With the bath next day he was all grumbling and exigencies. The maids bore this with patience, and glances interchanged. Her ladyship had promised him breakfast to restore exhausted Nature—"And such was promised as that this Tarōbei would never need another." He roared his dissatisfaction. The hint was taken up at once. "This way: it is for the yakunin to carry out her ladyship's order, and to stop your gullet." The brusqueness of the samurai was poor exchange for the noisy amorous atmosphere of the inner palace. With indignation the worthy wheelwright obeyed the order to march ahead. "Ah! Just wait my fine fellow. A word to the lady of the mansion, and you shall learn the cost of insult to the man she favours. This yarō Gonjurō has no other wife. Her ladyship takes him as adopted husband." The officer winked and blushed a little at this very crude specimen. By this time he had led the man to the well curb in the inner garden. Harshly—"Now down with you. Favoured by the gods and Buddhas you cannot even hold your tongue. Ladies like not boasting of their favours. 'Tis now the time to express pity for you. Make ready!" Deftly he tripped him up, to send him an all fours. The sword flashed, and the wheelwright's head rolled on the ground. Just as it was the body was cast into the well.
Such was the fate of those who found favour with the himégimi. More and more suspicious became people of the strange disappearances traced to the precincts of the palace. Strange tales went around, to gather force with numbers. Kwanei 8th year (1635), whether for closer supervision of the lady or actual necessity, she was removed to the castle precincts, and there given quarters. Time doubtless it was, that tempered these crazy outbursts of the himégimi. She lived until Kwambun 12th year. On the 2nd month 21st day (12th September 1672) she died at the age of seventy two years. Grand were the obsequies of one so favoured by the Shōgun. The daimyō went up in long processions to condole with the suzerain at the death of a rich aunt, and congratulate him on the possessions seized. On the 24th day the lord of the land sent lavish incense and a thousand pieces of silver, by the hand of Inaba Mimasaka no Kami Masamori, to Matsudaira Echigo Ke the son and heir, doubtless glad enough to get this much out of his lady mother's rich furniture and dower. From the Midai-dokoro, the Shōgun's consort, by the Bangashira (Superintendent) of the women's apartments of the Shōgunal palace, he secured another thousand pieces of silver. All was treasure trove toward the heavy expense of the imposing funeral. On the seventh day of the decease—the 27th day (18th September)—the obsequies took place at the Tentokuji of Shiba, where she was to rest, well weighted down by massive sandstone and an interminable epitaph—of which the posthumous name of Tensō-in can be remembered. The Shōgun Ke was present in his proxy of Tsuchiya Tajima no Kami Kazunao.
The Yoshida Goten had shorter shrift than its once occupant. The daimyō were moving into yashiki under the compulsory residence edict. The kyakubun were still met at the outskirts of the city, but the many different palaces for their entertainment became superfluous. The main part of the Yoshida Goten was pulled down, and its magnificent timbers and decoration went to the equipment of the prior's hall of the Kugyōji of Iinuma. This great temple, situate one ri (2-1/2 miles) to the north of Midzukaido-machi, in the plain at the base of Tsukuba-san, is one of the eighteen holy places of the Kwantō, and under the charge of the Jōdō sect of Buddhists. In former days the notice board was posted at the Chūmon (middle gate), ordering all visitors to dismount from horse or kago. The bushi removed their swords on presenting themselves for worship. The temple itself is of moderately ancient foundation, being established in Oei 21st year (1414) by the two Hanyu lords, Tsunésada and Yoshisada, who built the castles of Yokosomé and Hanyu, close by here in Shimosa. Grand is the hondō (main hall); and grand the magnificent old pines and cedars which surround it and line its avenues. These are set off by the girdle of the flowering cherry, famed among the ancient seven villages of Iimura. Moreover it was the scene of the early labours in youth of the famous bishop—Yūten Sōjō; who solved so successfully the blending of the pale maple colour of its cherry blossoms that he gave the name myōjō no sakura, a new transcript of the "six characters." Here he grappled with and prevailed over the wicked spirit of the Embukasané. In later writers there is a confusion as to the tale of the Yoshida Goten. The palace material was used for the construction of the prior's hall.