"The lady O'Tei," he exclaimed, "beneath that baleful canopy!"
And straightway Sampei dismounted, and held the stirrup for his brother.
And thus they met again, those three, on this fateful day for all---my lord in an evil mood, for even to him there was something oppressive in the air. A pall, as of the shadow of death, hung murky over the land.
With trembling, blue lips, more like a spectre than a woman, O'Tei awaited my lord's approach, and turning, flung herself upon her knees, clinging about his feet.
No-Kami glared down in surprised dudgeon, while the soul of Sampei was thrilled with pity to perceive how wan she looked.
"My lord!" she murmured low, with fluttering heart, "a boon. Oh! spare them--for my sake--for your own--spare them--spare them--spare them! Give me at least the lives of the woman and her babes. If the man must suffer, be it so. You see that for him I say no word, not one--the gods forgive me! For his act he knew and weighed the penalty. But those innocents are not to perish. Say 'twas but a pleasantry, and I will kiss your feet, and bless you."
The visage of No-Kami grew purple as he glowered down upon his wife, and then, with grinding teeth, he glanced furtively around. There was no witness to the interview.
"It is well," he hissed, "that the company has gone before, and that I am spared humiliation in their eyes. Fie! what shameful folly's this? Can this grovelling thing, like a slave in the dust, be Hojo's wife, child of the Daimio of Nara? Nay! it is some mean Eta woman, pariah and outcast. Sampei, raise her up, and quickly, and let us both forget this spectacle. Arise!" he cried, spurning the prostrate figure with his foot. "Even among the Etas obedience is a wife's first duty."
Sampei stooped, and gently raising his distracted sister, supported her upon his breast, whilst the furious despot continued dryly,--
"Know that your existence is a blot on my name and your own. It is well that you have borne no children to perpetuate disgrace. If any of the bold samurai had seen you but now, what would they have thought of me?--of you? how could they respect their lady? Shame, shame! Pluck up a spirit--borrow one--and make at least pretence to assume a fitting dignity. The condemned are to die at sundown; no more on that score; even now the spectators are trooping hitherward. Go; tire your hair and don your gala robes. When all is ready, I will send for you."