“When your father left the castle after this interview he was a man broken in body, in heart, and in spirit. In addition thereto came the illness of his beloved wife, your mother, which in a few days assumed a fatal character. After her death he found it impossible to continue living in the same place, where all those whose esteem he cared for now shunned him. He was on the verge of madness, and only his flight, I believe, saved him from such a fate. We separated, to avoid attracting attention and to elude pursuit. He confided you to my care; and you must remember the night of our departure, when we went one way and he another. In the middle of the night, like a thief and a malefactor, he left the place where until now he had been foremost in rank and position, as well as in the esteem of the people. We met by appointment in a mountain retreat of Idzu, at the house of an old friend and companion-in-arms who had turned priest and was leading a quiet, secluded life. There we remained a year, which enabled your father to regain his tranquillity; and then we travelled on to Kuwana, where, as you know, he took service with Ono ga Sawa. When making arrangements for his flight he had taken care, in his fear for the safety of his master’s sons, that Taka Suke should be informed after his departure that he had fled to a life of seclusion, and would sacredly keep the vow he had taken. He has since often regretted his twofold promise; for tidings which reached him from one or two friends who remained true to him left very little doubt that the young dukes had really been killed, and that Taka Suke’s version of their exile was a fabrication to work upon the feelings of a noble mind which had proved itself superior to all sordid influences.”
The kakioki here came to an end, concluding with the usual formulas, stamp, and seal pertaining to such a document. During the reading, Yamagawa had retained his death-grip on his wound. Superior will-power made him oblivious to physical pain, and enabled him to retain consciousness until the testament had been read to the end. Motioning now to Sennoske to come nearer, and summoning all his energies, he succeeded, although in a scarcely audible whisper, in saying his final words:—
“From what I have learned in the course of this campaign from men of our old province who no longer feared the Hōjō, the doubt as to the fate of Ando Goro’s sons has resolved itself into a certainty. I ought to have acquainted you with all this at once, causing you to search out that venomous beast, Taka Suke; but I hesitated, knowing him to be as cunning as he is wicked, and brave and strong withal. I also wished to let you first enjoy the pleasure and triumph that await you at home; and I half hoped and half wished that before long he would meet his just doom at other hands. I have erred grievously in believing that the Fates which govern the world would allow such a just vengeance to remain unfulfilled by him who evidently was designed to execute it. The signal way in which the divine will has been declared in this instance proves to me also that I need have no fear for the result. I die happy in this consciousness; and now, Sennoske, although I am of inferior rank, I know you will show me the last and greatest mark of friendship which one samurai can show to another.”
As he spoke he released the grip of his hands, the ghastly wound opened wide, and he fell partly forward, with life evidently very nearly extinct. Sennoske did not hesitate, for to withhold his hand now would have been cruel as well as contrary to all law and usage. Taking Yamagawa’s sword and grasping it firmly in both hands, with a muttered blessing which the other seemed to understand and acknowledge by a last flicker illuminating his face, his young master made one sweeping downward stroke. The head rolled on the ground, and a life of patient, unselfish, and sacrificing devotion came to a sad but an honorable end.
STATE SWORD AND HEAD-DRESS.
CHAPTER XI.
“Now for Taka Suke!” cried a younger member of the party, excitedly. But he said no more, and hung his head abashed; for a stern glance from his older companions showed him plainly that many words and loud talk were not only not needed, but even out of place at this moment. In glancing round the room, Sennoske saw the servant who had attended him, and who, fascinated by what he had seen and heard, had remained unnoticed in a corner. He was summoned, and told to put Yamagawa’s head on one of the platters lying on the floor, and to precede the young soldier to his enemy’s room. The poor fellow hardly appreciated the active part assigned to him in this drama. “I am not used to carrying cut-off heads,” he stammered; “I shall be certain to commit some breach of etiquette: so please excuse me.” As he spoke, with his head on the floor, raising it at every few words to look around in a half-frightened, half-foolish sort of way, and bringing it down again with a hard thump in the unconscious excess of his apologetic speech, his appearance under other circumstances would certainly have been sufficiently ludicrous. A reiterated command caused him to slide upon his knees to where the ghastly head lay on the floor; but as he brought his hands near it, his courage failed him, and he made a precipitate rush for the door. He was not allowed to leave, however, and a sharp blow with a scabbard across his shoulders by one of the party, an old soldier who had little sympathy for such scruples or squeamishness, caused the physical pain partly to overcome his nervous sensitiveness. Sennoske, with his usual consideration for the feelings of others, seeing the state of mind the man was in, himself gently placed the head on one of the platters; and the servant, with averted face, then took heart to raise it up and to proceed to the room of Taka Suke.