Chapter XI: Part II (1)

SCENE: A village school kept by Takebe Genzo and his wife Tonami, both devoted vassals of the exiled Prime Minister, Michizane Sugawara. Among Takebe's pupils is the young Sugawara. This boy they disguise and pass off as their own child. The little lord, though only eight years of age, excels in everything among the pupils and, inheriting the ability from his father, writes Chinese hieroglyphics with great skill. The senior pupil is a lazy, stupid, and incorrigibly mischievous fellow, fifteen years of age, who will not study at all.

"While our teacher is out it is a great waste of time to practise writing. Look! I have done all my writing on my head." and the lazy boy came forward and showed his school-fellows a shaved pate all blackened with Indian ink.

The little Sugawara looked at him and said:

"If you learn one new character every day you will acquire three hundred and sixty-five characters in a year. Instead of wasting your time playing like that, you must study."

But the older boy only laughed at him, and left his desk to prance about the room.

The other boys took the part of little Sugawara and, growing disgusted with the idle boy, wanted to punish him. There arose a great clamour in the school-room, all the boys shouting together and leaving their places to attack him.

Disturbed by the noise, the schoolmaster's wife came out from the inner room.

"What is the matter? Are you quarrelling again? To-day the master is away. He has been invited by a friend, and I do not know when he will come back. As we are expecting a new pupil to-day I am anxious for his return. Now, if you are good boys and will work hard this morning, I will give all of you a half-holiday this afternoon."

The boys were delighted with this promise. All promptly returned to their seats, and opening their books and their inkstands, became diligently absorbed in their tasks of reading and writing.

Just then a sound at the porch made Tonami draw aside the screens. A gentle and aristocratic-looking woman was standing there with a pretty boy of about eight years of age by her side. A manservant, carrying a desk, was in attendance.

After an exchange of civilities, the visitor explained:

"Our home is at the other end of the village. The reason for my visit is to ask you to take this naughty boy into your care, as arranged the other day. I am told that you have a child of your own about his age. I should like to see him!"

Tonami beckoned to the little Sugawara.

"Why, certainly; this is our son and heir!"

"Oh, what a nice little fellow! And how clever he looks!" Then looking round the school-room, she added:

"How busy you must be with such a number of scholars in your care. They must be a great trouble and responsibility."

"Yes, you may imagine it is no easy work to look after them all. Is this the boy you wish us to take charge of? What is his name?"

"His name is Kotaro!" answered the mother.

"What an intelligent-looking child!" exclaimed Tonami.

"Unfortunately my husband has been obliged to keep an appointment with some friends. But if you are in a hurry and cannot wait, I will go and fetch him."

"No, no," protested Matsuo's wife, "as I have an errand elsewhere I will call in on my way back. He may have returned by then."

Then calling her servant, she ordered him to bring in the presents she had brought, one for the master, and some cakes to distribute amongst the schoolboys. In a few graceful words the gratified hostess acknowledged her visitor's kind thought.

"Oh, it is nothing--only a little token of thanks from my heart for all the trouble my boy is going to give you." Then turning to Kotaro, she added:

"I am going to the next village, so you must wait for me here like a good child--don't forget all I have told you!"

"Oh, mother, I want to come with you!" Kotaro suddenly cried, catching her by the sleeve as she was stepping into the porch.

"Now, do not be naughty!" remonstrated his mother, "a big boy like you ought not to run after your mother. Look, Tonami San, what a baby he is still!"

"Oh, it is quite natural, poor little fellow. Look here, Kotaro! Come with me and I will give you something nice." Then, turning to O Chiyo, she added "Try to come back as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes, I will come back at once, if you are a good boy, Kotaro."

Seizing the opportunity she slipped out through the porch gate, followed by her servant, who closed it after her, and the two briskly clattered away on their clogs. The poor mother yearned to turn back once more, for she knew that she would never see her little son again in this world; but she kept bravely on her way.

While Tonami was trying to console Kotaro, and to distract his attention by introducing him to the little Sugawara, her husband returned. His face was pale, and he was evidently profoundly agitated. As he entered the school-room he sharply scrutinized each of the boys in turn. His wife saw at a glance that something unusual must have occurred.

"Oh, what common fellows they are!" he muttered, crossly. "Such country-bred louts can never serve my purpose, however great the trouble I take with their education," and he gloomily regarded them with knitted brows, as though something was weighing heavily on his mind.

His wife approached him and anxiously inquired: "What is the matter? You seem unusually worried to-day. You knew from the first that those village lads can never become intellectual. People will not think well of you, if you speak against your own scholars in this way. Besides, we have another pupil to-day. Please try to recover your good temper and look at the new boy." With these words she brought forward Kotaro, but Takebe had become absorbed in his own preoccupation, and took no notice of the child.

Kotaro came forward, bowed respectfully, and said: "Please, sir, I look to you to teach me from now."

At these words, spoken in a clear, sweet treble, Takebe started from his reverie and fixed his eyes upon the new-comer; by degrees his face gradually brightened as though struck by a new train of thought.

"What a handsome and dignified boy. You might easily pass for the son of a nobleman or any other exalted personage. Well, you are a fine fellow!"

"He is, indeed," responded Tonami, with a smile. "I thought you would be glad to see such a promising pupil."

"Yes, yes," assented the master--"nothing could be better," he muttered, in an undertone, as if speaking to himself; and then aloud, "where is the mother who brought him here?"

