sharp, derisive, unpleasant, nasal twang. But Rokuzo was past criticism. To their questioning he told who and what he was; a chūgen in the service of his lord, Endō Saburōzaémon, hatamoto in the land, and now in office at the fireward of the palace. Had he a wife? A chūgen is not one to have a wife. At this all the women seemed very pleased. They exchanged glances.

The elder girl now came close to him. She nestled by his side and took his arm, looking coquettishly and smilingly into his face. "Rokuzo Dono has done much for three lonely women. Will he not do more? Why not remain as now, perform the tasks of this house? Does not the change of masters attract?" Rokuzo's latest remembrance of encounter with the honoured house officer (kyūnin) of his master was the six days turn in the yashiki prison, on very scant fare. His face was long at the thought. He was very remiss on this present occasion. What would happen? In the haze of his wine the voice of the girl continued. Her face was very close as she pressed on him. "Rokuzo Dono, deign to serve this house, meet its difficulties." For a moment Rokuzo broke the spell. "Difficulties? Of luxurious living and a splendid home? Such 'difficulties' make one laugh."—"Yet there are real difficulties. Three women—they have their difficulties. Be the man of the house; the man in the house. Condescend the favour." Restraint was thrown off. She held him in her arms and drew him close. Rokuzo's brain was in a whirl. Women? Women? Ah! The wine! His lips eagerly sought the cup she held to them. When she rose he allowed her gentle persuasion. The two other girls busied themselves in the preparations for the night. They whispered to each other; and there seemed to be some ground of division, but the elder had her way. She and Rokuzo were left alone.

If Rokuzo sought solace in the arms of his mistress he certainly failed to find it. Never had such a nightmare descended on his slumbers. Through the night he was battling with most fearful visions, seeking to avoid tortures of hell. He had pursued his beauty into some huge cave. Now possession was secure. From this there was no escape. But it was no escape for Rokuzo. Now she turned into a huge obscene object, a very rokurokubi, one of those hideous monsters with lengthy neck, gleaming teeth, and distorted human-like face. Again there was change. He lay supine and helpless; and extended full length over him was a fox of portentous size. The sharp, yelping, nasal voice sounded in his ears. "Coin, wine, then lechery: Rokuzo would drink, then play the beast. The porter's wage is insufficient. Now let him pay the beast's wage." The sharp gleaming teeth were at his throat. The foul breath filled his lungs. Rokuzo struggled for air, shouted for an aid not at hand. "Drunkard; lecher." By a final effort he would free himself from the succubus—"Liar!... Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! Holy the Lord Buddha!"

A heavy chill went through his body, shaking him from head to foot. He opened his eyes. In amazement he looked around him. The magnificent apartment, the women, the garden, the feast, nothing remained of his night's experience. It was the chill of early dawn, and he was lying on the bare ground, in the midst of a wild grass grown and deserted moor. A tree root was his pillow. He rose to find the waters of the Kanda marsh under his eyes. He was still on the Ichimenhara. The Kudanzaka was yet to be climbed. Ah! He had been foxed, bewitched by reynard or tanuki (badger). Then remembrance of the hana-furi-kin came to mind. Here would be proof. He thrust a hand into his bosom—to draw out the leaf of a tree. There was no doubt about it. And the banquet? At the very thought of the viands Rokuzo squirmed. He made a gesture of nausea and disgust. The saké—was excrement. The food—worse yet. He felt very ill.

His aching limbs and heavy head accompanied him to his lord's yashiki in Ichigaya. Rokuzo took to his bed. At the porter's lodge the kyūnin, Naitō Kyūsaburō, inspected the tickets of the chūgen. At last Rokuzo had made his appearance; and had made no report. He was not long in reaching the chūgen's bedside. With severe face he questioned him as to his absence and neglect. "Gluttonous fellow! Something eaten is the cause of the sickness. Rascal that you are, a good purge is the thing. Then a fast in the jail will restore the stomach. This the punishment, if great your good luck. Otherwise—it will be the garden front. Report is to be made." He turned to go. Rokuzo detained him. He spoke with timidity, but under spur of the greater retribution. He admitted his fault. "But...."—"But what?" impatiently interjected Naitō. "Is not the food furnished by his lordship ample supply for the belly? Does a chūgen question his lord's generosity? What banquet tempted this rascal...?"—"Indeed it was a banquet." Rokuzo went into details. Kyūsaburō's rage increased. "You are lying. Or does illness follow food partaken in a dream? Perhaps the rascal Sukébei has not been paid. Is Rokuzo a thief?" Rokuzo groaned in pain and discomfiture. He would make a clean breast of it; confess to more than mere food. And he did. "Nor is Rokuzo the only victim. Isuké, chūgen of Okumura Sama of the Banchō, nearly lost his life. Others have been trapped; and others knew enough to refuse service and run away. Truly this Rokuzo is a fool. Condescend the honoured intercession. Ah, that banquet!" He shuddered at the thoughts aroused. At sight of the receipt of Sukébei perforce Naitō Kyūsaburō believed. He pitied Rokuzo, administered the stoutest purges in his pharmacy, and left him somewhat relieved in mind and body. The tale was soon known all over the yashiki—to the profit of all and the amusement of most. With gleeful malice Rokuzo would be asked to describe his meal, the superlative flavour of the wine, for past fact and present fancy became strangely mixed in his recital. Thus, through the report of the kyūnin, Naitō Kyūsaburō, the experience of his chūgen Rokuzo came to the ears of Endō Saburōzaémon, hatamoto of the land, of four hundred koku income, and officer in charge of the Hiban or fire-ward at the Ushigomé gate.[3]

CHAPTER II

The Bakémono Yashiki

Endō Saburōzaémon heard the report of his officer. A slight frown puckered his brow, and he contemplated the big toe of his immaculately white tabi (sock). "A vexatious matter! Hatamoto of the land, official duty gives occupation enough. Yet for such things to take place, and so close to the person of the suzerain, this is not to be permitted. Beyond his love for wine Rokuzo has shown himself trustworthy. He is not lying?" Kyūsaburō bowed low—"As your lordship says. Of his illness there is no question; and that not merely from a drunken debauch. Rokuzo is not one to be tempted by women; and to those beyond his station he dares not raise his eyes. It was the wine which tempted him beyond discretion. He has tried all patience, been most disloyal. The honoured dismissal or severe punishment at the least is his due. The Tono Sama summoning him to the garden front, and deigning the kindness of putting him to death (te-uchi) ... yet...." Hesitating he brought out the once hana-furi-kin, wage of the unfortunate Rokuzo, now in such danger of drastic remedy for his aching head. Respectfully pushing forward a knee the kyūnin presented it to his lord. Saburōzaémon examined it with much curiosity. "And this?"—"The wage for his porter's work," answered the officer, his face respectfully wrinkled with the trace of a smile. "Though one could say from his exhaustion that he received other favour than coin. The very thought of his filthy repast drives the rascal to most fearful retchings. He is in a parlous way, and if your lordship deign forbearance...."—"Heigh!" He was interrupted by the exclamation of Saburōzaémon, now examining the leaf most intently. "I say now! An oak leaf, the broad reminder of the kiri (paulownia imperialis), such might come from last year's fall. This leaf never sprang from Nippon's soil."—"Just so," replied the kyūnin. "Hence petition for delay in administering punishment."—"And of course the fellow is useless. Ill, and besides he knows not whither he went, and came to himself on the Ichimenhara."—"Yet, while still in his five senses, he recognized Go Banchō; and it is fact that the chūgen of Okumura Dono suffered likewise in the Banchō."—"Of Kakunai and the strange horse this Saburōzaémon has heard. And the other man?"—"One Isuké, a stout fellow, but in good fortune the twin brother of this rascal Rokuzo."

Endō Saburōzaémon rose to his feet with an elasticity and snap denoting decision. His wife standing close by laid hand upon his arm. He turned to meet her frightened questioning look. He spoke reassuringly. "Don't be afraid. Such things so near the suzerain's honoured dwelling are not to be permitted. This Saburōzaémon goes to learn the facts as to this suspicious house. The samurai has no fear of apparitions; and less of thieves, as is likely to be the case. Let the rascals look to themselves if they would avoid the taste of Saburōzaémon's sword. Kyūsaburō is to see that the Yashiki is well guarded. To-night Ōkubo Hikoroku Dono holds the fire ward. The occasion fits." At once he was busied with his preparations for out door service. His wife, granddaughter of old Nagasaki Chiyari Kurō—he of the "bloody spear"—was the samurai woman, to aid her lord in his duty, not to hold him back with tears and plaints. The pair were admirable specimens of their caste. Endō Saburōzaémon's grand-father had been a retainer of that hard hitting Asai Nagamasa who had to bow the head before the sword of Hidéyoshi. The son Kiémon perforce had served the Taikō, and well. It was with more than readiness that he had appeared in the army of the Tokugawa at Sekigahara, to be killed in all loyalty before Ōsaka in Genwa 1st year (1618). Saburōzaémon was then but five years old. But the early Tokugawa did not forget loyal service. When of age he was summoned to Edo from his native province of Ōmi, given duty in the palace service, to become with years a hatamato with income of four hundred koku and a yashiki in Ichigaya, just beyond the Gomon or great gate at the outer moat.

In the present matter night must be awaited. When the bell of the Gekkeiji, the huge temple of the district, struck the watch of the pig (9-11 p.m.) Endō prepared to set forth. "In case of necessity ask the aid of Hikoroku Dono, of Jurōzaémon."[4] This to his wife. "At least one attendant? Kyūsaburō is old enough to know that these rascals never deal with more than one human." This to the old kyūnin, who with anxiety watched him depart into the darkness. With a sigh the officer shut fast the outer gate. Then, sword over his knees, he squatted himself at the house entrance, to slumber and await his lord's return.

As officer of the fire ward Saburōzaémon met with little difficulty in passing the Ichigaya gate, beyond which lay the suspected district of the Banchō. To the sharp hail and protest at his appearance without a lantern he sought the service of those of the guard. Surprise and abject apology followed the bringing of face and equipment into their light. As on urgent mission to the palace he explained the one and disregarded the other. For form he borrowed a lantern at the guard house, to leave it in a hedge close by, to hand for his return if in the darkness. Straight ahead he walked for some distance. Now he was in the very centre of the Banchō. It was a most lonely place. The district had been set apart for the yashiki of hatamoto and the houses of gokenin who showed no haste to apply for its ample space. Its highways and byways showed lines of bamboo fences, plaster walls, broken at intervals by gates. Between the far yashiki there was much waste land. Suspicious were its precincts in these days when the haunting spirits and apparitions, attendant on once owners and their wars, were being driven out by the advent and aggression of the new lords from the South. Still fresh in men's minds was the wondrous mami-ana of Azabu—the cave of the tanuki (badger)—with the implied curse on the Tokugawa. The cohorts of apparitions, driven northward to the land of savages, had suffered severely at the hands of Ii Naomasa on the banks of the Ueno Toshima ferry. Thus the curse came down the centuries on the Tokugawa House.

Once in the heart of the district Saburōzaémon stood uncertain. All sense of locality was lost. The Banchō by day and by night greatly differed. The wind sighed through the great pine trees and whispered in the long suzuki grass. He thought to reach the neighbourhood of the Gomizaka. The noise and bustle of the Kōjimachi would give direction. Just then a lantern came in sight at the turning in the lane. As it drew near it was seen that to all appearance the bearer was a chūgen. Endō drew back into the shadow. He would take a good look at him. He allowed the man to pass. Then from behind—"Heigh! Wait!" Instead of waiting the fellow took to his heels. Endō pursued and soon caught him. In terror the fellow sank on his knees before the two sworded man. "Deign, honoured sir, to spare the cutting test. This Isuké is yet young. He loves life. Condescend not to cut short his breath." Saburōzaémon was struck by the name fresh to his ears. Coldly he looked the man over; played on his terror—"Yet you are fat; just of the girth to give fair test to a new blade."—"Nay! Your lordship can deign to observe it. Isuké is stuffed out with a recent meal. It would be but a case of tripes. His bones are young and soft, his muscles wasted by mere feeding. It would be as cutting tōfu (bean paste). Deign to spare him."

Said Saburōzaémon. "'Tis no cutting test. Thus passing carelessly at the side that fat paunch was an easy mark. Be more careful henceforth.... You live hereabouts?"—"Honoured Sir, 'tis so. Isuké is chūgen at the yashiki of Okumura Sama."—"Ah! Then you know the haunted house (bakémono yashiki) of the Banchō."—"Just beyond? Isuké knows it too well."—"Life spared, act as guide thither." The man's knees bent under him. He plead for forbearance. Plainly he must die. Only to this dreadful sentence and sight of Endō's sword did he yield. Reluctantly he went ahead of the samurai, as far as a gate the massiveness of which attracted attention. Saburōzaémon looked it over, then carefully considered his guide. He held out a coin. The fellow respectfully drew back. Said Endō with impatience—"As lord of this mansion the money of guidance is offered. Accept it without question. Here lies my purpose." This was but addition to obvious terror. With wabbling knees the fellow persisted in refusal. "Honoured lord, deign forbearance. Already has this Isuké accepted entertainment here, with fearful results; nearly quaffing the waters of the Yellow Fountain in Meido." Said Saburōzaémon sourly—"What has the purpose to do with a low fellow's entertainment? Take the coin, and be off with you. Darkness acts as screen." The man did but whimper, "With purpose in hand: truly darkness the screen, upside down; the balsam an incense, the sticks to hand in the clay dishes. This? 'Twill turn out but the leaf of a tree, to bring sorrow on Isuké. Your lordship has said it."—"It is good coin," replied Endō briefly. Then with some curiosity—"But what has a tree leaf to do with purpose?"—"Pine leaves denote purpose, and are so named."[5]—"A clever fellow after all! No wonder he escaped.... But be off with you. The coin shall ring true with daylight. So much is promised on the word of a samurai. Fear the living man, not the inanimate object; and say nothing of meeting the donor. Otherwise Isuké ends badly. Now—off with you!" The voice was very human, the peremptory gesture surely that of a two sworded man. The chūgen took confidence in the fact that he could not help himself. Whatever doubts he possessed, these he kept with the coin in his bosom. With scant thanks cut short by fear he obeyed the order to depart into the shades. Gathering impetus with distance he fairly took to his heels.

Saburōzaémon waited for the lantern to disappear. Then he turned to inspect the gate. There was no entrance through its solidity. It was a yashiki mon, almost house, with two posterns. He must get a look within. A long high plaster wall ran on both sides into the distance. The moonlight, flooding the scene, showed him a breach opened by long neglect. Once within he felt convinced that he was on the scene of Rokuzo's experience. But the pine grove was anything but swept clean. Branches torn off by storm and wind, fallen trees, lay scattered everywhere. It was a very winding course which took him to the eaves of the building some distance off. Plainly the once occupant had been a person of position, perhaps a minor daimyō. At the corner of the structure he found himself in the garden more particularly attached to the house. An exclamation of regret at sight of such desolation came to the lips of Saburōzaémon. A master hand had laid out this beautiful piece of work; but trees and plants, no longer trained and trimmed by man's hand, had run wild. In the centre was a wide well curb rising some three feet from the ground. A single stone step allowed easier access for those drawing water. The well-sweep had rotted off and lay upon the ground. There was no bucket. Saburōzaémon leaned over. From the still surface of the water came an indefinable putrescent odour, perhaps from the decaying plants, or refuse blown into the depths. He drew away, disgusted and convinced. Carefully he made the round of this pleasaunce. At the bottom of the garden near the confines of the well, was an artificial mound—a tsukiyama or moon viewing hill. Before this was a little lake, for fish and lotus, of perhaps a couple of hundred feet in length by narrow width. In places he could jump across it; and elsewhere stepping stones offered passage. An Inari shrine in a plum grove offered no particular interest, beyond recent inclosure showing a neighbour's hand. There was swampy ground for the shobu or iris and beds of peony plants. In front of the line of towering pines was a row of Yoshino cherry trees, all broken and neglected. The one time owner had loved flowers. Endō turned to the house.

The moon was pouring full on the closed amado (rain doors), its cold silver globe lighting up the scene. "Solitary is the moon of winter glorious that of autumn." This was the tranquil moon of summer, pacifying yet saddening men's hearts, as does all moonlight. It was plain there was no entrance on this side of the house, unless unseemly force was used. This was unnecessary. Endō noticed the lattice work of the bath-room. A few strokes of his dagger, and the frame was lifted out. Then it was easy to draw back the heavy wooden panels and allow the moonlight to flood these exposed chambers. Carefully he scanned his immediate surroundings. The paper of the shōji was torn and eaten by the rats. In places the frayed tatami (mats) bent under his feet, evidence of decay of the supporting floor. There was the mouldy damp smell common to places long closed to the freedom of the outer air. It sent a chill to the bone; which Endō noted with surprise as he turned to the dark inner rooms. He must have some kind of light. Almost the first step into the semi-obscurity offered the means to hand. Stumbling over an object at his feet he picked up a staff. On examination it proved to be one of those kongo canes, the support to feet and belly of the devout in their long pilgrimages, sign manual of the pious intent of the bearer. He had taken a candle from his pocket, and, with small respect to the "six worlds" of its rings, used the spiked end to improvise a torch. Then an unexpected voice caught his ear; a sad, wailing cry which chilled the heart. Then followed low, rapid, disorderly speech, the meaning of which rendered indistinct by distance could not be made out. Then came the unearthly startling shriek which rang through the whole mansion.

Endō Saburōzaémon now had his torch fastened and blazing. Loosing his sword in the scabbard promptly he set forth into the darkness beyond. The candle cast a feeble light, making the darkness still more apparent. However, he could see the splendour of these once inhabited rooms. Screens worked in silk were dirty and frayed, but they were by master hands, and still showed the outlines of beautiful designing. The rama-shōji—the fret work between the rooms—was broken in places, yet it displayed the erratic course of Nature's handiwork, the most bizarre and effective of all. And always just before him went the shuffling drag of sandals—as of some one on the rōka, further on, at the room beyond. He sprang forward in haste, to fling back the closed screens, but still the object eluded him; always there, yet never seen. Thus it led him from room to room—reception rooms, sitting rooms, the women's apartments; all gorgeous, all unfurnished, not a single object of the value to tempt stray visitor or intentional thief. Even the kitchen was stripped bare of equipment. Not even the stones to support the furnace had been left. Thieves, or others, had long since accounted for all movables.

Dumbfounded Saburōzaémon stood at the foot of the stairway. Patter, patter the footsteps had led him to this point. The width was coated thickly with dust, swept by breezes from without, and from the disintegrating plaster (kabé) walls. The webs of spiders were woven across it; across the aperture. Yet—again came the wild sounds of riot above. This time the voices were distinct and close at hand. A woman was struggling, pleading under torture. "Alas! Alas! Deign to show pity. What has been the offence, thus to inflict punishment. Condescend the honoured pity. Ah! Pardon there is none. The child is consigned from the darkness of the womb to the darkness of death. Alas! Most harsh and unkind! How avoid the eternal grudge? Unending the hate of...." The voice, like to the sharp rending of silk, ended in the fearful shriek, chilling, heart rending, paralysing even the stout heart of Endō Saburōzaémon. "Ki-i-i!" There followed the ineffectual gurgling wailing cries of one struggling for breath. Drawn sword in hand Saburōzaémon sprang up the stairway. Nothing! The amado thrown back in haste light enough was given to show the emptiness of the room. Still the voice was heard. He passed beyond. As before—nothing; except the voice, now plain, as at his very side.

Saburōzaémon was now assured of some witchery. "This is Endō Saburōzaémon Takékiyo, hatamoto of the land. Whoever, or whatever, be present, assume the proper shape. Fox or tanuki (badger), strip off all disguise; stand to the test of Saburōzaémon's blade." But the sad wailing voice made answer—"Unkind the words of Endō Sama. This is no trick of fox or badger. Meeting an untimely end, the Spirit now wanders as an unworshipped demon; as one deprived of all honour in the grave. Brave has been the deed of Endō Dono. Others have come; to depart in fright. He alone stays to challenge. For so much, thanks. Deign worship to my spirit, the security of rest from its wanderings." Saburōzaémon in amazement looked around. The voice was clearly heard, and close to him; yet naught was to be seen. "Whoever you be, if wronged the sword of Saburōzaémon is here to avenge the wrong. If in life, the perpetrator shall pay the penalty of the misdeed; yourself shall secure worship. Such is the office of a bushi—to aid the helpless. But cannot the shape be seen? Why this concealment from the eyes of Saburōzaémon?" And the voice made answer—"Has Endō Sama no eyes? Concentrate the thoughts. Here! Here!" Carefully and long Saburōzaémon scrutinized every spot. Following the voice he sought to get nearer and nearer. Thus he was brought right before the tokonoma (alcove). For a moment he shielded his eyes with his hands, then boldly removed the screen and faced the spectre in the plaster. At first faint, then more strongly outlined was the vision of a young girl. At one time the face perhaps had had great beauty. Now there was a weird expression of life amid the wasting and decay of death. The living eyes gleamed a deadly hate and distress which showed the torment of the spirit. Framed in the wild disordered masses of long black hair the face of the apparition sought to plunge its own unhappiness into the soul of its visitor. It was a strange vision; one to rouse the desire for the beautiful woman in man's heart, the wish to shield; together with repulsion toward the most evil passions of a malice which inspires fear. Long and steadily the man gazed; the woman answered the challenge. Then again Endō was the samurai. "On with the tale. To the wronged Endō Saburōzaémon gives right and worship. A samurai, he has passed his word, not to be broken." He would have taken seat before the alcove. Said the voice—"Honoured Sir, the tale is long. On the rōka without is a stool. The tatami are dangerous with the wet. Later deign the honoured hearing." With surprise Endō followed these household directions. At the room close by he found the object indicated. Here met his eye a sign unmistakeable. In the very centre of the tatami was a huge red-brownish stain; by the verandah a second stain; at the further entrance a third of kindred character. Plainly the tale he would hear was of no peaceful exit from life. To the tragedy of death had been added violence. Thus fortified he returned, to take his seat before the vision in the alcove; steadily, with the harsh official manner of his caste, to meet the evil, strangely seductive, malice of its look and suggestion. Then it spoke:

CHAPTER III

Nakakawachi Shūzen

Honoured sir, long past the source of this offence. It was the fourteenth year of Kwanei (1637). As now, the summer heat was stifling. To seek relief this Shimo had left the house, to stroll the neighbourhood close by. Thus idly engaged, listening to the song of the suzumushi, watching the fireflies flitting over the tops of the suzuki grass, and bending to cull a few lilies to arrange in the hanaike, the presence of a stranger was felt. Ah! He was indeed a handsome man. Not too young to seem a callow youth to the eyes of Shimo's sixteen years; not too old to look on her merely as one of different sex. Indeed he was not yet thirty years, a soldier, carrying his two swords and his person most nobly. At very sight of him Shimo was carried into the gust of the love passion. Her cheeks were "dashed with the maple leaf, her heart swelled as the noon-tide." Her confusion did not escape the notice of one already surprised at sight of a girl so young strolling alone on the byways of the Banchō. At once he spoke, with the confidence of one who has the right to question—"And who may this little beauty be, unaccompanied, with night so close at hand? The Banchō is said to be no safe place with coming of darkness. If on some mission and belated, this Shūzen will protect from harm. Or perhaps, though young in years, this is some new wife. Or is it a lover who is in question?" He spoke with kindness and authority, coming very close to get his answer, his eyes fastened on my person, to the greater increase of embarrassment. Vain was the attempt to throw some indignation into the reply. Lover there was none. Of but sixteen years, Shimo was in the hands of father and mother. To admit a lover would be unfilial.... The father? Kawasaki Chōbei, attached to the palace stables. Humble was his rank in the minor office he held; but a one time ashigaru (common soldier) his service had entitled him to the position and the suzerain's stipend of twenty koku. Hence he was of some consequence among his neighbours. At this information, given with some heat, the samurai smiled and praised my father's service.

He did more than praise; on this night, and other nights. Frequent were the meetings. Yet never did this Shimo pass the bounds of propriety. Carried away by the gust of passion, incited by the lover's presence and solicitation, yet Shimo's filial duty kept her person pure. A night came when he failed at the rendezvous. So with the next, and following nights. He had laughed at parting, and said that where was the will, there a means would be found. Plainly the will was lacking, and he was too proud and too highly placed even to endure the presence of Shimo at his side. With these thoughts, and overcome by love and vexation, I sickened. Great was the anxiety of the parents. Doctors were called in; the priest's charms were sought. They were of no avail. It was the advice of the wise old Saitō Sensei to leave me to myself and time. "It is her years," said he. "Time will effect the cure; unless she herself sooner indicates the means." Laughing he departed, as one convinced that the cure was a simple one. Long had the determination been held to tell all to the mother; always put off at sight of the kindly anxious face. With such a lover she would have felt alarmed and helpless.

Time brought the cure. The summer heats were nearly past; the eighth month (September) close at hand. One day came a chūgen to the house, bearing a message. At once all was in confusion. Nakakawachi Dono was a fudai daimyō of twelve thousand koku income. He was a new-comer in the district, and known to be held in high favour at the palace. A goodly portion of the site of the former Yoshida Goten in Banchō Kōjimachi had recently been assigned to him. With the removal of the Takata no Kata[6] to quarters closer to the castle the greater portion of the palace had been removed to build the prior's hall of the Iinuma Kugyōji. The villa part (bessō) of the structure had been left intact, and with much of the park and garden had been secured by favour to Nakakawachi Sama. For such a great lord in his passage to condescend to rest at the humble house of a mere go-kenin caused much disturbance. The limited household staff was put energetically to work at cleaning and making all preparations for the honoured visit. Treading with cat's paw my parents went from room to room, to see that all was befitting. The articles of greatest value were set forth for his lordship's view. An instinct set dancing my barely restored nerves. Why did this great lord, so near home in his progress—his fief was in Kōshū—deign thus to rest? What command would he urge? His name was Nakakawachi Shūzen. The samurai lover of the Banchō spoke of himself as Shūzen. Thus was the watching and waiting, in a flutter of trepidation and newly aroused passion.

Then he came. My parents prostrated themselves on the ground in his presence. "With your permission—" Haughty he swept on, to be ushered to the inner rooms. Even the officer in charge remained at a distance. Prostrate at the sill my father gave thanks for the honour of this unexpected presence, for his lordship's deigning to halt the palanquin. On command Shimo served the tea, not daring to raise face from the tatami under the satisfied scrutiny of this honoured guest, exercising all her self control, which yet did not prevent a trembling of the fingers in presenting the salver with the cup. In due course, on withdrawal of the service, he noted the one who served, and indicated his wishes. He was a new-comer in the district. He would have his service therefrom, at the hands of those close by. No girl was better spoken of than the daughter of Chōbei San. He would ask that Shimo be sent to the yashiki to attend as koshimoto (maid in waiting) to her ladyship. His short stay in this house he regarded as most fortunate. He spoke through his chamberlain, now present; but followed the officer's words with close attention. My father was overwhelmed by the honour. Profuse and earnest were his astonished thanks. Shimo was the only child of people now entering into the coldness of age. This was of small moment. But there had been no opportunity to give her the training required for such service. Beyond an awkward touch on samisen, mainly due to her own practice, she was a moor girl, a very rustic. She could keep house—yes; like a wardsman's daughter. Polite accomplishments she lacked. Deign in this instance his lordship's honoured forbearance. The girl was too young and awkward for such service.

Polite was the withdrawal; without knowledge of his lordship's disposition and previous acquaintance. Shūzen Dono was not so easily balked. All the objections were brushed aside. Youth was everything in my favour. His eyes twinkled with inward amusement as he spoke. All the easier came the practice which everyone must go through. If Shimo was incurably awkward she would not be dismembered, but dismissed. Great would be the forbearance. That she had everything to learn pleased him all the more. She would be the more readily moulded to his service. At the yashiki youth was an object, and not the experience of long time service which had left the adept far too experienced. Such women had their lord's service little at heart. Shimo had youth and beauty. These were a girl's treasures and accomplishments. He had never seen one better fitted for entrance on such service. All this the chamberlain conveyed with an authority which put aside opposition. The lord's will was spoken. First the mother gave thanks for the honour condescended to one so insignificant. She claimed the promised forbearance of his lordship to any faults. My father followed her example, and gave his thanks. Such entertainment as the humble house afforded was now produced. After partaking his lordship departed in state. The neighbours had been agape at the great lord's train stationed at the gate. For them and for the curious and discreet questioning, the congratulations at such promotion in the world, this Shimo cared little. His lordship's will had prevailed. Henceforth Shimo would live close to his side.

