“Why do you not say, ‘My baby’? I should, if I had one.”

“Then why don’t you?” said Kinsan, with much surprise; she still believing that only Nehachibana could be the mother of her husband’s child, as her own mother had been of all her father’s children.

“Take your charge, you impudent thing! I shall never set foot upon your mat again. No, never!” shrieked Nehachibana, as she pushed the child toward Kinsan and flew from the room.

Kinsan was not greatly disturbed by Nehachibana’s demeanour, though the thrust was painful and entirely uncalled for so far as she could see or know. However, she was by this time accustomed to jeers, if not insults, and did not take the words much to heart, and only thought of how agreeable it would be should the other make good her threat and stay away; at least until such time as her understanding prompted a kinder treatment.

CHAPTER XIX
THE POET’S BANISHMENT

Nehachibana in a measure made good her threat, and as Tetsutaisho’s mother was devoted more to her own interests than to doubtful infants, and had always regarded Kinsan with suspicion, she, too, took particular pains to keep well out of the way. Tetsutaisho soon came to spending much of his time at army headquarters, at Ikamon’s, or at the council chamber. Takara’s sorrow for the loss of her child, which she had not been permitted to see since it was taken away from her, though in some degree mitigated—satisfactorily to everybody except Nehachibana—by Tetsutaisho’s devotion, during the little time he now spent at home, occupied her attention.

Thus affairs at home adjusted themselves, while at state the lordly general busied himself principally with getting Ikamon to scheme the banishment and deportation of the pious, harmless old poet and faithful servant, Michizane. The prime minister was finally induced to urge so severe a measure, more through his efforts to hush up every possible chance for a clash between the two rival factions over Takara’s strange and painful situation, than as a personal favour to his friend. The venerable sage had been her only confidant, as well as a possible adviser to the enemy; therefore Tetsutaisho not only desired to get rid of him, but Ikamon deemed it expedient to do so.

Nor had they long to wait the opportunity, for there was at that time some question as to whether in case of death there was a lawful successor to the shogun. While the matter was as yet of no real importance either to the shogunate or the party, it was seized upon and agitated by Ikamon for a double purpose. Had there been any real prospects of Iyesada’s losing hold on life there might have been occasion for the great ado which was being made about it; for the shogun to die without a lawful successor was considered the greatest misfortune that could befall the nation. The proper degree of interest having been aroused, and the shogun himself having taken on the desired state of susceptibility, it was urged upon his highness to call in the customary wise man without delay; and as Michizane had already become known for his premonitions, Ikamon had only to mention the poet’s name to induce his selection.