"As you were not at home, she went to the next village on an errand," replied his wife.

"That is capital!" said Takebe, growing more and more pleased. "Send this child with our boy to an inner room, and let them play together."

"Now," said Tonami, turning to the class of schoolboys, who had been more assiduous than ever since their master's return, "all of you may have a holiday. Run away and play in the garden!"

After sending her two special charges into the next room, and looking around with suspicious eyes that no eavesdropper was lingering behind, she lowered her voice and half-whispered to her husband:

"When you came in you looked so harassed and troubled, but since you have seen that boy, your demeanour has suddenly undergone a complete change. What can be the reason for this? Something unexpected must have happened! Won't you let me share the secret?"

"It is quite natural that I should have been so perplexed and dumbfounded," answered Takebe. "To deceive me they pretended to be giving a feast, and invited me to the residence of the village mayor, but when I arrived I soon found the feast was all a myth, and the house was in the occupation of Shundo Gemba, vassal of Tokihira, and another man, Matsuo by name, who is under great obligations of gratitude to the ex-Prime Minister, but who has deserted the house of Sugawara, and now shamefully serves the enemy, Tokihira. It seems as though he must have been appointed to examine the head of our young lord, for it has leaked out that he is here under our guardianship, and Tokihira has ordered him to be beheaded. These two men, with some hundred followers, surrounded me in a hostile manner, with this threat:

"We have received information that you are secreting the only son of the ex-Prime Minister in your house, disguised as your own child. Unless you kill him at once and bring his head to us, we will attack you and slay him ourselves.

"As no alternative was left me, I was compelled to pretend to assent to their proposal. I thought that amongst our pupils surely there would be one sufficiently like to be sacrificed in his stead, but when I came home and was confronted by all that row of plebian faces, it was an obvious fact that not a single one would answer the purpose. All those young boors are of a common and vulgar type, and as unlike as possible to the aristocratic face and noble bearing of our palace-reared boy. Despair seized me, but--when I saw the new pupil--it seemed as if he had been specially sent by Providence as a substitute. The difference between them is not so great as that between a crow and a white heron. If I can deceive them but for a short time with that boy's head, I intend to escape to Kawachi with the young prince."

His wife broke in:

"But that man, Matsuo, has known Kanshusai intimately since he was three years old. How could he be deceived?"

"There lies the difficulty," said Genzo, "but after death faces always change to some extent, and as Kotaro unmistakably bears some resemblance to our young master, even Matsuo may be deceived. At any rate we will risk it. In the event that the ruse is discovered, I am determined to kill Matsuo at once, and try to cut my way through the guards as best I can, but if they are too strong for me, I will die with the young prince. Such is my decision, but the chief anxiety at present is concerning the mother of that boy. If she should come back before this can be achieved, what course of action can we decide on?"

"Leave her to me! I will try to throw dust in her eyes!" suggested Tonami.

"No, no, that won't do--a great plan often fails through some small mistake." Then, after a moment's reflection, he added, "Oh, well--I suppose she must die, too!"

"What!" cried his wife, in alarm.

"Be quiet," admonished her husband. "For the young lord's sake we must stop at nothing. It is for our master's sake, remember that!"

"Yes, yes, if we are weak we shall fail in our great scheme. Let us become devils. There is not much difference between pupils and one's own children. That boy became our pupil at this critical moment--heaven must have delivered him into our hands as the result of his mother's sin in a former existence. Oh, well! the same fate may overtake us before long--" At this point their pent-up feelings gave way, and both of them shed tears.

Shortly afterwards Gemba and Matsuo arrived at the gate. They were closely followed by a number of villagers, the parents of the common pupils in the school. In great excitement, one and all were loudly clamouring for the safety of their own children.

Matsuo almost laughed. The situation was one of such grim comedy. Each peasant evidently thought his own son might easily pass for the young aristocrat!

"Oh, mine is a beautiful boy," shouted one man. "You mustn't make any mistake between my son and the real victim. Give me my boy--" he turned fiercely to Gemba.

"You need have no apprehension whatever regarding your children," said Gemba, calmly addressing the alarmed parents, who now squatted on the ground with their heads bowed in the dust, "if you want them, you are at liberty to take them away at once!"

Matsuo, who was in a _kago_,[7] here stepped out, using his long sword as a stick to lean upon. Both he and Gemba sat on stools, which their attendants placed ready.

"Just wait a little," said he--"we cannot be too careful even with these villagers. The reason why I accepted the office of examiner is because there is no one else who knows the young prince's head as well as I do. These people allowed the young Sugawara to live in this village, so very likely they may have sympathy with the ex-Prime Minister and may claim his son now, pretending that he is one of their own family, and so aid him to escape! Who knows?"

Then, turning to the agitated peasants, he said to them, "Now, my men, you may call out your children's names one by one. I will examine each face carefully. Your own boys shall be safely restored to you, rest assured of that!"

The schoolmaster and his wife, from the house, overheard all that was going on, and Matsuo's determined and arrogant demeanour only served to intensify their fears. It was going to be even more difficult than they had apprehended.

An elderly man came forward, and in a loud voice, called out:

"Chomatsu, Chomatsu!"

In answer, an ill-favoured, pock-marked boy ran out, his face covered with smudges of Indian ink.

Matsuo glanced at him.