I had fled to the little working room, as one taking refuge amid the constant household sewing. But needle could not be seen through the veil of tears. "What joy! What joy!" Thoughtless the words were spoken out loud. The mother's hand was laid on my shoulder. The look was kind, yet with some reproach at this unfilial rejoicing. Apology was made. To her doubts eager was the answer. "How else succeed in life? Service at the yashiki, its life always under eye, its etiquette, even its dangers—this experience alone can teach how to meet its requirements; and so close at hand, near to home and parents. Others had succeeded in such promotion. Why not Shimo, thus offered the chance to rise from the status of a wardsman's daughter, or not much more, to become an attendant in a lord's yashiki?" Sadly my mother smiled. Grave would be her anxieties concerning one so inexperienced. "The child thinks but of self and pleasure. The mother thinks but of the child, and sees the dangers." This in lower tones—"If Shimo becomes the favourite of her lord, how is such inexperience to meet the evil passions roused in those around her? Always place her ladyship first. Resist the solicitation of Shūzen Dono; unless the okusama chooses to favour what would be but a transient passion. Keep this well in mind.... And now—to the preparation of what is needed." She had detected the motive of his lordship's summons, thought him captivated by a pretty face and figure come across by accident. Thus she understood the inner feeling of this Shimo. With the words of advice she turned to the subject of my needs. Willingly this was left to her skilled hands; and the advice received as little attention. To speak of resistance to his lordship, to one who hungered for his presence, was but to set the brain devising all the means to secure his favour. Thus outwardly busied with needle and garments, the self was existing as in a dream. The preparations in any event could not be elaborate. Shūzen Dono was urgent. A lucky day was chosen, and with my modest equipment I entered on the service of the yashiki of Nakakawachi Sama.

Introduction to the immediate presence of her ladyship, O'Hagi was anything but pleasing. Seated with her were two maids, O'Tsugi and O'Han. The first named was a buxom masculine woman of nearly thirty years. The girl O'Han was a recent promotion from the scullery; and, as was learned later, she owed the favour to the goodwill of the chamberlain (yōnin) Nishioka Shintarō, a cold, smooth spoken, evil eyed man, mainly notable for the uncompromising readiness with which he carried out the wishes of her ladyship. Over them all, of greatest influence with O'Hagi Dono, was an old woman, O'Saku. She had accompanied her ladyship from the original House, was utterly unscrupulous in her service, and her sharp voice, like that of a file scratching glass, sent shivers down the spine as I prostrated myself before the group. Cold was the reception. "A likely wench! Plainly his lordship's choice, without reference to your ladyship. But time will show.... Meanwhile no service as yet is assigned. With this girl his lordship's orders are first to be heard. O'Han, show the new comer to the quarters of the koshimoto, that she stand in no necessity or likelihood of forgetting where they are. For to-day there is remission of service." Thus spoke the harsh voice of O'Saku, passing over my head. The cold, knife like glances of all were like steel plunged into my body. With obeisance I withdrew, to follow O'Han, who gave no greater welcome and was no kinder than the rest. Almost at once she left me, and several days were passed in solitude awaiting a summons. This came one evening. With evil dubious smile O'Han presented herself. "His lordship summons O'Shimo Dono to his service this night. You are to attend. Deign not to forget the good services of this Han." She laughed, with a bitter suggestiveness. What would anyone have done, thus treated at start as evil doer, as intruder? With joy his lordship's command was heard. The whole person of Shimo showed a well restrained love and joy. He was pleased at the effect wrought on me by his presence. Small the experience, beyond what love's attention could afford. The night's banquet was plainly not the dullest of its kind. At its close O'Shimo had command to accompany him. With morning I was a woman.

In the period which followed every night came the summons to attend my lord. Foolish and inexperienced, in this whirlwind of passion Shimo was but a leaf driven by the storm. The assignment to duty in the yashiki never came. There was the daily report for duty at her ladyship's rising, the cold and curt reception, the quick dismissal. O'Hagi Dono was past her thirtieth year. Of the great Doi House, she brought to her husband a dower of influence and prestige. Older than her husband the love passion had never taken root. An ugly woman, there was small chance for other good qualities to secure a fictitious esteem with a man so easily captivated by beauty as Shūzen Sama. Furthermore her ladyship did not possess such amiable traits. She was a proud, hard, jealous woman; with the natural graft of a bad temper. Soon abandoned to a lonely bed she was no longer treated as a wife. Though the marriage had endured some five years there was no child, and little prospect of one. On occasions of ceremony the okugata presided at his lordship's wine feasts, attended by her band of furies. With the exception of O'Han, who possessed the freshness of youth, none of them had any pretence to good looks. Outwardly all due respect was paid to his lordship, but the private apartments (oku) were in league against him. For weeks the contact was through the yōnin, Nishioka Shintarō, who acted as messenger of his lord's commands, and conveyed to his lordship any intimation of the wishes of her ladyship. Hence Shūzen Sama knew and cared little as to what passed in the inner apartments of his wife. She knew everything which passed in those of his lordship. This tacit divorce appeared welcome to both.

The object of his lordship's passion, in a household in which one side or the other of the existing feud must be taken, the position of this Shimo was quickly determined. Not by her, for short experience of her ladyship inspired a terror which would even have counselled cooler treatment from his lordship in one more experienced. The other girls were all honey, to disguise the bitterness of gall. There was not one of them who would not gladly have obeyed her lord's call to Shimo's place. Hence to partisanship was added jealousy. At the daily tasks there was but one topic of conversation—O'Shimo's favour with her lord. The charms she used were evident enough, for Nature had been lavish with the kind to meet his lordship's wishes. How was it their own parents had spawned such incapacity? "Deign, O'Shimo Dono, to teach the art so sadly lacking. How bring to prominence such meagre gifts of proportion as one does possess? In turn shall be taught the art of the hanaike—the arrangement of flowers, of the koto and the biwa in accompaniment of old songs of heroes and their ladies, the ceremonial grace so necessary in attendance, the conduct of a lady. From a wardsman's daughter little is expected, beyond good looks. Alas! O'Shimo Dono is the yamabuki, the yellow rose, beautiful in its out of season bloom (April), but only too likely to be nipped by the frost. Deign to enlighten, O'Shimo Dono. Beauty soon wanes, and pregnancy kills good looks as completely as the chill wind does the flowers." Then they all broke into mad laughter; and whispered to each other.

Their suspicions were correct. The constant companionship of his lordship had the natural effect. When told great was his pleasure. If a boy, the child should be acknowledged as heir of the House. If a girl, it should be the solace of his years. So great was his joy and pride that he spoke to the retainers as if it was the okugata herself who was at issue. Thus the news must have reached her ladyship's ears with the first telling, for Nishioka usually was present at his lord's repast. He was the black cloud hanging over all. A tall, gaunt, suave, determined man of nearly forty years, the smile he cast upon this Shimo chilled her. Always courteous in his lordship's presence, elsewhere his courtesy conveyed a threat and insult which made me as the bird before the snake. I feared the man; and feared him all the more when one day, with small disguise of malice, he told me that his lordship had departed in all haste for the fief in Kōshū, not to return for some weeks. Considering the state of affairs, this should inconvenience me but little. This open reference to the pregnancy was a first alarm. It showed how well known it was to the whole household. Indeed concealment now was impossible. The fifth month had been entered upon; the supporting band had become a necessity. But the climax was at hand.

That very day—toward noon—the summons came through the girl O'Han. With sinking heart I took my way to her ladyship's sitting room. What was going to take place. Passing the chūgen Jisuké on the rōka he called to someone in the garden—"His lordship's absence gives the chance to clean out the house." Covertly glancing below—there was no one. Was it in malice, or as warning? Probably the latter. Jisuké always had been active in little services; often the chosen messenger of my lord. His look in passing conveyed no insolence; rather kind intention. It took away the exhibition of surprise at my reception. Her ladyship was seated at the upper end of the room. The maids O'Tsugi and O'Han stood close by. Nishioka Shintarō was just behind her ladyship. The old hag O'Saku was seated at the front. She motioned me to make salutation. The okugata spoke harshly, with contempt and dislike of the one thus brought before her at the white sand of judicial process. "The affair at issue is a simple one. Shimo is to answer the questions—without tergiversation or lying. To Saku is left the matter of the examination."

The old woman bowed with respect and smiling gratitude at the pleasing task. The smile conveyed to her ladyship promise of satisfaction, even amusement, in the torture of a forced confession from this child who would play the woman. Turning to me her face, with cheeks fallen in, long sharp nose, hard bright glittering eyes of a bird of prey, the snowy hair piled high around the temples, it was that of one keenly searching out the tenderest spot into which to drive the knife. Her first words were all flattery. "Much has been heard, and little seen, of O'Shimo Dono since her entrance into the yashiki. What has been heard is all to her advantage. Her devotion to the service of his lordship has been carried to the utmost—even, some say, to extremes. Of that there can be no criticism. His lordship's wishes are paramount. The action of O'Shimo Dono contains nothing but merit. It is for the malice of others to say that O'Shimo has sought and stolen the fruit belonging to her ladyship; that her cat's eyes have been quick to fasten upon the place of the mistress of the house; that it is she who would furnish forth an heir to his lordship. Such is not to be believed. But the truth is to be told. An heir to his lordship is a matter for her ladyship. No child has fallen to her lot. If O'Shimo Dono be the first to give birth to a child in the yashiki, it must be between the knees of her ladyship. Deign then to make full confession.... Ah! There is no need to beg for mercy and reprieve from the examination. Saku is old. Her ladyship is a married woman. Both possess experience. On refusal personal examination is to be made. O'Tsugi, O'Han, are to aid." The two women had come forward and passed behind me. Seized and thrown down the clenched fist of O'Tsugi was roughly pressed into my abdomen. In fright and pain, in dread for the unborn child, I cried out. Then the violent old woman dragged out the confession of all that had passed with his lordship. Minute and shameful the details to be told in the presence of a man. But Shimo was an animal with powers of speech, and must tell all. With the confession the old woman's smoothness departed. "Vile slut! A townsman's brat, sprung from the stable dung, you would play the adulteress, take her ladyship's place, and supplant her with an heir got by some stranger's seed.... She is gone to the sixth month? High time for interference. She shall be kept here, until the separation of persons takes place. No wonder his lordship abandoned the shameless hussy—for some fresh country wench in Kōshū. For such loose jades to please the taste of the Tono Sama causes surprise. But off with her, to the room for confinement. There she is to lie, until her affair is settled." At a sign O'Tsugi and O'Han seized hold of me. Clothes torn and in disorder, the person vilely exposed, roughly I was dragged over to this barred and retired apartment. Always I made effort to preserve my body and its fruit from their harsh violence. O'Tsugi roared with laughter at the feeble resistance. The woman was strong as a horse. To O'Han—"Look at her big belly. Ah! Her ladyship is none too wise. Let the matter but be left to Tsugi, and the midwife soon would be needed." She raised a massive leg with suggestive gesture. In some fright O'Han stopped her, on plea of no such orders. The girl was young, of full figure and not without attraction. Perhaps she harboured hopes, and would not in a rival's person set precedent for her own. O'Tsugi spun me around, as a child would a top with the cord. Then suddenly she released me. With a crash my body fell against the wall. Sick and faint I tried to rise, and failed. They watched me for a time as I grovelled and retched in sickness. Then the bar fell on the outer passage and my imprisonment.

The day light waned. The sound of the birds going to roost came to the ears. It was now spring, the gladsome period of the year. The cooing and chirping brought no charm to the prisoner's ear. These birds were as the birds of Shidéyama (in Hell). Mournful the dirge they sang. Filled with foreboding, with dread for self and the passing from the darkness of the womb to the darkness of death for the unborn child, faintness of heart was made worse by the faintness of hunger. I sank into a kind of slumber, more racking than the working hours. Then the harsh cries of the crows aroused me. Daylight was again streaming through the window bars. At a corner of the sill was a jar. The water in it was stale and foul smelling. None other was to hand. A mimitarai (hand basin) was found in the closet. Thus was the nauseating ablution performed. Near mid-day, when ready to cry out with hunger, for sake of child not self, the door opened. It was O'Han who brought me food. One strip of takuan, the bitter pickled radish; for drink, ice cold water. Such was the meal. At night some pickled greens replaced the radish. On my knees I plead with O'Han, besought her mercy for the unborn child. She laughed at my misery. "Good living on forbidden fruits has made O'Shimo Dono fat. Her big belly is perchance to be reduced by diet. Such are the orders of the okugata. Han can do nothing; and would do nothing if she could. What a fool! Cannot one please his lordship, all night and every night, without promise of an heir to the House? Condescend the vacancy and leave such matter to this Han...." Perhaps she felt that she had said too much. Abruptly she turned and left the room.

I was not long alone. At least it seemed not so, for the light slumbers were disturbed by the pangs of hunger. Then came a hand fingering the outside bar. It was done stealthily. In aid or menace? A deadly fear came over me. With wild staring eyes, loosened hair framing an anguished and distorted figure I faced the object without, seeking its entrance. The terror was not relieved by the appearance of the chamberlain, Nishioka Shintarō. His face was set and drawn, as of a man who has a problem to work out, as of one who would carry out the purpose with certainty and expedition. He closed the door, set the lamp carefully on the floor in a distant corner. Not a word was spoken. Eyes bright with terror I watched his movements. He carried something in one hand. Shaken loose it was allowed to trail behind him. His preparations made he came toward me with decision. Retreating before his advance the wall was reached. By this time he was on me. Then I saw what it was he held; a slender rope, its dreadful meaning plain. I screamed in terror. Roughly he silenced me, one hand on open mouth. In stifled tones I plead for mercy. Then failing sign of respite, by desperate effort my struggles called for all his strength. My screams resounded loud in the room. "Aré! Aré! Murder! Deep the grudge, to seven lives! Nishioka San! The grudge of one dying against Nishioka! Against man and woman who would cut off the life of Shimo and her child. Ah! Her ladyship! The grudge!" The cord had tightened round my throat. The ends were in the strong hands of Nishioka Shintarō. I mocked and stuck out my tongue at him. I know I did so, as the breath came with greater and greater difficulty. His face, that of a demon, grew to huge proportions, bright scarlet. Now heart and lungs were bursting with fullness. Dreadful the agony, dreadful the grudge for this ill deed. Thus I died. Then followed the ruin of the House of Nakakawachi Shūzen.

CHAPTER IV

The O'Kagé Sama

On the following night all were gathered in the apartments of her ladyship. O'Tsugi was engaged in putting back the koto (harp) into its cover. O'Hagi Dono touched the instrument with no mean skill, and on this night had deigned to please herself and those who heard her. O'Han was engaged in heating the saké bottles. Rarely did her ladyship retire without this indulgence. The old woman, O'Saku, aimlessly moved about the room. She seemed to be awaiting some news. A sound of steps in the corridor, and with pleased countenance she made sign to her ladyship. A moment later and Nishioka Shintarō entered the room. There was not a trace of difference from the ordinary in his composed harsh reverential manner to her ladyship. The latter gave a look at O'Saku. The old women asked the momentous question. "The matter in hand—has all gone well? The wench no longer troubles the peace and future of the okugata?"—"Everything to perfection: the chūgen and servants were given tasks to take them far removed. There was barely a struggle. By the hands of this Shintarō the affair was soon carried to completion." With complacence he displayed two lean strong hands, regarded with fondness and admiration by her ladyship. They could bestow a more tender embrace than that suffered by the unfortunate koshimoto. "And later; the traces of the deed, these are to be removed?"—"There are none. The time was waited until the body grew cold. It was safe to do so. The weather is yet raw, the room one seldom entered, and the bar key in the hands of Shintarō. But just now the task of dismemberment and disposal has been completed. On pretext of repairs to the ashigaru quarters much plaster was obtained. With this the severed fragments of the hussy and her foetus were mingled, and thus concealed in the wall of the tokonoma. The whole new surfaced no trace of the deed appears; nor is there fear of stench from the corpse. Her ladyship can be assured that all is well. O'Shimo no longer will give trouble with her pretensions to his lordship's fondness. In a few days Shintarō will notify the father that the girl has run off with some lover. A worthless jade, thus dismissed the yashiki, he will be too ashamed to make inquiry here; and his searches elsewhere are not likely to bear fruit.... How strange!" He brushed away a firefly which had flown into his face. With surprise those present watched the bug flitting here and there in the darkness of the corners and the open corridor. It was barely the middle of the third month (April), and no season for the appearance of those insects of the hottest period of the year. Failing to catch it, O'Tsugi drove it into the outer darkness. Then closed the screens.

More lights were brought. Her ladyship would take wine, and talk of nothing but the joy and relief. "For life this deed shall not be forgotten. Always in the ready courage and resource of Nishioka has support been found; many awkward corners turned. If he finds favour with his lord, still greater the regard of this Hagi. A cup—Shintarō!" Herself she offered it, leaning fondly toward him. Her hand trembled in her passion as he took it, with purposed glance and pressure. Always formal in outward seeming, the intimate relations of the pair for past months were more than understood by these immediate attendants and abettors. Nishioka Shintarō long had been the honoured substitute of his lord—the shadow, the O'Kagé Sama, of Nakakawachi Dono. In this case the shadow was the substance. This ugly virile woman was boiling over with passion. In the old O'Saku she had a bawd to her service. She had entered this House as friend or enemy, according as the event would turn out. Neglected by Shūzen, unable to rule him by will or personal attraction, she sought to do so by substitution, to the satisfaction of both. Hence she made Nishioka Shintarō her lover. He was nephew of O'Saku and foster brother of O'Hagi. Once introduced into the house he easily made his way into the confidence of Shūzen Dono, by taking all cares off his shoulders, beyond those of ceremonial attendance and pleasure. The minutest details of everything were looked to by Nishioka. This pleased Shūzen, who placed confidence in the readiness and proved resourcefulness of the man. Nishioka was an infallible guide in all minutiae of the palace service and intrigue; his knowledge gained by a long experience in attendance on the great Doi House. Here he had risen from chūgen to kyūnin (house officer). When he came to the yashiki of Shūzen he soon replaced the karō (minister) of the fief in his lord's intimacy, and the latter official found honourable banishment in continued occupation and residence at the fief in Kōshū, where Shūzen played the rôle of a castle lord (jōshū), a fudai daimyō, a subordinate and spy on his greater neighbours. The new comer was source of congratulation to her ladyship. As O'Saku—and perhaps O'Hagi Dono intended, revenge was sought on Shūzen by promptly throwing the mistress into the arms of Nishioka. Behind the impenetrable shield of the inner apartments—a place that Shūzen only sought to avoid—they could live as husband and wife. Other arrangement now was met by the cold reception meted out to her lord by the lady of the House. Any compunction Shūzen might feel as to what he thought to be the enforced sterility of O'Hagi thus was salved.

Merry almost to madness was the progress of the wine feast. Her ladyship went beyond the bonds even of a decent veil of sobriety. Her loving attitude to Nishioka found more open expression than usual in the presence of the others. Her abandonment was undisguised. All rejoiced with her; congratulated the strong man on his ready energy. Only the girl O'Han showed some lack of spirit, which she attributed to headache. In kindness her ladyship forbade further concern with the service of the wine, with the aggravation of its fumes; but she had too little consideration for those about her to relieve the suffering girl from attendance. Then the hour came to retire. According to the decent formula in practice, Nishioka, notified of the fact, rose to take his leave—to the next chamber. Here the O'Kagé Sama did his disrobing. The girl O'Tsugi was the first to leave her ladyship, on some mission. She came behind Shintarō, to administer a rousing slap between the shoulders which brought him almost to his knees. Grumbling and gasping he turned to meet her admiring looks. "A fine figure of a man! And one to act as well as pose. For us his lordship has but pretty words. O'Shimo alone profited otherwise. But the O'Kagé Sama of his lordship is of another kind. Deign to favour this Tsugi from time to time." Shintarō volunteered a grimace which could pass for a consenting smile. His shoulders burned under the heat of the lady's passion. In search for a reply the screens again parted, and O'Saku made her appearance. O'Tsugi at once took to flight, somewhat in derision. The old woman followed her with eyes of suspicion. Then she marched straight up to Nishioka—"An impudent jade! Shintarō is to place no confidence in her or her words. She brings nothing but shame, and perhaps worse. There is not a serving man in the yashiki who does not know her. And remember this well. It is this Saku who holds the string of her ladyship's favour. O'Hagi Dono is not so far enamoured as not to accept a substitute at Saku's hands.... But he is a fine figure of a man! Too fine to be spoiled by his lordship's hand." To avoid the threatening lascivious gleam in the eyes of this withered branch Nishioka made pretence of trouble with a knot in his girdle. The whispered invitation grazed a negligent ear, to be interrupted by the sound of her ladyship's voice. O'Saku was in no haste to leave or to say more. O'Han was the last to appear. There were anger and tears in her eyes as the girl stopped a few feet from him. She spoke half turned away, as ready to take flight at expected interruption. "Nishioka Dono keeps faith with her ladyship! Does he keep faith with Han? Earnest was the promise that at all events Han should share his favour with O'Hagi Dono. Nearly a month has passed since he has deigned a visit. Surely her ladyship is not so exacting. Give fair answer. Is will or power lacking?" She waited the reply, eyes cast down on the tatami, for she at least had some remains of modesty. Thus the almost despairing gesture of Shintarō escaped her. He spoke in low voice, with emphasis, to this fairest of his bevy of fair ones—"As for the okugata, O'Han knows her almost as well as this Shintarō. What would be the fate of both if their treachery were suspected? Deign to be patient. The fountain of plenty has not run dry. Shintarō would go but so far. In this horde of women he must look to himself. The dependence now is on her ladyship and O'Saku Dono. Shūzen Sama is cajoled by having thought for nothing. The karō now is very old. This Shintarō surely will take his place. A break then with her ladyship finds punishment in exile to Kōshū. Then comes the time for O'Han openly to join Shintarō, for the happy bond of two lives." The girl's lips barely moved. Both were startled at peremptory call from the neighbouring room. She spoke rapidly—"'Tis small matter, even with her ladyship. But from time to time a visit to this Han? Condescend it."—"Agreed!" was the impatient answer. "But with O'Hagi Dono, O'Tsugi, O'Han.... O'Saku, the occasions must be limited." He suddenly seized her in his arms and silenced her protest in an embrace. Then with hasty steps he passed to her ladyship's bed-chamber, leaving O'Han with wide staring eyes which shifted from the room of the lovers to the door through which she had witnessed the old woman's departure.

Such was the vileness of the life in which was engaged Nishioka Shintarō. A week had barely elapsed. There was occasion to make purchases for the yashiki. The chūgen Jisuké remained respectfully prostrate before the officer. Nishioka again ran over the list required. "These are to be got at the Owariya in Mikawachō. The month's settlement is yet far off. The order stands sufficient. Now off with you." The man did not budge. Rising to a sitting posture he looked fixedly in the face of Nishioka. "What now?" grumbled the yōnin. Answered the chūgen with respect—"Something of a tip will be well."—"A tip!" said Nishioka in astonishment. "For what is the month's wage paid to a chūgen? Is he to be given drink money for carrying out his duties? Take the furoshiki; and now out with it and yourself." "'Out with it'; just so." Such the answer; but the fellow did not budge. The steady insolence of his attitude made Nishioka straighten up as by a shock. He was too surprised to speak. The chūgen spoke for him. "Yes—out with it. Ah! It is quite private with Shintarō. Jisuké can speak at ease. Drink money is just the thing for Jisuké. Jisuké Dono is fond of drink. The O'Kagé Sama will supply the coin, three ryō, in return for the silence of Jisuké."

At the suggestive nickname, known only to the few in the secrets of the oku Nishioka fairly gasped. Jisuké did not give time for answer. He drove the matter home. "'Heaven knows, Earth knows, Man knows.' So does this Jisuké, of the doings of Shintarō with the Okusama. Naruhodo! No strange sight. When the honoured Sun (Tentō Sama) disappears toward Kōshū, the honoured Moon (Tsuki Sama) appears in the ascendant in Musashi. The matter is a most important one, not to be brought to an end by a gesture. Bring the Okusama on the head and shoulders of Jisuké; and Jisuké tells all to his lordship. The proof is easy, and this Jisuké the fitting messenger between these lovers.... Oh! Don't lay hand to sword. Jisuké is active, and the way of retreat is open. The honoured Jisuké is not one to perish by the hand of the low fellow (yarō) Shintarō. In plain terms, the rascal is male concubine of her ladyship; who knows little of the even balance with which her paramour shares his favours with her women. Surely Shintarō was born under the sign of the goat. But that is not all. The very walls can talk. At least that in which the unhappy O'Shimo, seven months gone with child, stands walled in. Naruhodo! Such punishment is inflicted on bugs, and worms, and creeping things; not on human beings. How does Jisuké know? Go question the plaster, you coward; or learn that Jisuké is, and has been, everywhere present at council and at deeds. But a word to Chōbei Dono, and Nishioka crouches at the white sand for confession."

At first astonishment and incredulity, then wrath, now dismay filled the heart of Nishioka Shintarō. The fellow's insolence, the honorifics bestowed on Jisuké, the vile terms heaped on himself, showed the secure ground on which Jisuké stood in his full knowledge of events. For whom was he spy? He must find out. Jisuké, however, volunteered the information. "Spy? Jisuké Dono is spy for no one's interest but that of Jisuké Sama. He would have warned O'Shimo Dono, but repented in time to have all more completely in his hands. She passed on to her death, carried out under the eyes of Jisuké, and at the hands—Yes, the hands of the low fellow Shintarō. Ah! Did beautiful eyebrows inspire this deed? Was it the love for O'Hagi now, or love for O'Han hereafter? As rival to his lordship the rascal Shintarō had no chance with O'Shimo Dono. The clothes prop is the most useful instrument of the house. It brings things long unseen to light and sight. Jisuké Dono will be the clothes prop for this completed wickedness—unless his silence be well bought. Come! Fifty ryō: not down: but ten suffices for the occasion.... Come and demand it of the Okusama? No indeed! Before her ladyship the prescribed etiquette demands obeisance, and off is whipped the head of Jisuké. It is money and—a sword cut. On the contrary, off with Shintarō to beg the needed sum. The tongue of Jisuké Sama is silenced only by the coin which secures his absence."

Nishioka could not help himself. "Jisuké is right. It is a matter of importance. But her ladyship alone can supply the sum. Remain here, where safety has been so well secured." Then he betook himself to the inner apartments. At his tale O'Hagi was aghast. She touched the root of the matter at once. "The man must have the money demanded. And afterward...." Nishioka smiled grimly at the kindred thought. "Into the oku he is not to be inveigled. Leave the matter to this Shintarō. After all he is but a chūgen, plainly a fellow with two eyes; but despite his long experience he must leave the yashiki or conform to the etiquette of the service. He will not leave a place where lies his future mine of gold, no matter what his insolence in private. All will be well. His ignorance and position offer chance to play upon. Shintarō surely will find a way to kill him." With this solace and the coin he took his way back to the waiting Jisuké. "I say now! His lordship's shadow indeed! This rascal Shintarō has but to shake the tree and the golden fruit falls into his hands. The kind of friend to possess! Ask; and one receives. Sheet metal too! A very thief, he is more generous than the Tono Sama! So far thanks. And now—sayonara! Jisuké Dono is off to the pleasant land—the Amatsuki of Fushimichō, the land of reed plains (Yoshiwara). The knave Jisuké, values higher than the knave (yarō) Shintarō. The Honoured Sir pays for the favours of his queen; his queen pays the yarō Shintarō." With this parting shot Jisuké was up and out into the open. With some surprise he halted for a moment. Nishioka had received the sally in good part. He was laughing, half in amusement, half in vexation. Thought Jisuké—"Truly this rascal of a yōnin matches even the honoured Jisuké. Both spring from the farm, and the jest touches him, and not his rank. Between the two, lord and lady are like to pay dear."

Nishioka returned slowly to the inner apartments, to make report as to this rather doubtful progress. For several days nothing was seen of Jisuké. For a time, as one satisfied, he resumed his duties in the old respectful rôle. Only a sly veiled jest would show the wolf lying in wait. Then came further demands, promptly responded to by Nishioka. He began to be curious as to the adventures of Jisuké. He made the chūgen talk; whose experiences were painted in glowing colours. With a sigh Nishioka handed over the cash demanded, granted the leave of absence. Grumbled Jisuké—"'Tis like digging the metal from the ground. Few are the miners of another's hoard. Why grudge this Jisuké what costs Shintarō nothing!" Nishioka grasped at the opening. "What costs nothing, carries no grudge. But Jisuké has the cash at the cost of this Shintarō, only obtained in the company of an ugly old woman. With this coin it is Jisuké who commands the selected beauty of Nippon. Come! There has been enough of this. To-night Shintarō takes Jisuké as guide. He too will take his pleasure amid the beauties of the Yoshiwara." He spoke expansively, with far off smile and look, as if the beauties were ranged before his vision. Jisuké stood with mouth wide open. "What! Not even the whole private apartments of a daimyō satisfies this lecher? Ah! The rascal would plant horns on the Okusama. Husband and wife alike adorned! How now: is not her ladyship already something of a demon? Nishioka Dono will be impaled on one or the other." With mock respect he gave advice and bowed before his officer. His interest in this rebellion was plain. Nishioka was seen to hesitate. He looked doubtfully at Jisuké, as if seeking counsel in this questionable matter. To Jisuké the matter was a jest; thus to involve all three victims in a common treachery to one another. The temptation was great, and he was a match for any underhand design on the part of Nishioka. No safer place for him than Yoshiwara, in which his enemy might be still more involved. Samurai were particularly marked in the place. Meanwhile the chamberlain would be his butt for the evening. Jisuké's hints as to his source of revenue were broad enough to the companions of his evening pleasures. They would be delighted at a sight of this generous official.

