The Kingdom of Slender Swords

by Hallie Erminie Rives

  CHAPTER LIV

  INTO THE SUNLIGHT

  On the deck of the white yacht the captain rose to his feet. The battlefought on that huddle of blankets for the life of the man so hardlysnatched from the sea had been a close one, but it had been won. Hissmile of satisfaction overran the group of observant faces at one side,the bishop watching with strained anxiety, and the girl, who pillowed inher arms that unconscious head with its drenched, brown curls.

  "Don't you be afraid, Miss Fairfax," he said, with bluff heartiness."_He'll_ be all right now!"

  The assurance came to Barbara's heart with an infinite relief that hecould not guess. At the first sight of the huge bird-like thing slippingdown the sky she had known the man clinging to its framework was Daunt.The stricken moments while the wreck of the great vanes lay outspread onthe water--the launch of the yacht's boat, and the lifting of the limpform over its gunwale--the cruelly kind ministrations that had broughtbreath back to the inert body--these had seemed to her to consumedragging hours of agony. A thunder of guns roared across the water, butshe scarcely heard. Her eyes were fixed on theface to which the tide oflife was returning.

  Again the roar, and now the sound pierced the saturating darkness. Itcalled the numbed senses back to the sphere of feeling--to aconsciousness of an immense weariness and a gentle motion. It seemed toDaunt as though his head rested on a pillow which rose and fell to anirregular rhythm. He stirred. His eyes opened.

  Memory dawned across them. Haru's story--the windy flight on theGlider--the sick sense of failure--the plunge down, and down, and thewater leaping toward him! Had he failed? A third time the detonationrang out. He started, made an effort to rise. His gaze swept the sea.There, flags flying, bands playing, a line of Dreadnaughts was steamingdown the harbor.

  "The battle-ships!" he said, and there was triumph in his eyes.

  He turned his head and saw the bishop, the silent crew, the relievedcountenance of the captain. Realization came to him. Soft arms wereabout him; the pillow that rose and fell was a woman's heaving breast!His gaze lifted, and Barbara's eyes flowed into his. He put out a handweakly and whispered her name.

  She did not speak, but in that look a glory enfolded him. It was notwomanly pity in her face--it was far, far more, something wordless, buteloquent, veiled, yet passionately tender. He knew suddenly that afterthe long night had come the morning, after the pain and themisunderstanding all would be well.

  For an instant he closed his eyes, smiling. The darkness was gone forever. His head was on her heart, and it was her dear arms that werelifting him up, into the sunlight, the sunlight, the sunlight!

  CHAPTER LV

  KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS

  Long, windless, golden days of spring and falling cherry-petals, withcloud-piles like fleecy pillars, with fringing palm-plumes and bamboofoliage turning from yellow cadmium to tawny green.

  Drowsy, lotos-eating days of summer among purple hills wound in aluminous elfin haze. Days of typhoon and straight-falling rain. Sunsetsof smouldering crimson and nights under a blue-black vault palpitatingwith star-swarms or a waste of turquoise, liquid with tropic moonlight.

  Languorous days of autumn by the Inland Sea, when the dying summer'sbreath lingers like the perfume of incense, and the mirroring lilacwater deepens to bishop's-purple.

  So the mild Japanese winter comes--slowly, under a high, keen sky,bringing at last its scourging of dust and wind, its chill, opaquenights with their spectral fog veiling the trembling flames of theconstellations, and its few, rare days when the evergreen earth iscovered with a blanket of snow.

  There came one such day when Daunt stood with Barbara by the huge stone_torii_ at the gateway of the _Mon-to_ temple on the Hill-of-the-Spirit.The air was softly radiant but not cold, the translucent heavens tintedwith a fairy mauve, which on the horizon merged into dying hyacinth. Thecamelia hedges stood like blanched rows of crystalled beryl, thestalwart _mochi_ trees were cased in argent armor, and the curving porchof the temple, the roof of the near-by nunnery, the forest of bronzelanterns and the square stone tablets in the graveyard were capped withsoft rounded mounds of snow. It lay thickly over the paved space savewhere a wide way had been cleared to the temple steps, for the day was a_saijits'_, a holy day, when the people gather to worship.

  Across the lane they could see the Chapel lifting its white cross intothe clear blue. From its chancel arch was hung a crucifix ofgold-lacquer, where the declining sun, shining through the stained glassof the rose-window, each evening touched it to shimmering color. Thealtar to-day was fragrant with the first plum-blossoms; two hours agothe bishop, standing before it, had read the sacred office which hadmade them man and wife. The carriage which was to take them to ShimbashiStation waited now at the end of the lane while Barbara brought a branchof the early blooms to lay on a Buddhist grave in a tenantless garden.