"The difference is as great as between snow and charcoal. He may go!" In turn, all the rest of the pupils were searchingly inspected, but not one bore the slightest resemblance to the ill-fated Kanshusai. When the pacified villagers had carried away all their offspring in triumph, Gemba and Matsuo entered the schoolmaster's house.

"Genzo!" began Gemba, in tones of authority, "you promised to behead the young Sugawara--I will receive that head now!"

Without betraying the least sign of feeling, Genzo replied:

"Yes, but he is the son of the ex-Prime Minister. We cannot slaughter him like a common boy. Please wait for a short time!"

"Oh, you cannot deceive us," said Matsuo, quickly. "Dallying in this way is merely pretext for gaining time. But it is useless for you to attempt to disappear now, the rear of the house is guarded by some hundred men, and there is no room even for an ant to escape. You may produce a substitute head, with the explanation that a dead and a living face have a different appearance. I shall not be taken in by a subterfuge. Such tricks on your part will only lead to repentance!"

This last thrust hit Genzo hard, but he did not lose his self-possession and answered Matsuo quietly,

"What a far-fetched idea! Your eyes, after your long illness, may not be able to see things clearly, but I will surely give you the head of the young lord you demand."

"Before your tongue is dry," exclaimed Gemba, impatiently, "behead him at once!"

"It shall be done!" replied Takebe, and went into an inner room. His wife, who had listened to all that transpired, was in an agony of anxiety, pale and trembling. Matsuo, with sharp eyes, was looking round the room.

"It is rather mysterious," he said, suddenly, "eight pupils have gone home, and yet, there are nine desks. What has become of the owner of that extra desk?"

Tonami started. She began to explain that there was a new pupil. Matsuo saw her vacillation. In an undertone, he said: "What a fool you are! Keep quiet!" Then, realizing how fatal such a mistake would be--Tonami collected herself and managed to stammer out. "That is the young Sugawara's desk!"

But her confusion had been noticed by the enemy. Gemba started to his feet and shouted in furious tones,

"This trifling will cause the frustration of our plans!"

At that moment the sound of a sword broke the silence as it fell swishing through the air, the screens of the room shook, and before Matsuo and Gemba could reach the partition which separated the inner from the outer room, Takebe appeared, carrying a white wooden tray. A cover hid what was beneath, but a thin trail of crimson blood was ominously oozing from the edge. Kneeling on the mats before the two men, he placed his ghastly burden before them.

"There was no alternative, so I was forced to behead the young lord. May Heaven forgive me! As it is a matter of such importance that there should be no mistake--please examine it carefully."

With these words, Takebe's hand stealthily fell upon his sword-hilt. Every fibre was on the alert to cut down Matsuo the moment he realized the deception that had been practised on him.

"I will certainly do so," replied Matsuo, nonchalantly, then, addressing some of the soldiers who had followed him into the room, he peremptorily gave them the command:

"Now surround the Takebe couple!"

From the rear of the house several guards entered and took up their posts at the porch, and just behind Genzo and his wife.

The strain was almost too great for the poor woman, and she was well-nigh fainting with the sickening uncertainty of what might be the last act of that dreadful drama. Gemba, looking on, took note keenly of the proceedings.

Everything hung on Matsuo's decision. The suspense of the moment was agonizing in its intensity.

He slowly lifted the blood-rimmed cover from the wooden tray. A boy's decapitated head was exposed to view. It was the head of little Kotaro.

Takebe's eyes were riveted on Matsuo. Defiantly he swore that Matsuo should draw his last breath the moment he declared the head to be a subterfuge. As a tiger ready to spring on its prey, the desperate man watched the judge on whose next word hung all their lives.

Tonami was praying to the Gods in silent fervour that the truth might not be discovered, tremblingly she clutched a short sword hidden beneath her robe, which her husband had surreptitiously handed her, in preparation for the worst.

Matsuo deliberately examined the head of his own son--carefully and searchingly from every side he scrutinized the little face, now so still and pallid, sometimes his eyes blinked to hide the gathering tears, and once his face contracted with pain, but at last he loudly pronounced the momentous verdict:

"Oh, there can be no doubt that this is the head of Kanshusai, the son of the Lord Sugawara." Triumph, at the success of his loyal plot, conquered every other feeling and he slammed the lid back into place.

Gemba, delighted that there had been no mistake, and that the gruesome commission had been successfully carried out, accorded words of praise to Takebe for beheading the boy.

"As a reward for this deed, you will be pardoned for harbouring him so long! Let us hasten to take the head to Lord Tokihira," he said, turning to Matsuo.

"Yes, it is better that no time should be lost," responded the latter, "but as my duty is now finished, may I request to be discharged on sick leave?"

"Certainly," Gemba replied, "as your mission is satisfactorily concluded, you may go."

He then took up the tray with the bleeding head, strode to the door, and calling his attendants, pompously set out at once for Tokihira's palace. Outside the gate he stopped and mockingly addressed Takebe: "Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed, "though you take great care of the boy usually, when your own life is in danger you do not fail to cut off his head! ha, ha, ha!" and the cruel man, with this parting sneer, went on his ruthless way. Matsuo silently followed him out of the house and got into his _kago_.

The husband and wife, now that they were left alone, were quite exhausted from the emotion and stress of the past hour. They went out and closed the gates. Both were speechless with joy for some minutes. The master, sighing with relief, bowed his head and turned to the four points of the compass, silently returning thanks to the deities whose help he had invoked.