Hence he urged objections to his company, and himself found answers. Said Nishioka—"It is agreed. To-night all is propitious. The old girl has taken cold. She intends a sweating. Such the notice to this Shintarō. It is his time to be fickle. He accompanies Jisuké." His mind was made up, with some evident tear and reluctance. Jisuké aided him in his preparations. Wearing zukin (hood) he passed out the gate with Jisuké. The latter handed in two chūgen tickets to the momban, and none knew that the honoured yōnin had left the yashiki. In merry company they descended the Gomizaka. Shintarō was as a boy just out of school, so merry was he. He lagged behind, then went ahead. At the top of the Kudanzaka he halted. "On with you, Jisuké. Shintarō stops here a moment." He passed to the side of the road. Jisuké in turn halted. He was standing in the moonlight. Said he, with a touch of his usual insolent jesting—"How explain to the ladies the presence of the honoured chamberlain? Shintarō yarō wears two swords. Jisuké Dono is but a chūgen. Odd company! Notable will be the compliment."—"No explanation is required." Terrible the voice from the shadow beside him. "Ei!" Quick as a flash Jisuké made a spring forward, not too soon to prevent arm and back being ripped open by the keen weapon.—"Ah! The low fellow Shintarō is not the one to kill the honoured Jisuké. He has already said it.... The beast! He has cut me. The devil lies between Jisuké and the lights of the Ōmon. With Chōbei San is found safety and vengeance." With all speed he fled up the Ushinakizaka to seek safety in the darkness of its wood. Nishioka pursued with determination. The rip of cloth and flesh showed him that he had reached his man. Loss of blood would bring him down. Jisuké aimed for the middle of the grove, for the Hachiman shrine, now the site of the Shōkonsha. Under the dark shadow of the trees he hoped to escape the pursuer. Alas! A tree root caught his foot and threw him on his face. As he rose the sword ran him through from back to breast. Staggering, grasping at air, he turned on Nishioka; spitting out his grudge with the clots of blood. His last words of hate were mingled with the rumblings of the storm close over head. The moon's brightness had disappeared. Heavy clouds rolled up, illuminated time and again by a glare of dismal light. Big gouts of rain began to wet the clothes of living and of dead in this solitude. For surety Nishioka gave the final thrust through the throat. Just then the bell of Ichigaya Gekkeiji reverberated through the thick wood. In the night hour it sounded sharp and sudden, like a harsh call to men to rise and witness. Nishioka wiped his sword on the dead man's dress. A flash of lightning lit the face, horrible and mocking in the death agony. As the chamberlain leaned over the corpse a voice spoke behind him, harsh and as if half stifled with the blood filling gorge and lungs—"Yai! Shintarō has his way. He murders Jisuké—not once, but twice. Deep the grudge! Deep the grudge!" Then it broke into a wail, chilling in the helplessness of the malice expressed. Nishioka sprang to his feet and whirled around. In the uncertain light close by stood Jisuké. His hair in wild disorder, cheeks fallen in and corpse like with the bluishness of clay, the chūgen grinned and threatened. The living man could match him with his pallor. "Namu Amida Butsu! Get you hence vile spectre, or stay the test of Nishioka's sword." He made a sweep with the weapon. The figure disappeared. A mocking laugh resounded far and wide, followed by the same chilling hopeless wail. In haste, and pursued by the wild laughter, stumbling over stones and roots, Nishioka fled the wood, to make report at the feet of her ladyship. For long the figure of the chūgen, crying, wailing in baffled malice, haunted the wood of the Ushinakizaka. Men hastened to pass by, none would enter; and in time the apparition became one of the seven marvels (the Nana-Fushigi) of the Banchō.

CHAPTER V

The Report to the Tono Sama

On the dull evening of the rainy season (June) Nakakawachi Shūzen sat looking out on the dripping plants and trees. The home coming had brought no pleasure. The treachery of the favoured Shimo was assured. The father himself admitted the search made for the lover; wept and grovelled in shame and apology. O'Saku had seen him in person, when he came to the yashiki several weeks before the flight. O'Tsugi had heard him call—"choi! choi!" had overheard O'Shimo's surprised exclamation—"my lover! my lover!" After several mysterious absences, on excuse to see her father lying ill, she had disappeared. On inquiry it was found that Chōbei had never known a day of illness. The excuse was all a lie. "A case of the wild duck; the cock had come." Whose was the child she bore? O'Hagi laughed, and her attendant woman smiled, at his credulity.

Shūzen never suspected the deceit. Something of a dilettante for the period he was learned in the Chinese tradition. Seventeen years, and a woman has no heart. This Shimo was a debauched wench. Truly she had foxed him with her superficial charms, picked him up thus easily in the Banchō. With gesture of weariness and disgust he turned to the papers and scrolls on the desk before him. They were house accounts submitted by Nishioka, and none too pleasing. A round sum was missing on the person of the chūgen Jisuké. Sent out to make important payment, he had run off with the money, leaving no sign of his whereabouts. Just then the bell of Gekkeiji struck the hour of the pig (9 p.m.). With impatience Shūzen swept the papers together. Her ladyship as companion of his wine feasts chilled the bottles with freezing glance. The monotonous talk of debts and expenses, exchanged with those around, added a bitter flavour. Always demands, or hints of demands, which made the meal a very time of penance.

With some slowness he rose to attend the repast. Then from the garden side came a sad wailing voice. "Grateful the honoured return, so long delayed. Fond the thoughts of the past long weeks. Deep the longing for the honoured presence. Report is to be made to his lordship. Alas! Alas!" A chill went to the very heart of Shūzen. Lamentable and grievous as was the sound, he had no difficulty in recognizing the voice of O'Shimo. Startled he turned in indignant anger to the rōka whence the sound had come. He looked out into the darkness of the dripping night. Nothing was to be seen. Plainly he had thought too much of the girl, of her condition and the disappointment. He gave his body a violent shake to throw off this cold oppression and foreboding. Then slowly he took his way to the wine feast. The saké would bring warmth. This was not the case. Freely as he drank, it added to powers of vision. His mind now always on the missing girl, the familiarity between spouse and chamberlain seemed strange for the relation between mistress and servant. As usual, with the finish of the last bottle, Nishioka accompanied him to his retirement. Shūzen spoke sharply of the large increase in the expenses of the inner apartments. To meet these the revenues would have to be forestalled, the income anticipated. The smooth fellow met him more than half way in agreement. His lordship was too estranged from the okugata. Greater familiarity toward the women's apartments would be the needed restraint. Deign his presence this very night. Nishioka Shintarō spoke in no hypocrisy. The O'Kagé Sama now was longing for the rightful substitution. His nest well feathered, he would seek safer quarters with the softer charms of O'Han. On Shūzen's abrupt gesture and refusal he took his departure, almost betraying his own disgruntlement. Comical was his despairing gesture as he took his way to the bed of her ladyship.

The temple bell struck the seventh hour (3 a.m.). It roared and reverberated through the room. Shūzen opened his eyes. He was tormented with the thirst inspired by his copious libations. His head was heavy and whirling. He took a long draft from the jar close by his pillow. Then he rose to tread the corridor. On his return he sought to wash his hands. Turning to find the towel, close by him he saw a woman. Dressed all in white, slender to emaciation, her face concealed by the long hair which hung in heavy disordered masses over shoulders and bosom, she presented to him the desired article. As he would take the towel he spoke in surprise—"Who may this be, awake at this late hour for Shūzen's service?" Again the sad lamentable voice made reply—"Fond the thoughts of his lordship. Long waited his return. Report is to be made." At sight of her face he gave a cry—"Shimo!" At the words the figure faded away. The outstretched towel fell to the ground. A slight rustle of the breeze swept the corridor. "Shimo! Shimo!" In amaze and suspicion came the words. Something had gone wrong here. Shūzen pressed the towel to his lips, as to get rid of the nauseating taste in his mouth. Then came the voice from the garden. With hasty movement he threw back the amado. The wind sighed through the pines; a gentle patter of rain came in gusts. Close by the voice spoke again—as from a yukimidōro, one of those broad capped stone lanterns, like to some squat figure of a gnome, and so beautiful an ornament with white snow cap or glistening with the dripping mirror of the rain.

"Report is to be made. Long has Shimo waited her lord's return. In this Shimo was no treachery of heart. Devoted was her service to her lord. By the hand of Nishioka Shintarō, by the malice of O'Hagi Dono, Shimo and her unborn babe met a miserable end. Nor has the ill deed ended there. Go now to the chamber of the wife, and witness the adulterous deed. Deign to learn the truth from Shimo." The voice ceased. Shūzen passed a hand over his wine heated brow. Fox or badger? Did some over bold and infamous apparition seek to delude him? With a bound he sought his chamber and the sword at his pillow. He would deal harshly with such lies. Then came a second thought. Why not ascertain the fact? He was the husband. His presence was a right. Softly he made his way to the inner apartments. At the outer ward he stumbled in the darkness against some object. "Aré! The Tono Sama!" With a cry of alarm up sprang the sleeping O'Han. She would have outstripped him in a race to the inner rooms, but Shūzen was too quick for her. With hand over mouth he dragged her to the garden side. She would have cried out, and made resistance. Then he changed her tune. Lacking confession he held her flat and prostrate under him. Firmly grasping both wrists tight together, he forced his dagger between the hands, and began to twist the keen blade. Unable to resist the torture she soon told all she knew, confessed her own part of watch and ward in the offense. This done, he drove the weapon through her throat and left her pinned to where she lay, the limbs feebly twitching in the last throes.

Assured of his suspicions Shūzen now sought to surprise the lovers. Cautiously he approached the sleeping room of her ladyship from the inner side. There was no doubt of it. In the very throes of her passion O'Hagi was without disguise. Shūzen threw back the screens on this vileness. "Lechers! For this disloyalty Shūzen finds revenge! Make ready!" Nishioka Shintarō sprang to his feet, only to sink down in a pool of blood which soaked the bed he had dishonoured. Severed from shoulder to pap he died forthwith. With wild screams O'Hagi fled to the corridor. As she reached it the point of the weapon was thrust through her back, to come out at the navel. As she writhed and twisted on the floor, Shūzen measured the blow and nearly cut the body in twain. "Ah! In good season the old bawd presents herself." In fright the old woman's head had been thrust between the screens into the room close by the master. An easy mark it fell severed to the ground, the blood spouting its powerful streams from the arteries as from a pump. The woman O'Tsugi was a sterner task. Aroused by the noise she came stalking into the middle of the room, still rubbing eyes confused by sleep. "Ah! The villainous cuckold. He has murdered these, and now would add the next (tsugi). Not so!" With her wild jest she threw herself upon him. Trained soldier as he was Shūzen found the contest no easy one against this virile woman. Getting the worst of it, she fastened her teeth deep into his hand. Grunting with pain Shūzen flung her off, and quickly brought down the sword. Prostrate she lay, the blood stream pouring over the real lord of this harem.

With a long breath Shūzen surveyed his work. It was complete. Then he went to the outer ward of the apartments. To his call no one came. Repeated, in the distance of the rōka appeared from the outer ward (omoté) the old and faithful Nakamura Saisuké. At sight of his lord, dyed in blood from head to foot, he threw up his hands. Without undue haste or any words Shūzen led him to the scene of the punishment. Respectfully Saisuké brought a cushion. Then prostrate he waited for his lord to speak. Long endured the silence. Then said Shūzen briefly—"Caught in the act of adultery this Shūzen has put to death the guilty. The results are most important. The lack of discipline in the House is sure to lead to the honoured punishment by the suzerain. From this there is no escape." Saisuké surveyed the scene with the calm eye of experience. "Be in no haste, my lord. This Saisuké in his long experience has seen many deeds of violence. For the present this matter need not be published. Of the outer apartments (omoté), the chūgen and servants need know nothing. In any case they do not count, and can be sent away. The others are not curious; moreover they are loyal, as samurai.... Of the inner apartments—a very clean sweep has been made. Deign to leave matters for the present to this Saisuké." With approval the old man examined the handiwork of his lord. It was most thorough, even to the eye of this remnant of the battle field. Then he went to work. The bodies he conveyed to the side of the artificial mound in the garden. Digging out part of the hill, here he buried them; forced in, dove-tailed together, in the smallest space; the old man grumbling at the ground they occupied. Then with water he washed out the blood stains on the wood work. When dry he would plane out tell-tale marks. Meanwhile he would serve his lord, to the exclusion of all others. Would the Tono Sama deign to rest? With sad misgivings the kyūnin (house officer) watched Shūzen as he retired to his room. Himself he mounted guard at the women's entrance, to prevent all intrusion.

Nakamura Saisuké's heart was pure. His age beyond recall. For two days he struggled, alone in his task. On one pretext or another the samurai were sent off, one here one there, on lengthy missions. Perhaps the old man's efforts had been too great. In the course of the day a chūgen, come on some affair, found him flat on his belly, groaning with pain as in the very last extremities. To the man's inquiries he could but cry out with colic and distress. Aid was brought, but only to find him dead. Then a second discovery was made. Report was necessary to his lordship. Here all was found closed against reception. On making their way into the inner room Shūzen was found, clad all in white, the bloody dirk in hand, the body fallen forward on the ceremonial mats. He had cut his belly open, on retiring for the night. All now was in confusion. Should the karō be awaited. None knew this exile to the Kōshū fief, beyond his reputed morose severity. Official there was none to whom to make report. They were afraid, and took their own part. With everything of value they could lay their hands on they fled in different directions. The open gate and abandonment attracted attention. The dead body of Shūzen was proved a voluntary seppuku (cut belly) for some cause; that of the old man required no explanation. The inquiry set on foot led only to confusion, and was soon lost in the greater question of the heirship. Placed in charge of Yamada Dono, a caretaker was sought for the yashiki. A property tangled in a long dispute, this would seem a pleasing task and one to summon many applicants. But this was not the case. Successful candidacy was followed by early exodus. None could endure the frightful sounds heard every night; the cries of pleasure followed by the screams of those in the agony of a painful dying. Spectral lights were seen, the old well in the garden poured forth its confined spirits, all the evil influence of the place was rejuvenated in the minds of people by this last disaster. "Thus the matter rests. 'Tis not this Shimo who is the cause of these nightly scenes of strife and pain. In mad chase Shūzen Dono, the Okusama, the villainous Nishioka and his concubines, act the scene of their cutting off. Shimo has but her part, to find Nirvana in the worship of the upright. Deign this act of kindness." At the fierceness of the voice Endō Saburōzaémon started. The red light of dawn was pouring into the open room. All sight of the dreadful vision had faded from the wall before him. Vision, or fact? It had been too vivid to doubt. Yet as he came to the mound he passed around it. On the side next to the lake now he noticed that it was all caved in, an obvious depression. The tale then had truth. Thus he took his way from the haunted precincts, determined to secure the yashiki as his own, and the future rest and peace of Nirvana to the unhappy O'Shimo.

CHAPTER VI

The Shrine of the O'Inari Sama

Something has been already said of the chūgen Isuké, unwilling guide of Endō Saburōzaémon to the haunted house of the Go Banchō. Thus is the second person of the name of Shūzen introduced into the traditions and history of the Banchō. Of him and his experiences with its denizens something is to be said.

Okumura Shūzen had distinguished himself in the Amakusa uprising of 1637-8. A retainer of Matsudaira Nobutsuna he had not been the last man to force his way into the blazing ruins of Arima castle. He did his very best amid the struggling mass of halt, maimed, and blind, after the real defenders of the castle had died weapons in hand. He was able to present himself before his lord with a reasonable number of his own company with heads on their shoulders; and a phenomenal number of heads minus shoulders, of all ages and sexes—men, women, and children—of the castle inmates. Against the once owners Shūzen had little grudge. So much was to be said of him. In private he railed against the bad rule which had brought him and his fellows into the field against the embattled farmers. But this was a thing to be endured; not cured, except by time. Rebellion against the liege lord, under the leadership of samurai once retainers of the cowardly Konishi Yukinaga, added edge to his sword and point to his spear. His service brought him in the train of his lord's progress to Edo. In the report made Okumura Shūzen figured so well, that request—amounting to command—transferred him to the Tokugawa over-lord. Made hatamoto with fief of four hundred koku he was as well liked by his greater lord as when in the humbler service of a daimyō. Five years of faithful work, and the necessities of Government for his yashiki site in Mita received the reward of a liberal grant of another site in the Go Banchō, together with the thousand ryō of costs of removal.

The work of transfer was pushed forward. The more modest abode of a lord of moderate income, and the massive gateway with its supporting walls and fence of closely woven, sharp pointed, bamboo retiring into the distance now were ready to shut in Shūzen to the privacy of his share in the suzerain's defence. Plainly Shūzen Dono put more confidence in his own prowess, or insignificance, than in the strength of outer defences against sudden attack of those at feud with him. Part of his tract inclosed a shrine of the Inari goddess. This had still its worshippers. On his inspection Shūzen noted the loneliness of the building, its desolation. Yet it was clean swept and kept, and a money box for offerings was proof of attendance at the shrine. Whether this was of man or beast was not so easy to determine, for traces of the latter were plain to the eye. Their tracks swarmed about the building itself. As Shūzen stood in some uncertainty, a woman of the middle class appeared. To inquiries she admitted that the care of the shrine was due to herself and her piety; a care gladly rendered to its efficacy. It had returned to her a son once sent adrift to the provinces; and to her affection a husband who had gone astray much closer home, for the intruding female was a minor member of her own household. Finding excuse in some domestic misdeed, the worthy cit had sent forth the damsel into the wilderness of the world with the fruit of her experience. The relief of this incubus, and the return of a more rightful heir than promised, the good lady attributed to the virtue of her prayers to the Inari Sama. She was urgent to bring support to her views in the general opinion of all the neighbourhood, mainly of the Kōjimachi village. These corroborated what she said as to the shrine's efficacy and petitioned for its continued support. Made the tutelary shrine of the yashiki, separated therefrom by a mere brushwood fence, this Inari Jinja of the Banchō continued to exist for the good of the public and the annoyance of the amiable Okumura Shūzen. Its kannushi (Shinto priest) he could never find. The woman and others said that he lived at Ushinakizaka. At least the money contributions were always accounted for, although they had never seen his face. A few days before the formal opening of the yashiki the chūgen Isuké and the workmen stood with puzzled faces before a hole discovered underneath the flooring of the shrine. It led to some passage or cave. None were in humour to investigate, perhaps to the annoyance of the O'Inari Sama. At Isuké's direction, and with difficulty in the cramped space, it was found possible to shove into place the massive granite slab which fitted tightly into the aperture, and plainly belonged to it. "A one time store house of the god," quoth Isuké. With that he and the others betook themselves to their divers tasks of finishing the clearing up of building and surroundings. In the excitement and confusion of moving in there was little thought of the cavity in this twelfth month of Kwanei twentieth year (January 1644), and the idea of making report was lost sight of until other conditions brought up again the subject.

The ceremonial visits of the New Year, the congratulations and presents, were to be made to the suzerain by his attendant hatamoto and the daimyō then in Edo town. Every yashiki was in a turmoil of excitement and confusion. Even in the greater yashiki there was demand for outsiders to carry the hakomochi or long boxes, for the rokushaku (six footers) or tall fellows to carry the sedan chair, for others to bear the kappakago or rain-coat boxes. Samurai, ashigaru, spearholders, chūgen, zōri holders—these were attendant in the yashiki. But the minor establishments were mainly dependent on outside aid to swell the lord's train. Hence the rôle of Bandzuin Chōbei and his successors was no sinecure, in addition to the exercise of the art of arranging time and place so that the inferior lords would be least inconvenienced by the necessary and often humiliating deference to their superiors in rank. The guild patron looked well to the interests of his employers—daimyō—with small regard to those who shifted for themselves; which was one of the causes of grudge by the hatamoto against Chōbei, later removed from the scene by assassination.

Every horse in Edo, destined for the morrow's ceremony, underwent the pampered treatment that the groom Kakunai devoted to his master's nag. On the preceding day Kagé (Fawn colour) had been treated to all the luxuries of horse diet. He must eat for to-day and for to-morrow, and perform all the offices connected there with beforehand. Said Kakunai—"Kagé, be circumspect and constipated. To-morrow the master offers congratulations at the castle. Kagé is stuffed beyond measure to-day, that he be able to fast to-morrow. Show no discontent. For the passage of the sun there is to be no eating, and but a modicum of drinking. Halt not the procession for unseemly purposes." He stroked the horse, and the pleased animal purred and whinnied with the contentment of a cat at being petted. Then harshly said a voice in the ear of the bending Kakunai—"For this feed of the year's end thanks are rendered. Though not exactly of the kind desired, the intent has been good and the stomach filled. Hence congratulations in turn for the New Year season."

Kakunai jumped as if some one had thrust the unblunted end of a spear into his posteriors. He looked around, and over, and under the horse. "Who speaks? Where from? And what concerning?... Yai! Yai! It's Kagé!... Is no one hiding hereabouts, to make a fool of Kakunai?" With eyes bolting out he backed away in terror. The horse grinned broadly, showing its ugly yellow teeth in attempt at graciousness—"It is true. Kagé, addresses the honoured bettō Kakunai, gives congratulations to his friend." Kakunai did not wait to receive them. Now he bolted forth in person, to burst into the room of the chūgen Isuké, just then struggling to arrange garments and hair for attendance on his lord's progress. Head throbbing from not unliberal potations due to the seasons festivities this was no pleasant task. To Kakunai's report the answer was prompt and sour—"Kakunai is a liar or a fool; or if he would play a jest on Isuké, his own head shall ache as badly." Kakunai accepted the challenge and asseverated the truth of his report. Not at all convinced, and with a gloomy satisfaction of the idea of having it out with Kakunai on failure of the proof, Isuké accompanied the groom to the stable. Kakunai gingerly made up to the horse—"Kakunai has been friend to Kagé. Hence he is called liar or fool or mountebank. Deign to prove his truth, Kagé Dono." Respectfully he bowed to the horse. The latter at once turning to the chūgen, brayed into his face—"'Tis fact. Kagé is at least as human as these his brothers. He speaks to whom he wills. Not so with Isuké and Kakunai. A word to the Tono Sama, and Kagé will kill and eat these his friends. Keep his good will by friendship." Gently the horse raised a front hoof. The voice was harsh; and the push, though gentle—for a horse—sent Isuké flat, with reminder of Kagé thus closely applied. Without a word the chūgen wallowed from the floor, none too clean, and took to flight. Kakunai followed after, holding his nose. In the privacy of the chūgen's room Isuké changed to sweeter garb and discussed the matter with Kakunai. Should his lordship be informed? Kakunai, as immediate attendant and in greatest danger, earnestly protested. Isuké at any time might be brought into closest contact with Kagé in his office of chūgen attending his master. They agreed that it would be very disagreeable to be killed and eaten, especially with such evidences of Kagé's powers of disposition. Hence nothing was to be said; or rather each agreed to leave the matter of report to the other.

Great was the crush and excitement on this day of the year. Long and continuous were the processions (gyōretsu) of daimyō and hatamoto making their way to and from the castle. The rule of the day was to avoid unnecessary collision, as far as possible; not only in the matter of precedence, but of order. Commoners, male and female, old and young, rōnin, samurai, according to their caste squatted or prostrated themselves in reverential attitude as the palanquin of some lord passed by. Caustic or benign, generally malicious, the comment of the Kidahachi and Yajirōbei—"Ōkubo Hikoroku Dono; 'tis true he possesses influence, and the roughness of Hikoza Sama, but the keen wit of the honoured father lacks."—"Yet the lord Ōkubo has much kindness beneath his roughness. The latter is passport to the favour of the suzerain." Iyeyasu Kō ruled by statecraft; Hidétada Kō by benevolence; the third Shōgun Iyemitsu Kō, by rough energy. Such the tradition of the personality of these three men handed down in Nippon's history. With the passage of Tadamune Kō, of the great Sendai fief, heads went very low. Great his wealth, and greater still was his influence with the Suzerain. Tadamune swept proudly on; the future disasters represented in the boy who rode close to the palanquin, and whose licentious life later threatened to wreck the wealth and position of the great house.

At the dismount notice (geba-fuda) Okumura Shūzen, accompanied by two pages, donned zōri (sandals) and betook himself to the palace. He was a small figure in this crush of great nobles, but as hatamoto had his right and duty of being present at the palace; both rigidly enforced, and assuredly with greater regard and welcome than most of the men of much greater rank, always regarded with suspicion. The modest train of a four hundred koku lord was squeezed into a corner of this mass of underlings waiting the return of their masters from audience. Close companion to his beloved and now feared Kagé, the groom Kakunai was well satisfied with his insignificance. Great was his consternation to hear the harsh voice of his equine friend in his ear. A whisper to Kagé meant a roar to the crowd—"Naruhodo! The stench of these humans excels even that of the stable. One is as much confined here as there. His lordship has now departed. Deign, Kakunai San, to indulge in amusement. Let's be off—to the Kwannon of Asakusa, to the Yoshiwara. Here there is naught but press and riot. In the pleasure quarter both convey diversion. Deign so to regard it." With wide open mouths those around turned to the quarter whence came these uncomplimentary terms. Kakunai was sweating with fear—"Shut up!... Rude? Then deign to be silent. Great the press. To withdraw is difficult; to desert his lordship impossible. Silence is the part of the inferior." At this exercise of authority the horse grumbled loudly—"Away from the stinking stable one feels gay and at ease. Quicksilver runs in the veins. At Yoshiwara the hatsudochū will be in progress. Following the processions of the honoured oiran, liberal will be the saké offered at the tea houses. Deign, Kakunai San, to reconsider your purpose to remain."

At this Kakunai almost melted into the icy puddle on the ground. He shivered as he wiped the cold sweat dripping from his forehead. At first voices said—"Who is speaking in these ribald terms? Kakunai San is it not? Who the companion?... Oya! 'Tis the horse which talks! Asakusa and Yoshiwara? What say the women to the presence of the beast? Eh! Off with you, Kakunai San, to show which is horse and which groom." They crowded around the pair, not daring to come close. Kakunai felt extremely unwell. He could not deny the fact. "Like boys, he boasts beyond his powers. The power of speech runs loose. Yet as a horse it is a wise beast, the treasure of a four hundred koku yashiki, since none other possesses his like. Deign to note his own proclamation of his tastes." This was to throw the consequences of discovery on the animal, to file the sharpness of teeth against the promised mauling of Kakunai's flesh. Then he waxed eloquent and proud—"A fine horse indeed! Such a horse in battle is unequalled. Is it not so, Kagé?" And Kagé promptly answered to his friend's praise. "A horse of noble quality, with good deeds to his credit, gains reputation. At the astonishment of the foe the rider runs them through with the spear. Hence gain of heads, and reputation to both steed and master." Kagé spun round, letting fly hoofs in all directions, shaking his head and biting savagely. At this display of battle fire those too close fled in disorder. At a safe distance wonder and advice was expressed. "Deign to be off, Kakunai San. Truly the animal is foxed, and foxes enough are to be found in Yoshiwara. He will find company without fail." Kakunai, as he restrained the beast, now full at ease—"Of that we are assured. Alas! He cannot squat. In that he is clumsy, as is the red haired, green-eyed western barbarian. Otherwise it is not Kakunai who would bring coin to Nakanochō, but convey money hence." Some agreed, and some disagreed, and all congratulated. Thus did horse and groom get much advertisement at the Ōte-mon, to the subsequent profit of both.

Shūzen, audience granted, appeared at the castle gate. Respectfully the crowd drew apart, and watched the lord depart with his train. Never had one of the minor hatamoto attracted greater attention; and of these many were notable men for personal exploits. Entirely unconscious of this notice Shūzen rode off to his yashiki. In the course of the succeeding days many visits were to be paid, and the wondrous fact had chance to spread from the under world to the surface. At the yashiki of Abé Shirōgorō the salutations were exchanged; the spiced saké to preserve life—the tōso—was brought forth. Shūzen detected in his host a quizzical, even amused attitude. Said Shirōgorō—"Shūzen Uji, did he deign to ride, or mount the kago (palanquin)." The question was abrupt, and seemed not over courteous. A hatamoto of four hundred koku possessed steed and spearmen. Abé Shirōgorō was a great lord, and Shūzen answered smoothly, seeking any source of offense. To his affirmative, said the host—"Then Shūzen Dono perhaps deigned to mount the favourite and talking horse.... Surely he knows of the animal's great gift.... Congratulations are due, for what is the talk of the castle precincts." Shūzen's astonishment was too great not to be genuine. He was the first to propose to Abé Dono the taking of a look at the noted beast. He was eager to inspect an animal, which, it seemed, he had as yet never seen. The two lords came forth to the genkwan (house entrance). On summons Kakunai brought forward the horse, expecting his lord to mount, not exactly understanding the presence of the lord of the mansion. Shūzen's first words enlightened him unpleasantly. With some severity—"Kakunai, does this horse talk?" Thunderstruck Kakunai did not know what answer to make. Kagé could bite. His master could do worse, if enough angered. He hesitated—"Hai!" Quoth Shūzen—"'Hai' is no answer. Has the horse power of human speech?" Kakunai put his hand to his head, then turned to Kagé, who was obstinately silent. He gave him as hard a blow on the neck as he dared, without result. "The Tono Sama has heard the tale; as has this Kakunai. His head in a whirl, Kakunai knows not whether it be true or not. By an humble groom such matters are not understood. To report idle gossip or the illusions of one's brain, savours of impudence. Deign the question in person. Kagé refuses answer to this Kakunai."

