“I have long looked forward to the breaking out of this war, and I thought at one time that my son would realize my hopes of a glorious career in arms; but although physically strong and active, he does not possess a nature to achieve great things. You, however, I firmly believe, will make a name. When you return from this campaign the hand of O Tetsu shall be yours; and the name of Muramasa shall indeed be coupled, not only with the skill of the forge, but also with the memory of heroic deeds. This sword which I give you forms part of the dowry of your future bride, with whom I will now leave you to say your last farewell. Before you start for the seat of war, if your father is as yet unacquainted with what I know is your wish as well as mine, I desire you to inform him of the purport of our conversation.”
The parting of the lovers was of necessity brief, as it was time for Sennoske to return; but deep love and passionate devotion spoke on both sides, and O Tetsu was overjoyed at hearing that her father had openly countenanced their mutual affection. As the young man passed through the forge on his way home, he again wished to thank the smith for his princely gift; but Muramasa, who had relapsed into his usual taciturn mood, stopped him short, telling him that his father had a right to whatever time was still at his disposal. With a few words of farewell to the smith and his son, and a last look at O Tetsu’s window, he tore himself away.
When he reached home he found his father sitting beside the brazier, with letters and papers spread out before him. At the sight of the magnificent sword, Mutto showed even more emotion than his son had expected under the circumstances. He looked at it on all sides, weighed it in his hands, and partly withdrew the blade, slowly, inch by inch, replacing it only to withdraw it similarly over and over again. While this was going on, Sennoske, not without a sinking heart, acquainted him with what had happened regarding O Tetsu; but, contrary to his fears and expectations, the recital elicited no displeasure and hardly any surprise.
RESENTING AN INSULT.
“Many a man superior to you in worldly position would willingly and gladly marry an Eta if she brought him such a dowry,” was the response; “and even without this princely gift I could have raised no objection to your marriage with one who is in other respects your equal. But, my boy,” Mutto continued, in a tone which showed that he was powerfully affected, “you run a risk beyond that of any of your companions. With your strength, your skill in arms, and your discriminating wisdom, I have no fears for you as to the ordinary chances of battle. If you fall, it will be as a hero. Otherwise, with all these advantages, added to the sword you carry, you will be sure to achieve distinction.
“There is, however, a task which devolves upon you where no public honor is to be gained, and where the danger is infinitely greater,—nay, where it is extremely doubtful whether you will survive success, or even the mere attempt to achieve it. I have refrained from speaking to you about this heretofore, and my intention was to give you all the particulars to-day. But upon mature consideration I have determined again to defer it. Old Yamagawa, who accompanies you, knows the matter, and has my orders to disclose it to you when the occasion demands. I know you will not hesitate a moment to do and dare everything to accomplish the object I have in view; but act with prudence and circumspection, and do not endanger yourself recklessly. My future without you would be dreary; and although I should not hesitate to sacrifice your young, hopeful life in the pursuit of a just vengeance, yet to see that vengeance accomplished and still preserve you would be happiness indeed. You have yet to take leave of the Duke, and you will naturally desire to show your sword at court. Do not be chary of doing so; it will be of great benefit to you. You will start with the first approach of dawn, and we will spare each other the pain of any further leave-taking. So farewell, and may the gods protect and prosper you!”
Sennoske was deeply touched; yet, with the varied emotions which the day had brought forth, the pain of separation was less acute than under ordinary circumstances it would have been. At the castle the preparations for the departure of so many men of rank caused an unusual stir, with attendant bustle and commotion. When, after having himself announced, Sennoske entered the large audience-hall, he found it filled with court nobles and with those who, like himself, were bound for the war, and had come to pay their homage to the Duke before departure. Passing through the crowded ranks to the raised platform where the Duke had his seat, he there made the customary low obeisance. Ono ga Sawa, with whom he had always been a favorite, after addressing him in his usual kindly way, at once fixed his attention upon the sword, which in truth looked sufficiently conspicuous.
“What, Sennoske,” he exclaimed, “you, who are such a sober, steady youth, nevertheless indulge in this finery, and begin to be a dandy now, when rough life in field and camp is about to open for you! It must have cost all your pocket-money to have this tinsel put on your sword. In my time we took pride only in the blade itself, and carried it in unvarnished plain wooden scabbards. Is it your old sword, or have you also exchanged it for some modern weapon which glitters and shines to match the outside, but which will break as soon as your hand causes it to fall upon helmet or cuirass?”