"Oh, Heaven be praised!" he exclaimed at last. "The Gods have accorded their mighty aid to our cause and mercifully caused Matsuo's eyes to be dimmed, so that he mistook the other boy's head for that of our young prince. Heaven has clearly interposed to help our lord. Let us rejoice, my wife!"

"Yes, yes," she answered, "what a terrible strain it has been! In some unfathomable way the spirit of our lord must have cast a veil over Matsuo's eyes, or that head may have become a golden Buddha to help our cause. Though there was a slight resemblance between the two boys, yet they differ in reality as much as brick from gold. I was so transported at the success of our plan, that I almost wept aloud with the poignancy of joy when I saw that Matsuo was deceived."

When the loyal couple had given vent to their feelings, simultaneously they rushed to the side-room, where they had concealed their precious charge. The one from the side and the other from the front pushed aside the screens. Genzo then raised one of the _tatami_ (a padded mat three feet by six feet), disclosing a cavity in the floor, out of which rose up the aristocratic form of Kanshusai, safe and untouched by his enemies. They gazed at him in silence--overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a knocking at the gate and the voice of Kotaro's mother disturbed them.

"I am the mother of the new pupil. Let me in!"

Startled, they hastily closed the screens. At this turn of events Tonami was at her wits' end, and knew not what to do for the best. She ran to and fro across the room like one demented.

Seeing that Tonami was losing her self-control and was about to burst out into excited speech, her husband enveloped his hand in the sleeve of his robe and covered her mouth. He held her still with grim determination.

"Remember what I said a short time ago. It means simply this--nothing is so precious as our young lord. You weak creature!" he added, with disdain, as he saw his wife's trepidation. Then he turned and went to the entrance.

"I fear my naughty boy must be giving you a great deal of trouble," said the new-comer, as Takebe let her in, "but what has become of him now?"

To gain time, Takebe replied, little knowing that he was confronted by a soul as strong in loyalty to the Sugawara as his own:

"He is in the house playing with the other children--school is over for to-day, so you must take him back with you."

"Very well," she assented, and started towards the house.

Directly her back was turned, Takebe drew his sword and tried to cut her down from behind. O Chiyo, a _samurai_ woman, was a trained fencer. She swiftly comprehended the meaning of Takebe's movement, even before he drew his sword, the sound, as it left its sheath, confirming what her alert senses divined. Quick as lightning she darted aside, barely escaping the deadly weapon as it tried to compass her destruction. Again and again the desperate man thrust at her. All would be lost even now, if this woman discovered that her boy had been slain to save their lord's son. With a box which she carried in her hand, O Chiyo skilfully parried the blows.

"Wait, wait! What is the matter?" she gasped out. But her frenzied antagonist was far too excited to listen, and he struck out with such good-will that the box, which served her as a shield, was speedily cut in two, and there appeared, unfolding and fluttering in the breeze as they fell, a little winding sheet, and a sacred banner used for the dead, bearing in black hieroglyphics, the inscription, "_Namu Amida Butsu_!" (All hail, Great Buddha!)

Takebe's hand was paralyzed by this unexpected apparition. Bewildered as to what this could mean, he glanced inquiringly at O Chiyo.

"Was my boy considered worthy to take the place of our young lord or not?" she asked, meeting his gaze steadily with her clear eyes. "Tell me the truth!"

At such totally unlooked-for words, Takebe was confounded more than ever. Was it possible that the enemy he was seeking to destroy had unexpectedly become a friend?

"Oh, oh!" he stammered, "Did you understand and anticipate all this?"

"Yes, of course," answered the brave mother. "As I anticipated everything, I prepared and brought these things in Kotaro's box."

"Whose wife are you?" cried the astonished man, as he sheathed his sword.

Before she could answer a voice from outside the gate chanted a poem:

_Ume[8] wa tobi_
_Sakura_[8] _wa karuru_
_Yono naka ni_
_Nani tote Matsu_[8] _wa_
_Tsure na kakuran_.

In my service
Plum blossom has fled
The Cherry has withered
How then can the Pine be
Heartless to me?

"Rejoice, my wife! Our boy has done his duty!" When these brief words conveyed to the heroic woman that the sacrifice had been consummated in the tragic fate of her cherished son, her brave spirit failed her, and she fell unconscious to the ground.

"What a poor creature you are!" exclaimed her husband, as he entered the room.

At the unexpected arrival of Matsuo, the schoolmaster and his wife were more confused than ever, but with an effort Takebe attempted to regain his self-possession.

"I will use more ceremonious speech afterwards. You Matsuo, whom we all believed a traitor to behave like this! What is the meaning of it all?"

"It is quite natural that you cannot understand. We were three brothers. All were faithful vassals of Michizane, the Minister of the Right, to whom my family was deeply indebted. I, Matsuo, latterly entered the service of Tokihira, and on this account I was disowned by my father. I dissimulated thus, the better to serve Lord Sugawara. However, the position proved intolerable, and to get my dismissal I feigned illness. It was at this juncture that the news of where Kanshusai was concealed reached the ears of Tokihira. A messenger informed me that I would be released from office if I would undertake the mission of securing the head of our young lord. I felt sure that you would never commit such a crime, but if no substitute could be procured I knew that you would be desperate. Thinking that the time had come to repay the debt of gratitude to our generous benefactor, I consulted with my wife, and we sent our own boy to take the place of his son. That is why I counted the number of desks, to see if he were already here or not. Lord Sugawara composed the poem I quoted just now, showing his discernment of my character. In that poem he asks, 'How can the pine be heartless towards me?' But the world, in general, interpreted those lines in a contrary sense, and everyone denounced me as a cowardly deserter. You may imagine, Genzo, how I resented this. If I had had no son, I must have passed as a traitor all my life. There is no possession so precious as a son."