Thus skilfully he lied. Kagé eyed him with approval; Shūzen with some doubt. He turned to the horse—"Kagé, it is said you speak. Shūzen is the master. Answer without lying." Kagé spoke, indifferent to rank and without circumlocution of polite society—"'Tis so; and just as does a human being. Truly Shūzen Sama has supplied a most foul smelling place to learn the art." Abé Shirōgorō snickered—"Kagé Dono is too precise. Would he learn the art of converse over his master's wine?"—"Not unwillingly," replied the nag. "But in any case he would have Isuké and this lazy groom make better and more frequent use of broom and bucket. The good offices of Abé Dono are requested." By this retort courteous the two noblemen were silenced and amused. Uncertain as to the course of further converse with the beast Okumura made salutation, mounted and departed homewards. As he gave the horse into the groom's charge he said—"It is for Kakunai to keep in mind the words of Kagé." As he vigorously applied broom and water to the stall and vicinity of the favoured animal, Kakunai mentally determined that on the whole Shūzen Dono was the more dangerous of the two. Hence-forward he would be careful to remember all that Kagé said—and make report.

CHAPTER VII

The Luck of Okumura Shūzen

The first efforts of Shūzen at solving this mystery were not overly successful. A samurai, he betook himself to the highest exponent of the caste cult. In search of illumination he hit upon Hayashi Daigaku no Kami Dono. This man, learned in all the lore of Morokoshi (China), head of the certified institute of letters—the University—could but confess his ignorance—vicariously. Rats nesting in the tails of horses formed part of the experience of books, but not of that of men. Of talking horses there was no authenticated case. The whole matter remained without proof. He had never heard of such. Shūzen squatted in a drowsy stupefaction as an incomprehensible learning was poured into his ear. He choked with the dust raised from the ancient volumes, tenderly and reverently pawed over by the learned doctor, who seemed dust-proof. Finally through the mist he heard the asseveration that it must be the work of fox or badger. It was matter for the diviner, not the divinity of the learned. With this Hayashi Dono gave the pile of dusty script before him a mighty thump, and disappeared behind the cloud he had raised.

Okumura Shūzen sought the open air and respiration. Where now should he go for counsel? He would sell the beast. Kakunai sought mercy. He was but a groom, and death was easy at his master's hand. At all events easier than the one promised by Kagé, if Kakunai should lead him out to the market, and with fluent lies send him forth to earn the cruel livelihood of his kind between the shafts of a cart. Shūzen was a kindly man; the horse one deserving better treatment. The groom's terror and the beast's threat added a new and interesting element to this search into the unknown. On the next day was to be heard memorial service for the ancestral tablets. This was to be performed in person by the abbot of the Seishōji of Shiba, Bankei Oshō known to fame. Shūzen snoozed and exercised patience as the abbot read and expounded the lengthy sutra scroll. Over the subsequent repast he broached the subject of the talk of beasts, and his own particular difficulties. Bankei Oshō was most interested. All animals had speech and memory according to their kind. Food, a master's kindness, their own particular concerns, were matters of great intelligence among them. Why then should speech be aught else than to possess the organ? Such was the case with parrots. Monkeys evidently understood each other well, understood the gestures of men. As to the horse, there were very ancient records of the speech of such; so dim in the memory of men that probably they were mere talk of ignorance. But he would see this wondrous beast. Deign that guidance be supplied.

Shūzen grasped at the offer. The abbot spoke with an ease and glibness that only the ecclesiastic on his own ground can show to those ignorant of his subject. He wrapped his lore, made easy for the beginner, in such technical phraseology, that Shūzen could grasp at the meaning without knowing anything about what the abbot said, and hence had all the greater respect for the immense truth which he could see and not understand. Appreciation is as good as knowing—for the one who would pose—and soon Shūzen and the cleric stood at the house entrance, waiting the production of the horse. Isuké in haste had carried the message to Kakunai. Kakunai, assured of his master's forbearance and Kagé's accomplishments, had been none too sober since that happy day. Said he aloud—"A horse is not an ass; and a talking horse is one of his kind. Tip money to see the wondrous beast has flowed into the stable; and wine has flowed into Kakunai. For Kagé there has been soft rice paste (mochi) and dumpling (dango) in unstinted quantities. The pastry cook has been overworked. Kagé, now seize the opportunity. Speak with fluency and argument. Ah! If you had but the taste of this Kakunai! Wine would be an inspiration."—"Just try me!" chimed in the brute's voice. "Follow up the wine with rice cakes in syrup (shiruko). Otherwise Kagé opens not his mouth, except to bite. Grievous is it to exercise speech, and to witness the benefits accruing to the human hog. Henceforth Kakunai must share alike with Kagé." At this rebellion Kakunai was dumbfounded—"Nay, Kagé! Shiruko and saké for a beast? Never would such come to the inside of the belly (mind) of Kakunai. If you did but know its content...."—"Shut up!" was the nag's discourteous response. "Kagé knows it well. You have eaten takuan (pickled radish), and it smells none too sweet. A little further off, good Sir: now—who is this would be interviewer?"

Reduced to proper proportion Kakunai made humble reply. "Most fitting company for the honoured Kagé Sama. The abbot Bankei deigns his presence." The horse gave a violent snort, and plunged back to the limit of his halter. "Kagé talks not with a priest, nor henceforth with anyone." Kakunai was all consternation—"But Kagé Dono ... the tips! This refusal is terrific. Why not favour the curiosity of the Oshō Sama? Deign to reconsider. The dainties of Kagé, the wine of Kakunai, are at stake. Silent before the Oshō, the Danna Sama in anger will strike off the head of Kagé. Kakunai loses friend and fortune at a blow." The animal duly mused. "It is so. Shūzen Dono of late has been short tempered. It cannot be avoided. Better had it been for Kakunai to take this Kagé and depart to country fairs and towns; to pick up much coin for wine and dainties. However, all may go well. Delay not past the coming night to join yourself with Kagé. Between the service of Shūzen and that of Kagé this low fellow (yarō) Kakunai must not hesitate."—"Just so," agreed the groom. "It is mere matter of gambling anyhow that any ill occurs. Drinking wine, does Kagé also gamble?" A shudder went through the frame of the horse—"Why speak thus? Of horses' bones the dice are made. Would Kagé trifle with the relics of his kind? Make answer, Kakunai." He spoke with a fierce earnestness. Kakunai stammering sought answer. Just then Isuké appeared, to urge all speed.

With lowered heads man and beast appeared at the house entrance. Kakunai touched three fingers to the ground. To insure due reverence Kakunai had haltered Kagé so that he could talk, but hardly move a limb. At sight of the beast Bankei Oshō took his most severe ecclesiastical pose. Dressed in violet robes, the gold embroidered stole (kesa) over his shoulders, the rosary of crystal beads in hand, he approached the horse. With the brush of long white hair which clears away the dust of the world's offences (hossu) he swept the circumambient air. Long he observed the nag. Then coming close to it he grasped the forelock. Kagé raised his head, with open mouth as if about to snap. The abbot continued his recitation of the holy sutra. Mouth still wide open, clumsily the horse sank on his knees before the priest. Then suddenly and deftly Bankei thrust a bolus into the open mouth, which closed as moved by springs. Sweeping the air with hossu and his rescued arm—"Acquire the heart of virtue. Assume the true nature, and seek Nirvana." He kept on stroking the beast's head with the rosary. Once or twice Kagé opened his mouth as if to speak. Then incontinently the body rolled over lifeless. The bystanders looked on with fear and amazement. Without speaking the abbot took the arm of Shūzen and accompanied him within.

Kakunai, left to himself, rolled to the ground as speechless as his four legged charge. Tears of sorrow and anger flowed copiously. "Ah! He is dead! Kagé is dead! Wise was he to advise flight. Alas! This beast of a bōzu (priest), what purge did he use, thus to cut off at once the breath of Kagé? No more gambling, no more wine, with Kagé nicely bedded and asleep in his stable, and Kakunai with equal luck asleep in the pleasure quarter! Alas! Alas! Kagé is no better now than a dead ass—while Kakunai still lives." Thus he vented his grief, to the amusement of his fellows who had shared but little in his fortunes. Meanwhile Shūzen and the abbot were otherwise engaged. Said Bankei—"Deign to relate something of how Shūzen Dono came to this yashiki. Honoured Sir, was not the former site in Mita? How came the change?" Shūzen explained the conditions and the time of change to his new site and experiences. If there was aught of grudge, it attached rather to place than person. To this Bankei Oshō was agreed. "The fact of the case is plain to Bankei. The spirit directing the actions of the horse is not the spirit of the animal. The possession brought to an end by the exorcism, the alien spirit departed, and the carcass of the animal deprived of this influence, it fell to the ground an inert mass, like to the abandoned shell of the cicada. But the malevolent influence is to be found. This is the task of Shūzen Dono. Deign, honoured sir, then to have memorial rites performed by this Bankei, and no longer will the yashiki be haunted by such unusual and unseemly performance.... Daigaku no Sensei? He is but a Confucianist, bound to the letter of material substance. Nor would he confess the ignorance of the spiritual world he undoubtedly is gifted with, of the law of punishment for deeds performed in a past existence (ingwai) as taught by the Lord Buddha. The materialist has his nose to earth, and can see naught else. The idiot has his nose to heaven, and can see naught else. The Buddha's Law comprehends Heaven and Earth. Hence its truth." With this expression of the odium theologicum the worthy abbot departed templewards, accompanied, as gage for further proceedings and profit, by the carcass of the horse. Bankei had this inhumed in the ground behind the main hall of the temple. Kakunai superintended these last obsequies. The abbot's words, as to the malevolence of the influence involved, was proved to Shūzen the next day, when report was brought that the groom had hanged himself at the gratings of the stall once occupied by Kagé. Moved by this strong hint, Kakunai was sent to join his equine friend in one common grave.

Warned by the unusual nature of these events Shūzen determined at once to trace out the source of this evil influence. It was his duty as a samurai to suppress such manifestations occurring so close to the suzerain's dwelling. It was to his own interest to free the yashiki from such noxious vapours. The karō, Beita Heima, set on foot an investigation. Then it was that Isuké the chūgen had thought of the hole detected under the shrine of the O'Inari Sama. On Shūzen's order the karō undertook the task of examining this suspicious adjunct to the yashiki. Torches in hand several chūgen, under the direction of the samurai, were appointed to the work. The men hesitated a little to violate the precincts of the shrine. Growled Beita—"The carpenters did not hesitate to build it. What they put up, men can destroy. Up with the boarding. Thus the stone easily will be raised." The directions were carried out. There were many tracks of beasts, all of which seemed to converge to this spot. With removal of flooring and joists, soon the massive lid of granite was raised on edge. With a thud and cloud of dust it fell to one side. The men drew away, not only checked by the dark aperture exposed, but by the foul odour which poured up from the confined space. Holding his nose the karō took a lighted torch for further inspection of depth and means of entrance. "Um! A shallow place; not more than a jō (10 feet). Who volunteers to enter? Come! Don't be backward on his lordship's service. Isuké, eh?"

Isuké came forward readily enough at the call. He was a brave man, and moreover a little angered at the fate of his one time friend, Kakunai. If the beast of a horse, or the spirit beast, held occupancy here, Isuké would deal with him. The kick of spiritual hoofs and the bite of immaterial teeth had no terrors for Isuké. Carefully inspecting his ground he took the leap. A lighted torch was lowered to him. With this he marched off, the light growing quickly faint in the darkness. "Oya! Oya! 'Tis strange. The stench—it is unendurable. The darkness too thick even for the torch. It fails to burn." For a time his voice was heard rumbling off with increasing distance. To repeated shouts no answer was returned. Said Heima—"Isuké has gone too far, out of range. Some other must bear him aid.... What! All milk livers? You, Gensuké, love the wine cellar. Its care would seem to be your calling. Now down with you! Here is one made to hand for the yashiki. Make report of the discovery to his lordship." Gensuké was most unwilling, but his comrades loudly applauded the choice. He was lowered into the hole by hands energetic to lend him assistance in reaching its depths. Provided with a light he too started off on his march into the darkness. "Iya! Iya! What stench! 'Tis past endurance. Ah! There is a loud roaring yonder. Gensuké will investigate. Deign support in necessity." His voice also faded off with the distance. Then all was silence. Those outside now could hear the faint reverberation spoken of. To their shouts there was no answer. All were much alarmed. They looked into each others' faces. At the karō's order there was now no hesitation, though there was some grumbling at the rashness of those who risked the wrath of the O'Inari Sama by the heedless undertaking.

Three or four men at once jumped down into the hole. With dimly burning torches, and holding each other by the hand, they made their way into the blackness of the cavern. Almost at once came a cry, answered by others. Those above leaned eagerly over the aperture. Some took the leap. Soon the men appeared, dragging along the limp and helpless body of Gensuké. The trouble now was clear. The men had been overcome by the vicious air of the cave. Soon Isuké also was brought to the upper air. With the removal all the roar and reverberation was transferred to the surface. The two men lay unconscious, breathing noisily, and to all appearance in great extremity. Beita San at once ordered local aid. While friction and cold water was being applied, the leech summoned, Saitō Sensei, came on the ground. Heima questioned anxiously as to the men's condition. The Sensei reassured him—"It is but the noxious air of the cavern which has overcome them. A day or two, and they will be as good as ever." The old man wrinkled his face and chuckled a little as he surveyed the victims of the O'Inari Sama. Greatly was the reputation of the shrine for efficacy added to in this punishment. "Boy and man this aging Saitō Genan has known the place. Evil its repute. The cave is very ancient, and in the past much feared by people round about. Failure to worship has been followed by misfortune. Horse or cow has disappeared, house been burned down, or pregnant wife frightened into miscarriage by apparitions. Young girls attending at the shrine have disappeared. Its reputation is as evil as that of the Kōjimachi well yonder." He jerked a finger in the direction indicated, at the neighbouring site beyond the bamboo fence. "A bolus, and these fellows are restored to consciousness." From his wallet he prepared the drug. Gensuké showed signs of life, opened his eyes, uneasily moving first this limb, and then that. Isuké sat bolt upright, with most stentorian snort. He waved both arms with a violence which sent his two supporters to the ground. In wrath he sprang up, but the malign effect was still too powerful. His legs wavered under him, and they had to come again to his aid. However, it was necessary to carry off Gensuké limp and helpless; with the support of the arms on each side of him, Isuké made his way back to the yashiki on his own legs.

Heima made report to his lord of what had passed, of the history of the place as reported by Saitō Sensei. Shūzen pursed his lips, and inquired as to the condition of Isuké. The chūgen was a favoured attendant; one much trusted. At the end of a week he was summoned to his lord's presence. "And Katai (tough) Isuké, his experience has gone beyond his powers?" Shūzen spoke with that slight jeering condolence which arouses obstinacy. Isuké, prostrate on his hands, expressed gratitude for his lord's reproof. The fault was not his. Overcome by the foul air he became giddy, then lost all sensation of time or place. "And the roaring and noises, these did not frighten Isuké into his faint?"—"Roaring, noise, there were none; beyond the gentle drip of water often heard in such places. The roaring heard must have been due to the snoring of Gensuké. The cowardly fellow still clings to the bed, sucking in the dainty fare of the invalid; not so, Isuké." Shūzen had an idea. All the others were too struck by fear to be of aid—"Then Isuké fears not the work of fox or badger. He will again make the venture?"—"For the Tono Sama; though none too willingly," was the chūgen's reply. "Fox or badger? Let them but come under the knife of Isuké, and he will make soup of them; a better soup than they supply otherwise. But the stench!"—"And the foxes of Nakano (Shinjuku)?" Isuké blushed. His master was far too knowing.

At Shūzen's order that night Isuké met his lord at the steps of the Inari Shrine. The adventure pleased Shūzen. He was still young enough to delight in exposure and difficulties. Plainly old Beita was not the man for this task. His retainers readily would obey their lord's direction. But Shūzen hungered for a more direct credit. He stripped to his loin cloth in the cold winter night. Isuké followed his lord's example. The job would be no clean one. Then the two men dropped to the floor of the cavern. Isuké spoke in surprise. "Naruhodo! At night the place seems much brighter than by day." He looked around in some suspicion and astonishment. Then his eye rested on the torches. "Oya! The torch burns brightly, not dimly as before. Pfu! The stench is unaltered, but the air at least is breathable." Preceding his master by some ten paces, Shūzen heard him give a shout. Hastening up, with Isuké he bent over the aperture of what seemed to be a well. What was its depth? "In with you, Isuké," said Shūzen. The chūgen protested—"Nay! The Tono Sama deigns to jest. Is Isuké a bat (kōmori), one to fly off into the darkness.... Ah! The depth is terrific. The light hardly shows the blackness of the place. It may reach down to Meido itself." Shūzen lit a second torch, then cast it down into the cavity. He broke into a laugh. The light continued to burn brightly. "Meido then is not far off. The bottom of the well lies not five shaku (feet) below. Now in with you!" Anticipating the chūgen he sprang down himself.

Isuké spoke, holding his nose—"Heigh! Tono Sama, deign to go no further. The stink passes beyond measurement. It increases with distance gone. Peugh! It blows from yonder." He pointed to a low aperture in one corner of the roundish space in which they stood. Shūzen could understand better now. The whole cave was due to water; had been formed by water in the loose volcanic soil. The well was a mere passage way by which it once had risen, and been drained off again. Isuké was right. With decuple vigour the stench now rose close to hand. "In with you," was the peremptory order. "Anything found in way of gold and silver belongs to Isuké; and caves are always rich in such finds."—"Is that so?" said the chūgen—"It is the tale of old books; which often lie. But in with you, and find out." Under spur of avarice and command Isuké crawled into the passage. He had gone but a bare ten feet when Shūzen heard a most fearful yell, saw the rapid progress outwards of the posteriors of Isuké. The man's face was chalk white—"Deign, Danna Sama, to go no further." He choked for utterance. "How now!" said Shūzen in pretended astonishment. "Fox or badger? They were to be converted into soup for Katai Isuké, soft food for his grinders."—"For fox or badger Isuké cares not. He invites their presence.... Kiya!" Shūzen in sport had placed a cold wet hand on his neck. "Ah! The Danna jests. Of fox and badger soup is made. With human stench it is not savoured. There is a dead body within. Hence the frightful odour."

Shūzen at once began to twist his head towel around his nose. With feeblest protest Isuké saw him take the torch and disappear into the passage. Soon his voice was heard. "Isuké! Isuké! Is he milk livered? How about the gold and silver? Would Isuké abandon it?" Isuké would not. In a trice he was on hands and knees, to rejoin his master who was roaring with laughter. "Gold and silver may be here," Shūzen explained. "Otherwise Isuké would have backed out of the undertaking, all the way to the cave's entrance. Turn the body over. See whether it is of man or woman." Much put out Isuké did as he was bid. "Pfugh! Stirring does no good. The very flesh is melting from the bones. The hair of the beard and head show it to be a man." Shūzen turned to a wider passage, plainly due in part to hand. By crouching he could enter into a larger chamber. In wonder and admiration he called to Isuké. In so far, the chūgen would pursue the venture. Besides would he not follow his master to Meido itself? "Look, Isuké! Such groining of the roof is only made by Nature's hand. The cave of Fudō Sama at Meguro shows no finer sight." He pointed to the mass of interlacing roots of some huge ichō rising from the ground above. Isuké grumbled assent, without much vigour. He was getting tired of this adventure. It was a satisfaction they could go no further. Shūzen meanwhile was rummaging the place, which evidently had been a kind of dwelling. In a closet were found some coarse cooking utensils and crockery for food. A supply of firewood in one corner, and a box, completed the furniture. With curiosity Shūzen turned over the books in the box. A cry brought Isuké to his side. "Your share, Isuké." He pointed to three shining silver ryō which lay below the scrolls. Isuké looked incredulous at the find. Then he prostrated himself before his master in deepest gratitude. With joy he pocketed the coin and shouldered the scrolls. There was nothing more to do. They sought the open air.

The strange sight reported to him, Beita Heima the karō appeared before his master. In the early morning light Shūzen was pouring buckets of cold water over Isuké, having himself undergone the same treatment at the chūgen's hands. "Kan mairi, Heima,"[7] said Shūzen with a laugh. Then he explained matters to the astonished karō. Isuké's further ablutions were left to other hands. The affair now was cleared up. The removal of the slab, the fresh air penetrating the cavern, made the removal of the body easy. This was to be sent to Bankei's care for proper burial and rites. Meanwhile Shūzen with interest and increasing gravity examined his prize. The books were all on war. One was in the suspected script of the western barbarian. From its plates, it was a work on fortification, and the art of attack and defence. Shūzen did not understand the Dutch words, but he regarded the find as of importance, at least as adding to his own merit. So likewise did Abé Bungo no Kami, minister for the month, and with a great liking for Shūzen. He saw to it that the affair was to the latter's profit. The Ometsuké inspected the books, inspected the cave, drank Shūzen's wine, and commended the vigilance and energy of the hatamoto. The report was worth an added hundred koku to his modest income. Isuké also counted his gains with joy; a means of continued defiance and pursuit of the foxes of the Nakano pleasure quarter.

As to Bankei—the funeral rites had been performed, the sutra read, the body inhumed in the same mound with those of Kakunai and the horse. Liberal had been the gift of Okumura Shūzen for all these divers interments, and great the unction of Bankei at the accomplishment and solution of the mystery of the cave in the Banchō. But one thing rested uneasily on his mind. What the identity of the evil spirit which caused these wonders? That night, as the abbot rested in his bed, there appeared at his pillow a man of some thirty odd years, tall, gaunt, hairy, ugly, and much dejected. "His eyes were prominent in his head, his lofty nose showed ability, he had the mouth of a shark." Plainly very great had been his wickedness. Prostrate the apparition gave thanks to the saint. All the spice and joy of evil doing had been exchanged for the insipidity of Paradise. Now he was threatened with Nirvana through the prayers of the saintly abbot. In life he had been the wicked Sōja Mushuku (lodgeless). A famous thief, he was the source of the raids on purse and person, on yashiki in particular and the common people in general, which had caused much fear and distress in Edo. The cave of the Inari, a lucky discovery, had been his safe haunt from pursuit. None could betray him, for none of his band knew his lair. He would betray no one; but he would tell the abbot of his fate. It was Isuké who had sealed him up in the cave by thrusting into place the heavy cover. Here he passed miserable days in hunger until the poisonous air, gradually accumulating, had put an end to him. His spirit, however, had haunted the place, with no disposition to leave. With the opportunity he had entered the body of Kagé, in search of human requirements and enjoyments. Betrayed by appetite he had been driven forth by the prayers of the abbot, and solaced by his petitions for the future life. Deign to let the matter rest there, and not pursue him into the inanity, the nothingness of Nirvana. To this the practiced ear of the holy Bankei gave deep thought. This fellow already had forced the unhappy Kakunai to follow in his tracks. What might he not do to others in whom the abbot had far greater interest? "To such wickedness the gift of Nirvana is not likely. Bankei wastes his breath, and Shūzen Dono his substance. Deign to enter Meido, be wholly purified of wickedness, and in a second birth, if in human form, be of a virtuous House. For present and past sins atonement is to be made. For those still living Bankei holds not his lips silent. Off with you at once to these insipid joys." He thrust the rosary of crystal beads into the vision's face. At once it disappeared, and Bankei woke amid a nauseating odour. He stretched himself in weariness—"A dream? Tribulation of the Five Viscera?" Yet he would report it to Shūzen, and on the uncertainty of the truth secure further aid for man and horse. Hence the monument of the Batō (horse-headed) Kwannon, which long stood on its mound behind the hondō of the Seishōji of Shiba.

CHAPTER VIII

Aoyama Shūzen

These events could not fail to cause comment. It was in the general room of the hiban, the fire guard of the castle, that the discussion came to a head. There were a number of these guards for different quarters of the castle inclosure; and for better drill and coordination the officers met, apart from the site of their particular duties. This made the office of the hiban a sort of club of the hatamoto, bringing together the members of the more particular cliques, known respectively as the Shiratsukagumi (white handle club), the Kingingumi (gold and silver clubs), the members of which knocked out a conspicuous tooth, replacing it with the metal ensign of their affiliation, and the Kubo no Shiro-oshigumi. These organizations, something like the Otokodaté of the townsmen in the closeness of the relations of their members, had by no means the same worthy object. They were often merely a way of ruffling it through the town, particularly at the amusement quarter of Asakusa; seeking quarrels with rōnin, abusing women, and literally gravelling the discomfited townsmen, not seldom left on the ground, subsequently to be put into it. The Otokodaté, or chivalrous band, were indeed needed in this state of early Edo. They could hold their own, inasmuch as the samurai involved dared not bring a quarrel to light. He had the advantage of his training; and by the rules of his caste did not hesitate to have assassinated a plebeian he could not overcome, and chose to regard as impertinent. Collisions with these, however, were rare. Rōnin were the particular object of dislike of the Tokugawa adherents. It was the great exception made, when Hida no Kami (Yagyū Matajurō) admitted Kumé no Heinai to his fencing room and discipleship. The rōnin, of course, deserved the proscription, being often the devoted adherents of a lost cause—Hoōjō or Toyotomi—and unwilling to transfer their fealty to a second lord. The most noted and hated of the rōnin, though free from any taint of rebellion to the Tokugawa, was this Heinaibei; the vilest assassination, that of his friend Bandzuin Chōbei by Mizuno Jurōzaémon aided by other members of the Shiratsukagumi.

Endō Saburōzaémon had related the mishap of his chūgen, his own experience in pursuing the offenders. The old fellows, heroes of the Genwa and Kwanei periods, were gathered close to a hibachi. Despite the season age sought pretence of warmth or closer company. Said the veteran Matsudaira Montarō—"Ōkubo, what think you? Surely the ice water of gathering years runs in our veins. Such happenings, so close to the dwelling of the Ue Sama, never would have taken place in former days. But we are old. The stiffened joints and the wrinkles would not deceive such miscreants. 'Twould be a palpable fraud, our presentation."—"True," growled Shichinosuké; "but ice water runs in other veins than those who are old." Kondō Noborinosuké, verging toward his fifties, now chimed in—"Naruhodo! The talk of these young chaps infects one with their own complaints. This one can but thump himself on the chest and speculate as to whether he has one lung, or two of the kind. This other limps and dreams of kakké. His tongue hangs out a yard, that he can better inspect its colour; and his legs are black and blue from efforts to detect a dropsy. A third excuses himself by a flux, which he would cure with hot wine; and a fourth is assured of a cold, to lead to all these and other ailments, and hence steeps himself night and day in the hot bath, the one to be most easily excused. Emma Dai-Ō in Hell[8] could not afflict these fellows more than they grieve over themselves. Only in talk of their ailments do they find company. Plasters and medicaments for their persons, instead of armour and the quietus of the foe, these are the objects of their quest." The two old rascals, and their middle aged abettor, looked slyly over each other's heads at the younger men grouped in the rear, then at each other. Thus it was with these violent fellows of the actual battlefield. They would stir someone to action.

"Heigh! Heigh! Not Endō Uji: he at least has proved his mettle. The pressing offices of the day do not call for sleep all night. He is of the stock of Kiémon Dono. Old Hikoza never tired of tales of his father's prowess." Kondō chuckled as he continued—"The old fellow (oyaji) spoke well of the dead. The living had need to take care of his praise of them. Witness Torii Dono and Akiyama Dono, at the two extremes of age. Good luck, as well as management, extricated them from the results of a commendation like to cost them much. Alas! His place is not to be filled." Ōkubo Hikozaémon, governor of these wild fellows, keeper of the suzerain's conscience, had left his seat vacant these past five years. Sorrow for his loss did not prevent Noborinosuké bringing a bright and beady eye on Aoyama Shūzen. Ōkubo Shichinosuké followed the look. All of the old ones fastened Shūzen with inquisitive glare. The object of their attention neither quailed nor showed undue eagerness. "The honoured ancients favour this Shūzen with the task." His laugh was so cold and purposeful, his look so derisive and comprehending, that the old fellows in some confusion sought comfort in each other. This Aoyama Shūzen was a very devil of a fellow. He had a perspicacity in finesse that the plain, keen, and honest bluntness of former days could not deceive. Aoyama was not one to charge with effeminacy in any form. He had a wife—whom he neglected. He had a page, whom he favoured. He had all the harsh vices and capabilities of the warrior age. Turning to Endō Saburōzaémon—"Endō Uji has seen the vision, not fox or tanuki. This has been the experience of the chūgen?" Saburōzaémon did not like the connection; nor did he like Shūzen. "It is fact. Rokuzo was bewitched, not Endō. See to it that Aoyama Dono has better luck." Thus tacitly he would force the mission on Shūzen. The latter suppressed his anger at the assumption. "Endō Dono, as with this Shūzen, is hatamoto of the land. Such vile rascals as these do not make them object of their tricks."—"Don't be too sure of that," replied Endō. "Neither fox nor tanuki would care for the company of the vision. This Saburōzaémon does but seek to give it rest—and himself." He spoke with some gloom. Said Aoyama with decision—"Agreed! What may be the reward?" A chorus of protest went up. "Reward! Reward!... The applause of all.... The interest in the tale, as with that of Endō Dono, just recited." But Shūzen smiled and shook his head—"Endō Dono seeks the good will of an unworshipped demon." Saburōzaémon shot a glance at him. "Shūzen too has his object. Otherwise, let others volunteer." The force of what he said was made plain by the silence of the company. The stories told, none longed for the experience. Thought Montarō testily—"This fellow always has something in his sleeve." With hesitation—"Endō deserves reward, and claims it not. Aoyama would have it in advance. How now: a sword?" All looked inquisitively at Shūzen. They were surprised and disgruntled at his gesture of dissent. He knew the ancients, and could suspect a trap. "Shūzen knows the kind. As with buying radishes at Yanagibara; one good for nothing, and bringing anything but honour.... Shūzen selects his own weapon, nor asks reward apart from the issue." Kondō Noborinosuké clapped his hands. The younger man was a favourite and kindred spirit of his own, near enough in age to be congenial. "The presiding chair at the Endurance Society meeting. We are samurai, hatamoto of the land. Gold is not to the purpose. A sword is bought with gold. Let Aoyama Uji make report to the meeting, and on that hang the office." Shūzen was the first to nod eager assent. All agreed; with no great joy at prospect of the coming test, yet afraid of his refusal. Thus the company separated, committed to a meeting of the Gaman Kwai at the house of Noborinosuké, to hear the report of Aoyama Shūzen's venture into the Banchō.

