CHAPTER VIII
THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY

When Shibusawa arose the next morning, he set about with a heavy heart to plan some course of action. He had not slept much during the night, and with a clouded atmosphere the morning was dull, so he remained in the garden but a short time, returning to his now cold and dreary chamber.

At first he planned to hurry to Kinsan and tell her the truth and beg her forgiveness; then he realised the impossibility of doing so; the gates were closed to him, and his strategy would not avail him in the daytime. He rightly divined his father’s helplessness, and knew that an appeal to the court would fall upon deaf ears. The law was inexorable, and those in authority would use it, as they were using him, to further their own schemes. To fly was worse than hopeless, and to disclose the identity of his love would surely bring death if not torture to her. Such were some of the conditions confronting Shibusawa, and with which he must struggle.

Ikamon was fully advised of the rapidly rising influence of the literary, or southern party, at the mikado’s, or royal court, and he hastened that no time be lost in using this last measure to check its growth. The banns were accordingly that day published at Tokyo, and the marriage proclaimed to take place at the earliest possible day in May, the month following; while messengers were despatched to Kyoto with the intelligence, so that Takara might make ready and repair to her intended father-in-law’s seat at the shogun’s capital city.

During the interval of waiting the busy prime minister more than ever bestirred himself with making preparations for the ceremony. Maido was pushed to one side and his natural prerogatives usurped by his son-in-law, Ikamon, who, without much regard to rank, invited everybody whom he thought could in any way further his own political chances and incidentally those of his party. Thus Tetsutaisho was included among the selected guests, for in him more than any other Ikamon saw a future powerful weapon.

This young officer was rapidly advancing in favour, and Ikamon reasoned that his chances of being placed at the head of the shogun’s army, already good, would be effectually strengthened by an alliance with the powerful house of Maido. There was the good and handsome Nehachibana, Maido’s daughter and Shibusawa’s favourite—why not offer her to Tetsutaisho? With Tetsutaisho, his ready confidant, securely in command of the northern army, his alliance with the royal court established through Shibusawa’s marriage, he had designed a still more sweeping stroke, that of tricking the mikadate into a tacit coalition of the two armies, the north and the south, with Tetsutaisho as the recognised head of both. Ikamon believed that in such a situation he could effectually put down any local disaffection, gradually dissipate the mikadate, and eventually establish the shogunate as the sole, supreme authority in the land.

His plan was a vital one, and there seemed to be no real obstacle in the way of its final consummation. Tetsutaisho had already looked upon Nehachibana with a sordid eye; she was young and vivacious—that was enough for him. Shibusawa was now perceptibly occupied with his own troubles, and should readily fall a victim to the magic of a royal court. Maido was rapidly approaching a certain state of senility—possibly apparent to none but his covetous son-in-law—and could no longer offer any serious resistance. There was no further chance for a misalliance in the family, no moral gulf between the driver and the goal, so Ikamon devised and the wedding day found him easily prepared.

When that day had arrived and the guests were assembled, a dust-bedraggled train of carriers and attendants came filing up the roadway to the front of Maido’s castle, where they halted and demanded entrance in the name of Takara, daughter of Komei, the divine mikado. Upon the conclusion of this short ceremony the party was passed through the gate to the house door, where the bride was delivered into the care of Ikamon and Yasuko, his wife, who bade her welcome after the fashion of another polite ceremony. Takara wore a flowing kimono of soft white material, and now that she had entered the house of her future husband she forthwith retired and changed her dress for one provided by the bridegroom. Having thus completed her toilet she was escorted to the chamber of state by Yasuko, while Ikamon attended Shibusawa.

Takara meekly entered, and as she did so the sound of many voices and much merry-making greeted her; the guests were assembled in a room adjoining, waiting for the conclusion of the ceremony and the beginning of the feast. Shibusawa then came forward, betraying only a slight colour, and Takara humbly bowed recognition; he bowed and motioned her to a mat at his side. They had met, and for the first time looked into the mirror of each other’s life. The two-lipped cup was offered by Haraku, the bride’s maid-servant, and Takara moistened her lips therefrom, then passed it to the bridegroom, who in turn drank a draught, and passed it back to her. Thrice three times they did this, and the ceremony was complete.