  In one of the farther groups before the temple steps was a miniature_rick-sha_ drawn by a servant. It held a child who had not walked sincea night when, with clenched hands and brave little heart, he had runinto the path of a speeding motor-car. On the breast of his wadded_kimono_ was a knot of ribbon at which the other children gazed in aweand wonder. It had been pinned one night to a small hospital shirt whenthe wandering eyes were hot with fever and the baby face pinched andwhite, by a lady whom Ishikichi had thought must be the Sun Goddess atvery least, and before whom the attendants of that room of pain hadbowed to the very mats. He knew that in some dim way, without quiteknowing how, he had helped that great, mysterious something that meantthe Government of Japan, and that he should be very proud of it. ButIshikichi was far prouder of the fine foreign front that had displacedthe poor little shop in the Street-of-prayer-to-the-Gods.

  Nearer the gateway, on the edge of the gathering, stood an old man, hisface seamed and lined, but with eye clear and young and a smile on hisface. The crest on his sleeve was the _mon_ of an ancient and honored_samurai_ family. He leaned on the arm of his adopted son--a Commanderof the Imperial Navy whose name had once been Ishida Hetaro. They stoodapart, regarding not the Temple, but the low building across the hedge,behind whose bamboo lattice dim forms passed and repassed.

  "Look," said Barbara suddenly, and touched Daunt's arm. A woman's figurehad paused at the lattice of the nunnery. She was dressed in slate-colorand her delicate features and close-shaven head gave her a singularlyunearthly appearance, like an ethereal and angelic boy. The littletwo-wheeled carriage drew up at the lattice and a slender hand reachedout and patted the round cropped head of its occupant. As the vehiclewas drawn away, the nun looked up and across the yard--toward the old_samurai_ and the young naval officer. The wraith of a flush crept intoher cheek. She smiled, and they smiled in return, the placid Japanesesmile which is the rainbow of forbidden tears. A second they stood thus,then the slate-colored figure drew back and was gone, and the old man,supported by the younger arm, passed slowly out of the yard.

  Barbara's eyes were still on the lattice as Daunt spoke. "What is it?"he asked.

  "The face of the nun there," she said, with vague wistfulness. "Itreminds me of some one I have known. Who can it be, I wonder!"

  They crossed the yard, and entered the deserted garden. The great ruinat its side was covered with friendly shrubs and the all-transfiguringsnow. The line of stepping-stones had been swept clean and beside thefrost-fretted lake an irregular segment of rock, closely carved withideographs, had been planted upright. It stood in mystic peace, lookingbetween the snow-buried, birdless trees toward the horizon whereFuji-San towered into the infinite calm--a magical mountain woven of aworld of gems, on which the sun's heart beat in a tumult. At the base ofthe stone slab were Buddhist vases filled with green leaves in freshwater, and in one of these Barbara placed the branch of plum-blossoms.Its pink petals lay against the brown rock like the kiss of spring on awintry heart.

  As she arranged the sprays, Daunt stood looking down o
n her bent head,where, under her fur hat, the sun was etching gold-hued lines on thesoft copper of her hair. He had taken a yellowed envelope from hispocket.

  "Do you remember, dearest," he said, "that I once told you of an oldenvelope in the Chancery safe bearing the name of Aloysius Thorn?"

  "Yes," she answered wonderingly.

  "It was opened, after his death, while you were away. It contained hiswill. I turned it into Japanese, as best I could, for the templepriests. It is carved there on the stone. The Ambassador gave theoriginal to the bishop, and he handed it to me to-day for you. Hethought you would like to keep it." He drew the paper from thediscolored envelope and handed it to her.

  She sat down on a boulder and unfolding the faded sheets, began to readaloud, in a voice that became more and more unsteady:

  "KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, that I, Aloysius Thorn, of the city ofTokyo, in Tokyo-fu, Empire of Japan, being in health and of sound anddisposing mind and memory, do make and publish this my last will andtestament, devising, bequeathing and disposing in the manner following,to wit:

  "Item: I give, devise and bequeath to Japanese children, inclusively,for and through the term of their childhood, the woods of cryptomeria,with their green silences, and the hillsides with the chirpings ofbell-crickets in the _sa-sa_ grass and the fairy quiverings of goldenbutterflies. I give them the husky crow and the darting swallow underthe eaves. And I devise to them all lotos-pools on which to sail theirstraw _sampan_, the golden carp and the lilac-flashing dragon-fly in andabove them, and the _dodan_ thickets where the _semi_ chime their silvercymbals. I also give to them all temple yards, wheresoever situate, andall moats, and the green banks thereunto appertaining, for theirplaygrounds, providing, however, that they break no tree or shrub,remembering that trees, like children, have souls. And I devise to themthe golden fire of the morning and all long, white clouds, to have andto hold the same, without let or hindrance. These the above I bequeathto them, possessing no little child of my own with whom to share myinterest in the world.

