The salve Ogita Kurōji used for his wound had no such benefit as that offered Aoyama Shūzen; and perhaps O'Yoshi could have told the reason of its failure. By the next day the wound was inflamed enough to make movement difficult. Feeling the necessity of repair, Kurōji left all matters to his mistress, and sought early recuperation in complete rest. On plea of needed articles O'Yoshi was out of the house and on her hurried way to the Aoyama yashiki at Suragadai. The distance was short; yet her plan was already laid. Her dislike for the ageing Ogita was sharpened into hate by her love for the handsome young samurai. Close to the yashiki on pretext she entered the shop of a tradesman. To her delight she learned that the Waka Dono, Aoyama Shūzen, as yet had no wife. She had a hundred yards to go, and her purpose and ambition had expanded widely in that short distance. Her application for an interview with his lordship was quickly granted. She had often been subject of talk and comment between Shūzen and his subordinate officer. The dōshin happened to be present, and the attendant announced her at once. Passed to the inner apartment she found Shūzen as if he had been eagerly awaiting her coming for hours. Her reception was flattering. The ordinary salutations over they passed to most familiar talk, as of oldest friends between man and woman. When Shūzen would go further, and in love making press still greater intimacy, her refusal was of that kind which sought compliance. Said she with a smile—"Make Yoshi the wife of the Waka Dono and she will make the fortune even of one so highly placed as Aoyama Dono." To his incredulity and astonishment she would say no more. Shūzen now was determined not to let her go. He feigned consent, agreement to everything, with much regard for her, and small regard for the promotion at which he jested. Now they were in the very heigh-day of love. She resented his scepticism, and in the heat of her passion gave him everything—including the contract. His mistress by his side, seated in the confidence of an accomplished love affair he listened to her stream of revelation. This "doctor" and "husband" was neither doctor nor husband. His name was Ogita Kurōji, an Ōsaka rōnin. With Kosaka Jinnai and others of the same kidney he had been the head and front of the attempted rape of the Senhimé. Shūzen knew enough to discount all the talk as to Maéda Kō, of the Hosokawa, and other great Houses. They were beyond his sphere. But here in his hands lay the web of a most important affair; so important that it frightened him a little. As his brows knit O'Yoshi too grew a little frightened; regretted that she had told so much all at once. She had babbled beyond measure in her transport. She had misgivings. Shūzen reassured her. For her to return to Daikuchō would never do. A breath of suspicion, and Ogita's sword would deprive him of his mistress. Safe quarters were to be found in the yashiki. He called the dōshin, one Makishima Gombei, and put her in his charge. The two men exchanged glances as she was led away.
The office of the south machibugyō was in a ferment when Aoyama made his report. All available yakunin were at once gathered. The list was carefully gone over with the minister for the month, Hoki no Kami. Despatched on their various missions the squads departed. To Shūzen was assigned the capture of Ogita Kurōji, leader of the conspiracy. This latter was chafing at the prolonged absence of O'Yoshi. Some accident must have happened to her. Then he remembered. She had gone to Hachōbori. Here lived a sister, whose delivery was daily expected. Doubtless this commonplace event, yet surpassing in interest to every woman, detained her. A confusion outside attracted his attention. There was a crowd, and some disturbance. Hatsu! The people were being kept back by yakunin. "The thoughts of Kurōji were those of the wicked." At once he attributed their presence to himself. A look out at the rear and he quickly shot to the wooden bar. Between the bamboo of the fence men could be seen passing to and fro in numbers; and they were yakunin. He had been betrayed. The counsel of Jinnai came to mind, and he ground his teeth as he stood with drawn sword before the empty drawer of the cabinet. The scarlet of the obi of his false mistress flashed before his eyes. He had to die unavenged. "On his lordship's business! On his lordship's business!" The harsh voices sounded at the front. Those who would enter uninvited found themselves face to face in the narrow space with the old Kurōji, the man who had fought from Sagami to Tosa, from Chōsen to Kyūshū. The more incautious fell severed with a cut from shoulder to pap. A second man put his hand to his side, and rolled over to breathe his last in a pool of blood. Visions of "Go-ban" Tadanobu came to mind. Kurōji would die, but he would leave his mark on the foe. Shūzen's men could make no progress, except to swell the death roll or their wounds. In rage their lord sprang to the encounter. Shūzen was young, but it is doubtful if the issue would have been successful with this man turned demon by the double injury and treachery. But Ogita amid this horde of assailants had suffered in his turn. In a parry his sword broke off short near the hilt. With a yell he sprang to close quarters, dealing Shūzen a blow with the hilt that sent him reeling senseless to the ground. Then, unable to accomplish more, and taking advantage of the respite caused by the rescue of his foe, he sprang to the ladder leading above. Once on the roof he saw that escape was hopeless. Already they were breaking into the rear. Men were approaching over the neighbouring houses. In the old style of ages past he waved them back with drawn dagger. There was no Shūzen to give command—"Take him alive!" They were only too glad to halt and let him do his will. Stripping to his girdle, before the assembled crowd he thrust his dagger into his left side and drew it across his belly. Then he made the cross cut through the navel. "Splendid fellow! A true bushi!" Admiring voices rose in the crowd. The body of Kurōji fell forward and down into the street. Thus he died.
