The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan

by Lewis Wingfield

The contents of the armoury were overhauled and furbished. Seasoned wood was sought throughout the town, for the making of countless arrows; thick porous paper for dressing wounds, according to the standard rules of rough field surgery. The ground within the inner moat was covered over with boards and canvas, to conceal what was done inside; for an investing army is ever full of stratagems for learning the weak points of the besieged. Lofty trees, or high peaks of rock, were sure to be occupied at once, tall towers to be erected on points of vantage. It was even a common thing to fly huge kites, large enough to support a man, and so obtain a bird's-eye view of the interior of an enemy's castle. Sampei organised a band of scouts, and sent them forth to crawl by night along the narrow causeways that intersected the oozy rice fields, bidding them return with earliest information with regard to the coming of the foe. Parties of braves were despatched in all directions to annex the scanty stores which oppression had left to the peasantry. All possible precautions taken, he divided his men into watches, taught each his post and duty, then waited for the future to unroll.

Nor had he long to wait. As though rising by magic through the ground, an army of combatants appeared, who surrounded the fortress with their engines. From the top of the central tower, crowned with its copper roof and golden fish, could be descried a host so numerous and well-equipped that Sampei stood marvelling how they could be here so quickly. It soon became manifest that they had no intention of endeavouring to storm the place, at least not yet, for they methodically set about the forming of a line of pallisades, consisting of heavy planks propped by hinged supports, behind which they could safely repose, and starve the foe to extremity.

There is nothing so soul-depressing to those hemmed in as a siege thus coldly carried out. The sense of being an animal shut in a trap, the lack of incident and excitement, the feeling of being without the pale of busy humanity, damp the courage, and chill the spirits. There is something so prosaic about a war waged against the stomach. The samurai of Tsu, disorganised already, their native prowess undermined, soon felt the pinch, and began to brawl and murmur. Their lord they saw no more, for, reason rocking on its pedestal, he remained shut up, refusing consolation, within the apartments of the deceased. But for the prestige that clung like a halo round his brother, and enforced a surly and half mutinous obedience, the braves would have thrown open the gates, have attempted to fraternise with the host of invading warriors. But the stoutest among them stood in dread of Sampei,---quailed before the bluff, uncompromising severity which, without the wink of an eyelid, would have made an example of traitors. The vassals of the Hojo fought, discharging arrows and javelins, occasionally making a feeble show of a sortie: but all knew that the end was imminent, that suspense would soon be over.

O'Kikú, grasping, sly, and unheroic, fretted, as may be imagined, bitterly. How different was the present state of things from her cherished rainbow-dream. That sharp repulse, followed by utter neglect, upset her calculations. She appeared of a sudden to have lost influence over all her willing slaves. My lord, absorbed in his own troubles, ignored the fact of her existence. The braves, with whom she was once so popular--many of whom, it must be confessed, were vain at one time of being numbered among her lovers--now gnashed their teeth in her face, and poured on her head twofold the obloquy that had been the portion of O'Tei.

And why was this? Doubtless the truculent and unlettered samurai could scarcely be expected to be logical. Yet having witnessed the passage-of-arms between the ladies, they must know as well as she that the concubine was innocent of the catastrophe. And yet somehow or other it had become plain to their obtuse intelligence that the siren was at the bottom of the trouble. There was no arguing the point, since none could deny that it was from her advent that the run of disaster must be dated. Accustomed to be pampered and petted, she was devoured with smouldering rage, and unreasoning hate of Tsu and Hojo, and all connected with the race, in finding herself treated like a leper. What a pity it was that, lured by a sham glitter, she should have turned aside from the pilgrimage to Isé, for the gathering of mundane baubles. What had she gained by it? Troubles and disappointments, and illusions roughly shattered. And perhaps in the background something even worse was lurking; for she realised with apprehension that she was hedged round with a phalanx of enemies, who persisted in connecting her, in spite of evidence, with the untimely death of the chatelaine. Was there ever anything so unreasonable, and yet fraught with graver peril? My lord was a madman, beset by absurd hallucinations; a furious tiger, accustomed to batten upon blood, as devoid of conscience as of scruple. He had called her murderess, and in the crooked recesses of his muddy brain was concocting some frightful retribution; There was no escape for her by flight, for she was in the position of a kid locked in a den of lions.