  "To boys especially I give and bequeath all holidays to be glad in, andthe blue sky for their paper kites. To girls I give and bestow therainbow _kimono_, the flower in the hair and the battledore. And Ibequeath them all kinds of dolls, reminding them that these, if lovedenough, may some time come alive.

  "Item: To young men, jointly, I devise and bequeath the rough sports of_kenjuts'_ and of _ju-jits'_, the _shinai_-play and all manly games. Igive them the knowledge of all brave legends of the _samurai_, andespecially do I leave them the care and respect for the aged. I givethem all far places to travel in and all manner of strange anddelectable adventures therein. And I apportion to them the high noon,with its appurtenances, to wit: the heat and burden of the day, itscommotions, its absorbing occupations and its fiercer rivalries. I giveto them, moreover, the cherry-blossom, the flower of _bushido_, which,falling in the April of its bloom, may ever be for them the symbol of alife smilingly yielded in its prime.

  "To young women, I give and devise the glow of the afternoon, the softblue witchery of pine shadows, the delicate traceries of the bamboo andthe thin, low laughter of waterfalls. I devise to them all manner ofperfumes, and tender spring blossoms (save in the one exception providedhereinbefore), such as the plum-blossom and the wistaria, with the redmaple-leaves and the gorgeous glories of the chrysanthemum. And I giveto them all games of flower-cards, and all divertisements of music, asthe _biwa_, the flute and the _samisen_, and of dances whatsoever theymay choose.

  "Item: To the aged I bequeath snowy hair, the long memories of the pastand the golden _ihai_ on the Buddha-Shelf. I give them the echo of tinybare feet on the _tatame_, and the grave bowing of small shaven heads. Idevise to them the evening's blaze of crimson glory and the amber cloudsabove the sunset, the pale _andon_ and the indigo shadows, the duskdance of the yellow lanterns, the gathering of friends at themoon-viewing place and the liquid psalmody of the nightingale. I give tothem also the winter, the benediction of snow-bent boughs and thewaterways gliding with their silver smiles. I give to them sufficientspace to lie down within a temple ground that echoes the play of littlechildren. And finally I bequeath to them the love and blessing ofsucceeding generations for the blossoming of a hundred lives.

  "In testimony whereof, I, the said Aloysius Thorn--"

  * * * * *

  Barbara's voice broke off. Her eyes were wet as she folded the paper.Daunt drew her to her feet, and with his arm about her, they stoodlooking out across the white city lying in all its ghostly glamour--themany-gabled watch-towers above the castle walls, the glistening plateauof Aoyama with its dull red barracks, the rolling sea of wan roofs, andfar beyond, the creeping olive of the bay. In the clear distance theycould see the lift of Kudan Hill, and the gray pile of the RussianCathedral. Standing in its candle-lighted nave, they had listened toJapanese choir-boys hymning the Birth in Bethlehem. The next Christmasthey two would be together--but in another land!

  "Minister to Persia!" she said. "I am glad of your appointment, for itmeans so much to your career. And yet--and yet--"

  In the temple yard behind them an acolyte, wading knee-deep in the snow,swung the cedar beam of the bell-tower and the deep-voiced boom rolledout across the cradling hush. Again and yet again it struck, the wavesof sound throbbing into volume through the still air. It came to themlike a firm and beautiful voice, the articulate echo of the Soul ofJapan.

  The whinny of restive horses stole over the hedges. Silently Daunt heldout his hand to her. She bent and picked a single plum-blossom from thebranch and slipped it into the yellow envelope. For a last time shelooked out across the distance.

  "The beautiful country!" she said.

  THE END

  Transcriber Notes:

  Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.

  Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.

  Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe".

  Throughout the document, an "o" with a macron the was replaced with"[=o]", and a "u" with a macron the was replaced with "[=u]".

  Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents ofthe speakers. Those words were retained as-is.

  The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break upparagraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate.

  Errors in punctuation, inconsistent hyphenation, and idiosyncraticspellings were not corrected unless otherwise noted.

  In the table of contents, "BANZAI NIPPON" was replaced with "BANZAINIPPON!"

  On page 1, "Rosicrusian" was replaced with "Rosicrucian".

  On page 12, "tauntness" was replaced with "tautness".

  On page 30, "exhiliration" was replaced with "exhilaration".

  On page 36, "cockaboo" was replaced with "cockatoo".

  On page 40, "pastelles" was replaced with "pastels".

  On page 114, "xilophone" was replaced with "xylophone".

  On page 193, "rich'sha" was replaced with "rick'sha".

  On page 206, "rich'sha" was replaced with "rick'sha".

  On page 213, "oramented" was replaced with "ornamented".

  On page 373, "irony plectrons" was replaced with "ivory plectrums".

  On page 417, "scimetar" was replaced with "scimitar".