Koshiu paced the mat with folded arms. Yes, they were right, and had better go and save their wizened carcases. Here they were of no service, only butts for scoffers. My lady O'Tei all knew to be an angel; but that the newly-arrived General should interest himself in peasants, was curious; and then the thought flashed suddenly on the indignant father that the absence of Miné from her home had coincided with the arrival of Sampei. Her tender pronunciation of his name, and constant championship, recurred to his memory, and he shrank as from strokes of the bamboo. As profligate as all the Hojos, he had, of course, signalled his return by the seduction of an innocent and too-trusting maiden, who, by-and-by, he would fling away. Perhaps from out that curtained kago on the road his erring daughter may have peeped at him. If it were so, never, never would he forgive his child. Had he not warned her of his undying hatred of Hojos, of all connected with bloodthirsty brutal tyrants? With difficulty controlling his emotions, while his comrades more than ever deemed him dangerously insane, he told them they were right. Since they could serve no further purpose, they had better go back to Tsu, and speedily. For his own part, he would remain, and bide his time, and, when opportunity offered, present the petition to the Emperor.
And so, after a sad and parting feast, the band of elders returned to their place, and Koshiu dwelt alone, brooding over his wrongs, over the oppression of his class, and the ruin of his daughter, while his family bewailed at home. His impression was that the Mikado's supineness rose not from weakness but from indifference, out of which he might be roused. One day arrived a pedlar with news from Tsu, and a melancholy message from his wife, the faithful Kennui, which completely satisfied his mind that his suspicions were but too well founded. Miné had never again sought the legitimate shelter of her parents' roof, but was dwelling, if report spoke truly, with the mother of Sampei. Even she, then, the peasant-born, suffered under the taint which enveloped that hated race. The Abbess, who pretended to be pious, could stoop to shield his daughter's infamy, and give shelter to the mistress of her son. Poor soul, had she not been herself a concubine, and debased by pernicious surroundings? Ah, but the position of second wife--acknowledged concubine--was different from that of his own degraded daughter. No fixed position was hers, of course, or ever would be, since she had been so misguided as to throw herself into her lover's arms. And when he was weary of her? It would not bear thinking of, for Koshiu in his way was proud as any noble. Sampei and his mother were as bad as the rest, worthy to wear the cognisance of Hojo. The longer the farmer brooded, the harder grew his heart, the more bitter his resentment, and he hailed with fierce joy the news, at last, that the Mikado was to visit Nara.
It was a solemn ceremony the pilgrimage of the Emperor to the Sacred Groves of Nara, one which, although the distance was short, he was expected to perform but once or twice during his career. Unlike lesser magnates, who were content with kagos--litters, more or less sumptuous, borne on men's shoulders--the Mikado travelled in a ponderous carriage on huge cumbrous wheels, its roof thatched with the long grey straws of a peculiar grass, its wood-work elaborately lacquered with the imperial crest, its windows closely curtained with the finest matting, which flapped with many tassels. The progress of so unwieldy a machine over a primitive road was slow. In front went a bodyguard on foot, followed by soldiers on horseback; then came the weighty kagos of the kugés in attendance, brave with banners and devices; then the Mikado's swaying uneasy carriage, drawn by eight horses in broidered housings; then more heavy litters and more soldiers, and a long straggling tail like that of a kite, composed of servants and rabble. It took many hours to penetrate through the tortuous and squalid suburbs of the capital, consisting for the most part of the shops of pawnbrokers and vendors of cheap toys and idols, jutting at will into the road, the procession stopped from time to time by hosts of the faithful on their faces.
Once free of buildings, the imperial cortége advanced by a wide way straight as an arrow across a plain devoted to the cultivation of tea, and by nightfall reached Uji. Here there was a villa overhanging with wide, wooden balconies a rushing stream--the Uji-Kawa, which rises in lake Biwa--spanned by a semicircular bridge formed of an intricate network of heavy timbers, for in winter this river swells into a torrent, sweeping all that is weak before it. This villa was for the special use of the sovereign, as might be guessed, from its lack of adornment. So high is the Mikado, that, in a general way, he is above the employment of ornament. His villas and summer-houses (unlike those of his brother of China) are as conspicuous for simplicity as his dress. Everything is of the very best that skill can produce, the woodwork of the very finest which the hand of man can command, the mats trimmed with a red and white braid forbidden to other men. His eyes look upon no pictures or porcelains or bronzes, for to one who communes at will with deities or spirits, and may peep even sometimes into Nirvana, such trivialities are, of course, superfluous. In the Imperial Palace of Kiŷoto it is different, for there he deigns to associate in a degree with mere common nobles and wives, to whom austere simplicity would be depressing if not soul-withering. In this villa, the Emperor, by time-honoured custom, was to pass the night, his cortége camping around for the protection of the sacred person.
Now Koshiu, whose object in life was the presenting of a memorial which should lead to the abrogation of imposts, and the holding up of the Hojos to deserved obloquy, knew right well that there was no reaching the imperial ear, either in Kiŷoto or on the road to Uji, by reason of a throng of guards. During the next day's route over the mountains, on the other side of which was Nara, the cumbrous carriage would be prevented from toppling over by myriad hands pressed on either wheel, but the brilliant idea had occurred to the farmer that in crossing the timber bridge, whose width was just sufficient for the passage of the vehicle, there would be none to defend either of the curtained windows, the guards of necessity passing on in front or dropping behind until the stream was crossed, and that here lay his only chance. In the night therefore, after prayers and ablutions, he took advantage of the darkness to swim into mid-stream unnoticed, and being washed against one of the pillars, to make good his footing, and climbing on the bridge, to secrete himself under a convenient shadow. Then with his knife he pruned a long bamboo, split it at the top, and inserting the memorial therein, awaited day.
The journey was yet long to Nara, and over the mountains fraught with possible disaster, so all were early astir. With wildly-beating heart and throbbing temples Koshiu heard the clatter of horses overhead, the rhythmed step of infantry, and then the thunder of the great wheels grinding under their heavy load. Now or never. Calculating his time to a nicety, the farmer nimbly climbed upon the parapet, and before the astonished guards could stop him, lifted a corner of the mat, and inserting his bamboo, cried in a loud voice,--
"Take, O great Mikado! Fountain of Honour, this the petition of your humblest slave. Have pity on your people, O sovereign lord, ground down by the wicked Hojo!"
The driver of the horses, aghast, stopped open-mouthed; the cavalcade stood still; the guards, with a yell, dashed clambering forward, to fling into the stream this audacious one, riddled with sword-thrusts; but the old Daimio of Nara, who, disdaining a kago, rode close behind, spurred quickly through the men, and, raising both hands, bade them refrain. He had caught the words "wicked Hojo," saw that what might have been a spear was already withdrawn, and was no more than a cleft stick, and guessed the purport of the attempt.
"'Tis a petition," Nara cried. "Our imperial lord already holds the man's paper in his sacred hand. It is for him, and not for us, to decide upon his fate."
Clutched by a dozen fists, Koshiu remained poised and stifled on the parapet, and presently a low voice issued from the shadow.