The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER XVII.

  UNDER THE MOON.

  The road by way of the stream was a longer one than that by thestreet, for the river wound with many a turn and twist, as if loth toreach the sea. It was no more than a path, stony in some places andmuddy in others--rough throughout; and there were spots where theunwieldy vehicle was in danger of overturning. The Japanese are soinnately poetic that even the least educated find pleasure in gazingupon nature in its sweetest moods. On Lake Biwa, not far fromKi[^y]oto, there is, while I write, a tea-house on a hill, which, atcertain seasons, does a thriving trade, because from that particularspot an entrancing view may be obtained of moon and foliage and water.And it is not the cultured class alone that enjoys this refinedamusement. The common horny-handed field coolie may be seen smokinghis pipe, beaming with satisfaction, upon the mat, surrounded by wifeand children, all equally enchanted by the spectacle.

  On the river-bank, built out over the stream, not far from Tsu, therewas just such another tea-house, from which a view was obtained ofland-locked bay and rocks and feathery bamboo--the self-same picturewhich O'Tei used to enjoy from her own garden near the temple, seenfrom another point. It was to this tea-house that O'Kiku had proposedto conduct the rollicking samurai, to sit there a while with quip andjest, and thence return to supper. Preparations had been made on agrand scale; coolies had been sent to repair the path in rotten placeswith bundles of rushes, to clear away stones; and therefore theexpedition was a matter of talk for several days before among thosewho dwelt in the castle. It was in obedience to a whim--in order morecompletely to crush her rival--that O'Tei had elected to choose thisroute. A vision of her favourite landscape had appeared before her. Itwas so long since she had seen it that she yearned to look on itagain. As the procession moved swiftly and silently over the snow, shebecame lost in reverie. She had been happy once in her garden in anegative sort of way. How long ago it seemed! And since those earlydays (sure a century since) what a catalogue of suffering and crime!Yes, it must be a century, not a few years only. She was an old, oldwoman, seared and world-worn, longing for the mysterious change. Herordeal on this planet would soon be over. How gladly would she moveelsewhere.

  The cold was intense. She drew over her head a purple kerchief, forthe beauty of the scene must not be blocked out by curtains. Thewell-skilled bearers marched with a steady, gentle sway, picking theirsteps with cat-like caution. Their straw shoes made no sound on thesoft snow. The regular rhythm of their breathing lulled to repose.Leaning back her weary head upon the cushions, O'Tei fell fast asleep.

  At the last turn of the river, before reaching the spot whereon stoodthe tea-house, it sweeps in a wide bend, leaving a large flat space--adangerous pitfall; for, firm though it appears to the unwary, betweenthe pools it is a quagmire, a bog of thick ooze which forms a kind ofquicksand. The bearers knew this right well, for skirting the waterclose they hugged a narrow causeway of masonry, the group that borethe pole walking one before the other, keeping time with monotonouschant, the rest of the party falling back, following in single file.It was necessary to move slowly now, for a false step wouldprecipitate the top-heavy vehicle into the water. Two bettos pioneeredin front, stepping deftly backwards, holding their lanterns aloftabove their heads. "Steady, lads, steady!" one of them exhortedcheerily. Forty yards farther on the path would widen again, and therest of the journey was plain-sailing.

  Whirr! The bettos turned round startled. What was that? nothing; astream of awakened wild-fowl scudding across the flat. The night wasso solemnly silent that their wings rent the stillness with a loudsharp tearing as of linen.

  * * * * *

  For hours past, from out a brake of sedge and reeds two bright eyeshad been intently watching. Heedless of cold and wet a man had beenlying concealed with face turned towards the castle. From this pointthe fortress loomed out of the river in a dense mass against the sky,in full sombre majesty of battlement and ponderous roof and storiedtower, with fish of gold upon its summit; for it was on this side thatthe stream laved its foundation wall of Cyclopean stones as it brawledtowards the sea.

  From where he lay, wrapped in a coolie's rain-coat, the man could markthe procession from afar, a line of swart insects on the white,glow-worms with twinkling lights. As they approached, winding with theriver's windings, he counted the number of men who bore the litter,and observed with surprised exultation that the guards had been leftbehind. There was no panoply of spear and streaming banner andglancing lance-head, no clatter of armed horsemen such as usuallyattends the progress of a noble's kago.

  "My task will be the easier," he muttered, unfastening the thongs ofhis rain-coat, and taking in the corners of his mouth the ends of thecloth about his head. The man's attire was strange and incongruous,for though his garb was that of a peasant, the cloth from out of whichhis sharp eyes peered was of silk broidered with silver. He rosestealthily upon his knees, felt for a dirk in his obi, drew forth theblade and ran a finger along the edge, then laid the scabbard in thewater.