O Chiyo, who had meanwhile recovered from her faint, was intently listening to her husband's explanations with a composed demeanour. But at these words she could restrain her emotion no longer, and sobbed aloud.

"Oh, how our Kotaro must rejoice although in another world, to hear such sentiments from his father. Those words are his best requiem. When I left him a short time ago, he looked unusually sad--for his childish mind understood that he was about to die. I intended to go home and deceive him, saying that I was going to the next village and would return soon. But I could not go home. Oh! the yearning to see even his dead face once more was so great that I came back. You may scoff at my weakness, but my sorrow is well-nigh unendurable. Had our Kotaro been born ugly, and brought up as a common child, he might not have suffered such a death. But as he was beautiful, obedient, and good, he was chosen for the sacrifice. Could I have known his untimely fate I would never have found fault with him. Oh, my son, my little, little son!"

And the poor woman, overcome with the poignancy of her grief and the bitterness of her renunciation, fell with her face to the mats, trying to suppress the rending sobs which seemed to tear her breast asunder.

Here Tonami came close to the sorrowing mother and murmured in tones of sympathy:

"Only a short hour ago, when my husband had decided that he should be the substitute for the young prince, Kotaro came up to him and said, innocently, 'Master, please take care of me!' When I think of this, though I am but a stranger, I feel as if my heart would break. I can imagine how desolate his true mother must be to lose such a sweet child," and the tears fell from her eyes.

"No, no, Tonami! No, no, my wife! You must not weep. It was our own decision to let him die in the place of our young lord. You, O Chiyo, ought to be ashamed to give way like this before strangers. But," and Matsuo turned anxiously to Takebe, "although I carefully explained to my boy the reason for his fate, and how he should die with dignity, tell me, did he meet death in a miserable way, or did he die like a _samurai_?"

"Yes, oh, yes!" Takebe quickly replied. "When I told the brave boy that his head must be cut off to save our young lord, the child of his benefactor, he calmly and courageously, without a word, placed his neck in readiness for the sword--he did not attempt either to hide or to escape from his impending doom. You must have taught him well--he even smiled at the last--rest assured of that!"

The schoolmaster could say no more, with strong restraint he tried to hide his feelings and pretended to laugh, but the forced mirth ended with a choking sound in his throat.

At this point the stoic father broke down and wept, and as he wiped away the slow tears, he said, in a low voice: "He was both good and clever, was our little Kotaro. Even at the age of nine he takes the place of his parents to prove our gratitude to our lord. He is a filial child--a fortunate child to be able to do that I The more I think of it the more it recalls my brother, Sakura Maru. He died without being able to make any return for the obligation he was under to his lord. How he must envy our boy!"

"Oh, Kotaro soon followed him to another world!" wailed O Chiyo, and with these words she burst into another paroxysm of grief.

The young Sugawara, the innocent cause of this tragedy, overhearing the poor mother's heart-rending sobs, came out from an inner room, pale and awe-stricken:

"If I had only known that he was going to die for me, I would not have allowed it--oh--how sad! how sad!" he exclaimed, and with his long sleeve, he wiped away the tears from his eyes.

Matsuo and his wife turned and bowed to the little fellow while he spoke. For this boy's sake their family must sink into oblivion and nothingness, and be no longer remembered among the living; for his sake there would be no one to keep up the rites of the dead before their ancestors' tombs or their own, when they should be no more. On this altar of loyalty to his father's house they had offered all that this world held for them of joy, hope, and ambition. On this altar they had laid up for themselves a cheerless, desolate, childless old age. To this sublime ideal of duty, unhesitatingly, unflinchingly, regardless of themselves and the acuteness of their sufferings, these simple martyr-souls had made this great renunciation. That the young lord should realize this sacrifice they had not in the least expected. His words surprised them. It was balm to their stricken hearts, that even in some small measure he could appreciate what they had done for him.

Then Matsuo rose and went to the porch.

"I have brought a present for our young master," and with a whistle, he summoned a _kago_ that had been waiting in the garden. As soon as the bearers set it down out stepped the Lady Sugawara.

"Oh, my mother! My mother!" almost shouted the boy, as she quickly entered the house, her long mantle of gold brocade and crimson linings flashing colour as she moved.

"Oh, my son, my beloved son!" cried the overjoyed mother, folding the child to her heart.

The schoolmaster and his wife exclaimed with joy when they realized the identity of the new-comer After their respectful greetings, Takebe said:

"I have been long striving to discover your hiding place. Where can your ladyship have taken refuge all this time?"

Matsuo answered for her:

"When her ladyship was hiding in the suburbs, Tokihira's retainers got scent of her retreat and nearly succeeded in taking her prisoner. Knowing her danger I disguised myself as a _yamabushi_[9] and managed to rescue her just in time, so she has been concealed in my house ever since. Without delay you must now escort her and Kanshusai to Kawachi,[10]--so that they may once more be a united family, safe from the pursuit of their enemies."