His preparations made, the next night, at the hour of the rat (11-1 a.m.), saw Aoyama in his turn climbing the slope of the Gomizaka. Attached to the immediate service of the palace, the place was very desolate and strange to him. At a loss where to look for the objects of his search he sauntered at random, attention drawn to footing in this darkness. Thus it was that the Gekkeiji bell sounded over the moorland, striking the first watch of the hour of the ox (3 a.m.). He stopped to listen his eye fixed at the time on the long line of wall and fine gate of a bessō-yashiki (country villa), evidently of a great lord. He had passed from here some little distance, to the turning of the wall, when hasty steps and the hard breathing of one who had just breasted the hill struck his ear. Shūzen standing at the corner was almost knocked down by the dark bulk which bounded out of the shadow. Both parties sprang back in attitude of watchfulness. Shūzen had never seen such a fellow. At least seven feet in height, hairy of arms and legs and face, his eyes shone like bright mirrors. Bulging forth these made him like to the ghost of some huge dragon fly. Did he not have an eye in the middle of his forehead? Shūzen could not have denied it. Of size to inspire fear, decidedly the rascal was to be suspected. Shūzen was the first to question. "Who and where from? Answer at once, or this Aoyama deigns the death cut." The man, or monster, merely opened and shut the plate like eye holes. Then with a roaring derisive lip—"Ha! Ha! This is Tanuki-baké, come hither to find and fetch Aoyama."

"Ya! Ya!" Aoyama was in a great rage. In the act of drawing his sword he would cut the rascal down. Thus to insult a hatamoto of the land, lord of twelve hundred koku! "Make ready!" Apparition or not, at a bound the man was some ten feet off. Then followed a space, during which Shūzen made every effort known to the fencing room. He would have impaled a real dragon fly more readily. Without attempt to flee the object merely darted hither and thither. Shūzen was dripping with perspiration. He felt badly and discouraged. For a moment he would rest—"To see this Aoyama?" He grunted. "Just so," was the reply. "Fools at close quarters give entertainment. Aoyama is not the clever one to cut down the tanuki-baké (badger-ghost). Get you hence to your quilts, good sir; to your fool companions who wear summer garb in depth of winter, and triple garments in the heats of the sixth and seventh months; stuff themselves with hot food and wine in summer, and freeze the viands and saké in winter. Get you hence to your companions of the Gaman Kwai (Endurance Society). Make report to them of Aoyama's venture, and bray and brag to them of spending a night outside the sheets." Shūzen strove to be calm on receipt of these insults to his kind. In haughty condescension he explained—"Those of the Gaman Kwai wear katabira (light summer wear) in winter, triple gear in summer, to undergo the hardships of the battlefield. In war one regards not heat or cold. He drinks from the puddle on the field, and cooks the rice straw for food in his helmet. This is the great time of peace. The experiences and the hardships of the battlefield are lacking. It is as substitute for these...." He was interrupted by a mighty burst of impolite merriment from the heavy man, who held his sides as like to split from laughter. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Naruhodo! These chitterlings; stuffed sausages! 'Sufferings of the battlefield; hardships'! They are not to encountered in such childish sport. He who would face these must practise the art of the inner belly (mind). It is by hardening the belly that the trials of war are met. You fellows practise but the outer cult. Of the inner and secret precepts you are ignorant. Degraded fools (bakéyarō)!"—"Shut up!" roared Shūzen. He could take the fellow at a disadvantage in his fit of outrageous merriment. Close to hand he leaped on him. In effort to avoid the blow the miscreant tumbled head over heels into the close deep waving suzuki grass. With satisfaction Aoyama felt the sword sink deep into the resisting substance. Great his disgust to find that he had cleft an old and hidden stump to the very root. He seated himself upon it.

At least he was in the centre of disturbance. Should he await further encounter, or depart elsewhere to find it. He had a mind to abandon the lanes and plunge into the waste land. Just then screams and cries were heard; the sound of rapid flying feet coming in his direction. A young woman in flight was now close at hand. Her hair unbound streamed behind her. She was in night clothes, and the knot of the narrow obi or band come loose in her flight, exposed a figure all attraction. On reaching Aoyama she threw herself at his feet, clasping his knees. "Aid! Aid from the honoured samurai! Thieves breaking in threaten with death and pillage. Deign, honoured sir, to aid." Shūzen was very willing to do so. The lady was very urgent and very beautiful. He himself was uncertain as to goal, and the matter of the ghost could wait on her extremity. To his inquiry she made reply—"Just yonder." With her he retraced his steps. To his surprise the gate of the yashiki, already noticed, was wide open. In all haste she urged him to the entrance, yet in his rapid passage he seemed to have seen this place before. The girl gave a call, then another. Shūzen joined her in chorus and the search. The mansion was thrown wide open and abandoned. Not a soul was to be seen. All had either been killed, or had fled. The wailing of the girl brought him to her side. Prostrate she lay on the bodies of an old man and old woman, who had been put to death without mercy by the miscreants. Great was the pity of Aoyama. "The bodies still smoke in blood; the perpetrators cannot be far off. It would be well to seize them. This lantern ... how now? Is it of the house?" The girl raised her head to observe it. "No," she said. "The house lanterns have not the bow handle. This is of the thieves.... What's that?" A noise was heard above. Aoyama, hand on his sword, sprang to the stairway. The girl, all smiles at the prospective vengeance, followed him.

Three fellows were busy at the closets and chests. The contents were scattered over the floor, evidently for purpose of selection. Aoyama burst upon them. "Heigh-ho! Vile rascals! Submit your necks at once to the blow, your arms to the cord." At first the pillagers were greatly astonished and put out. "A samurai! Our work is interfered with. Alas! We must away." Said the leader, a determined looking fellow—"Umph! 'Tis nothing but a board wages samurai (sampin). He is alone. Kick him down. Teach him the lesson of interference." With yells all made for Shūzen. Disregarding those at the side he delivered his blow at the man in front. Kiya! He split him in two as one would green bamboo. Shūzen drew back with a side sweep which cut another clean across the girdle. He stopped to rub his eyes with amazement. Was it not witchcraft? Not three, but five men now confronted him; and lively rascals they were. Strive as he would Aoyama's blows seemed but to multiply his foes. He was but one man. A kick to this side sent a rascal flying to the wall; an elbow shot sent another through the screens. Then all took to flight. One closely pursued sought the roof, the drying frame its heights. Aoyama was about to cut him down, when the fellow sprang off into the darkness like a flying bird. At the same time came most urgent and piteous cries from below. "Danna Sama! Honoured Samurai Sama! Deign rescue. The thieves! They force me to extremities." Reluctant Shūzen turned back. On reaching the lower stair he came upon the rascals who were gathered round the girl. At sight of him all took to flight. To Shūzen's astonishment the girl in her turn fled in pursuit. Out of the house rushed the whole band, Shūzen joining in the mad race. Down the slope went all. Then dobun!... Shūzen's foot caught in a hole, or root, or some obstacle. Head first he went into the ditch. Struggling, gasping, spitting out the dirty water of the drain, Aoyama scrambled up on the bank. He looked around in amazement. The white light of dawn illuminated the scene; the ill fated tree stump and the dirty drain close by. House there was none. Girl and thieves had disappeared. He stood on the moor, shivering in Nippon's always cool dawn and dripping wet with the filthy fluid of the ditch or stream flowing through these fields and the valley. With discomfiture he took his long way homewards to the Dōsanbashi. Plainly he had been bewitched and derided. So believing, he was startled to find himself again before the yashiki gate; but in the light of day it showed the obvious neglect of years. Shūzen at once sought entrance, not by the gate, but over the wall for lack of other means. He recognized the scene of last night's exploit, and its description as given by Endō Saburōzaémon. Besides, he recognized the place in his own experience of long past years, the favour and support of one to whom he was much indebted. Ah! Truly these were dangerous rascals he had encountered.

CHAPTER IX

Shūzen meets Shūzen

Aoyama Shūzen was not likely to brag of this exploit. All day he sat biting his thumbs, and drinking wine to obviate the effect of his nasty bath. An idea began to crystallize in his brain. But this matter pressed. The preparations for the night were to be made. He hoped for better luck in his vengeance on the miscreants. The watch of the rat again saw him skirting the Ushigafuchi on his way to the Banchō. He had just started up the slope of the Gomizaka when he heard steps behind him. Oya! Oya! Two chūgen and a lady. About these there was nothing suspicious. But the lantern they carried? It was marked with the mitsuba-aoi, or triple leaf holly hock crest of the suzerain's House. Plainly the bearers were on mission from one of the San Ke (Princes of the Blood), or perhaps from the palace itself. Reverence must be done to the lantern. On his present mission, and thus arrayed, Aoyama sought to avoid notice. He disappeared into the long suzuki grass at the road side. He could hear the lady express her anxiety and haste. Then with curiosity Aoyama watched their strange behavior. A bare sixty feet beyond they came to a halt. The lady shrank back as in terror. Haténa! Aoyama recognized him by his size, the antagonist and critic of the previous night. Without delay, or giving time for flight, the huge ruffian with one hand grasped the bosom of the lady's dress, with the other the arm of a chūgen. A kick sent the other fellow very willingly to the ground. Tremendous was the apparition as he towered over his victims. He seemed taller than ever. His hair stood out like iron wire. His mouth grinned open wide from ear to ear; and now Aoyama could see distinctly the horns sprouting from his temples. Did he not have claws? Aoyama could not remember.

He would rescue the lady, beautiful of course. Rapidly passing through the grass Aoyama burst out upon the group. He took aim at the knave's breast bone. "Yai!" The fellow let go. The two prisoners, thrust violently into the knees of Shūzen, brought him to the ground. When he had recovered balance the rascal had disappeared. The lady was in a dead faint. One chūgen seemed to be dead. The other was squatting at some distance, eyes saucer like in fright. He regarded Aoyama with grave suspicion. The samurai called to him. "Here you! Your mistress has fainted. Water at once!" But the fellow did nothing but answer "Hei! Hei!" without sign of motion. "Don't sit and purr like a cat," roared Shūzen. "Off with you, and fetch water." At last the man took courage to approach. "Alas! Danna Sama, this Banchō, where the thieves are apparitions, and apparitions turn to women, frightens this Isuké."—"Fear or no fear, water must be had. Such milk livered fellows are not for man's work. Weakness of loins won't do. Off with you."—"But how?"—"In your scabbard, fool." For answer the chūgen made a wry face and tugged at his weapon. As often the case with those men, it was of wood. Shūzen laughed. Then he gave his own scabbard to the chūgen. Off the fellow crawled, with gait and speed of a maimed insect.

Meanwhile what was to be done. Shūzen put his hand into the bosom of the lady, and rummaged. Women were always dosing and fainting. Doubtless she was provided for such contingency. Surely a perfume reached his nostrils. Ah! Here it was. He drew out the fragrant package. Medicine without doubt. The drug savoured strongly of musk. At last the fellow was on hand with the liquid. Shūzen made a pellet from the drug. "Raise up your mistress. Take her in your arms." But the man drew away in horror. He prostrated himself flat on the ground. "Deign forbearance. To touch with a finger one of the ladies of the palace is not to be ventured."—"Ah! Is that so?" grunted Shūzen. "Circumstances of course don't alter cases. He who will not touch a woman is usually a most lecherous rascal." With this comment he roughly shoved aside the awkward efforts of this meticulous attendant. Taking the operation upon himself, he gently pressed the back of the lady's neck, forcing her to open her mouth. Inserting the drug he poured in water from the scabbard. A sudden slap on the back and down went the bolus. The lady opened and shut her eyes. Then they remained open. "Be firm," commented Aoyama Sensei. "Thanks," replied the dame. "Ah! What fright! With hand on dagger was this Banchō entered on. So near, how suspect misfortune at hand? Truly honoured sir, great your trouble and inconvenience."

Aoyama accepted the thanks, to satisfy curiosity. "But so late abroad ... and doubtless of the honoured San Ke...." Replied the lady—"The mission was of Kishū Ke, said to be of grave import. Hence the late hour of the night. This insignificant person is lady in waiting at the San no Ma of the palace; Takigawa by name. The yashiki of Okumura Shūzen, my father, lies close at hand. Great the cowardice shown by this Taki." Shūzen grasped the whole affair. Between Kishū Ke and the parent House the feeling in those days was none too good. Grave suspicion on the part of one, angry resentment on that of the other. He would see more of the matter. It was his duty as hatamoto. "To go abroad with chūgen is no safe thing. At this hour and place samurai could well have been taken as company. As for courage—of that kind it is not expected of a woman. Valour was shown in undertaking the mission. And this fellow...." He turned sharply to the chūgen and pointed to his fellow. "Mujina-také."—"What!" roared Shūzen. He looked from chūgen to lady, and from lady to chūgen. They seemed surprised. Stammered the man in fright—"It is but a nickname. His name is Také, and he is very worthless. Hence he is called Tanuki-také. I am called Yōkai Isuké (Apparition Isuké), being nothing but wind." Aoyama grunted a ready assent to this self critic. The fellow's ignorance and cowardice was as gross as the material flesh which Shūzen tested with a well applied kick in the buttocks, bringing Isuké in position to render first aid to his companion. This was done by passing on the application. A vigorous snort followed the thump on the back administered to Mujina. He sat up and regarded his mate with astonishment. "Ah! The Yōkai.... No more of that. 'Tis Mujina's turn." This, when his fellow proposed a second application. The return came sooner than anticipated. A terrific sneeze followed. Up came his head sharply, and the yōkai rolled over backwards on the ground. He rose in fury, holding his jaw. Shūzen was laughing, the lady smiling. "The distance is but short? Plainly those fellows are next to worthless. This Shūzen will act as guard." Thus did Aoyama go in company to the yashiki of Okumura Shūzen; and thus was his second night's venture brought to naught.

The arrival of the Ojōsama (lady daughter) in company with Aoyama caused much excitement. Okumura was of five hundred koku; Aoyama of twelve hundred koku. The latter was at once ushered to the inner apartments. The lady wife of Okumura came forward to urge his stay for some entertainment. Aoyama in turn was curious to know more of this mission in connection with a hatamoto like himself. He spoke gravely of the dangers in this neighbourhood, apart from the strange tales told. Okumura Shūzen heartily agreed. The charge being to Kishū Ke was not to be declined. Himself he had many strange tales to relate. Though the hour was late, every effort was made. Aoyama Shūzen was gratified with a beautiful repast. The wine was served in person by Takigawa Dono. The talk passed from personal affairs to tales of war. Here Aoyama was in his element, both from experience and the tales of others heard in the hiban and at the meetings of the Gaman Kwai. This was a first meeting, not to be too long drawn out. Okumura was a new comer in the Banchō, his service was in connection with the public works. Aoyama had been of the palace staff until very recently. Both expressed deepest gratification at their encounter. As he took his way home in the morning light, Aoyama Shūzen could but contrast with pleasure his present arrival with that of the previous morning. He had feasted well, and made an acquaintance of some value.

The following day he would make his acknowledgments. Aping no great style he walked accompanied by a page and two chūgen. Inquiry soon brought him to the yashiki. Inquiry soon introduced him to a sitting room. "Lucky fellow!" thought Aoyama. "The influence of Matsudaira Kō lands him in affluence. A modest income; a double yashiki!" This part of the house was different from that of his last night's introduction. Then he stated his business to the karō. The night before he had accompanied the Ojōsan to the yashiki. He would make acknowledgment of the courtesy then received. The face of old Beita Heima was a puzzle. Deep the respect due to twelve hundred koku Aoyama, but had he been drunk or dreaming?—"Has not your lordship mistaken the yashiki?" Aoyama was a little severe at what seemed gratuitous assumption. "You were not on the guard last night." Beita spoke, prostrate and with great respect, but with an earnestness and obstinacy not to be mistaken. He had been on the guard—from sunset to dawn. Aoyama began to feel uncomfortable. Veiling the sharpness—"Is this not the yashiki of Okumura Dono?" Heima gulped assent. "Is not Takigawa Dono, of the San no Ma, the Ojōsan of the House?" Here Heima was on sure ground. "Ojōsan of the House there is none. It is very rude; but surely there is mistake as to the yashiki." Aoyama now was beginning to see light. He felt very hot and uncomfortable. He ventured a last question for surety. "And Okumura Dono?"—"The Tono Sama absent in Shimosa, the yashiki has been in this Heima's charge for this past month's course." With such grace as he could in his discomfiture Aoyama Shūzen took his leave. The astonished page and chūgen, still retaining the intended presents of acknowledgment, with difficulty kept up with their master. Ah! The beasts again had scored. Detestable! Shūzen thought with horror of his repast of the previous night. He had no better fare than Rokuzo the chūgen. In rage he sought his room, and swallowed all the purges and emetics to hand. Occupied in retching, and thinking, and other matters germane to his condition, he concocted the plan by which he hoped to bring the foe to book, and himself to the presiding chair which surely he had earned.

CHAPTER X

The Meeting of the Gaman Kwai

With the fall of Ōsaka castle (1615), and the culmination of the uneasy movements of the years following in the conspiracy of Honda Masazumi, the country entered on a long peace—the Tokugawa Taihei. The Arima rebellion after all was but an affair of farming folk, in far off Kyūshū. Masazumi struck right at the person of the Shōgun himself. A special ceiling was constructed in his castle at Utsunomiya. This was to collapse on the sleeping Iyemitsu Kō sheltered beneath it. Caught between the heavy boulders above and beneath the couch, the Shōgun was to be sent to rest with, not worship of, his divinized grandfather at Nikkō. Iyemitsu slept the night at Edo castle, owing to the valour and strength of Ishikawa Hachiémon. Masazumi had failed, and the set field of battle between the factions of the samurai was a thing of the past. The duel, forbidden in theory and compulsory in practice, was to take its place. The substitute always had existed. It tried men's courage, not the sustained endurance of campaigning. How then was the old spirit of the warrior to be maintained? The desire to emulate their sires worked on the younger generation. The relics of the Tenshō, Keichō and Genwa periods (1573-1623) Ōkubo Hikozaémon, Matsudaira Montarō, Nagasaki Chiyari Kurō, were heroes who could boast of having stood before the horse of Iyeyasu in his earlier trials of battles, trials in which the veteran commander would pound with his fist the pommel of the saddle until it was red with the blood from his bruised knuckles. Their tales of actual war, the sly jeers at the softening manners, spurred on younger members to find ways by which to simulate practical experience of campaigning. The result was curious. One of the organizations was the Undameshi Kwai, or Fortune Testing Society. Loaded firelocks were stacked in the middle of the room of meeting. Around them sat the members of the club, squeezed into full armour, from helmet to the warriors shoes of skin. The match was set. The weapons were exploded, sending a shower of balls in every direction. "Ah! Ha! The bullet grazed my helmet."—"The gorgelet caught it."—"The corselet has saved me."—"Congratulations are in order. Surely your pension will be increased during the year."—"Oya! Oya! And Genzaémon Uji?" The unfortunate Genzaémon had not fared so well in the mimic war. At all events he sat the meeting out—if he could. To be reported dead, in the course of duty; or be overcome with regrets at showing such clumsiness in being wounded; or, if actually incapacitated, to go home and die of "illness" (cut belly).[9]

The Gaman Kwai, or Endurance Society, was another form the movement took. In the season of great cold its meetings were held as if in the height of the doyō or dog days; vice-versa with the time of great heat. It was the beginning of the seventh month (first half of August). The heat was intense, and had been for the past weeks. The farmer watched the steamy vapour rising from the rice fields and rejoiced. The plants were growing luxuriantly, the leaves of the willow trees were hanging yellow and wilted. Passers by on city or village streets sought the shade under the buildings, walking with languid lagging step, and, home once reached, removing every garment which etiquette—not decency—had hitherto compelled. Great was the dismay of the weaker members of the Gaman Kwai on receipt of a circular letter couched much as follows:

"In this season of great cold the continuance of the honoured health is observed with joy. On the seventeenth day it is desired to make offering of a cup of indifferent wine. It is begged that the use of the honoured kago (palanquin) be condescended. This the purport of the missive. With reverence and respect.

Kondō Noborinosuké.

To...."

The weaker allowed this missive to float gently and despairingly earthwards. Gasping for breath in the stifling heat they sought to fan themselves into a semi consciousness. "Terrific! Terrific! Yet refusal is out of the question. Ah! This Kondō is a doubtful sort of rascal. He is of the cruel kind. No mercy is to be expected of him. Yet if one fails to attend there will be but jeers and taunts of cowardice. One could not appear in public. Alas! Alas!" The stronger received it with equal impatience, but with the purpose to put in the evil hours with the best possible face, and score on the host—if they could. All left strict orders at home for a cold bath to be in readiness for the return. To this rash step the weaker groaned and yielded. The Nipponese fear and detest cold water—even for drink.

Thus they sallied forth—from Ichigaya to Honjō Kameidochō, from Shitaya to Shinagawa; some on horseback, some in kago; all arrayed in triple set of thickly wadded winter garments, in hakama, or trousers with double folds, in shirts and leggings, and fur shoes of the warrior on winter campaign. The gate keeper of the yashiki in Owarichō called their names on arrival—"Ōkubo Hikoroku Dono, Endō Saburōzaémon Dono, Abé Shirōgorō Dono, Matsudaira Montarō Dono, Ōkubo Shichinosuké Dono, Mizuno Jurōzaémon Dono, Ishikawa Hachiémon Dono,[10] Okumura Shūzen Dono, Kusé Sanshichirō Dono, Aoyama Shūzen Dono...." The list was a long one. One and all were met by Kondō Noborinosuké in person at the entrance. Over his triple winter garb he wore a wadded coat or kosodé. Others had donned the longer kataginu. These were of the weaker kind. It did not fit so closely; pressed the warmth of its tissue less lovingly to the person. All complained of the intense cold. "Never was such cold felt," blandly agreed Noborinosuké. "An old fellow of the gardeners says that for sixty years such cold has not been experienced. It is a marvellous cold year. The ground will not be thawed this season. Deign to enter. Warmth is provided against this intensity of cold." And his hearers bowed and offered thanks, as well as their unwieldy wrappings would allow. At all events in the room yonder there would be the breeze from the garden side. They knew the place and its delights. Kondō was of the age to provide himself with quiet comforts. With eager stride the banquet room was sought.

"Oya! Oya!" The speaker gasped in dismay and for breath. They had been introduced into a furnace. Explained Kondō gently—"Everything has been done to shut out the intense cold. The amado are tight closed, the braziers well supplied.... Heigh-ho! Allow none of these to get dark. More charcoal! More fuel!" The attendants obeyed, urging the fires before each guest. Seated close together to conserve the heat, the sweat poured off in streams. Unable to get breath some groaned and grunted—to pass it off as due to the intensity of cold. Soon they "would be thawed out with the genial warmth." Kondō and Aoyama were immensely pleased in their assent and at their sufferings. But the more discontented sought the fly in the ointment of the content of their hosts. Aoyama really was such. He was the one responsible for the call; Kondō his ready abettor. Said one—"Intense the cold, yet how explain the freaks of Nature. If it were not so freezing the blue clusters hanging in Kondō Dono's garden, just traversed, could well pass for wisteria." They laughed at him—"Wisteria in the seventh month? That would be as great a marvel as the cold."—"Not so the grape," replied another. "Kondō Uji long since promised sight of the new plant. To be sure the barbarian fruits are as ill trained and uncouth as the denizens of the land they grow in. They flower and fruit in winter season. If not wisteria the clusters must be of the grape."—"Not so," promptly put in Aoyama. "Truly it is the green eye of jealousy which colours the vision. They are icicles; and no seasoning for the repast or the conversation of this cold occasion."—"Which brings the sweat to the face of Aoyama Uji." Aoyama turned calmly on the rash interloper. "It is not sweat; 'tis mucous. The intense cold causes flow of mucous. Are not others so affected?" He looked around grimly on the steaming shining faces before him. "Mucous?" questioned a doubter. "Yes: face mucous," was the calm rejoinder.

All turned to Kondō Noborinosuké who would explain the more particular purport of the meeting. There was report to make, a new member to introduce. All turned with respect and salutation to Okumura Shūzen. It was a long and painful ceremony in the bulky winter garb. But they were in relays, took turns. Ah! If it was but Aoyama, thus long bent double, murmuring apology and compliment. Then Aoyama Shūzen made his report. He made it as one sure to please his hearers, many of whom regarded him with no particular liking. In fact at the tale of his discomfiture there was some joy, and tendency to show it. "Then, as with us, Aoyama Uji meets Okumura Dono for the first time." Aoyama nodded an amused assent. Said one more malicious, "And the repast? Surely the hatamoto was as well entertained as the chūgen?" Shūzen skilfully dodged the issue. "The hour was very late. Such could hardly be expected or offered to this Shūzen without raising doubts. Fortunately it was thus." Said one more persistent—"At least a cup of wine...."—"Without fire or heating? More than rude the implication!"—"Yet beasts know but little of etiquette; and if fox or badger...." Kondō Noborinosuké came in with—"That shall be at once determined. It is time for the repast. The tanuki killed by Aoyama Uji furnishes the soup." At a sign the retainers brought the beast in his own skin. All rose in marvel at the sight. Truly it was a huge fellow. "An old rascal, too. See! The hair on the back is of different colour from that on the rest of the body."—"Showing the great age and wickedness. Many are those he has gulled to their destruction. Now in turn he furnishes forth the repast." Said Kondō—"How did Aoyama Uji secure the beast."

"This Shūzen was much put out. Plainly by no ordinary means could these miscreants be eliminated. How meet them in true shape? Against the usual weapons they were secure in their transformations. Only the flying bullet could reach such mark; and the discharge of a gun in Edo town means banishment at the least. Then an idea came to Shūzen. At the hour of the ox again the Banchō was sought. Position of great dejection and weariness was taken, on a stone amid its greatest desolation. The wait was not long. Unexpectedly the sound of a gunshot was heard. This was surprising, for the reasons given. Hardly believing in an apparition, thinking it rather due to some rascally outlaw, his coming was awaited. Slouching along appeared a man in hunter's garb. He carried a fowling piece, and evidently was the criminal. Taught however by past events this Shūzen took no action. Merely hailing him, his purpose and game was inquired. He was ready in answer as to both. Yonder on Matsuyama harboured a huge and dangerous boar. It was this boar he sought. Kindly he gave warning, and advised return to safer quarters. On my part great enthusiasm was expressed for the sport; his company was sought. At this he jeered; then denied attendance as lacking a gun. 'Not so,' quoth I. With these words the punk carried in the hand was touched to the fuse of the fire crackers concealed at one side. 'Kiya!' So startled was he that his gun fell to the ground and he took his proper shape. At once this Shūzen in the act of drawing cut him into two parts. Thus he died. Awaiting dawn another beast appeared, this time in true form. Approaching the prostrate body it wept and wailed. This too 'twas sought to slay, but the beast had the advantage of being forewarned. For the time it has escaped. Meanwhile, returning from its pursuit, was found an admiring crowd of plebeians gathered round the slaughtered tanuki. The priest for his exorcisms took cash; the samurai were the ones to act. Their joy and wonder was turned to good account. Under penalty of sharing the fate of the beast two of them shouldered it to the yashiki. Such the tale of Shūzen. And now for the results!"

Kondō gave a sign, and the gaping wonder of the assembly at the deed was stifled in the wave of heat which poured in from the neighbouring room. "Ah! Truly these are cruel fellows!" Here a furnace had been erected for the cooking of the tanuki. It sent its streams of hot air into the already crowded and stifling room. Aoyama in person supervised the cooking. The animal was cut into small portions. Smoking hot the viands were placed under the noses of the gasping guests. With the great age of the beast it had accumulated great toughness. The younger members had the consolation of their jibes at the old fellows. They tore at, struggled with, the leathery fragments. But the latter had no teeth, and the malicious Aoyama would see to it that it stuck in their throats. "How, now, ancients? Is not the meat of this tanuki tender beyond measure? Truly one cannot call this engaging in the practice of war; to enjoy such a delightful mess."—"Just so," grunted Montarō. "One can then eat the knobs off one's helmet. The flesh of this fellow is so tender it sticks in one's throat, as unwilling to allow it passage.... G'up! G'up! G'up!"

