Recovering consciousness, the Lady O'Tei found herself in her bower, surrounded by grieving maidens, and was relieved, glancing fearfully around, to miss the figure of my lord. She was spared his hateful presence. For that small mercy, thanks. For, still and self-possessed as she had appeared during the ordeal, thereby winning the admiration of Sampei, and, even for a time, the grudging approval of No-Kami, the chatelaine had suffered so intensely as to produce a crisis in her nature.
During the short while that the scene lasted, years seemed to have passed over her head. Hitherto she had been weary and empty and unhappy--deeply miserable, but yet with a germ of hope half stifled. That germ was quite dead now, shrivelled and black. She was beset with an intense craving for rest and sleep,--for the fragrant perfume of the earth. Although the execrated name of Hojo was hers, the scathing curse on all who bore the name passed harmless over her. Her conscience was clear. She had done all that within her lay to save the victims, and, calm and still in outward aspect, had suffered far more than they. A threat of proximate death?--release! The world, whose beauty she had so intensely enjoyed ages ago at Nara, was repellent now,--a hideous mockery,--a skull crowned with flowers. For how false was its song of sweetness, since such wickedness and injustice flourished in its midst. A world of disease and pain and sorrow. In this life are not many punished for their virtues, as a set-off to the manner in which others are rewarded for their vices? What wonder if people fall under burthens too heavy for their backs?
Koshiu and his had already entered on a new and smiling existence; if his dying words might be believed, had started under sunny auspices on the next round of life. And at the same time he had prophesied that no Hojo henceforth might ever win peace. They were doomed to wander from one globe to another, gaining no step, rising no higher on the earth, for all eternity! How horrible! So dread a bolt overshot its mark; for sure the universe must be ruled by fiends if those whose crime is to bear an execrated name are for that to be undone for ever. To die, and try again, and yet again, in vain--a weary prospect. The sooner the better, after all, for no future phase could be less tolerable to the Lady O'Tei than the present one. She was condemned, as it seemed, never to attain aught that she desired; never to have a prayer answered, or a wish gratified. And all that she now longed for was repose. Ah, how vain that wish! For never may we enjoy perfect rest save in far-off Nirvana--away in the incalculable and limitless Nirvana! where, when time is dead for us, refined and freed from the last speck of dross, we are to achieve the reward of nonexistence.
O'Tei had learned to despise her husband more and more, but now she had a new and positive feeling for him--active and sore and gnawing--one of intensest hatred. And she was his--bound to obey his whim. How long? For his part, he took little trouble to conceal that he hated her, and would be glad to be rid of an encumbrance. Should she fling herself at his feet, and, baring her white bosom, implore the mercy of his dirk? No. She shuddered as she thought that he would laugh--that fierce and ugly laugh of his that made her blood run cold--would spurn and revile, hissing forth recreant, but yet would forbear to strike her. There was nothing for it but plodding patience,--a stringing of the nerves to endurance--slow, continuous, monotonous--the hardest of all tasks to an overwrought and nervous woman.
Meanwhile Masago, moving like a tall still ghost at the head of the procession, was disturbed and exercised in mind. How strangely things were going. If she might only be allowed to see. What thunderous clouds were gathering? Was the appalling prophecy to be accomplished to the letter? Like the chatelaine, her being rose in protest. Was her own brave boy, innocent of all wrong, to be involved with the rest, simply because his name was Hojo--the guiltless suffering for the guilty? Why, so was hers. Though but a second wife or concubine, she was mother of a Hojo--proud to call herself Hojo--jealous of the family honour, although of plebeian birth. She could quite understand the feelings of the rough warriors towards a chatelaine who was to them a riddle; but she, discerning, renowned for subtle acumen, could see under the rind what a fragrant nature was O'Tei's, if it had not been nipped half-blown. She sighed heavily as she walked, and pondered of O'Tei. What of this new element introduced into the castle--of discord surely? Not of necessity so. Should No-Kami elect to take the new-comer to himself, as folk already whispered, what of it? Had not his father done the same? And she, Masago (concubine), and the bellicose Tomoyé (wife) had never quarrelled.