Then, turning to his wife, he added, "Now let us carry home the body of Kotaro and begin the preparations for his funeral rites."

But before O Chiyo could answer, Tonami reverently carried the headless body of the slain child to the _kago_. O Chiyo followed, and kneeling, placed over Kotaro the white shroud and the sacred banner.

Matsuo and his wife then took off their outer robes, revealing the white garments of ceremonial mourning in readiness for the obsequies. Takebe and his wife made a gesture of surprise and deprecation.

"It is against custom that parents should attend the funeral of their own son. Let us spare you this trial--we will do everything in your place!" they cried.

"No, no," said Matsuo, loyal unto death, even the death of his only son for the sake of his lord, "this is not the body of my boy. We are going to bury our young lord!"

With these words, Matsuo and his wife took their farewells. Then, turning in silence, they followed the impromptu bier which bore all that was left to them of their well-beloved child, and with bowed heads reverently wended their way towards their now desolate and empty home. Lady Sugawara, her son, Genzo and Tonami, with tears falling from their eyes, watched the little procession slowly disappear down the road into the deepening shadows of the night.

Note.--"The memory of the unfortunate statesman, Sugawara-no-Michizane, is surrounded by a halo of romance which affords an insight into Japanese character. He belonged to an ancient family of professional litterateurs, and had none of the titles which in that age were commonly considered essential to official preferment. By extraordinary scholarship, singular sweetness of disposition, and unswerving fidelity to justice and truth he won a high reputation, and had he been content with the fame his writings brought him, and with promoting the cause of scholarship, through the medium of a school which he endowed, he might have ended his days in peace. But, in an evil hour, he accepted office, and thus found himself required to discharge the duties of statesmanship at a time of extreme difficulty, when an immense interval separated the rich and the poor, when the arbitrariness and extortions of the local governors had become a burning question, when the nobles and the princes were crushing the people with merciless taxes, and when the finances of the Court were in extreme disorder. Michizane, a gentle conservative, was not fitted to cope with these difficulties, and his situation at Court was complicated by the favour of an ex-Emperor (Uda) who had abdicated but still sought to take part in the administration, and by the jealousy of the Fujiwara representative, Tokihira, a young, impetuous, arrogant, but highly gifted nobleman. These two men, Michizane and Tokihira, became the central figures in a very unequal struggle, the forces on the one side being the whole Fujiwara clan, headed by the unscrupulously daring and ambitious Tokihira; those on the other, a few scholars, the love and respect of the lower orders, and the benevolent tolerance of the self-effacing Michizane. The end was inevitable. Michizane, falsely accused of conspiring to obtain the throne for his grandson--an Imperial prince had married his daughter--was banished to Dazaifu, and his family and friends were either killed or reduced to serfdom. The story is not remarkable. It contains no great crises or dazzling incidents. Yet if Michizane had been the most brilliant statesman and the most successful general ever possessed by Japan, his name could not have been handed down through all generations of his countrymen with greater veneration and affection."--BRINKLEY, "Japan: Its History Arts and Literature," p. 256.

[Footnote 1: In the ancient Imperial Court there were two supreme Ministers in the Council of State; first the Minister of the Left (_Sadaijin_--next in rank to the Prime Minister), and second, the Minister of the Right (_Udaijin_).]

[Footnote 2: The Fujiwara Minister.]

[Footnote 3: _Ronin_, a _samurai_ who has severed relations with his lord for the sake, generally, of carrying out some plan which would entail disgrace if unsuccessful.]

[Footnote 4: Where Sugawara was exiled.]

[Footnote 5: _Obi_, the sash or girdle.]

[Footnote 6: _Shoji_, sliding paper door.]

[Footnote 7: _Kago_, a palanquin.]

[Footnote 8: _Matsu_, the first hieroglyphic of Matsuo's name. _Ume_ (plum blossom), and _Sakura_ (cherry), were the names of Matsuo's brothers.]

[Footnote 9: _Yamabushi_, a wandering priest.]

[Footnote 10: Kawachi: where the friends of Sugawara were the strongest.]

HOW KINU RETURNED FROM THE GRAVE

In the good old days of long, long, ago, there lived in the city of Osaka a rich merchant. Fortune had smiled upon his enterprises, and his business prospered tenfold, until he possessed in abundance all that this world had to bestow: moreover, he was proud in the possession of a little daughter, named Kinu, beautiful as a _ten-no-tsukai_, one of the angels of the Buddhist heaven; her fame spread far and wide, and all who saw her marvelled at her exceeding loveliness.

In contrast to the opulence and grandeur of this wealthy man, next door, in a poor and mean house, there dwelt a humble vendor of tobacco, who was also blessed with an unusually handsome child, a boy named Kunizo, and who chanced to be of the same age as his little neighbour.

From earliest times Kinu and Kunizo were accustomed to play together almost daily, and shared all their childish joys and sorrows, so that gradually a deep and enduring affection sprang up between the two. All who saw them took great delight in watching the grace and beauty of the two children, who seemed so well suited to each other, and who made a perfect picture when seen together.

As, however, the little playfellows grew older, from motives of prudence, the rich merchant and his wife sought to discourage their intimacy, and their daughter was gradually removed as much as possible from the companionship of the lowly neighbour's son.