In case of personal peril, to whom might O'Kikú turn for succour? Sampei was honest and upright, but on his worn face, when turned to her, was a horrible expression of icy vindictiveness. That he had idolised O'Tei none knew better than she, and she was in some manner connected in his mind with that most unfortunate murder. He also was evidently brooding over some unpleasant form of reprisal. Enemies--nothing but enemies--inside and out; she their future target. At all events Sampei could be counted upon as straight and above mean treason. Gulping down the lees of offended vanity, O'Kikú resolved to clear herself in his eyes from any complicity in the tragedy. He would believe her--for once in her life she would really speak the truth--and he would stand by her if assaulted by the madman. But when, waylaying him one day, with a poor ghostly show of the old coquetry, she entered on the subject, such a wave of blank despair seemed to sweep over him that the words froze on her lips, and he was gone before she had recovered.

Condemned to inaction, deprived of amusement and male companionship, relegated to the uninteresting society of tire-women, the unhappy geisha pined as well as fretted. If they would only let her out,--set the caged bird free! Dreams of ambition faded, she now desired no more than liberty. Several times each day she climbed to the top of the central tower, just under the fish of gold, and gazed--oh, with what longing--at the cohorts of the invading host. The strictest guard was kept at the openings in the palisading, but soldiers off duty were free to amuse themselves. She could see bands of them engaged in military sports. Some went a-hunting, and returned laden. Oh, if she were only with them, outside these horrid walls, beyond which lay tantalising freedom! And what was to be the end? There was only one end possible. All could see that now. Scanty stores, hastily collected, were waning. What then? Gaunt famine stalked already. Would those without linger inactive till the besieged were dead to a man, then march in over the corpses? or would they in a more martial spirit wait only till the braves were weak, and then take the place by escalade? It was too revolting to die thus by inches. The idea suddenly flashed upon the wretched woman, whose moral sense, never acute, was blunting hourly, that the key of the situation was in her own little hand. Why should she not open the postern, let in the foe, who in gratitude would spare her life--maybe applaud and treat her with homage as a heroine? What to her were the Hojos; their illustrious name which was hers--that name about which the silly Masago had preached so loftily--now that they were on the brink of ruin? She had good cause to hate the Hojos. Many a lady in the annals of Japan has bared her breast to her husband's dirk in just such an emergency as this. When the famed Shibata knew all was lost, he gave a final banquet, at the conclusion of which he said to his wife, "You women must go, for it is time for us men to die." And what answer made she? With tears she thanked her lord, she, the sister of Nobunago the Great, composed a farewell verse of poetry, and received his sword into her bosom.

But then O'Kikú was not of noble birth, and such flights did not suit her fancy. She knew herself to be still young and lovely, and full of life, and burning for fresh fields to conquer. If all had gone well, and she had stepped into the dead one's place, she would, outwardly at least, have been henceforth as demure as prudery could desire. Rank and honour and power and appetites pampered, form one condition of things. Untimely death, trapped within four walls, is quite another. It would be merciful,--a deed worthy of commendation, to let the enemy in, and put these doomed ones out of misery. My lord, a prey to goblins, was become quite too contemptible. What a delight to be present at the slaying of the hateful Sampei! Doubtless in yonder host there were many as noble as he who would, when opportunity offered, vie with one another for her favours. Her mind was made up. A fig for the race of Hojo. She would start upon her scheme forthwith.

Changing her tactics, the geisha, braving the scowls of the samurai, became interested in military operations, and despite their new-born dislike of one whom they had come to esteem as a bad angel, it was cheering to be commended by the lips of a pretty woman. She organised her maidens into a band of mercy for the relief of those who were wounded; helped with her own hands to prepare and carry food; filled and passed the saké-cup, declaring that wine gives strength. Sampei observed these proceedings with displeasure, but did not interfere. One morning when the commander was busy, and she knew herself unwatched, O'Kikú crept to the top of the tower with her dainty bow, and discharged into the air an arrow, round which was wrapped a paper. As she marked its flight, and perceived that it fell beyond the palisade, "So far well," she murmured. "This suspense will conclude to-night."

The weather was exceeding cold, the blood of the soldiers thin, by reason of under-feeding. Both food and drink were scrupulously measured now in gradually shrinking rations. But the wily damsel had a private supply of saké, remnant of that with which she used to ply my lord before his late visit to Kiŷoto. She prepared and warmed a pot of it, in which she distilled some seeds, and waited with philosophic patience for the night. Then, robed in a dark soft kimono, she stole through the first gate, and round under shadow of the fatal belt of trees, regardless of their wooing and their sighing (she was not one to be tricked to suicide), and thus reached unseen the corner of the outer gate. The muffled sentinel was leaning upon his lance against the parapet, and started from doleful reverie as she appeared before him.