CHAPTER XX
THE FORTY-SEVEN RONIN

Takara deeply mourned the fate of Michizane, whom she not only loved but had revered as the only living representative left to her of a fast fading memory. She pondered, but wisely held her counsel. Tetsutaisho did not fathom her, but satisfied himself and reviled her upon shallower grounds.

When left to his own recourse, shorn of impulse, his understanding seldom rose above the lesser order. He was big in war, but small in consequence. Nor was his sympathy any the greater, and when she remonstrated about her child, he laughed and told her that she, a daughter of royalty, should be the last to question the wisdom of the law. He only urged her to forget the circumstance and respect his will. She acquiesced for the time being, but there was rising within her a bitter spirit. There was coming a day when the mind, too, should assert its rank; when the soul should attain its fulness.

“But why are you less ardent?” questioned he, one evening after having returned from Kinsan’s apartments, where, as Takara knew, he was now in the habit of regularly spending much time.

“Would you ask me why darkness follows light, the earth rotates on its axis, and flesh turns to stone? I thought you a man of consequence, not an object of pity,” answered she, calmly though earnestly.

Tetsutaisho stood aghast at her daring, yet thought not to search for its meaning. Had he but looked outside, the veil might have fallen from his blinded eyes, for the same spirit which moved Takara had roused a host of valiant defenders. The boldness of Ikamon’s stroke had so stunned the enemy as to irrevocably establish the new order, but not without inevitably disastrous consequences.

Even to the shogun’s supporters, the destruction of the apparently harmless Michizane, and the advent of the scarcely known child, Iyeyoshi, seemed so veiled in mystery that many were inclined to believe that some deep-laid scheme lay behind a rather elusive but possible trick. In consequence, the shogun, in his weakness, anxious to hide his stupidity behind some apparent justification, took the burden upon his own shoulders and thus widened the breach between himself and his true friends, increasing to that extent his dependence upon Ikamon.

The discontent due to the adoption of an heir to the shogunate became after a time, however, somewhat allayed; but the curiosity aroused by the banishment of Michizane increased, and the feeling of unrest at the mikado’s seat grew to such degree that before a year had passed the south began to assume a resentful if not hostile attitude. Nearly five years had elapsed since their favourite daughter, Takara, had been carried away to become the wife of Shibusawa, the most promising of the young princes under the shogunate. No results had as yet obtained from this alliance, nor had the restoration of the kuge[[12]] taken place as promised. They were dissatisfied, and Takara’s misalliance was the first pretext seized upon to rouse a determined move. Spies had been sent to Tokyo and the whole truth discovered to a few of the leaders, yet from policy’s sake these reports had been suppressed in the hope of perfecting a more judicious organisation before the advent of a general uprising.

This conservatism on the part of the southern leaders baffled Ikamon, who believed them, like himself, incapable of looking beyond self-interest for a motive. Others might sacrifice and strive for humanity, but the sweet-voiced god Oshaka ever whispered in Ikamon’s ear the one word, “Self.” It was self that lay at the bottom; self that raised the human above the brute; self that promised life eternal: the gods were but self, asserted and ordained, and ordinary man was only the blind, the halt, the sympathetic. Diplomacy was his weapon, heroism an humbler man’s part.

Tetsutaisho was now too much absorbed with personal affairs even to try to grasp the outer shreds of a complicated political situation. True, he had realised in some measure from time to time that an ugly gossip circulated on the outside as to affairs at his house; yet he was slow to appreciate its importance, and but for being urged from other sources would have given it barely passing notice. He busied himself more with shifting his attentions from a worn love to one that was new though elusive, and as yet unfound.