Although no open confidences passed between the pair, Nara was satisfied, for he could detect a change in the young man. His easy confidence in the direction of the straight and honest course was gone, had given place to a pained perplexity which boded well for the future. The arrow which the astute kugé had planted during the interview at the palace, was festering. He seemed to perceive that much. Sampei's sense of right and wrong had been disturbed. He was uncomfortable, and half-suspecting he knew not what, held his peace moodily, while his brain groped in darksome byways. Yes, he was mistaken when he deemed Nara to be a foe. Yet how was it possible he could be really friendly, perceiving as he must how bad was his daughter's treatment, how outrageous on every count were the proceedings of her spouse? Could any one who loved Japan be Hojo's friend? Alack, even he, Sampei, his only brother, was but too well aware that he was his country's scourge--that one who should remove the incubus would earn his country's gratitude.
The old Daimio, guessing what knotty problem it was that so vexed the young soldier's mind, evolved a stroke of genius. Suave and sweet in manner, with an engaging air of candour, he communed with himself aloud, "What a sad thing it is," he mused abstractedly, "that the history and the literature of our country should so teem with the enmity of brothers! And yet, in the main, a happy land, more privileged than the dim fog-bound realms of the west." Again, how bewildering was this to one who was groping so anxiously for light.
Looking in the wrinkled face, Sampei could see no meaning there--no special meaning--addressed to himself especially. And then, as the two strolled about the precincts of the castle, Sampei became more bewildered yet and more uneasy, for in some unaccountable way it had come about, without his knowing how, that old Nara concealed no longer that he was No-Kami's enemy, that he was aware of the ill-treatment of his child, and grateful for the sympathy of his companion. He even, as a matter of course, affected to look on him as a willing accomplice; gave him no chance of disavowal. And then, tacit consent to this being given, he dropped mysterious hints. Verily the future was growing strangely dark, the skein of the race more tangled hourly. With helpless resignation Sampei was fain to allow that the fiat had gone forth, that the days of the Hojos were numbered. If, as was growing every moment plainer, the prophecy of the farmer was to be fulfilled to the minutest detail, what was to be gained by struggling?
Patience was in very truth the only virtue which it became the doomed to cultivate. Humbled, therefore, and filled with murky presage, the young man bowed his neck and folded his hands, resolved to float with the stream, obedient to the whim of destiny.
Thus Nara--kugé and devoted servant of the Holy Mikado--having been warned by the Abbess of Tsu of the tottering condition of her house, came and spied out the land, and returned home delighted; while she, hearing in due course how he had come and gone, smiling and dangerously courteous, fell a prey to vague misgivings, and betook herself to prayer and abstinence. Vainly she cross-examined O'Tei, grown stonier and whiter. Since her father's unsatisfactory visit, the unhappy lady appeared to wake from a frozen trance to a sense of feverish existence, only when prostrate on the temple floor praying for the untying of her bonds. The words of Koshiu were seared as by an iron on her heart; sleeping or waking, she saw them burning on the wall.
The scene within the grey circle of weird trees was never absent from her vision. What had she done to deserve the ban? The full horror of the anathema ate into her being slowly. In succeeding cycles she was destined to be accursed. Little by little she realised her doom; for her there was to be no rest, no peace, no change for the better. Why? Because, obedient to her father's commands, she had bestowed her hand upon a tyrant. For blind obedience, punished for all time; for more than time--for ever!
There was no justice, then, in this life, or in the realms beyond the grave. She was created for misfortune and misery, specially picked out for all the worst evils that beset mortality. If accursed in future cycles, she might never rise,--never win Nirvana,--never hope for oblivion. The unflecked blackness of the despair that settled down like a foldless sable curtain upon O'Tei, caused the heart of Masago to bleed for her. The gentlest, noblest, most patient, as well as the most innocent of ladies! Truly the ways of the Eternal are inscrutable. The austere Abbess strove to instil comfort into the numbed soul--without avail. Her arguments, after all, were shallowest platitudes, to be tossed aside by O'Tei with easy scorn. What to her were the puny arts of O'Kikú the second wife? Shielded by the buckler of such suffering as hers, the tiny pins of the geisha fell harmless. Pity that 'twas so, for wholesome indignation might have wakened her from the stupor which, unless broken, must shortly end in dissolution.
Pondering as she paced the silent groves, the Abbess sought for a clue in vain. If the family was doomed to be smitten root and branch, it was doomed. But what a store of faith is needed humbly to acquiesce in the monstrous belief that the innocent must suffer for the guilty,--that generations yet unborn are to come into the world for the express purpose of bearing on their backs the guilt of their ancestors. With terror Masago felt that she was growing rebellious,--that her faith was trembling,--that she could no longer gaze with trustful veneration upon Buddha, the expressionless and the impassible, reposing cross-legged on his lotus. Herself, O'Tei, the dearly-loved Sampei, were all to suffer for No-Kami. Sure Tomoyé must be writhing on some other sphere for being the mother of such a cockatrice! And so it naturally came about that Masago, as well as others, looked forward to the sacrificing of Hojo--the chief to whom they owed allegiance,--of the head of the family of which she was proud to be one,--that she even prayed for the death of No-Kami as the only possible solution of the problem.
O'Kikú was not above profiting by the lesson which had been taught by Nara's visit. Instead of being permitted to subside into hopeless imbecility, her lord must be aroused,--must be exhorted to tighten the cords of his nervous system, in preparation for a sudden strain. Accordingly, after a period of wonder at Nara's visit and its apparent abortiveness, she began to suspect that, courteous as his manner was, and suavely ceremonious his departure, they had not yet heard the last of the kugé's irruption; and that it behoved her, as the guiding spirit of the castle, to practise caution. That snake, Sampei, was wriggling in the grass in inconvenient proximity, darting glances of adoration at the chatelaine. For the dignity of her dear lord's name (and her own future comfort), she must accentuate and renew her exposure of the villain and his paramour, now that the coast was clear. To this end, in order that vengeance might be tempered with sang froid, their deluded victim must be taught to mingle vigilance with circumspection, which would require a measure of sobriety. It would be vexatious to have to resign a modicum of personal liberty, but the sacking of the castle by a watchful enemy, who knew of its master's sottishness, would be a worse evil. It behoved her for her own sake to protect my lord from the enemy within the citadel. Arguing from her own ways of thought, it was a logical deduction that, in love with No-Kami's wife, Sampei must desire his death.
The geisha, adapting herself to the circumstances of the moment, became outwardly more circumspect in her behaviour; watched over her lord with affectionate care; exhorted and chid him with tender patience till his paroxysms of fear were past; made herself so absolutely needful to his existence, that he could not but fondly mark the contrast betwixt her and his legitimate consort. And she was not slow in administering the deadly drops when occasion served. What should the lady O'Tei care? she would babble artlessly, that her lord was well or ill, since her affections were engrossed by another, who all along had possessed her heart. The silent twilight of cryptomeria groves is conducive to holy meditation, but is also vastly convenient for mundane dallying. But no! he must not excite himself. Why should my lord exercise his shattered nerves, and pace like a caged bear? What mattered it what they did, or how frequently they met? For her part, his faithful O'Kikú thought it very diverting that any warm-blooded man should elect to fall in love with an icicle.