Said another—"The wine thus steaming hot, the viands sizzling, truly the feed is most beneficial. One even sweats in this intensity of cold."—"Of course," was the matter of fact reply of the wise. "Thus does the heat of spring thaw out the cold ground into a perspiration; thus does the frozen body burst into a sweat with the hot food and drink." All accepted the explanation without argument. They were in haste to end this meeting, even at cost of swallowing whole the tanuki and Aoyama Shūzen with it. Despite the prospect of attendance at his yashiki all rapturously agreed. Aoyama was an original. He would not repeat the experiment of Kondō. They had nearly a six month's respite before them. With this the entertainment was brought to a close. In almost unceremonious haste the guests took their leave, fairly galloping out of the entrance, hanging out of the kago or over the horse's neck, urging attendants to full speed homeward. Here the stifling garments were torn off, the plunge into the cold tub followed; and many paid for this rashness with an illness of days. Meanwhile Aoyama Shūzen had learned one important fact. Endō Saburōzaémon in application for the bakémono yashiki had met with flat refusal. The field was open to himself. Moreover he had said nothing of the fact that, in the exercise of his new office as magistrate for the apprehension of thieves and fire-bugs, he was in fair way to suppress forever and in great torments the Mujina-baké and his fellows, residuary legatees of the prowess and field of action of the late Sōja Mushuku.

END OF PART I

PART II

THE BANCHŌ SARAYASHIKI

OR

THE LADY OF THE PLATES
WHAT AOYAMA SHŪZEN BECAME.

CHAPTER XI

The Yoshida Goten

When Prince Iyeyasu consolidated his power at Edo, more particularly on his becoming Sei-i-tai-Shōgun, some provision had to be made for the great daimyō brought by the necessities of occasion to personal interview with their chief and suzerain. In the suburbs rose beautiful structures devoted to the entertainment of these kyakubun—or guests—as the greater daimyō were then termed. The Yatsuyama Goten, the Hakuzan Goten, the Kosugé Goten, the Yoshida Goten, other and elegant, if minor, palaces arose. Their first use disappeared with the compulsory residence of the daimyō under Iyemitsu Kō, but some were still maintained as places of resort and entertainment for the Shōgun in his more relaxed moments. Others were devoted to the residences of favoured members of his family. Others were maintained for the entertainment of State or Church dignitaries, on occasion of particular mission from the court in Kyōto to that of Edo. Others were destroyed, or put to temporal uses, or their use granted to favoured retainers or church purposes.

One of the most beautiful of these was the Yoshida Goten in the Banchō. The site originally had been covered by the yashiki of Yoshida Daizen no Suké. One of those nobles favouring the Tokugawa against Ishida Mitsunari, as their designs became clearer with the years following Sekigahara, at the attack on Osaka castle he was found within its walls. Thus the "Overseer of the kitchen" fell under the wrath of his suzerain. Hidétada Kō was a man of much kind temperament, but he was a strict disciplinarian and a rough soldier. Whether or not the dishes furnished for his consumption and digestion had anything to do with the matter, there was serious cause enough. With many others the Daizen no Suké was ordered to cut belly, and his tribe suffered extinction—of rank and rations (kaieki). Such the reward of this turn-coat. His disappearance from the scene was followed by other removals. Daizen no Suké was head of the Kōshōgumi. With the confiscation of his yashiki site five other Houses of the "company" were ordered to remove to other sites at Akasaka. Thus 2,500 tsubo of ground (24 acres) were obtained for the building of a new kyakubun goten. Erected on the ground of Yoshida's old mansion, now waste (更), it got the name of Sarayashiki. Time confused this character 更 with the events which there took place; and it was written Sara (皿) yashiki or Mansion of the Plates. Thus was the unhappy tale of O'Kiku written into the history of Edo and the Yoshida Goten.

The second daughter of Hidédata Kō, the Nidai Shōgun, had been married to the lord of Echizen, Matsudaira Tadanao. At the time of the Osaka campaign Tadanao sulked. Prince Iyeyasu was very angry with him. However, when finally Echizen Ke did appear, he acted with such bravery, and to such effect in the campaign, that the old captain's anger was dispelled in his appreciation. To this connected House of the Tokugawa he thought to be liberal enough; not to meet the inflated scale of the ideas of Tadanao, who spent the next half dozen years in so misgoverning his lordly fief as to render necessary an adviser, planted at his side by his powerful cousin in Edo. In Genwa ninth year Tadanao rebelled—with the usual result to him who acts too late. He was suppressed, largely by the aid of his own vassals, and exiled to Hita in Bungo province. Here he shaved his head, took the name of Ichihaku. It was of no avail. Promptly he died. It seemed to be a dispensation of Providence—or dispensation of some kind—that exiles usually and early developed alarming symptoms; in the shortest possible time removing themselves and all cause of irritation to the overlord by their transfer to another sphere.

The Tokugawa Shōgun was generous to his relations. The exit of Tadanao was promptly followed by the induction of his infant son Mitsunaga into his fief. However, for the child to govern the great district of 750,000 koku appeared to be a doubtful step. Its government actually being invested in the daimyō, it was not to be made a breeding ground for trouble through the action of subordinates. Hence the main fief with the seat at Kita no Shō (Fukui) was given to the uncle. Fukui to-day is a dull provincial town, and excellent stopping place for those who would have eyes opened as to the great wealth and wide flat expanse of these three provinces of Kaga, Etchū, and Echizen. Their lord was a mighty chieftain, entrenched behind mountain barriers; and the great campaigns, which figure in pre-Tokugawa history, were fought for a great object. The Maéda House, however, had had their wings clipped, and were confined to Kaga. The Matsudaira were established in Echizen. Etchū was much divided up. The reduction of the fief of Echizen Ke to 500,000 koku brought him within reasonable bounds, and he could well be left to ride with his hawks along the pretty Ashibagawa, or to take his pleasure outing on the crest of Asuwayama, the holy place of the city suburbs, and where Hidéyoshi nearly lost life and an umbrella by a stray shot. Then would follow the return, the ride across the wide moat, its waters dotted with the fowl he went elsewhere to shoot, but safe within these precincts. Whether he returned to any better entertainment than that of the present day Tsuki-mi-ro or Moon viewing inn, one can doubt. He certainly did not have the pretty outlook from its river bordered garden front.

Sen-chiyo-maru, later Mitsunaga, was relegated to Takata castle in Echigo, with the minor income of 250,000 koku. Perhaps this fact, together with his youth, and the more entertaining expenditure of the income at an Edo yashiki, rather than in a mountain castle town, brought the Takata no Kata to the capital. Takata Dono, or the Takata no Kata, so named from the fief, is not known to fame or history under other appellation. She is said to have possessed all the beauty of her elder sister, the Senhimégimi, wife of Hidéyori Kō, son of the Taikō, he who fell at Osaka castle. Furthermore, with the training of the samurai woman, the greatness of her position and personal attraction, she possessed all the obstinacy and energy of the male members of her family, with few of the restraints imposed on them by public service. Takata Dono frankly threw herself into all the pleasures she could find at the capital. Established in the Yoshida Goten, the younger samurai of the hatamoto quickly came under her influence. There was a taint of license in her blood, perhaps inherited from the father who was most unbridled in his passions. The result was a sad falling off from the precepts of Bushidō in herself and her paramours. The Bakufu (Shōgunal Government) was compelled to look on, so great was her power at the castle. In the earlier days sentence of seppuku (cut belly) was a common reward for open misconduct. A word from Takata Dono, and the disgraceful quarrels over her favours were perforce condoned; and her lavish expenditures on her favourites were promptly met. Alas! Alas! The up to date histories of Nippon sigh over and salve these matters. "They were the inventions of a later age; were not current in her life-time." Nor likely to be put too bluntly by those tender of their skins. But an old poem has come down to express the popular belief:

"Yoshida tōreba nikai kara maneku;
Shikamo kano ko no furisode de."

Somewhat irregular, like the lady's conduct, but which can be interpreted,

"Passing Yoshida, from above the signal;
Furthermore, the waving of long sleeves."

Of little deer (or dears) for the style of sleeve, the kano ko, can be read young deer. Bah! Was there not a "parc aux cerfs" half way round the world? Nor were such confined to the capital cities of Edo and Paris.[11]

The poem refers to the unbridled licentiousness the little lady developed on her translation from her provincial residence; though locally she had not failed to distinguish herself. What follows is part of the tales current. At the time the himégimi (princess) was thrown on her own devices in Takata-jō the karō or chief officer of the household was one Hanai Iki. This fellow owed his position entirely to his good looks and her ladyship's favour. This favour he met, not in the spirit of a loyal vassal, but in that of a professed and bold lady killer. As karō his attendance on her ladyship was constant and intimate, and it took no particular acumen to find out that the intimacy was of a more peculiar relation. Hence great was the under current of comment, and regret at the unbridled conduct of the lady. None, however, dared to interfere with the caprices of one so highly placed; and the only means was to work on the decent feelings of Iki himself. Thus the tale was brought to his wife's ears. It is to be said that with her all jealousy was suppressed. It was for her to find the cure for her husband's unbridled conduct. As Hanai Iki was a mere official, and with no great claim to unusual or able services, it was hoped that his removal or reform in conduct would bring back the himégimi to a befitting conduct. There was no suspicion that her passion was a disease raging in her very blood, and that it was the man, not his personality she sought.

The wife first adopted the orthodox method of formal remonstrance. Without chiding, with a smile and great indulgence of one at no particular fault himself, she enlarged upon the subject in the service of the tea. "It is not a matter between Iki Dono and this Chiyo. There is no unseemly jealousy in the wife to bring forward the complaint. In fact the marital relation is not in question. As the husband pleases, so should the wife submit. But great is the talk aroused at these too private meetings with the himégimi. It is the House which is at stake. Its influence and prestige is threatened by a mere retainer. This in a short time can but lead to ruin. The caprice of a woman is well known. In some cooler moment the eyes of her ladyship will see another colour. The one to suffer will be Iki Dono, for now he has no other support but in his mistress. Deign to regain the confidence of the household, and no great harm can result beyond neglect. Honoured sir, you stretch out for what is far beyond reach; and in the end can but fail. Deign to be circumspect." If there was any tone of contempt and depreciation in the protest it was in the last few words. At all events the eyes of Iki were opened to the fact that it was sought to reach him through the wife's remonstrance. He expressed surprise and discomfiture at what he asserted had no real basis in fact. His office brought him in close contact with her ladyship; the more so as the management of the fief was in her hands. Matters were to be discussed which necessitated the exclusion of all others. However, if such was the talk of the palace, or even beyond its walls, he could but give thanks for the kindness of the remonstrance. Henceforth he would be more careful, and would trust to her good feeling to believe in his good faith.

With joy the wife heard what he said. With all good will she made herself the apostle of this explanation. No one believed her and facts soon belied words. Her ladyship, just entering on her passion, became more exigent in her calls for the karō's attendance. Iki now seldom appeared at his home. Long absences from the castle town, pressing business, any excuse to hand came to the alarmed ears of the wife. All the rumours gathered were sure to reach her in exaggerated form. Hanai Dono was the constant companion of her ladyship's wine feasts. He was her acknowledged paramour, and lived in the private apartments of the castle as in his own house. All talked—except the ladies in waiting of the himégimi. These were selected and trained by her; selected for beauty and trained to discretion. She would have no ugly thing about her; and all was to be for her use. Iki was handsome, and discreet. To her he was an object; as were the maids; the same apart from sex. He filled his rôle admirably, never introduced his favour with her ladyship into the public affairs of the House, or solicited for such personal advancement as made toward outward display. But circumspection of conduct never yet closed the mouth of gossip. There were those who were jealous of what he might do; and jealous of a favour they would gladly share themselves. The himégimi was the prize which all coveted, and which no one should possess to the exclusion of others.

Hence the buzz of talk rose loud, and the criticism stung the wife. She determined herself to learn the truth of these tales. Hitherto they were but the scandalous talk of people. Wife of the karō, naturally her ladyship did not require her attendance; but as such she had ready access and an intimate acquaintance with the palace routine. Her mind made up, she presented herself on some trifling pretext. Certainly in her manner there was nothing to arouse comment. Received in the inner apartments (oku), her plea, the introduction of a page into the service, was readily granted. On retiring she would speak with the superintendent of the oku, the old and experienced lady in waiting in charge of the himégimi's service. Thus she found the opportunity to wander the inner precincts, to disappear and to slip into the bed room of the himégimi. Here she stepped into a closet, pulled to the screen, and crouched down behind the heaped up quilts. For the companionship of her wandering lord she did not have long to wait; nor for proof of his inconstancy. Iki came into the room, holding by the hand and drawing after him one of palace ladies in waiting, Takeo by name. The girl was by no means unwilling. Her blushes and confusion added to the great beauty which made her the favoured attendant on the himégimi. Iki pressed her close and openly. The girl plead ignorance and inexperience. She was ashamed. Iki laughed. "Does not her ladyship set the example for others to follow? Deign...." The plea of his relations with the mistress came quite fit to the coarse feeling of Iki. Not so to the girl, who was warmed into some indignation, and drew all the more from him. He would persist; but just then her ladyship called from the next room—"Takeo! Takeo!" The voice was impatient, as of one in haste. Iki had time to thrust a letter into the girl's hand, which she quickly transferred to her bosom. All the boldness of O'Chiyo was at stake as the maid came to the closet. Close down she crouched; but Takeo had one eye on Iki, and only one careless eye on the heap of futon, of which she drew from the top. Iki made a grimace, for the benefit of the one he really loved. Her ladyship's appearance was received with the warm and flattering affection of the favoured lover; and O'Chiyo had proof positive that the relations of the two were kind indeed.

The suicide of the wife, the letter of protest she left behind, had more influence on the public than on the conduct of Hanai Iki. It simply removed the last restraint and means of reaching him. All now depended on her ladyship's infatuation. Old vassals sighed with joy when they heard of the proposed removal to Edo. As karō Hanai Iki would be left in charge of the fief. Not so: it was soon learned that his name headed the list of those transferred for household service. The grumbling was as open as it dared to be. The fief was to be contented with the service of two vice-karō; no great loss, except in matter of prestige in dealing with other Houses. The karō became a kind of male superintendent of the oku! But at all events the fief was rid of him. Nor was Iki particularly pleased. He had been feathering his nest in the material sense. The severance of the connection, without loss of esteem, meant to him a quicker consummation of his wishes with Takeo Dono, whom he would ask for as wife. Their relations had gone forward at a wild pace. Once thrown into the whirl of passion Takeo sought but to meet the wishes of her lover. The passion of the himégimi stood between them.

Established in Edo, at the Yoshida Goten, all went mad with content in their beautiful surroundings. The palace gardens were noted. A hint of the fine construction of the buildings is found to-day at the Kugyōji of Iinuma, built subsequently from the materials. For the use of the Shōgun Ke in entertainment of his visitors, every art had been exhausted in its adornment. The screens were objects of beauty, and separated the large rooms with their fine pillars and ceilings of grained and polished woods. The rama-shōji were carved by Nature's handiwork, and the polished lacquer and brass reflected a thousand times the beauties roundabout. Whether the garden be viewed from the apartments, or both from the tsukiyama or artificial hill beside the little lake, it was a scene of balanced beauty, showing every nicety of man's hand in Nature's own proportion, and not guided into the geometrical designs of a carpet square or a surveyor's working table. Instead of the dry dullness of a provincial town, in which themselves they had to fill the stage to give it life and pompousness, Edo was close at hand, and they were part of, and actors in, the luxury and magnificence of the Shōgun's court. It is not surprising that the himégimi returned to all this glitter and activity as one long banished from its seductions to a wilderness; added her own dissipation and lavish entertainment to the constant round of festivity and luxury rapidly supplanting the hard military discipline of the first Shōgun's camp; a luxury itself to crystallize into a gorgeous rigid formalism, as deadly to the one not meeting its requirements as the lined and spotted beauty of some poisonous serpent.

The wine feast was at its height. The cup passed more freely in this chilly season of the year; and in the tightly closed apartments the warmth of association and the table's cheer were sought. The himégimi was more expansive than usual under the influence of the wine. Iki was positively drunk, and in his state over-estimated the condition of her ladyship. Takeo was serving the wine. Beyond stolen interviews of moments the lovers had found no opportunity for the longed for clinging of soul to soul, of person to person, during the night's long hours. The girl's hands trembled with passion as furtively she sought those of her lover in the passing of the wine cup. Iki was absolutely careless. Her ladyship too far gone to note his conduct? He seized the arms of Takeo and drew her to his side. The display of amorous emotion on the part of both was too open to escape notice. The himégimi rose to her feet as on springs. The beautiful flushed face took on a deeper tint as she scowled on the guilty and now frightened pair. Her breath came hard and with difficulty. Then reaching down she wound the long tresses of Takeo in her hand, and dragged her to her knee. Twisting and twisting, until the agony made the girl cry out, she berated her—"Ah! Wicked jade! Thou too have eyes for a man's person. Disloyal wench, would you aim to make the beloved of your mistress partner of your bed?... What's this?" From the girl's hand she tore the answer to the lover's plaint. The sharp eyes of her ladyship sought the maid's person. A nervous hand fumbled the folds of her obi (sash). "Ah! The treasure house is not far off. Such valued gems are carried on the person." Thrusting her hand into the gentle bosom the himégimi drew forth the guilty complement.

Wrote Iki—

"How act to drop the mask;
Many the pledges breathed in truth."

And the girl made answer:

"Ah! The night of meeting, love's consummation;
The hindrance, thing or person, object of hate."[12]

The words were too plain. There was a certain savage tone of exulting wrath as the himégimi read out loud the contents of the missives. It chilled the hearts of those who heard her. She spoke: at first in low concentrated tones of bitter jesting hate. "Ha! Ha! Disloyalty goes beyond mere thought; would strike at the person of its lord. What lascivious slut is this, who thus would creep into the mistress' bed, to take her place?... Look up! Naruhodo! In that face is too much beauty. Vile huzzy, you would seek the favour of my lover. Hence forth neither he nor any man shall look on you, except with loathing." Close beside her was the hibachi, its burden of the hard burning charcoal from Ikéda now a bright cherry red. Dragging the girl to the brazier, twisting both hands more firmly in the long black hair, she forced her, face downwards, into the heated mass, pressing into the back with her knee. In terror the other girls looked away, or hid their faces in their sleeves. Before the towering anger of the princess none dared apology or intercession. The smell of burning flesh rose sickening. Takeo feebly moaned, and writhed a little under the nervous pressure of those delicate powerful hands. Then she was silent. The inhuman punishment had reached its end. Roughly her ladyship threw her aside, face upward on the tatami. Those who took a hasty glance turned away in horror from the face, black here, red and swollen there, the mouth filled with ashes, the eyes—one totally destroyed.

The himégimi was on her feet. "Iki—here with you!" In fear the man prostrated himself before the vision. "Not yet did the demon's horns sprout from her head; but the eyes injected with blood, the hair standing up to Heaven, converted her ladyship into a veritable demon." In slow and measured wrath she spoke—"Ah, the fool! Admitted to the favour of his mistress, the long continued object of her affection, with all at his command and service, he would sacrifice these for the embraces of a serving wench. Truly the man has gone mad with lust; or rather it is a man's face and a beast's mind. Thus before my very eyes he would dally with his whore and make me cuckold. Of such miscreants one feels no jealousy. Hate and punishment follow the insult." A quick movement backward and her halberd hanging at the wall was in her hand. The scabbard stripped from the shining blade was held over head. "Namu San! Holy the three sacred things!" Iki sprang to his feet, coward and fool he sought not to grapple with her, but to flee. The command of the himégimi rang sharp—"He is not to escape!" In this company of her maids, all samurai women, the discipline was complete. If they would not suffer the punishment of Takeo, they must respond. Whatever the backbiting and division among themselves, in her ladyship's service they would sacrifice life itself. Besides, more than one hated Iki with the heart-whole hate of neglected love and advances. Takeo had been more favoured than her companions, not through any fault of theirs in seeking this lady killer. Hence the alarm was quickly given. Iki was beset by this female army, every one armed, himself with but his dagger. There was no outlet for escape. Then they came to close quarters. The boldest threw themselves on him. Dragged to the ground, bound fast, he was pulled and pushed into the garden. Breathless and dishevelled the female horde parted to allow the approach of the himégimi—"Such open insult and vile conduct is difficult to overlook. The disloyalty intended is past pardon. For this, too great the grudge." The keen blade flashed, and the head of Iki rolled some feet distant. Without a glance in the direction of the miserable Takeo, the princess took her way back to her apartment. At last some attention could be given to the suffering and disfigured girl. She was paying the penalty for her treachery and disloyal thoughts. The pains which followed were aggravated by neglect. The face and chest one mass of burns, the wounds soon became putrid. The stench was so frightful that none would go near her. They brought her food; then fled her presence in disgust. As she grew weaker, unable to feed herself, the pangs of starvation were added to her woes. The continued cries of agony grew feebler and feebler, became a mere low moaning; then ceased altogether. "Thus trifles lead to death, and lechery finds its punishment." The bodies of the guilty pair, thrown into the garden well, there found the only interment.

Her ladyship was not to escape. Following this scene her passions broke out of all bounds. She took no new lover; it was lovers. Men were beckoned to the Yoshida Goten as to a brothel—with waving sleeves from the upper story. For a night, for a week, for a month they would be entertained. The weaker sort soon displeased her, and were dismissed; to find their end in the well of the willow, the Yanagi no Ido, of the inner garden of the palace. It would seem as if some wicked demon had entered the person of Takata Dono, to lead her into this course of debauchery.

CHAPTER XII

The Kōjimachi Well

One day a toilet dealer came through the Banchō. The sun was already on its decline as he passed the front of the Yoshida Goten on his way to his home in Kanda. It shone, however, on a fellow who at once attracted the attention of the look-out maid. She gave an exclamation—"Ma! Ma! What a handsome man! Such a loveable fellow! Her ladyship...." Then a feeling of pity seemed to close her mouth. But further speech was useless. The himégimi lacked company for her night's feast. Herself she responded to the incomplete summons. A glance and—"Bring him here; without delay. Such a fine specimen is not to be allowed to escape." It could not be helped. At once the beauty, all smiles and gestures, with waving sleeves sought to attract the attention of the itinerant trader. The district was new to him, his sales had been poor. This summons was the direct favour of the Buddha. From this great mansion surely his pack would be much lighter on return. Timidly he approached the samurai at the gate, fearing harsh repulse. The officer, however, was very amenable, transferring him at once to the guidance of the maid already waiting close by. Thus was he brought to the women's apartments; to be surrounded by a bevy of the sex, of a beauty of which he had had no experience. They began looking negligently over his poor stock, and closely over his own person. Then—"'Tis at her ladyship's order that the summons is made. Come this way." At this unusual conduct in a yashiki he had some misgivings. His hesitation met with small consideration. The crowd of women surrounded him and pushed him forward, exercising a violence which astonished and paralysed resistance at being thus exalted above his sphere. Protesting he was taken to the bath. This office completed amid admiring comment, he was dressed in hakama (trousers) and blouse, of stuff perfumed and of silky softness, which made him feel as if he moved in some dream. Thus purified and arrayed he was led through a long range of magnificent rooms, the sight of which sent his heart further and further into his heels. Finally he was introduced into an apartment of no great size, but with dais and bamboo blind. Led before this, his guides drew apart and prostrated themselves in obeisance. The toilet dealer followed the excellent example.

The screen slowly rose and the Takata Dono appeared in all her beauty. At this period she was barely thirty years, in the full development of her charms. To the eyes of the poor toilet dealer it seemed as if Benten Sama, the goddess of love, was thus gravely regarding and measuring every line of face and body. Finally she seemed satisfied with this close inspection. A sign and the formality of the scene vanished. "Come closer.... The saké cup!" Anxiously wriggling himself to her very presence, she then questioned him as to age, business, habits. Her voice was as silvery gentle as her face was beautiful. Soon he found himself looking up into it with confidence, as well as with awed respect. The saké utensils brought, she condescended herself to fill the cup. This was filled again; and yet again. When the liquor began to show its influence her manner became more familiar. With a quick movement, which surprised him by the latent strength shown, she drew him close to her side, began openly to show her favour for him. "Such fine figure of a man is no such fool as not to know he can please a woman. The very trade leads him to study women's taste. Now sir: for test of your qualities...." But frightened the toilet dealer disengaged himself, and springing back a little he prostrated himself flat on the ground. "Deign not an unseemly jest. Close to the person of a great lady, such as is the honoured presence, the poor artisan finds but distress. His wares have no market amid this magnificence. Dependent on him for means of life are two aged parents. A bare subsistence is secured for them. Condescend his dismissal, that he may return to relieve their anxieties."

The speech met with but poor reception. Gentle was the laugh of the himégimi, yet a little wrinkle knitted her brow. She seemed to regard him in a somewhat strange light. "Have no misgivings as to their fate. An ample sum shall be sent to assure them against need. Meanwhile Nature and the occasion has furnished forth the toilet dealer—for the lady's toilet.... Now for the wine feast." In the scene of riot and merriment which followed the one thought of the unfortunate trader was to escape. There was no strict order in the banquet, no formality. The idea of the himégimi was to get the greatest pleasure out of everything to her hand, and all vied with each other, by song and art, with voice and musical accompaniment, by a minute attention to needs of host and guest to make the sensual effect of the scene complete. There was not a jarring element in the well trained bevy of women devoted to pleasure. The toilet dealer was free, yet bound. If he would seek occasion to leave his place, to move uneasily hither and thither in these wide rooms, as did the women with their carelessness and ease, always he found himself balked by their presence. Escape there was none. Soon he found himself again by her ladyship's side, to be plied with the wine until sense and caution gave way before the spell of the beautiful woman. To her it was an amusing game, a stimulant to her passion, the conquest of this reluctance in a man found to lack the brazenness and vulgarity of his caste. In the end he could but murmur at her feet that he was hers—to do with as she would. "Would that this dream could last forever! In this Paradise of the wondrous Presence."

The scene was changed. Her ladyship rose. In the company of a few of the women he was led still further into the recesses of the palace. Here he was arrayed for the night, amid the merry jesting and admiring criticism of his attendants. Accompanied to the bed chamber the fusuma (screens) were closed, and he could hear the fall of the bars in the outer passages. Submission now was easy, as inevitable, as taken by the storm of this woman's passion. With but short intervals of dozing she would draw him to her embrace, and intoxicate him with her caresses. "When the poison be taken—let the plate be full." With clearing brain, though under the spell of her beauty he never lost sight of the purpose to flee this doubtful snare. When at dawn she really slept, he rose to seek exit; to run into the ever vigilant guard. "Naruhodo! Truly an early riser the honoured guest. But all has been made ready. The bath is at hand. Deign to enter." Thus surrounded and compelled he began the second day. As the maid dressed him after the bath she broke out in admiration of his physical presence. "The handsome fellow! No wonder her ladyship was seized by the love wind." In the evening's entertainment he had proved himself no fool in interesting anecdote of the town, and a quaint and naive description of the view the lowly take of those who call themselves the great. Under the skilful questioning of one or other this simple fellow—of keen wit and observation—had shown a phase of life unknown to them, beyond the careless view afforded from between the blinds of the curtains of the palanquin. The vulgar boldness of his predecessors was conspicuously lacking, as was the tedious talk of war and discussion of court etiquette of noble and more formal guests. Not only her ladyship, but the maids thoroughly enjoyed him.

His astonishment and fearful protest at the gorgeous robe put on him turned them from pity to amusement. Said a bolder wench—"Take and enjoy the gifts of her ladyship as offered. The chance is not likely again to present itself. Put aside all thought of past; seek pleasure in the present, without regard to the future." Though spoken with a smile which showed the whole row of beautiful teeth, there was a menace in the words which came home to him. If he had had some suspicions of his whereabouts, he felt sure of it now. There were but rumours and suspicions, slanders of course, of which he seemed destined to prove the truth. The knowledge seemed to add dignity to his pose. He would await her ladyship's exit from the bath. Conducted to the garden he strolled its beautiful inclosure, noted the high roofs on every side. Standing by the tsukiyama he heard the shuffling of sandals. Turning he prostrated himself before the himégimi. Rosy, with sparkling eyes, long flowing black hair, regal presence, she was indeed the goddess Benten Sama in human flesh and blood. Without rising the toilet dealer made request—"Deign the honoured pity. To spend one's life in the service of the honoured Presence, this has been said; and for the words regret there is none. It is for those dependent. Condescend that no harm come to them, no distress from this visitation of gods and the Buddha. Willingly the price is paid for the delicious dream, no grudge felt for what is to follow."