  "How slow they are," he murmured.

  Nearer--nearer still. The bearers were intent upon their task, forthere had been a frost last night, and the stones were slippery.Clouds had been rising in banks, masses of cumuli that passed fitfullyacross the moon. Snowflakes began to fall.

  Hist! what was that, another batch of waterfowl? No; a cry as offrighted animals. A commotion--a rush--a panic. Robbers! a gang--amultitude.

  Stabbed in the back, the two bettos dropped without a struggle. For aninstant the attendants strove to free themselves from cumbrousgrass-coats, to disengage their swords from oiled paper coverings, invain; for it must be at least a dozen nimble blades, wielded by unseenhands, that were swirling through the air with such deadly purpose.Who could have foreseen that on this quiet track assassins were inambush? With a howl and a cry of treachery the cohort of poltroonsabandoned the litter, which fell heavily on its side, and fled overthe quicksand, where they buffeted, to lie engulfed. The man, forthere was but one--or was it not the god of thunder?--dashed at thefallen kago, tore back with one hand its half-closed curtains, fromwhose folds there emerged a woman. A sway of two tussling figures, asthe clouds swept over the moon, and the snow fell thickly. A tossingof white arms and clutching fingers clasped in a grip of death. Agurgle, a long wild shriek--so terrible a cry of anguish, as a soulwas forcibly rent from out its tenement, that boors within their hutscrept close together and prayed for protection against goblins. Eventhe austere figure of the avenger remained for a second spellbound,as, standing erect to wipe his dirk, his ear followed that lastpiteous wail of agony that faded in the music of the stream.

  His task was successfully accomplished: to the gods all gratitude. Hepeered anxiously around, while he bound up something in a purplekerchief, then, drawing the pick from his katana's sheath, thrust itthrough the silk for easier carrying. He was alone with slumberingnature, and with it. The relay had fled to give alarm. There wasnought to be seen of the others save distant circles on the wateryquagmire, with here and there a hand whose groping soon was stilled.At his feet lay the two dead bettos and a heap of sumptuous furs, fromout of which there trickled a thick stream that meandered slow overthe stones.

  Looking upward at the moon, which now unveiled again, the man, smilingsoftly, pressed to his lips the dirk. "Old friend," he murmured,"beloved of my father, thou hast saved his honour and ours, an evillife the ransom. With speed to my mother now, that she may know theatonement is complete."

  He sought for a moment leisurely among the reeds, and seeing thescabbard gleam, replaced it with the dirk within his belt. Thenswinging his burthen in his hand, he strode quickly away towards thetemple.

  His mind was relieved of a great anxiety, and he felt happier than formany a day. All had gone well. In the scurry not one had seen hisface, swathed as it was by a cloth. There was nothing to betray whosearm had been that which had struck the ghastly blow. There would beturmoi
l and uproar among the samurai, a hot pursuit of the assassins;then, search proving vain, silence, and oblivion. The family honourwas safe. The concubine would be speedily forgotten, and it would beas if the shadow of the wicked geisha had never crossed their path.

  Under the torii, up the long straight flight of stairs, through thetemple where Mine and the nuns were praying audibly, to the corridorbeyond, off which was the chamber of the Abbess.

  A light was flickering. She was awake, anxious for the arrival of thechatelaine. Her ascetic visage was wrapped in holy calm, as withclosed eyes she told her beads. The sound of her son's dear footfall,as he strode across the floor, aroused her, and she looked on him withfond inquiry.

  "My mother, it is done," he whispered, out of breath. "Here have Ibrought the proof that your instructions have been obeyed."

  Masago, raising herself with difficulty, stretched forth eager handsto claim the bundle, and, her fingers trembling with exultation,hasted to untie its knots. Then from her breast was wrung a wail,racked with the ring of unavailing grief, echo of that shriek alongthe water.

  Out of her grasp, upon the mat, there rolled a woman's head, bloodyand waxen. Its delicate features were warped, convulsed in the lifebattle. Stretched wide in terror were its glassy eyes, its parted lipsdistorted.

  Stunned and dazed, crowned with the brain-ache of a hopeless sorrow,the icy grip about his heart of a despair that might never beassuaged, Sampei sank slowly on his knees.

  For the eyes that stared upon him now in mute imploring were those heloved best on earth.

  The face was the face of O'Tei, the fair, and gentle, and unfortunate.