How surprised would the geisha have been could she have read the riddle aright. It was Masago, the Abbess, who had given the hint. She, who was but too well aware of the position of her favourite, could see that she was dying slowly of a breaking heart, for each time that she visited the temple O'Tei was more frail and wan, more spiritual in aspect; her step more slow and feeble. Moreover, over and above personal affection for her, was it not the duty of the Abbess to give warning to the lady's natural protector, lest her own dear boy Sampei should be goaded to leap into the breach? Knowing all she knew, it was a subject for marvel that Sampei should have refrained till now. School himself as he would, he could not conceal from a mother's anxious gaze the canker that gnawed his entrails. So far as he was concerned, the arrows of O'Kikú had not missed their mark. He pined with sympathy,--was wrung with anguish at the drawn expression of the wistful face, the dimmed eyes that were once so bright, in which hope was quite extinguished.
CHAPTER XII.
[THE DAIMIO OF NARA IMITATES THE SPHYNX.]
What a pity it is that in our odd world the wicked should be so much more clever than the good,--that the combinations of sinners should so easily outwit the simply virtuous. But then, were not the good so naïve, they might not possibly submit so quietly to the unhappiness which is usually their portion. They might scream, and rail, and wax obstreperous, point out the cases of flagrant injustice too often to be observed among their ranks, and become unedifying texts and examples.
Poor Sampei, being less cunning than the geisha, and not perceiving the advantage of which he might have availed himself, naturally did not seize it. It never occurred to him that the appearance of Nara on the scene might have brought about the salvation of his family,--that he and Sampei united might have ousted the female marplot. Clearly this lack of discrimination was due to the interference of the gods.
Sampei was quite as surprised as the concubine at singular conduct of Nara. He took no umbrage at his sullen reception by the lord of Tsu; seemed not to perceive how little he was welcomed; showed a disposition to be easily pleased, a slowness to take offence, such as ill became a daimio. Closeted with his daughter, he refrained from searching questions, conversed about the pleasures of Kiŷoto, and the probabilities of a visit in the summer, while she, stony and indifferent, as reticent as her parent, and dreamily gazing into vacancy, replied in monosyllables. With studied ceremony he took leave of her as though she were a stranger, bade farewell of his sulky host with suave courtesy, and, followed by his brilliant retinue, journeyed slowly up into the mountains. So cautious was he, even under the glances of his own people, that it was not until, resigning his horse to a betto, he retired into a litter, and drew the curtains close, that he permitted his thoughts to appear upon his features. "It is very nearly time," he murmured, "very nearly time, and then shall my child--ay, and all Japan--be avenged, and signally." With gleeful exultation he rubbed his hands together as he revolved a host of little points which had not escaped the eagle ken of his experience. A drunken dissolute cohort now, the redoubtable warriors of Tsu.
Arriving unawares by night, he had found no sentries at the gate. His men had blown the horn, and hammered with lances, and shouted till their throats were hoarse, ere any one had appeared upon the walls; and what a scurry then! The castle, left unprotected in the silent watches, would have fallen without a struggle into the hands of a skilful foe. And--the cognisance and titles of the father of the chatelaine having been recognised, and the drawbridge lowered--the relaxation of discipline everywhere apparent within did not escape his practised eye. Before the presence of a stranger was made known, he had heard sounds of wassail and of quarrelling,--had seen the abandoned concubine of the Hojo toying with the common soldiers. And he was enchanted. What mattered it that his child looked wretched?--women must suffer for the common good. Patience--a little patience--and her burthen would soon be removed.
The Abbess, proud as she was of considering herself in some sort a Hojo, had naturally turned, in her anxiety, to him who had been selected by her now departed lord as the prime adviser of the family. Unwitting of what she did, it was her finger that first pointed out how the joints in the harness were loosening; and with a savage laugh Nara gave her thanks for it.
The young General, who had never learned the arts of diplomacy, blushed crimson as the eyes of the new arrival took in the situation, and stammered awkward excuses. His brother was ill, had for some time past been unable to occupy himself with affairs, and was, moreover, so jealous of interference, that for a while he, the elder, had let things go. But now that my lord had come, his father's friend, the twain would remonstrate, and arrange together. And then, from under the white bettle-brows of the old man there shot a meaning leer which chilled the words upon the lips of the younger, and brought to his mind an earlier interview which had seemed ominous of complications. Was this man a friend, or the worst of enemies, one who wears disguise? Buffeting in a sea of knavery, wherein fraud and chicane and stratagem and pitfall boil into a seething broth, what wonder if the true and single-minded grow bewildered and confused? Sampei was so little skilled in double-dealing, that, lulled by specious sentences, mystified, he concluded that he had been wrong, had misunderstood the purport of lord Nara's talk in the palace. Was he not his father's ally,--the man specially picked out for the guidance of the Hojo's sons? The old Daimio, ever quick to read thoughts, pressed the hand of his young friend with touching affection.
"All will be well by-and-by," he murmured. His dear young General, of whom he and Japan were so justly proud, must sit quiet, and hope for the best. He too, then, was preaching patience. Sure, the venerable Abbess and the hoary statesman must be right--of course they were. The loyal Sampei blamed himself accordingly, and put his suspicions from him.