The himégimi stopped short. For some time she was lost in thought. This man was keen enough of wit to know the price at which her favours were bought; brave enough not to flinch, or to make abortive effort to avoid his fate. Her whole experience brought feeling of disgust toward men, when once satiated. With this man the chord of pity was touched. The honoured sleeves were wet with the honoured tears as she made answer to the plea. Without slightest effort to deny her once purpose she consoled and reassured him. "It was determined, that granted favour you should never leave this place." Her brow darkened for a moment at the ominous words; than cleared radiant. "Those who enter here ascribe to their good fortune the pleasures they enjoy. Instead of modest gratitude they show the arrogance of possession. Purpose was first shaken by the filial love expressed for those who gave you being, the tender care and anxiety for their welfare. A man like you, one is assured of his faith and silence. At night you shall depart from here unharmed." She took him by the hand, and when he would show respect, with familiarity drew him along with her. Thus they walked the gardens, talking of varying subjects; she listening to his explanations and instances of life in the common world, and questioning him adroitly as to his past and future. Then the return was made to the inner apartments of the palace. From this stray honey bee the little lady sucked the last juices of its nature. The day was spent in the same riotous merriment and feasting. At the order of the himégimi he had withdrawn for the moment from her presence. When the maid came toward him, it was with expectation of another summons that he followed after. She took him to a little room. Here were his coarse garments and his pack. To these were added the gifts heaped on him by her ladyship. The change of garb completed suddenly the girl took him in her embrace, pressing the now soft perfumed hair and warm moist skin of his neck. "Ah! You lucky fellow! But know that silence is golden." With this she as suddenly seized his hand and led him swiftly along the dark corridor. At its end an amado was slipped back, and they were in the garden. To a postern gate she fitted the key. Pack adjusted he would turn to make salutation. Two slender firm hands laid on his shoulders sent him flying into the roadway. The gate closed with a sharp bang, and all sign of this fairy palace disappeared.

Every day the toilet dealer had prayed to kami and Buddha, made his offering of "cash" at the favoured shrines, performed such pilgrimages (sankei) as his limited means and scanty time permitted. To this alone is to be ascribed his escape. Not so with others: to turn the page to a second instance—One day a maid from above called to the gate guard—"Stop that man!"—"Who?" The guard was at loss, not what to do, but whom to stop. Promptly the highway was roped off. None were allowed to move until inspection was made. As the plebeians lay prostrate with noses on the backs of their hands they marvelled and spoke to each other. "Truly a wondrous event! Some great rascal must have been detected. Thanks to the kami and the Buddhas the heart of this Tarōbei is clean."—"And of this Jimbei. To pay the debt to the saké shop he has not hesitated to contract Tama to the Yoshidaya of Yoshiwara."—"Well done!" quoth his friend. "Then credit at the Echigoya is good?"—"Deign to come and drink a glass of poor wine, to the pleasure and good luck of Jimbei." The edifying conversation was interrupted by call for inspection. All passers by but men were summarily motioned on. A maid stood by—"No, not this one ... nor this one ... nor that.... Ah! That big brown fellow, with huge calves. He is the man." At once the "big brown man" with enlarged pediments was cut out from the heap of humanity, with whispering fear and looks the others went about their business. "Truly his crime must be very great. Yet who would suspect it! He is not an ill looking fellow by any means." Others shook their heads as they went away, vowing never again to take this road to work, or home, or pleasure.

Before the yakunin the prisoner fell on his knees. "Deign the honoured pardon. Doubtless grave is the offence; but of it there is no remembrance. An humble wheel-wright of Kanda, this worthless fellow is known as Gonjurō. It is work at Nakano which brings him hither." He turned from one officer to the other. They disregarded his prayers, and delivered him over to the maid, directing him to obey her orders, or suffer for it. In dumbfounded surprise and gathering confidence he followed after. Surrounded by the army of maids he more than readily submitted to their ministrations. The freedom of the bath, the donning of the gorgeous robe, pleased him beyond measure. To their quips and words of double meaning he made ready answer, meeting them more than half way with the obscenity of the Yoshiwara. "Tarōbei is tricked out like an actor." At this all the greater was their merriment and boisterousness. Introduced into the presence of her ladyship, his first confusion at the magnificence of the surroundings was quickly removed by his cordial reception. The himégimi laughed at sight of him; laughed still louder at his uncouthness. Then she passed to more earnest measures; praised his thickness of limb, the sturdy robustness of neck and loins. To his apologies—she urged him not to be frightened or backward. Pushing the thick shock of hair back from his eyes he eyed her with growing comprehension. After all a woman was a woman. "'Tis no fault of this Tarōbei. The yakunin compelled his presence. For such a noble lady he would make any sacrifice." He spoke with bold look and manner, thoroughly understanding now the nature of his summons at the caprice of some great lady. Had he not suffered equal good fortune with the beauties of Yoshiwara? He treated lady and maids with the same free familiarity and sportive roughness as if in one of his favoured haunts.

All the more was the himégimi amused at his extravagance. She made no sign of displeasure, and the girls made little resistance to the fellow's boisterous manifestations as he tousled them. Always her ladyship had eyes of the greatest appreciation on this splendid animal. The feast set before him he looked on with small favour. "What then tickles the palate of Jurō?" She leaned toward him, her face flushed with this struggle to cage her latest prize. The silvery and enticing voice had for answer—"Také (bamboo); just plain boiled, with syrup and shōyu." Then timidly, as he sought her good will—"Just a little wine; two go (a pint) ... say five go." She laughed with good humour. His choice among this bevy of beauties at last had fallen spontaneously on herself. The conquest pleased her. Then he was well stuffed with coarse foods, hunted out of the supplies for the grooms and stablemen in the palace kitchen, with saké of a harsh and burning kind—"which had some taste to it." Indeed never had he drank such! The himégimi sipped a drop or two of the acrid liquor, made a wry face, and sought to bring the scene to its climax.

With the bath next day he was all grumbling and exigencies. The maids bore this with patience, and glances interchanged. Her ladyship had promised him breakfast to restore exhausted Nature—"And such was promised as that this Tarōbei would never need another." He roared his dissatisfaction. The hint was taken up at once. "This way: it is for the yakunin to carry out her ladyship's order, and to stop your gullet." The brusqueness of the samurai was poor exchange for the noisy amorous atmosphere of the inner palace. With indignation the worthy wheelwright obeyed the order to march ahead. "Ah! Just wait my fine fellow. A word to the lady of the mansion, and you shall learn the cost of insult to the man she favours. This yarō Gonjurō has no other wife. Her ladyship takes him as adopted husband." The officer winked and blushed a little at this very crude specimen. By this time he had led the man to the well curb in the inner garden. Harshly—"Now down with you. Favoured by the gods and Buddhas you cannot even hold your tongue. Ladies like not boasting of their favours. 'Tis now the time to express pity for you. Make ready!" Deftly he tripped him up, to send him an all fours. The sword flashed, and the wheelwright's head rolled on the ground. Just as it was the body was cast into the well.

Such was the fate of those who found favour with the himégimi. More and more suspicious became people of the strange disappearances traced to the precincts of the palace. Strange tales went around, to gather force with numbers. Kwanei 8th year (1635), whether for closer supervision of the lady or actual necessity, she was removed to the castle precincts, and there given quarters. Time doubtless it was, that tempered these crazy outbursts of the himégimi. She lived until Kwambun 12th year. On the 2nd month 21st day (12th September 1672) she died at the age of seventy two years. Grand were the obsequies of one so favoured by the Shōgun. The daimyō went up in long processions to condole with the suzerain at the death of a rich aunt, and congratulate him on the possessions seized. On the 24th day the lord of the land sent lavish incense and a thousand pieces of silver, by the hand of Inaba Mimasaka no Kami Masamori, to Matsudaira Echigo Ke the son and heir, doubtless glad enough to get this much out of his lady mother's rich furniture and dower. From the Midai-dokoro, the Shōgun's consort, by the Bangashira (Superintendent) of the women's apartments of the Shōgunal palace, he secured another thousand pieces of silver. All was treasure trove toward the heavy expense of the imposing funeral. On the seventh day of the decease—the 27th day (18th September)—the obsequies took place at the Tentokuji of Shiba, where she was to rest, well weighted down by massive sandstone and an interminable epitaph—of which the posthumous name of Tensō-in can be remembered. The Shōgun Ke was present in his proxy of Tsuchiya Tajima no Kami Kazunao.

The Yoshida Goten had shorter shrift than its once occupant. The daimyō were moving into yashiki under the compulsory residence edict. The kyakubun were still met at the outskirts of the city, but the many different palaces for their entertainment became superfluous. The main part of the Yoshida Goten was pulled down, and its magnificent timbers and decoration went to the equipment of the prior's hall of the Kugyōji of Iinuma. This great temple, situate one ri (2-1/2 miles) to the north of Midzukaido-machi, in the plain at the base of Tsukuba-san, is one of the eighteen holy places of the Kwantō, and under the charge of the Jōdō sect of Buddhists. In former days the notice board was posted at the Chūmon (middle gate), ordering all visitors to dismount from horse or kago. The bushi removed their swords on presenting themselves for worship. The temple itself is of moderately ancient foundation, being established in Oei 21st year (1414) by the two Hanyu lords, Tsunésada and Yoshisada, who built the castles of Yokosomé and Hanyu, close by here in Shimosa. Grand is the hondō (main hall); and grand the magnificent old pines and cedars which surround it and line its avenues. These are set off by the girdle of the flowering cherry, famed among the ancient seven villages of Iimura. Moreover it was the scene of the early labours in youth of the famous bishop—Yūten Sōjō; who solved so successfully the blending of the pale maple colour of its cherry blossoms that he gave the name myōjō no sakura, a new transcript of the "six characters." Here he grappled with and prevailed over the wicked spirit of the Embukasané. In later writers there is a confusion as to the tale of the Yoshida Goten. The palace material was used for the construction of the prior's hall.[13] In the Genwa period (1615-23) the Senhimégimi, eldest daughter of Hidétada Kō the second shōgun, cut short her beautiful hair and assumed the name of the Tenju-in-Den (as nun). The hair was buried here under an imposing monument; and later one of the ladies-in-waiting of the princess—the Go-tsuboné Iiguchi Hayao. (The name of the princess Tsuruhimé in kana is probably a later and mistaken addition.) Thus were the many adventures of the Takata Dono transferred to her equally well known and beautiful elder sister. The Senhimé, wife of Hidéyori, suffered and did quite enough herself for which to make answer. Meanwhile the site of the Yoshida Goten in the Banchō became more than suspected. Jack-o-lanterns, the ghosts of the victims of the himégimi, came forth from the old well to haunt and frighten passers-by. Nor were subsequent attempts to use it encouraging. Thus the ground lay idle and uncalled for, with no one to occupy it until the grant of a large tract in Dosanbashi as site for the yashiki of Matsudaira Higo no Kami compelled removal of several of the hatamoto. Among these were Ōkubo Hikoroku and Aoyama Shūzen.[14]

CHAPTER XIII

The Sen-Himégimi (Princess Sen)

The Sen-himégimi, eldest daughter of Hidétada the second Shōgun, figures little in our story; enough so, however, to necessitate the telling of one of the not least striking episodes in a life full of event. Married at the mature age of six years to the Udaijin Hidéyori, son of the Taikō Hidéyoshi and lord of Ōsaka castle, those childish years were the happiest of that period. Clouds were rising between Toyotomi and Tokugawa as the princess approached nubile years. On her the Yodogimi, mother of the Udaijin, visited the more personal effects of her resentment. For the growing girl it was a period of tears and affliction. In truth she well knew the weight of her mother-in-law's hand. So wretched was her life that there was some fear of her killing herself. A powerful influence in screening her in these later years was that of the famous Kimura Nagato no Kami. Shigenari and his wife Aoyagi were the guides and friends of the himégimi during this trying period; her councillors to forestall cause of the Yodogimi's wrath. Moreover the pleasant relations between the young husband and wife were an incentive to bear a burden patiently, which time might remove. Nevertheless the Yodogimi was inexorable. The night screens were set up in different chambers. When the Sen-himégimi made her escape from Ōsaka castle she was sixteen years old, and in all likelihood a virgin.

As to the stories of her escape from the besieged castle, then in the very throes of the final vigorous and successful assault by the three hundred thousand men surrounding it, these vary. According to one account Iyeyasu Kō, brows knit with anxiety as he watched his men pressing to the attack, thumped his saddle bow as vigorously as waning years now permitted—"The Senhimé to wife, to him who brings her safe from the castle!" Not a man in his train moved. They looked at the blazing mass before them, the flying missiles—and staid where they were. Then came forward a Tozama daimyō, Sakasaki Dewa no Kami Takachika.[15] Prostrating himself he announced his purpose to make the attempt. Making his way into the blazing pile of the burning castle he found the Senhimé amid her frightened maids. Wrapping her up carefully he took her in his arms, and with great regard for her person, and none for his own, he sought her rescue. The last chance was through the blazing mass of the great gate. Just as he was about to clear it, down came the tottering superincumbent structure almost on their heads. The red hot tiles, the sparks like a fiery deluge, the blazing fragments of wood carried and tossed by the air currents, surrounded them as in a furnace. Nearly all the train perished in the attempt. Dewa no Kami succeeded in presenting himself before the Ōgoshō (Iyeyasu). Even the old captain could but turn with pity from the hideously disfigured man. The Senhimé in all her beauty was saved. Bitter was her resentment against all—father, grandfather, their partisans—who had refused the gift of life to the young husband. Rescue or no rescue, she absolutely refused to carry out the agreement and become the wife of this—mask.

Other tales are less romantic. The most prosaic sends Dewa no Kami to Kyōto, on orders of Hidétada Kō. For the princess a second bed was to be found among the Sekké (the five great kugé Houses of the imperial court). The mission was not unsuccessful, but by the time the messenger returned Hidétada had changed his mind.[16] Brusquely he offered her to Dewa no Kami. The Senhimé got wind of these movements. Her resentment toward the Tokugawa House determined her hostile stand. She would not be an instrument to their advancement. Family relations were taken very seriously. It is to be remembered that her uncle Hidéyasu, adopted into the Toyotomi, was so fiercely loyal to that House that his natural father, the Ōgoshō Iyeyasu, poisoned him, by his own hand and a gift of cakes, it is said. Those likely to hitch and hamper the movement against Ōsaka, such as the famous Katō Kiyomasa, found short shrift in the soup bowl. At all events the insult of refusal fell on Dewa no Kami. After all, by the most authentic tale, he seems to have deserved no particular credit. As to the actual escape from Ōsaka-Jō either of the following versions can be accepted. As suicide was the inevitable issue for the defeated, the Yodogimi, with some reluctance, had announced her purpose; and her intent to involve the himégimi in the fate of herself and son. This was but the ethics of the time; and was neither cruel nor unusual. It was thoroughly constitutional. Fortunately the fears of the Lady Dowager made her add—"the time is not yet propitious." She left the keep, intending to ascertain in person how matters went on outside, before going on with the ceremony inside. The maids of the Senhimé at once surrounded her and urged flight. Overpowering any resistance, moral and physical, these energetic samurai women bundled their mistress well into futon (quilts). Then with no particular gentleness they lowered her over the castle wall. Others followed her—to destruction or better luck, without futon. Some twenty of them risked the descent. Horiuchi Mondō, a gentleman of Kishū Kumano, noticed the unusual group. They besought an aid for the princess he readily gave. Dewa no Kami happened to come on the scene, and promptly took the responsibility of the safety of the princess on his own shoulders.

Here the two versions join, for by the other Ono Shuri, captain of the defense and hence most seriously involved, sought the safety of his own daughter. The princess therefore was sent from the castle, under the care of his karō Yonemura Gonémon, to plead for the lives of the Udaijin and his mother the Yodogimi. Ono was careful to include his daughter in the train, and the karō followed his illustrious example. Dewa no Kami met the party outside the castle, and grasped the chance of being agreeable by escorting it to the camp of the Ōgoshō. Honda Sado no Kami here was in charge. His mission to the grandfather was eminently successful. Iyeyasu, overjoyed at the escape of the beloved grandchild, consented; provided that of the actual Shōgun be obtained. All rejoiced, with little thought of Hidétada's harsh feeling. Perhaps the message expressed this; perhaps it was spoken to cover refusal, for he had deep affection for his children. But as in greatest wrath he made answer—"The thing is not to be spoken of. Why did she not die together with Hidéyori?" The Senhimé was safe enough now in his camp; and he did not purpose the escape of his rival Hidéyori, to be a permanent danger to his House. The princess, worn out by many days of suffering, went to sleep in the shed which furnished her with quarters, and never woke until high noon on the following day. By that time she could choose between the tales of her husband's escape to Satsuma; or his suicide and her widowhood, the only proof of which was the finding of the hereditary sword of the Toyotomi House. She clung to the former story, despite the ascertained suicide of the Yodogimi, who hardly would have allowed the escape of the son and her own destruction. Thus disgruntled, later the himégimi was removed to Kyōto, fiercely hostile to all the Kwantō influence.

A word in conclusion as to the fate of the attendants, thus skilfully foisted on her. The daughter of Ono Shuri had escaped, with all the sufferings and passions aroused by family disaster. When subsequently the princess was removed to Edo she went in her train. They were companions in misfortune. In the hostile atmosphere she was taken with a consumption, long to undergo its torments. Overcome by homesickness she would return to former scenes, and worship at her father's grave. Permission was now granted. Yonémura accompanied the dying girl to the capital. Here Ono Shuri had lost his head in the bed of the Kamogawa (the execution ground). Here at Kyōto the daughter found her tortured end. Gloomy the old vassal prepared the funeral pyre of his mistress. As the flames shot high and wrapped the corpse, a woman's figure darted forward and sprang into the midst. Unable to distinguish the bones of his daughter from those of the honoured mistress, Gonémon placed the remains of both within the same casket, to rest at the last beneath the pines and cedars of the holy mountain of Kōya.

On June 4th (1615) the castle had fallen. The date is important in connection with one of the current scandals. Later the Senhimé was escorted down to Edo by Honda Mino no Kami Tadamasa, in whose train was his handsome son Tōnosuké (Tadatoki). He is said to have been like enough in appearance to the Udaijin Hidéyori to act as his substitute in the most intimate sense. The fierce little lady fell violently in love with him. By the time Edo was reached she ought to have married Honda, and in the passage of the months and days would have to. At all events this rather disproportionate marriage was early proposed to the council of the Bakufu, and after some discussion accepted. This decision was not reached until Genwa 2nd year 9th month (October 1616), or more than a full year after the fall of the castle. The failure to carry out the agreement with Dewa no Kami afforded ample reason for the extremity to which this latter's rage was carried. By all accounts he had lost a bride, the acknowledged beauty of the land, apart from the great influence of the connection. Perhaps his own hideous disfigurement was involved. He determined to lie in wait for the journey down to Himeji, Honda's fief; and kill or carry off the lady. The Shōgun's Government got wind of the purpose. The lords were storming with wrath, and a public fracas was feared. All composition had been refused. Dewa refused to see his friend Yagyū Munénori, sent to him as messenger of greatest influence. Secret orders then were sent that Dewa no Kami must be induced to cut belly, or—his vassals ought to send his head to Edo. The Shōgun's word and bond must be saved. The vassals knew their lord, and had not loyalty enough to act otherwise than to sever his head, as he lay sleeping off a drunken fit in broad daylight. It was against rewarding this disloyal act that Honda Masazumi showed open opposition to the council's decision; and Hidétada Kō himself disapproved enough not to inflict extinction (kaieki) on the family of the dead lord, the usual process. The continuance of the succession was permitted on the Shōgun's order. All these matters were so public that little credit is to be given to the rôle assigned to Sakasaki Dewa no Kami in the event about to be described; the issue of which was so unfortunate in the carrying out, that Sakasaki, in command of the bridal cortege and keenly feeling the disgrace, cut open his belly in expiation; and that the Government, to hush up talk as to attack on the train of the princess, put forward as explanation the proposed treachery and resultant death of Dewa no Kami.

As to the event itself: with greatest reluctance, uncertain as to her former husband's fate, the Senhimé had been forced into agreement with the Honda marriage. From the Nishimaru (western) palace the bridal cortege took its way to the yashiki of Honda near the Hitotsubashi Gomon. Time was at a discount in those days, and by no means was the shortest route to anything taken. The procession filed out of the Sakurada Gomon, to circle with its pompous glitter the outer moat. All went very well. The yashiki walls bordering Tayasumura were slipping by. Then the steadily accumulating clouds poured forth their contents. It was a downpour, blinding in effect. The rokushaku of the Kurokwagumi—stout and tall palanquin bearers, "six footers"—floundered and staggered in the mud. The heavy palanquin came to the ground. Great was the rage of the princess at this unseemly precedent for such an occasion. "Rude ruffians! By this very hand this scum shall die!" Te-uchi was to be the lot of the miserable fellows prostrate in obeisance and seeking pardon in the blinding storm from the lady's dagger, menacing them from the open door of the palanquin. The Lady of Ōsaka was quite capable of carrying out her threat. Abé Shirōgorō, later the famous Bungo no Kami, was equal to the occasion. With soft words he would soothe her. "Congratulations to the Himégimi! May her highness deign to accept the so happy augury of present ill luck bringing good fortune throughout a long and happy life. Deign to regard with future favour the words of Shirōgorō." He got as near the mud as he dared in his respectful salutation. The lady's face softened. She was appeased.

Then she held up the hand, with the dagger still ready for action. Shirōgorō sprang to his feet. Something else than storm was in progress. In the escort ahead there were other sounds than the rumbling and sharp crash of the thunder, the swishing of rain wind driven. The flashes of lightning showed that the cortege was the object of a most determined attack, which sought to make its way to the palanquin of the princess. Abé Shirōgorō would have leaped forward, but the flashing eyes and presence of the himégimi held him to her nearer defence. The number of the assailants could not be ascertained in this darkness like to night.[17] The tower of defence was Yagyū Tajima no Kami, greatest master of the sword in Nippon. He had the support of the younger Ōkubo, of Kondō Noborinosuké, of Mizuno Jurōzaémon even then noted as expert with the spear. In general command was the beloved superintendent of the hatamoto, Ōkubo Hikozaémon. In daylight the affair would have been easy. But in this darkness they had to stand to their defence. That it was an attack by Ōsaka rōnin, enraged at the marriage of the princess, there was no doubt. But what their numbers? So far the defense was impregnable. There was nothing to fear. Three of the leaders of the rōnin lay on the ground. Their chief, visible in the lightning flashes, could not hope for success. It was the old and still active Hikozaémon, the oyaji (old chap), the hardened warrior of Iyeyasu, who scented out the threatening move. He sprang off into the dark wood, almost as the crack of the musket was heard. They would seek the life of the himégimi with deadly missiles! How contemptible; for great as yet was the scorn of such use. Vigorous was the old man's pursuit of a foe, seeking to ascertain his success and reluctant to flee. "Ah! Ah! Rascal! Just wait! Wait for this Hikozaémon!" The fellow did wait, a little too long. Noting the lessening darkness, the discomfiture of his train, he turned to flee in real earnest. As he did so, Hikozaémon, despairing of success, hurled his dirk. Deep into the fellow's shoulder it went. "Atsu!" Savagely he turned on the old man. Hikozaémon was skilled in defence, but stiffening with age. His opponent showed himself an able warrior. "Ah! Ha! 'Tis Hikozaémon Dono. With him there is no quarrel. Deign to receive a wound." The old fellow's sword dropped helpless under a sharp rap over the wrist from the back of the blade. This was enough for the man's purpose. With laughing and respectful salutation, of short duration, he turned to a more successful flight.

The storm cleared away, the cortege was re-formed; to enter in state the yashiki of Honda Sama. It was said that he got but a cold bride—one on whom only "the bed quilt lay light." Time, the ascertained fact of Hidéyori's death, worked a change in the insanity simulated by the princess. Then she was so taken with her lord that she proved fatal to him. He died at the age of thirty-one years, was buried in his castle town of Himeji, leaving but one daughter as issue by the princess. The lady returned to residence at the Takébashi Goten, to be a disgruntling influence in her brother's court. But Honda Ke had not done badly. This consort made him a minister in the Shōgun's household (Nakatsukasa no Tayu), a more likely promotion than one at the age of sixteen years, at this date of the Shōgunate. From 10,000 koku his fief was raised to 150,000 koku; and he secured a wife so beautiful that his exodus to the houris of Paradise was a bad exchange. Meanwhile what was the cause of objection, thus expressed by force of arms, to the conduct and nuptials of the Sen-himégimi?

CHAPTER XIV

Shūzen Adolescens

The struggle between Toyotomi and Tokugawa was of that embittered character which follows from two diverse theories of political structure. The Taikō Hidéyoshi, by force of military genius and constructive statesmanship, had assumed the pre-eminent position in the land. In doing so he had drawn to himself a sturdy band of followers whose whole faith and devotion lay in the Toyotomi. Such were the "seven captains," so conspicuous in the defence of Ōsaka-Jō in later years. Such were the doughty fighters Susukita Kanéyasu (Iwami Jūtarō) and Ban Danémon. The latter unceremoniously shook off allegiance to his lord on the latter's treachery at Sekigahara, and turned rōnin. Such were great recalcitrant nobles thumped into complete submission, granted unexpected and favourable terms in their capitulation, devoted henceforth to the Toyotomi House, and of whom the Chōsōkabé of Tosa are representative. It is the fashion of modern historians to regard and speak of these brave men as irreconcileables and swashbucklers; thus tamely following after the Tokugawa writers of contemporary times, and imperialistic writers of to-day, to whom all opposition to the favoured "Ins" is high treason. As matter of fact, if men like the Ono were lukewarm and seeking their own advantage; if Obata Kambei Kagemori was a mere traitorous spy of the Tokugawa; Sanada Yukimura and Kimura Nagato no Kami, and in humbler sense Susukita Kanéyasu and Ban Danémon, if they had much to gain by the victory of their lord, yet were willing to endure hardship, face a defeat early seen, and accept the inevitable death which was meted out to him who refused the attempts at bribery and corruption of the victor. The "rōnin," of whom the then Tokugawa chronicles and captains spoke so contemptuously, were in the bulk not only "the outs," as opposed to "the ins," but they were too devoted to their party tamely to accept service with the enemy. Large were the bribes actually offered to Sanada and Kimura; and any or all of the seven captains could have made terms of advantage—to themselves.

"The scent of the plum, with the flower of the cherry;
Blooming on branch of willow 'tis seen."[18]

Iyemitsu Kō hung this poem on the flowering plum tree to which he gave the name of Kimura no Ume; a conscious tribute to the chivalry of Shigénari. And Ōkubo Hikozaémon risked life and favour in the destruction of the plant, and rebuke of the bad taste shown to men who had lost fathers, brothers, gone down before the deadly spear of the young captain.

The fall of Ōsaka-Jō decided the fate of the Toyotomi House. Not at once, for the rumour of the Udaijin's escape to Kyūshū kept alive hopeful resentment in the minds of the scattered samurai whose captains had perished in the battles around Ōsaka, had died or cut belly in the final assault, or had lost their heads by the executioner's sword in the bed of the Kamogawa. Among those who found refuge in the hills of Iga was a certain Ogita Kurōji; a retainer of Nagato no Kami. This man gathered a band of kindred spirits, among whom his favoured lieutenant was Mōri Munéoki, although he much leaned to the astonishing acumen of Kosaka Jinnai, a mere boy in years, but hiding in his short and sturdy form a toughness and agility, with expertness in all feats of arms, which discomfited would be antagonists. In the discussions as to future movements there was wide difference of opinion. Munéoki, the true partisan, proposed to rejoin Hidéyori in Satsuma. "The prince is now harboured by Higo no Kami; Shimazu Dono of Satsuma, close at hand, will never permit the entrance of the Tokugawa into his borders. It is at Kagoshima-Jō that the prince will reorganize his party; and thither duty calls." But Kosaka Jinnai was equally positive in the opposite sense. He turned Munéoki's own argument against the proposal. The prince could well be left to organize the West. It was for others to see how affairs went in the North. Therefore the first thing was to hasten to Edo, to ascertain the position of Daté Masamuné and the great northern lords at this final triumph of the Tokugawa, when at last their jealousy and fear might be aroused to opposition.

Adventurous inclination, the desire to meet rather than run away from the enemy, turned the scale to Edo. Reluctantly Munéoki agreed. With Jinnai he proceeded, to learn the state of affairs as to the great northern House, so devoted to the new creed of Yaso (Jesus) as certain to be angry and alarmed at the savage persecution now entered on by the second Shōgun. They returned to meet Ogita and the other captains at Odawara, and with unpleasant news. Masamuné Kō, luckily for his would be interviewers, was absent at Sendai. However there was no difficulty in finding out that far from dreaming of further embassies to Rome from the Prince of Ōshū, he had and was acting so vigorously that probably in no quarter of Nippon was the hostile and treacherous creed so thoroughly stamped out. The watch and ward of the north country was practically left to a loyalty of which the Tokugawa felt assured. Munéoki made this report with bitter joy, and Jinnai could not say him nay. Then the former carried out his first plan. He made his way to Kyūshū, to learn the truth as to the Udaijin's fate. Assured of this he harboured with the malcontents of Higo and Hizen, to take his part and perish some years later in the Amakusa uprising.