But although Kinu and Kunizo could no longer enter into each other's daily life and play as formerly, yet the strong bond of sympathy and affection that linked them together never grew less, and silently within their hearts they cherished the remembrance of all the happy days they had spent in each other's company.

At last, when Kinu reached the age of seventeen, her beauty and charm had become so celebrated, and the merchant's wealth and position so well established in the city, that she was sought in marriage by the son of a great nobleman. The parents, highly elated at the distinction of such a lofty alliance for their lovely daughter, immediately gave their consent, and all preliminaries were speedily arranged for the nuptials to take place at an early date.

Just at that time, Kinu, with some of her girl friends, and under the escort of her old nurse, paid a visit to the theatre. Her mother, expecting her to be the cynosure of all eyes as the bride-elect of the heir of a well-known noble family, attired her daughter in the most exquisite robes that could possibly be procured. The fashions of that period were brilliant in hue, and especially suited to Kinu's luxuriant beauty, so that when she appeared all eyes gazed with admiration and envy at the radiant vision; indeed, the audience gazed more at her than at the play.

How inexorable are the decrees of Destiny! That day it happened that Kunizo also visited the same theatre.

From his humble seat in the pit, his eyes followed the direction where everyone else was turning, and he soon descried his former friend and playfellow, seated in a prominent place and surrounded by friends and attendants as befitting her approaching exalted position.

Kunizo felt a great impulse to go and speak to her, but dared not. His only solace was to gaze with ardent longing at the lovely apparition, that now seemed as far removed from him as the moth from the star.

Meanwhile, it was not long before Kinu singled out, from amongst the sea of faces, the familiar features of her dear comrade of earlier days, and their glances were soon exchanging reciprocally tender messages across the intervening space.

Memories of their childhood's friendship had long been secretly smouldering in their hearts, and opportunity alone was needed to fan the flame into unquenchable passion.

As the lovers gazed at each other in that crowded place, both their young hearts were carried away beyond the bounds of time and circumstances, and they realized, with an overwhelming conviction, how strong were the golden fetters of love that riveted their souls to each other for all eternity.

That night Kunizo returned to his humble home in a very sad and downcast frame of mind. His thoughts were busily contrasting the happy times of those bygone days, when he could frequently enjoy the society of his beloved Kinu, with now, when, as he bitterly reflected, a gulf yawned between them, as impassable as that which separates Heaven from Hell!

And, brooding over the miseries of an unjust world, poor Kunizo fell sick, and was confined for days to his room.

Meanwhile, the beautiful bride-elect returned to her father's mansion with her heart strangely agitated. The sight of his handsome face, so full of hopeless longing, when his eyes sought her in the theatre, had deeply affected her, and she could not forget him. At last she also fell ill, and after a time became too weak to leave her bed.

She felt like a poor insect caught in the entangling meshes of a cruel Fate. The mere thought of the brilliant marriage that had been arranged by her parents became detestable to her, and tossing on her fevered pillow, long and earnest were her daily supplications to the powers above to find her some means of escape.

To the faithful old nurse alone did Kinu dare to confide her tormenting troubles, and the old woman, sorely distressed at the constant fits of weeping and increasing melancholy of her stricken foster-child, at last promised to be the bearer of a message to Kunizo.

Then Kinu embodied her woes in a little poem to which she composed an accompaniment on the _koto_, and she found much solace singing it repeatedly to herself in the solitude of her chamber.

The nurse's sympathies being with the hapless pair, she soon found an opportunity to inform Kunizo of the love-poem that Kinu had dedicated to him, and the knowledge that his affection was requited brought such joy to his sad heart that all traces of sickness left him, and he was able to resume his usual mode of life.

But not so with Kinu. Day and night the image of Kunizo alone filled her thoughts, and the more fervently she longed to see him the more her malady increased.

The merchant and his wife were plunged into deep distress and anxiety concerning the mysterious ailment that had so suddenly attacked their beloved daughter: the most skilful doctors were hastily summoned to her bedside, but all their ministrations proved of no avail, and the love-smitten patient, like a wilted flower, continued to fade and droop.

Now, although Kunizo had grown up amidst poor and obscure surroundings, yet he had received a good education, and had always cherished a great devotion to literature, and especially poetry, for the composition of which he had a natural gift. So when the news reached him that his lady-love was lying on a bed of sickness, he composed a little poem for her, revealing the state of his mind, and entrusted it to the care of the faithful nurse:

To O KINU SAMA
_So near Belovèd, yet long leagues apart_,
_The ladder to thy Heaven so far and dim_,
_Its steps I dare not scale_!
_One night my soul a butterfly became_:
_Straight to its goal thy presence sweet_,
_It fluttered softly through the starlit dusk_
_Behind thy purple tasselled sudare[1]_.
_What ecstasy was mine_!
From KUNIZO

This message brought great comfort to Kinu's heart, for until then she had merely guessed Kunizo's affection for her, and had no certain proof of it. Joyfully she wrote a little stanza in response:

To KUNIZO SAMA
_What matter that our weary feet_
_Tread thorny paths and wastes forlorn_
_If only we together climb_?
_What matter that a hermit's hut_
_Is all our shelter from the blast_?
_Beyond the mists one shining star_,
_Our heart's true guide bright beckons us!_
_Earth's dust shake off, and hand in hand_
_Set out in faith to Love's lone peak!_
From KINU

From that time, day by day, the enamoured pair existed on the exchange of their love-tokens, while the happiness of being in such constant and intimate intercourse with her old friend led to Kinu's sudden and complete recovery.