This affair had ended in a way to redound greatly to the credit of Aoyama Shūzen. Others had not been so successful. Of nearly two hundred names only eighteen prisoners were secured. Shūzen stamped with impatience on learning of the escape of Kosaka Jinnai. He had learned much about him from the hate of O'Yoshi. "That man is the real leader of the band, the inspiration of Ogita Kurōji. Ah! Why could not this Shūzen be in two places at once!" Older officials bowed low, and smiled to themselves and each other at youth's self confidence. O'Yoshi now found short entertainment. Shūzen had no further use for the woman, for the means of his promotion. One day a chūgen led her to the postern gate of the yashiki, put a paper containing a silver ryō in her hand, and unceremoniously shoved her into the roadway. The gate closed behind her. At first she hardly comprehended the meaning of this treatment. Then, as it filtered into her mind, her rage passed all measure. "Ah! The beast and liar! Yoshi was not fit to be the wife; nay, not even the female companion of this arrogant lord?" She had been juggled out of the secret of such value to him, then cast forth with the wages of a prostitute summoned to the yashiki. The woman was helpless. Broken in spirit she dragged herself off, to undergo a severe illness brought on by despite. Her foul rôle ascertained, friends and family would have nothing to do with her. Once recovered, she found herself deprived of all means of subsistence, even that of beauty, by her disease. Never more would she deal with the noble class, to be left with such a legacy. She would pray for the salvation of the man she had betrayed. On her way to the Asakusa Kwannon she passed the jail, then near the Torigoébashi. Stumbling along just here she raised her head, to confront the long line of rotting heads there set forth. Just facing her was that of her ex-lover Ogita Kurōji. It took on life. The eyes opened and glared fierce hate. The lips moved, and the teeth ground together. Then the other heads made measured movements. "Atsu!" With the cry she fell fainting to the ground, and it was difficult to restore her to consciousness. For several years the half crazed beggar woman sought alms near the jail, to act as guide and comment on the fresh heads exposed, until as nuisance she was driven off by the guard. Then the shameful swollen corruption of the body was drawn from the canal close by; thus to end on the refuse heap the treachery of Chōsenburo no O'Yoshi.
CHAPTER XV
The God favours Shūzen
The influence of a House close to the person of the Shōgun was no drawback to the close attention Aoyama Shūzen gave to official duty throughout his career. The Aoyama stood high in the council of the governing power. Even an old blunderbuss like Hoki no Kami could not shake this influence. When Yukinari tore the mirror from the hands of the young Shōgun Iyemitsu Kō, berated him roundly for effeminacy, and dashed the offending object to pieces on the stones of the garden, this wanton treatment of the prince could not be overlooked. "Invited" to cut belly by his intimates and opponents in the council (rōjū) he defied them, laid hand to sword, and swore they should join him in a "dog's death." The timely entrance of Ōkubo Hikozaémon prevented the unseemly spectacle of three old soldiers and statesmen enjoying the fierce and deadly pastime of one of the duels of Keichō (1596-1614). Hoki no Kami in his own way was right—and knew it; and he had the tacit approval of Hidétada Kō. The result was not harakiri, but the offending noble was consigned to the care of his brother. He and his were "extinguished"; for the time being, and to the greater glory of his other relatives near the Shōgun's person. Such was the rough discipline in Hidétada's camp of Edo. The second Shōgun, now retired (Ōgoshō—inkyō), never lost the manners or the methods of the battle field.