Perhaps the tartness of Mori's criticism made his company unacceptable. Ogita preferred to follow the urging of Jinnai and his own inclination to observe how matters were going in Edo. Most of the company followed him, to establish themselves as best they could in the confusion of the growing town, rendered a thousand times worse by the settlement of the later troubles and the flocking of all classes to this eastern capital. Ogita set up as a doctor in Daikuchō (carpenters' street) of the Nihonbashi ward, under the name of Gita Kyūan. His chief lieutenant, Jinnai, settled close to his leader in Kurémasachō, figuring as a physiognomist, of near enough relation to excite no comment in the companionship with the older man. His own years were disguised by an ample growth of hair and the past experience of an accomplished rascal. Jinnai could have passed himself off for a man of thirty odd years. The house of a physiognomist was overrun with visitors, whom Jinnai knew how to sift, and who had no particular wish to encounter each other. Hence the presence of the leaders, with his own particular followers, Watanabé Mondo, Ashizuké Tōsuké, Yokoyama Daizō, Hyūchi Tōgorō, excited no comment among the neighbours. The question of the marriage of the Senhimé, the honoured widow of the Udaijin Kō, soon was stirring up a ferment in higher circles than these in Edo town. Sakai Uta no Kami and Doi Oi no Kami of the rōjū (council of state) were keen to urge the match. She was young, and they plead the cruelty of forcing celibacy on her. She was the centre of the ill disposed and most willingly so. The stern old soldier Aoyama Hoki no Kami took the opposite ground. It was for her to cut short her hair and pray for the soul of the husband perished in the flames of Ōsaka-Jō. Such was the precedent, and, he hinted with good ground, the disposition of the princess, then coquetting with Toshitsuné lord of the great Maéda House of Kaga. Besides he knew that Kasuga no Tsuboné, powerful influence in the private apartments of the palace, was urging on the match. The mere fact of her constant interference in the public affairs irritated Hoki no Kami beyond measure. He was acting through sentiment and conservatism. Kasuga and her allies were acting on political motives. They carried the day; to the great indignation of Hoki no Kami, and of an assistance he never dreamed of.

Among the band of rōnin the matter was discussed with all the greater heat and bitterness of purpose, inasmuch as they had to do so mouth to ear. Ogita expressed their feeling when he summed up the matter as an outrageous breach of chastity on the part of a princess, who could not positively know whether the husband was yet living, or really had died at Ōsaka—"Hence she is doubly guilty, of treachery and pollution of her living lord; or of shameful lechery in this open neglect of his memory and seeking another bed. Moreover to put her to death will strike terror into the partisans of the Tokugawa, and give courage to all the adherents of the cause, of whom thousands are gathered here in Edo. A display of vigour will maintain those inclined to the new service true to the cause." All rapturously agreed. The occasion of the marriage and procession was settled upon for the attack, in which the leaders and some eighty men were engaged. The result, as told, was disastrous to them. Watanabe and Ashizuké were killed by Tajima no Kami's own hand. Kondō Noborinosuké thrust his spear through the belly of Yokoyama Daizō. Jinnai brought off in safety the bulk of the party. Ogita had tried to bring down the lady princess by a gun shot. In the straggle with Hikōzaémon he purposely did the old man as little injury as possible. Respect for the grand old warrior, an amused interest in one whose influence lay in plain speaking, held his hand. If Ōkubo Dono was entitled freely to express his opinion of the Shōgun Ke, Kurōji took it as no insult to endure the same himself. He reached his home with a painful but not dangerous wound in the shoulder, to grunt over the infliction and this latest discomfiture.

His nurse was not at all to the taste of Kosaka Jinnai. O'Yoshi was a bare twenty-three years in age. She was a beauty and a flirt. Ogita indulged in the greatest expansion with her; as would the man of fifty years to the girl, a mistress young enough to be a daughter. The months and weeks passed following the attempt on the Senhimé. The effort to hunt out the perpetrators had been given up in despair. The population of Edo as yet was too fluid and shifting to take very exact account of its movements. Doubtless they were rōnin, and had promptly scattered on failure of the attack. Then the constant attempts at incendiarism, in many cases successful, began to attract attention. The two machibugyō, together with the particular office for detection of thieves and incendiaries, were at their wits end to trace out this gang of fire bugs. One day O'Yoshi was just leaving the bath house in Daikuchō called the Chōsenya, when she met with an adventure. A young samurai coming along the street attracted her admiring attention. He was barely twenty years of age, of good height and commanding presence. In black garb and wearing hakama, his two swords tucked in his girdle, and his cue trimmed high, attended by a dōshin and several yakunin, the procession greatly flattered a woman's feeling. She tripped along, towel in hand, and her eyes anywhere but on her footing. Suddenly the strap of her clog broke. She was pitched forward, just able to keep her balance. The samurai trod sharply on the discarded geta. A cry of pain followed, and O'Yoshi was all discomfiture at sight of the blood staining the white tabi of the young lord. At once she was humble apology for her awkwardness, very badly received by the dōshin who scolded her most severely—"Careless wench! Such rudeness is not to be pardoned." He would have laid rough hands on her, but Aoyama Shūzen interfered. The woman was pretty, the injury painful, and he was young. "Don't scold her. It was by accident.... Don't be alarmed.... Ah! It hurts!..." He looked around, as seeking a place to rest.

O'Yoshi was very solicitous over the handsome young man. "Deign to pardon the careless action. Alas! The foot of the young master is sadly injured. My husband is a doctor, Gita Kyūan, of wondrous skill in the Dutch practice. Condescend to enter the poor house close by here, and allow drugs to be applied to the wound." Shūzen really was suffering inconvenience and pain from his wound. Besides, as attached to the office of the machibugyō, he sought all means of contact with the class whose offences were to be dealt with. He at once agreed. Ogita was absent when they entered. O'Yoshi tended the wound herself. The salve really had wonderful effect. Flow of blood and pain ceased. Cakes and tea, for refreshment, were placed before Shūzen. O'Yoshi entertained him with amusing talk of the wardsmen of Nihonbashi, not the most stupid in Nippon. She retailed the bath house gossip, and Aoyama carefully took in costume, manners, and the conversation of the beauty, which did not at all accord with her station in life. If she was connected with a doctor now, at some time she had been intimate with men of affairs in his own caste. He thanked her graciously and would have forced lavish payment on her. O'Yoshi was all pained surprise and refusal. That her reluctance was genuine he could easily see. "I am Aoyama Shūzen, and live in the yashiki at Surugadai. The kindness shown is not to be forgotten, and perhaps some day this Shūzen can serve his hostess." With compliments he took his leave. O'Yoshi watched the handsome youth well out of sight. She could not hear the remark of Shūzen to the dōshin—"A suspicious house; no frowsy doctor shows such favour to his dame. Dress, manners, language, betray contact with the samurai." The officer nodded admiring assent to his young lord's acumen.

Ogita Kurōji came limping home, to find O'Yoshi—Chōsenburō Yoshi, as this adventure dubbed her—overflowing with her experience. At first he was rather pleased at such addition to his acquaintance. O'Yoshi was a bait to all but Jinnai, who would detach him from her. The others sought his favour to secure hers with greater ease. At mention of the dōshin, subordinate officials of the legal machinery, the official grade of the visitor, his brows knit. "Of official rank—that will never do! Deign Yoshi to be careful in relations with this man, if he should again appear. Engaged as is this Kurōji, the slightest hint, a suspicion, would be most disastrous."—"Then the affair of the Senhimégimi did not block matters? This Yoshi yet is to ride in palanquin, to be a daimyō's wife?" The tone was a little jeering, and the laugh as of one sceptical. With thoughts on this new love the reference to this futile scheming annoyed her. She would push this acquaintance to the full effect of her charms. Ogita took some offence. He spoke braggingly, but disastrously to the point—"Assuredly 'tis Yoshi who shall be the lady of a daimyō of high place, not of a meagre fifteen or twenty thousand koku. Kaga Ke, Maéda Toshitsuné, is grinding his sword. The great Houses in the west—Hosokawa, Bizen, Katō, Mōri, Satsuma, will follow him. Give them but the opportunity in the disorder of Edo, and the sword will be drawn. In a month, Edo, fired at a hundred points will lie in ashes. Then...." He stopped a little frightened. But she feigned the greatest indifference, teased him into opposition. Sitting down before the wine she got out of him the whole affair. Reverting to the accident—"But yourself, an accident has been deigned. Has another Yoshi encountered Kurōji Dono?" To the tender solicitude half laughing he made jesting answer. "A Yoshi with beard and wearing two swords. To-day the contract was signed by all with the blood seal. The wine feast followed. The talk was earnest, some of it rash. Interposing in the quarrel, the dagger intended for the belly of one, was sheathed in the thigh of this Kurōji. A trifling flesh wound; well in a day or two, at present rest is needed."—"A dangerous affair; if it gives rise so easily to dispute." Such her comment. "Not so," answered the infatuated veteran. "They are too far in to withdraw." Before her eyes he unrolled the scroll. Her eye quickly ran along the crowded columns of the names—by the score. Here was indeed a big affair. Out of the corner of one eye she watched him put it away.

The salve Ogita Kurōji used for his wound had no such benefit as that offered Aoyama Shūzen; and perhaps O'Yoshi could have told the reason of its failure. By the next day the wound was inflamed enough to make movement difficult. Feeling the necessity of repair, Kurōji left all matters to his mistress, and sought early recuperation in complete rest. On plea of needed articles O'Yoshi was out of the house and on her hurried way to the Aoyama yashiki at Suragadai. The distance was short; yet her plan was already laid. Her dislike for the ageing Ogita was sharpened into hate by her love for the handsome young samurai. Close to the yashiki on pretext she entered the shop of a tradesman. To her delight she learned that the Waka Dono, Aoyama Shūzen, as yet had no wife. She had a hundred yards to go, and her purpose and ambition had expanded widely in that short distance. Her application for an interview with his lordship was quickly granted. She had often been subject of talk and comment between Shūzen and his subordinate officer. The dōshin happened to be present, and the attendant announced her at once. Passed to the inner apartment she found Shūzen as if he had been eagerly awaiting her coming for hours. Her reception was flattering. The ordinary salutations over they passed to most familiar talk, as of oldest friends between man and woman. When Shūzen would go further, and in love making press still greater intimacy, her refusal was of that kind which sought compliance. Said she with a smile—"Make Yoshi the wife of the Waka Dono and she will make the fortune even of one so highly placed as Aoyama Dono." To his incredulity and astonishment she would say no more. Shūzen now was determined not to let her go. He feigned consent, agreement to everything, with much regard for her, and small regard for the promotion at which he jested. Now they were in the very heigh-day of love. She resented his scepticism, and in the heat of her passion gave him everything—including the contract. His mistress by his side, seated in the confidence of an accomplished love affair he listened to her stream of revelation. This "doctor" and "husband" was neither doctor nor husband. His name was Ogita Kurōji, an Ōsaka rōnin. With Kosaka Jinnai and others of the same kidney he had been the head and front of the attempted rape of the Senhimé. Shūzen knew enough to discount all the talk as to Maéda Kō, of the Hosokawa, and other great Houses. They were beyond his sphere. But here in his hands lay the web of a most important affair; so important that it frightened him a little. As his brows knit O'Yoshi too grew a little frightened; regretted that she had told so much all at once. She had babbled beyond measure in her transport. She had misgivings. Shūzen reassured her. For her to return to Daikuchō would never do. A breath of suspicion, and Ogita's sword would deprive him of his mistress. Safe quarters were to be found in the yashiki. He called the dōshin, one Makishima Gombei, and put her in his charge. The two men exchanged glances as she was led away.

The office of the south machibugyō was in a ferment when Aoyama made his report. All available yakunin were at once gathered. The list was carefully gone over with the minister for the month, Hoki no Kami. Despatched on their various missions the squads departed. To Shūzen was assigned the capture of Ogita Kurōji, leader of the conspiracy. This latter was chafing at the prolonged absence of O'Yoshi. Some accident must have happened to her. Then he remembered. She had gone to Hachōbori. Here lived a sister, whose delivery was daily expected. Doubtless this commonplace event, yet surpassing in interest to every woman, detained her. A confusion outside attracted his attention. There was a crowd, and some disturbance. Hatsu! The people were being kept back by yakunin. "The thoughts of Kurōji were those of the wicked." At once he attributed their presence to himself. A look out at the rear and he quickly shot to the wooden bar. Between the bamboo of the fence men could be seen passing to and fro in numbers; and they were yakunin. He had been betrayed. The counsel of Jinnai came to mind, and he ground his teeth as he stood with drawn sword before the empty drawer of the cabinet. The scarlet of the obi of his false mistress flashed before his eyes. He had to die unavenged. "On his lordship's business! On his lordship's business!" The harsh voices sounded at the front. Those who would enter uninvited found themselves face to face in the narrow space with the old Kurōji, the man who had fought from Sagami to Tosa, from Chōsen to Kyūshū. The more incautious fell severed with a cut from shoulder to pap. A second man put his hand to his side, and rolled over to breathe his last in a pool of blood. Visions of "Go-ban" Tadanobu came to mind. Kurōji would die, but he would leave his mark on the foe. Shūzen's men could make no progress, except to swell the death roll or their wounds. In rage their lord sprang to the encounter. Shūzen was young, but it is doubtful if the issue would have been successful with this man turned demon by the double injury and treachery. But Ogita amid this horde of assailants had suffered in his turn. In a parry his sword broke off short near the hilt. With a yell he sprang to close quarters, dealing Shūzen a blow with the hilt that sent him reeling senseless to the ground. Then, unable to accomplish more, and taking advantage of the respite caused by the rescue of his foe, he sprang to the ladder leading above. Once on the roof he saw that escape was hopeless. Already they were breaking into the rear. Men were approaching over the neighbouring houses. In the old style of ages past he waved them back with drawn dagger. There was no Shūzen to give command—"Take him alive!" They were only too glad to halt and let him do his will. Stripping to his girdle, before the assembled crowd he thrust his dagger into his left side and drew it across his belly. Then he made the cross cut through the navel. "Splendid fellow! A true bushi!" Admiring voices rose in the crowd. The body of Kurōji fell forward and down into the street. Thus he died.

This affair had ended in a way to redound greatly to the credit of Aoyama Shūzen. Others had not been so successful. Of nearly two hundred names only eighteen prisoners were secured. Shūzen stamped with impatience on learning of the escape of Kosaka Jinnai. He had learned much about him from the hate of O'Yoshi. "That man is the real leader of the band, the inspiration of Ogita Kurōji. Ah! Why could not this Shūzen be in two places at once!" Older officials bowed low, and smiled to themselves and each other at youth's self confidence. O'Yoshi now found short entertainment. Shūzen had no further use for the woman, for the means of his promotion. One day a chūgen led her to the postern gate of the yashiki, put a paper containing a silver ryō in her hand, and unceremoniously shoved her into the roadway. The gate closed behind her. At first she hardly comprehended the meaning of this treatment. Then, as it filtered into her mind, her rage passed all measure. "Ah! The beast and liar! Yoshi was not fit to be the wife; nay, not even the female companion of this arrogant lord?" She had been juggled out of the secret of such value to him, then cast forth with the wages of a prostitute summoned to the yashiki. The woman was helpless. Broken in spirit she dragged herself off, to undergo a severe illness brought on by despite. Her foul rôle ascertained, friends and family would have nothing to do with her. Once recovered, she found herself deprived of all means of subsistence, even that of beauty, by her disease. Never more would she deal with the noble class, to be left with such a legacy. She would pray for the salvation of the man she had betrayed. On her way to the Asakusa Kwannon she passed the jail, then near the Torigoébashi. Stumbling along just here she raised her head, to confront the long line of rotting heads there set forth. Just facing her was that of her ex-lover Ogita Kurōji. It took on life. The eyes opened and glared fierce hate. The lips moved, and the teeth ground together. Then the other heads made measured movements. "Atsu!" With the cry she fell fainting to the ground, and it was difficult to restore her to consciousness. For several years the half crazed beggar woman sought alms near the jail, to act as guide and comment on the fresh heads exposed, until as nuisance she was driven off by the guard. Then the shameful swollen corruption of the body was drawn from the canal close by; thus to end on the refuse heap the treachery of Chōsenburo no O'Yoshi.

CHAPTER XV

The God favours Shūzen

The influence of a House close to the person of the Shōgun was no drawback to the close attention Aoyama Shūzen gave to official duty throughout his career. The Aoyama stood high in the council of the governing power. Even an old blunderbuss like Hoki no Kami could not shake this influence. When Yukinari tore the mirror from the hands of the young Shōgun Iyemitsu Kō, berated him roundly for effeminacy, and dashed the offending object to pieces on the stones of the garden, this wanton treatment of the prince could not be overlooked. "Invited" to cut belly by his intimates and opponents in the council (rōjū) he defied them, laid hand to sword, and swore they should join him in a "dog's death." The timely entrance of Ōkubo Hikozaémon prevented the unseemly spectacle of three old soldiers and statesmen enjoying the fierce and deadly pastime of one of the duels of Keichō (1596-1614). Hoki no Kami in his own way was right—and knew it; and he had the tacit approval of Hidétada Kō. The result was not harakiri, but the offending noble was consigned to the care of his brother. He and his were "extinguished"; for the time being, and to the greater glory of his other relatives near the Shōgun's person. Such was the rough discipline in Hidétada's camp of Edo. The second Shōgun, now retired (Ōgoshō—inkyō), never lost the manners or the methods of the battle field.

The career of Aoyama Shūzen therefore was a steady rise in the Government service; in younger years attached to the immediate train of the prince, in greater maturity to the enforcement of the edicts through the legal machinery of the Bakufu. At this time he ruffled it bravely with the other young blades. The younger hatamoto on their part opposed to the otokodaté of the townsmen the far more splendid Jingumi or divine bands. Yamanaka Gonzaémon knocked out several front teeth and inserted in their places gold ones. Hence the rise of the Kingumi or Gold Band. Aoyama Shūzen did likewise with substitution of silver. Hence the Gingumi. They were all of the Mikawa bushi; that is, drawn from the native province and closely affiliated to the Tokugawa House. Hence these hatamoto carried themselves high even against the greater daimyō, sure of support from their over-lord the Shōgun. As for the town, they did as they pleased, seeking quarrels, distributing blows, and only restrained by wholesome reprisals of rōnin or the otokodaté of the townsmen, who in turn relied on such daimyō as Daté Kō and Maéda Kō, valued allies of the Tokugawa House, yet showing no particular liking for the encroachments of the palace clique on their own privileges.

The necessity of moving quarters was equally an embarrassment to Aoyama Shūzen and to his intimate and neighbour Ōkubo Hikoroku. Ōkubo suggested Honjō—"The water lies close by. Hence in winter the place is warm, in summer cool."—"And of mosquitoes swarms," interjected the practical Aoyama. "If the hillside be cold, it surely is no drawback to Hikoroku Uji." The one named made something of a wry face, and Aoyama smiled apart. He knew that Hikoroku was not so affectioned to the meetings of the Gaman Kwai as himself. However, smoothly—"This matter of the Yoshida Goten coming up offers fair opportunity. The failure of Endō Uji need not discourage Ōkubo Dono and this Aoyama." Both smiled a little. They could put palace influences better to work. "It is two thousand tsubo," said Shūzen. "Just the thing: moreover, it is close to palace duty. On this point Honjō is not in the running. Besides, the site has its own attraction. Of course Shūzen takes the well, in the division." Ōkubo interposed a lively objection, the shallowness of which Shūzen could detect. He humoured his friend's obstinacy. "Leave it to the lots." In haste the slips were prepared—"Hachiman, god of the bow and feathered shaft, grant your divine aid and bestow the old well ghost haunted on this Aoyama." Okubo laughed at his earnestness. "Aoyama Uji leaves this Ōkubo no resort but in the Buddha. Good fortune to Ōkubo, and may the will of the Lord Buddha be done.... Naruhodo! 'Tis yours after all. The shaft of the war god is stronger than the Buddha's staff." He took his disappointment so well as to be the more urgent in securing the transfer. This was granted, with expenses of removal.

Aoyama Shūzen superintended in person the preparation of his new residence. This was soon in readiness as little was to be done. Ōkubo took cash and construction. The former villa, fallen to Shūzen's part, needed mainly air and light, and repairs to its rotten woodwork. When it was time to think of the water supply Aoyama ordered the cleaning out of the old well. The workmen began to talk—"'Tis the old well of the inner garden, the Yanagi-ido of the Yoshida Goten. Danna Sama, deign to order exorcism made, and that the well be filled up and covered from men's sight." The Danna laughed at them, and was obstinate in his purpose. He took upon himself all the wrath of the disturbed and angered spirits. He hoped that they would not furnish material for more. To hearten them, he and his men descended to the level of the water. With headshakes and misgivings the chief ordered his men to the task—"Pfu! It stinks of ghosts, or something. Surely there will be dead men's bones for harvest; and perhaps those of the living. The old well has not seen its last ill deed." As for the dead men's bones, the well refuse was laid aside, and on Aoyama's order buried with no particular reverence in the bowels of the tsukiyama close by. "Let all the spirits of the place find company together," he jeered. The yashiki of Komiyasan in Honjō had its processions of marvels—dead men, frogs, tanuki, and fox—to shake its amado at night and divert the monotony of those who lived therein. The portentous foot perhaps he could not match, but he would share in this contest with ghostly visions. Chance had offered him the opportunity. All was prepared. Shūzen had established himself. Nightly with his camp stool he took his seat by the old well, to smoke his pipe and drink his wine—"Now! Out with you, ghosts! Here present is Aoyama Shūzen, hatamoto of the land. He would join in your revels. Deign to hasten.... What! The ghosts would rest this night?" Thus night after night passed with his jeering and no sign of the supernatural objects, not thus to be conjured. Time made the pastime stale—as stale as the waters of the Yanagi-ido which never furnished supply for the house or its tasks. Aoyama had the excuse of drinking wine. As for the household, the women would not even use the water for washing. They said it stunk too badly. In so far Shūzen failed.

It was about the time of his entrance on this new possession that more good fortune came to Shūzen. He was made the magistrate whose office covered the detection and punishment of thieves and incendiaries. It showed the estimation in which he was held, and satisfied both the vanity and the hard cold temper of Aoyama Shūzen. Looking to results, more than method, the selection was most satisfactory; if return of the number of criminals was the index assumed. Until a method attracted unfavourable attention by some scandal, only results were regarded by the Bakufu. But his household could not regard with any easiness a devotion of his lordship to the wine cup, which turned his court into a wine feast. Up to this time Aoyama Shūzen in all official duty had shown himself hard, unbending, callous, conscientious. Now the element of cruelty appeared, to develop rapidly with exercise until it was the predominant tone. Some illustrations are to be given from events occurring in these first three years of Shōhō (1644-6).

Aoyama would show himself the strict disciplinarian. His chamberlain (yōnin) Aikawa Chūdayu close beside him, his dōshin seated at either hand, he gave his orders and rebuke to the assembled constables. He scowled at them. Then with voice harsh from the contents of the big wine cup beside him he commanded—"Diligence is to be expected of all. He who fails to make many arrests shows sloth or ill will to his lord. Anyone against whom there is the slightest suspicion, even if he or she be abroad late at night, is to be brought to the jail. No explanation is to be allowed. There must be many arrests. Examination in the court is to follow; and many crimes, discovered under the torture, will be brought to punishment.... Heigh! Call up that old fellow there.... Who? That Ryūsuké." At Shūzen's order Ryūsuké forthwith came close to the rōka. "You, fellow ... what manner of man to act as constable are you? Days pass without a single prisoner being brought in. This jade, found in the street at the hour of the rat (11 p.m.) pleads excuse of illness and the doctor. This lurking scoundrel, seeking to set half the town on fire, pleads drunkenness as keeping him abroad. Thus many of these villainous characters, whores and fire bugs, find field for their offenses. No more of such leniency. Failure to arrest means dismissal from the service and punishment as an ill-wisher. Oldest and most experienced, the greatest number of prisoners is to be expected at your hands. Shūzen shows mercy. Your age remits the punishment, but dismissal shall afford example to the rest as to the wisdom of showing energy." Thus he cast forth without pity an ageing officer whose only offense was an experience which sought the mission of the night straggler, and allowed the harmless to go free. Ryūsuké went forth from the office of the bugyō stripped of the means of living and of reputation, and assured of the unforgiving character of his lord. That night he cut belly, recommending his family to mercy. This was soon found—in debt and the debtor's slavery allowed by the harsh code. Thus was the jail kept full, with the innocent and a sprinkling of the guilty. No one dared to be lax; for life hung on salary, and on zeal the continuance of the salary. Moreover all revelled in the reward of the wine cup liberally bestowed for zealous service—and the more liberally as Shūzen took his turn with his big cup, every time he sent down the saké to his underling.

In Bakurachō lived one Zeisuké, a poor but honest fellow who made his living by peddling the smaller kinds of fish and the salted varieties, for his trifling resources allowed no larger outlay for his trays. In this way with greatest difficulty he managed to support an old mother, a wife, a young child. Locally he was known as "Honest Zeisuké" for the not often found quality of representing the antiquity and character of his wares much as they were. When bad weather forbade the opening of the fish market, Zeisuké readily found some task at day labour by which a few mon could be secured, and for which his character for honest service recommended him. One night, when on his way homeward, he was passing the Asakusa Gomon just as the cry of fire was raised. Knowing the alarm of his aged mother Zeisuké at once bolted towards home. When all were running toward the fire this at once attracted attention. By the law it was the strict duty of the citizen to betake himself to his ward, and to be ready for service in preventing spread of the often disastrous conflagration. His action was noted by the ever present myrmidons of Shūzen. In a moment they were after him. Surrounded he was quickly caught. His explanation was not heard. "Say your say at the white sand, under the strokes of the madaké," was the rough answer. Thus he was dragged off to the jail.

The next day Aoyama's first motion was to reward the captors with the wine cup. Harsh was the vinous scowl he cast on Zeisuké now cringing at the white sand. "Ha! Ah! A notable criminal; a firebug caught in the act, and attempting to escape. Make full confession. Thus much suffering is escaped, and the execution ground soon reached." Zeisuké had no confession to make, and to his explanation Aoyama turned a deaf ear. "Obstinacy is to be over-ruled." He made a sign. At once Zeisuké was seized. His head drawn downward two stout fellows now began to apply in rhythm the madaké—strips of bamboo to the thickness of an inch tightly wound together with hempen cord, and making an exceedingly flexible and painful scourge. The blood quickly was spurting from his shoulders. Aoyama and his chamberlain sat enjoying the scene immensely. At the seventieth blow the peddler fainted. "A wicked knave! Off with him until restored." Then he settled himself for the day's pastime; for the torture had come to have the zest of an exhilarating sport. The cries of pain, the distortions of agony under the stones, or the lobster, or suspension, the noting of the curious changes of flesh colour and expression under these punishments, the ready assent to absurdly illogical questions, all this not only amused, but interested Shūzen. The naivété and obstinacy of the fisherman was just of the kind to furnish the best material. The fellow was sturdy of frame, and under skilled hands readily submitted to this dalliance for days without bending from his truth.

Meanwhile things went on very badly at the house in Bakurachō. The disaster of the arrest fell like a thunderbolt on the wretched little household. Day after day, hoping for the acquittal and release, one article after another went to the pawn shop. Reduced to absolute misery the house owner and the neighbours came to the rescue with a small sum raised among them. The long continued official suspicion affected even these toward the "Honest Zeisuké," and their support grew cold. Then came the news that Zeisuké had died in the jail under the torture. Tearless, aghast, deprived of all support, the wife and mother long looked in each other's faces. Said the old woman—"Alas! Alas! Neither gods nor the Buddha exist. Faithful and devoted was Zeisuké to this old mother. Unfortunate in his life, he has been equally unlucky in death. What now is to be done!" She put her sleeves over the old and wrinkled face, and bending low concealed tears and a long farewell to the beloved in the person of her grandchild.

The wife was in little better case, but had to soothe this grief. A few coins remained. She would buy the necessaries for the evening meal. "But a moment, honoured mother. The return is quick. 'Tis but for the needed meal." Taking the child on her back she started off into the darkness. For a moment she turned to look at the mother. The old woman was following her with eyes tear dimmed in the sunken hollows. Thus they parted. For a moment the wife halted on the bridge over the Edogawa. The dark slimy waters were a solution, but she put it aside in the face of a higher duty. Soon she was on her way back. To her surprise the house was in darkness. Surely a little oil was left in the bottom of the jar. She called, without getting an answer. In alarm she groped her way in the darkness, to stumble over the body of the old woman, lying limp and helpless. Something wet her hand. Now she was in all haste for a light. "Ah! Ah! The honoured mother! What has occurred? Has not ill fortune enough fallen upon the home of Zeisuké?" Alas! the hand was stained with blood. The old woman had intended the parting salute to be the last. Left alone she had bit off her tongue, and thus had died. Rigid, as one stupified, the wife sat; without tears, but thinking. Now she was left alone. But what as to the child? A girl too? Ah! There were enough of her sex in this hard world. She reached out a hand to the long triangular sharp blade close by. She touched edge and point of the debabōchō (kitchen knife) with the finger.

Here was the solution. Rapidly she loosed the child and lowered it to the ground. It took but a moment to open the little dress and expose the breast. Then knife in hand she leaned over it. As she did so the child opened its eyes, smiled, then laughing began to finger her bosom seeking sustenance. The feelings of the mother came over the woman. She put aside the knife to give the babe the breast. Alas! Starvation afforded but scant milk. Failing its supply the child cried peevishly. This last stroke of poverty was too much. The original purpose came back in full sway. With quick motion she put the child beside her and held it firmly down. The sharp pointed knife was thrust clean through the little body. A whimpering cry, the spurting of the blood, and the face began to take on the waxen tint. With the same short energetic movements the mother now sought her own end. Guiding its course with the fingers the knife was now thrust deep into her own throat. Both hands on the heavy handle she tore it downward; then fell forward on the mats. The wardsmen made report.

CHAPTER XVI

The Affair of the Asakusa Kwannon