In the meantime her parents, overjoyed at their daughter's restoration to health, and in total ignorance of all that was taking place, hastened to select an auspicious day for the marriage, and began with enthusiasm the elaborate preparations for the important event.

When the hapless Kinu realized that her destiny was irrevocably sealed, and that she was condemned to become the wife of another man, she became almost frantic.

Disobedience and defiance of her parent's wishes being out of the question, she pondered morning, noon, and night over the dreadful situation: but it seemed that nothing short of a miracle could prevent or even delay the marriage ceremony with the hated bridegroom.

After long days and nights of futile scheming, it seemed to her distraught brain that the only line of action left to her was this: once arrived at the nobleman's house she determined, on pretence of illness, to ask permission to isolate herself in her own apartments; but should he insist on her presence, there would be but one course left to her to follow, and since it was doomed that she should not be the Bride of Love, she would become the Bride of Death.

This desperate decision she communicated in her last farewell to the distracted Kunizo, and as a pledge of finality and her unshakeable resolve, she wrote the letter in blood, drawn from a self-inflicted wound on one of her fingers, and tied this ominous missive with a long tress of her silken, ebony hair.

The fateful day arrived. Passively the unwilling, shrinking bride submitted to the obsequious attendants, who robed her slender form in the gorgeous wedding-garments and applied the adornments of art to enhance her pale beauty, so that when she appeared before them, the relatives and friends, who had assembled for the occasion, were enchanted, and all were loud in praise of her surpassing loveliness.

At last the evening came and the hour of departure was at hand. Kinu took formal leave of her parents, and then, steeling her heart with the firm resolution to escape from the hateful bondage of this forced marriage, entered her _kago_, and was slowly borne to the house of the bridegroom, closely followed by a long procession of her parents, the go-between, and attendants.

Now, it happened that some years before the young nobleman had formed a liaison with a woman, a famous _danseuse_ and singer, to whom he had been deeply attached. According to the custom of those times he had installed her in his house, and being of an ambitious nature, from the first she had cherished the hope that in time her devotion would be rewarded by becoming his legal wife, and the mistress of that noble house. When, therefore, she learnt of the death-blow to her aspirations in her lover's approaching marriage to a young bride of peerless beauty, the shock was so great as to unhinge her reason.

Secretly she nursed her bitter feelings: vainly she hoped that her agonized prayers to the Gods might be heard, and that the dreaded marriage might yet be cancelled.

But when the evening of the wedding-day arrived, and the lights of the bridal procession had already come into view along the road, and were slowly nearing the house, her fury could no longer be restrained. Mad with jealousy and disappointment she rushed into the garden, stabbed herself through the breast, and in a last convulsive frenzy, cast her bleeding body down the well.

At that moment the massive gates were thrown open, and the bride's sumptuously lacquered _kago_ appeared, surrounded by a numerous retinue, carrying lanterns and torches.

Suddenly, an unearthly gust of cold wind arose whirling wildly round the mansion, and all the lights were extinguished. In the dense gloom of that moonless night, what was the terror of everyone to behold in front of them, barring the way before the passage of the bride, the spectre of the deserted mistress! Shrouded in a cloud of pale-bluish mist, her ghastly face and blood-stained garments struck terror to the souls of the petrified spectators--her long dishevelled hair streamed behind her in the breeze, which was not of this world, and her hands were uplifted in menace towards the bride, from whose _kago_ a wild and heartpiercing shriek was heard.

The bridegroom, who with a group of retainers had been impatiently awaiting the advent of Kinu at the entrance to the house, was a horrified spectator of the fearful scene. His wrath was uncontrollable. With drawn sword he rushed to the gate and made a wild attempt to cut down the wraith of his jealous paramour--but as his sword fell, in a flash the whole apparition vanished.

Great was the commotion that followed, but by degrees the alarmed servants and bearers recovered from their fright, the torches and lanterns were relighted, and the door of the palanquin was opened.

Alas! to all appearances the beautiful bride was dead. Like a white lily she lay back on her cushions, pale and still.

Physicians were summoned in all haste, but they declared that remedies were of no avail--life was extinct.

The hapless Kinu had perished. Coming as a climax to the mental anguish she had suffered, the horror of the ghastly welcome that had greeted her, was beyond the endurance of her frail spirit, and on the threshold of her new and dreaded home, it had taken wing.

The woe of that night was unutterable.

Amidst the general lamentations, Kinu's afflicted parents returned to their home, bearing with them the lifeless body of their beloved daughter: all their pride obliterated and their hopes in her brightly opening future swept away for ever by the tragedy of that fearful night.

Two days later, with poignant grief, the stricken couple laid in the tomb all that was left of their cherished child, so irrevocably and cruelly torn from them by a sudden unexpected doom, and they resolved to dedicate the remnant of their days to her memory.

Kunizo was the first to hear the dire news. With a breaking heart he had watched his love depart on her ill-starred journey, and, numbed with despair, from the same spot he witnessed the mournful return of the procession.

Stupefied at the turn events had taken, he at once determined that her spirit should not go forth on its way alone into the darkness of the Land of Shadows, and since their paths had been so ruthlessly parted in life, compassionate Death should unite them for many lives to come. However, before he made his final exit from this world of pain, he would at least gaze once again upon the beautiful face of his beloved Kinu.