The career of Aoyama Shūzen therefore was a steady rise in the Government service; in younger years attached to the immediate train of the prince, in greater maturity to the enforcement of the edicts through the legal machinery of the Bakufu. At this time he ruffled it bravely with the other young blades. The younger hatamoto on their part opposed to the otokodaté of the townsmen the far more splendid Jingumi or divine bands. Yamanaka Gonzaémon knocked out several front teeth and inserted in their places gold ones. Hence the rise of the Kingumi or Gold Band. Aoyama Shūzen did likewise with substitution of silver. Hence the Gingumi. They were all of the Mikawa bushi; that is, drawn from the native province and closely affiliated to the Tokugawa House. Hence these hatamoto carried themselves high even against the greater daimyō, sure of support from their over-lord the Shōgun. As for the town, they did as they pleased, seeking quarrels, distributing blows, and only restrained by wholesome reprisals of rōnin or the otokodaté of the townsmen, who in turn relied on such daimyō as Daté Kō and Maéda Kō, valued allies of the Tokugawa House, yet showing no particular liking for the encroachments of the palace clique on their own privileges.
The necessity of moving quarters was equally an embarrassment to Aoyama Shūzen and to his intimate and neighbour Ōkubo Hikoroku. Ōkubo suggested Honjō—"The water lies close by. Hence in winter the place is warm, in summer cool."—"And of mosquitoes swarms," interjected the practical Aoyama. "If the hillside be cold, it surely is no drawback to Hikoroku Uji." The one named made something of a wry face, and Aoyama smiled apart. He knew that Hikoroku was not so affectioned to the meetings of the Gaman Kwai as himself. However, smoothly—"This matter of the Yoshida Goten coming up offers fair opportunity. The failure of Endō Uji need not discourage Ōkubo Dono and this Aoyama." Both smiled a little. They could put palace influences better to work. "It is two thousand tsubo," said Shūzen. "Just the thing: moreover, it is close to palace duty. On this point Honjō is not in the running. Besides, the site has its own attraction. Of course Shūzen takes the well, in the division." Ōkubo interposed a lively objection, the shallowness of which Shūzen could detect. He humoured his friend's obstinacy. "Leave it to the lots." In haste the slips were prepared—"Hachiman, god of the bow and feathered shaft, grant your divine aid and bestow the old well ghost haunted on this Aoyama." Okubo laughed at his earnestness. "Aoyama Uji leaves this Ōkubo no resort but in the Buddha. Good fortune to Ōkubo, and may the will of the Lord Buddha be done.... Naruhodo! 'Tis yours after all. The shaft of the war god is stronger than the Buddha's staff." He took his disappointment so well as to be the more urgent in securing the transfer. This was granted, with expenses of removal.
Aoyama Shūzen superintended in person the preparation of his new residence. This was soon in readiness as little was to be done. Ōkubo took cash and construction. The former villa, fallen to Shūzen's part, needed mainly air and light, and repairs to its rotten woodwork. When it was time to think of the water supply Aoyama ordered the cleaning out of the old well. The workmen began to talk—"'Tis the old well of the inner garden, the Yanagi-ido of the Yoshida Goten. Danna Sama, deign to order exorcism made, and that the well be filled up and covered from men's sight." The Danna laughed at them, and was obstinate in his purpose. He took upon himself all the wrath of the disturbed and angered spirits. He hoped that they would not furnish material for more. To hearten them, he and his men descended to the level of the water. With headshakes and misgivings the chief ordered his men to the task—"Pfu! It stinks of ghosts, or something. Surely there will be dead men's bones for harvest; and perhaps those of the living. The old well has not seen its last ill deed." As for the dead men's bones, the well refuse was laid aside, and on Aoyama's order buried with no particular reverence in the bowels of the tsukiyama close by. "Let all the spirits of the place find company together," he jeered. The yashiki of Komiyasan in Honjō had its processions of marvels—dead men, frogs, tanuki, and fox—to shake its amado at night and divert the monotony of those who lived therein. The portentous foot perhaps he could not match, but he would share in this contest with ghostly visions. Chance had offered him the opportunity. All was prepared. Shūzen had established himself. Nightly with his camp stool he took his seat by the old well, to smoke his pipe and drink his wine—"Now! Out with you, ghosts! Here present is Aoyama Shūzen, hatamoto of the land. He would join in your revels. Deign to hasten.... What! The ghosts would rest this night?" Thus night after night passed with his jeering and no sign of the supernatural objects, not thus to be conjured. Time made the pastime stale—as stale as the waters of the Yanagi-ido which never furnished supply for the house or its tasks. Aoyama had the excuse of drinking wine. As for the household, the women would not even use the water for washing. They said it stunk too badly. In so far Shūzen failed.