[13] In the Genwa period (1615-23) the Senhimégimi, eldest daughter of Hidétada Kō the second shōgun, cut short her beautiful hair and assumed the name of the Tenju-in-Den (as nun). The hair was buried here under an imposing monument; and later one of the ladies-in-waiting of the princess—the Go-tsuboné Iiguchi Hayao. (The name of the princess Tsuruhimé in kana is probably a later and mistaken addition.) Thus were the many adventures of the Takata Dono transferred to her equally well known and beautiful elder sister. The Senhimé, wife of Hidéyori, suffered and did quite enough herself for which to make answer. Meanwhile the site of the Yoshida Goten in the Banchō became more than suspected. Jack-o-lanterns, the ghosts of the victims of the himégimi, came forth from the old well to haunt and frighten passers-by. Nor were subsequent attempts to use it encouraging. Thus the ground lay idle and uncalled for, with no one to occupy it until the grant of a large tract in Dosanbashi as site for the yashiki of Matsudaira Higo no Kami compelled removal of several of the hatamoto. Among these were Ōkubo Hikoroku and Aoyama Shūzen.[14]
CHAPTER XIII
The Sen-Himégimi (Princess Sen)
The Sen-himégimi, eldest daughter of Hidétada the second Shōgun, figures little in our story; enough so, however, to necessitate the telling of one of the not least striking episodes in a life full of event. Married at the mature age of six years to the Udaijin Hidéyori, son of the Taikō Hidéyoshi and lord of Ōsaka castle, those childish years were the happiest of that period. Clouds were rising between Toyotomi and Tokugawa as the princess approached nubile years. On her the Yodogimi, mother of the Udaijin, visited the more personal effects of her resentment. For the growing girl it was a period of tears and affliction. In truth she well knew the weight of her mother-in-law's hand. So wretched was her life that there was some fear of her killing herself. A powerful influence in screening her in these later years was that of the famous Kimura Nagato no Kami. Shigenari and his wife Aoyagi were the guides and friends of the himégimi during this trying period; her councillors to forestall cause of the Yodogimi's wrath. Moreover the pleasant relations between the young husband and wife were an incentive to bear a burden patiently, which time might remove. Nevertheless the Yodogimi was inexorable. The night screens were set up in different chambers. When the Sen-himégimi made her escape from Ōsaka castle she was sixteen years old, and in all likelihood a virgin.
As to the stories of her escape from the besieged castle, then in the very throes of the final vigorous and successful assault by the three hundred thousand men surrounding it, these vary. According to one account Iyeyasu Kō, brows knit with anxiety as he watched his men pressing to the attack, thumped his saddle bow as vigorously as waning years now permitted—"The Senhimé to wife, to him who brings her safe from the castle!" Not a man in his train moved. They looked at the blazing mass before them, the flying missiles—and staid where they were. Then came forward a Tozama daimyō, Sakasaki Dewa no Kami Takachika.[15] Prostrating himself he announced his purpose to make the attempt. Making his way into the blazing pile of the burning castle he found the Senhimé amid her frightened maids. Wrapping her up carefully he took her in his arms, and with great regard for her person, and none for his own, he sought her rescue. The last chance was through the blazing mass of the great gate. Just as he was about to clear it, down came the tottering superincumbent structure almost on their heads. The red hot tiles, the sparks like a fiery deluge, the blazing fragments of wood carried and tossed by the air currents, surrounded them as in a furnace. Nearly all the train perished in the attempt. Dewa no Kami succeeded in presenting himself before the Ōgoshō (Iyeyasu). Even the old captain could but turn with pity from the hideously disfigured man. The Senhimé in all her beauty was saved. Bitter was her resentment against all—father, grandfather, their partisans—who had refused the gift of life to the young husband. Rescue or no rescue, she absolutely refused to carry out the agreement and become the wife of this—mask.