The Shogun's Daughter

by Robert Ames Bennet

“But the Shogun’s daughter—my bride?” I exclaimed, selfishly heedless of whatever fate the geisha may have suffered. “You think it possible that Keiki will again attack her cortege?”

“Look for all evil from your foe when fortune seems fairest. Go now. The gods await your prayers.”

I bowed, and with unfeigned gravity went in to set the daily offerings before the Buddhist family shrine and murmur the daily invocation before the Shinto tablets: “Ye forefathers of the generations, and of our families, and of our kindred,—unto you, the founders of our homes, we utter the gladness of our thanks.”

My duty as acting head of the household was fulfilled, but my disquiet continued. I returned to the garden and roved about for hours, unable to overcome the dread of impending disaster. As evening approached, my alarm increased, though I knew that Fujimaro and Yuki had been sent with a powerful escort to accompany the bride. When I was required to go in to prepare for the ceremony, Tokiwa Sama sought to smile away my dread. But I was in a fever of apprehension until announcement was made that the bridal cortege was entering the great gate of the yashiki.

At this my dread gave way to joy no less unreasoning. I hastened in my ceremonial costume to the position within the entrance where I was to receive my bride. Outside, to right and left, two fires had been lighted, and beside each an aged couple stood waiting with a rice mortar. Near me was stationed one of the ladies-in-waiting with a lantern, and other ladies stood behind her.

The armed escort had halted in the courtyard, and the bridal party was already entering the inner enclosure. In the light of the gay lanterns I saw the norimon of the Princess, which had been turned about end for end to symbolize her death to her family. It was borne forward in the midst of the high officials of the palace household. My chief retainers gathered before the entrance to meet and exchange congratulations with the hatamotos. The old couples beside the fires began to pound rice in their mortars and to call out felicitations: “A thousand years!—Ten thousand years!”

The norimon, which had been placed upon the mats, was again raised and borne in before me. The lady-in-waiting held her lantern for me. I parted the curtain and looked in upon the lovely face of my bride. Her pure young eyes met mine, aglow with the soft radiance of perfect love and trust. For either to have spoken would have been most improper. But we gazed deep into one another’s eyes.

The lady-in-waiting uttered a faint murmur. Azai blushed scarlet and raised one of her sleeves before her face. With her free hand she held out to me the bag of brocaded silk that contained her amulet or talisman. As I took it from her, the norimon was carried in past me, led by the lady with the lantern. I handed the amulet bag to another lady-in-waiting, and withdrew to my private rooms.

Even to my impatience the interval did not seem unduly prolonged before I was requested to enter the ceremonial chamber. My attendants stopped in the anteroom. I entered alone.

Azai sat in the place of honor, before the tokonoma, dressed in robes of pure white silk, which had been sent to her in my name. Over her head was draped a veil of white crepe. To all others the costume was symbolic of death and mourning, to myself it was the emblem of bridal purity.