The Hōjō chief, the only one of the party who was entirely free from the influence of the superstitious spell which worked upon the others, leaped forward with a yell of rage as he saw his two companions fall. As he did so, he stumbled against the platter containing Yamagawa’s head, and in falling, the point of his sword pierced his knee through and through, inflicting an extremely painful wound, and bringing him to the ground with a wail of anguish while the cry of his onslaught was yet ringing through the room. He lay there helpless, his fall utterly demoralizing the surviving men-at-arms. Two of them took no active part whatsoever, one having drawn his sword without attempting to use it; while the other had not even done as much, but had remained in his seat gazing upon every movement of Sennoske’s weapon with a stupid, helpless stare, evidently the outgrowth of superstitious fears. The remaining two who still stood opposed to the young champion, dismayed by the scene before them, wielded their swords mechanically and aimlessly, and seemed almost to rush upon their own destruction as they were cut down by Sennoske’s blade. The young man proceeded in his self-imposed task almost like an executioner carrying out a sentence, and sparing none. Last of all he turned upon Taka Suke, who, having drawn the weapon from his leg, lay writhing on the floor in transports of pain and rage, making wild, ineffectual attempts to strike his opponent. By this time numbers of the visitors in the house had hurried to the doors of the room where the tragedy was being enacted; these had been opened, but the Ise men prevented any one from entering, and a crowd of faces looked in upon the tragic spectacle. Kataki-uchi! kataki-uchi! resounded from every side, causing all within ear-shot to rush to the spot; but the reason being known, no one would have interfered, even if the Ise men had not guarded the entrance.
SENNOSKE FACING HIS ENEMIES.
As Sennoske looked at the man writhing at his feet, he thought of his dead mother, of his father’s manhood blighted and seared by foul machinations, and of his faithful attendant’s untimely death; and a savage feeling of revengeful joy, utterly foreign to his brave but gentle nature, took possession of him. He lowered his blade, which he had raised already, and addressing the other, spoke to him in words which fell upon his ears like molten lead injected into living veins. As he called him by name,—by the hated name of Taka Suke, than which none was more execrated in the country,—the spectators gave unmistakable signs of satisfaction. “It is small honor, and little cause for deserving men’s esteem, to fulfil the obligations of kataki-uchi against you, Taka Suke,” he said, “and it merely becomes a duty like that of the executioner putting a criminal to death. You have tyrannized over and trampled upon all in your power, you have, without compunction, bereft them of possessions, of good name, and of life, as long as the Hōjō influence gave you authority and means, and left your victims without redress. Now, when this power no longer shields you, you have been unable, in spite of the assistance of six stalwart men-at-arms, to defend yourself against a ‘boy,’ as you call him. But this ‘boy’ is strengthened and inspired by something which you lack, and which you think of no value. He fights in the holy cause of right and of a just retribution. In killing you I restore to my father his honor and prestige, which you tried to take from him; and in his name, and in the name of all others whom you have unjustly accused and condemned, I hereby fulfil—”
“Hold, hold!” interrupted the doomed man. “Let me commit seppuku. It is a privilege which is granted to the lowest of our class, and one which by virtue of my rank I claim; I appeal to all within hearing to see that it is granted to me.” As he spoke, his voice became almost pleading, and for the first time an unmistakable sign of fear showed itself together with the sneering malice and the evil hate of which the face still spoke so strongly. Added to this were the traces of physical pain; and the whole effect was so repulsive that those at the doors, many of whom were no strangers to scenes of death, turned aside, half in disgust, half in dread. As they did so, the wretched man reiterated his request frantically, without giving time for a response, shrieking it out at last in an agony of wild terror. This man, who during his life had been bound by no knightly law, who while in the fulness of health had remained untouched alike by feelings of veneration for what others held sacred, and by feelings of dread for what others feared, now, with death before him, clung desperately to the thought of dying like a samurai. He had known scores of men in the flower of their years die in such a way serene and contented, and probably the thought of this prompted his demand. He could not feel resigned to death; he clung to life with fierce desire, with some wild hope of escape, or at least delay, from the doom which he yet knew to be inevitable.
A FUNERAL.