But then O'Tei was so different from her predecessor. She was so odd and sensitive and self-contained, given to contemplative fancies which served no good purpose. Masago, the sage, was quite angry sometimes when she considered the education of O'Tei. She, an abbess, should know something of such matters, and there was no doubt about it that the bonzes and priestesses of Nara had blundered. The heiress of Nara was destined by her birth to a grand alliance, to reign in a world of strife, and they should have combated, while the nature of their pupil was yet malleable, such tendencies as might be likely to interfere with the young lady's future happiness. Dancing the kagura in a wood was all very well for priestesses, but in a fierce age, when every man's hand is at his fellow's throat, the female head of a warlike household should be taught to hold her own. Poor O'Tei had never been properly prepared, and was in truth no more fit to cope with the difficulties of her high position than would be the merest coolie's daughter.
In the candour of self-communing Masago admitted this much to herself, making apologies the while for the shortcomings of her favourite, and laying the blame upon the priesthood.
And again the question would assert itself--Was the new element for harmony or discord? If she could only know, and help to keep matters straight. If O'Tei were sensible, she would accept the second wife with gratitude, for she would be relieved of the society of one whom she abhorred. But then O'Tei was so peculiar. And so much depended on the attitude assumed by the second wife, if second wife she were to be. She, Masago, and Tomoyé had got on so splendidly that, as she thought of the past, a faint blush of self-complacency tinged the Abbess's ascetic cheek. No doubt about it. She, Masago, had displayed, as she usually did, consummate tact. In fact, in their instance, the two wives completed each other. Each had the talent which was denied to her companion, for Tomoyé often declared that though her muscle was a marvel her brain was wanting, while Masago was the best of advisers, although no warrior. Hence, whilst both adoring their lord from their own point of view, they could perfectly trust each other without jealousy, and play into one another's hands--a fact which was clearly proven when the regnant Hojo wearied of his concubine. Tomoyé did her best to retain the second wife (not knowing what the next fancy of her lord might be), and constantly sought counsel from Masago after her assumption of the crape.
Masago therefore, as she walked, summoned to her side the devoted elders who were so soon to embrace the priesthood, and cross-questioned them narrowly. They had observed, had they, in my lord's visage, how desperately he had become enamoured? They were certain that his sudden passion would insist on being gratified? But what if the travelling geisha were a light-o'-love to be picked up too easily to-day and cast forth to-morrow? Rokubei shook his head. The astute Masago--all-wise counsellor--would never venture so futile a suggestion had she once scanned the lady with her searching scrutiny. Oh, a cunning and fascinating lady! A petulant and wilful lady, and an obstinate! Ay, and a circumspect. What object could she have had in insisting on the bodies being given up, except to ingratiate herself with the lower lieges? What cared she, a stranger from afar, for a farmer of Tsu or his family? And then, that way she had of sending gleams out of her dark velvet eyes from under the deep fringes. Even he, Rokubei, who spoke, and who shortly on the holy hill was to have his pate shaven, was fain to admit, under the seal of secrecy, that his own, for the future ascetic, bosom had been pervaded by inconvenient warmth under the glamour of those lightning shafts, and all the while he knew that they were intended for another. And my lord, so inflammable, so given to indulgence, who knew so little of the curb! Masago might believe, or not, the speaker, but it was clear to him that in a few days--nay, hours--the too fascinating geisha O'Kikú would rule the Daimio and his vassals, whether for good or evil was as yet in the womb of time.
Masago listened, and became more and more uneasy. Could it be possible that she, who had that day only appeared upon the scene, was the chosen instrument--selected beforehand and arrived exactly in time--for the fulfilment of the prophecy? Was she to undermine with her pink little fingers the great dynasty of Hojo? and, if so, how? For the advantage of the dynasty she, the discarded second wife, would gladly sacrifice herself and wear her fingers to the bone; would even surrender the life of her dearly-beloved son Sampei for its advantage. Fool! unreasoning woman, and incorrigible fool! Who was she to presume to combat Destiny?--to raise her weak hand in feeble protest against the finger of Buddha, the all-seeing? Although the blasphemous suggestion had unbidden entered her brain, vigils and much praying would be needed to atone for its presence. She would kneel on the stones throughout the ensuing darkness, praying for pardon and for light. How may we, however watchful, guard against presumption--against pitting our puny sagacity against the Infinite?