The Shogun's Daughter

by Robert Ames Bennet

On the third day I was roused before dawn and led to a bathroom. My wounds were now almost healed, and my full strength had come back to me. But when I stepped from the cage, my arms were gripped by two samurais in such a manner that a slight twist would have dislocated the shoulder joints. Of this I was given a hint, as a warning against any attempt to escape. Otherwise I was treated with deference. After the bath I was clad in a worn but clean robe of silk, and led back to my cage for breakfast.

When I had eaten, I was again asked to leave the cage. As I stepped through the opening, etas seized me and lashed my arms behind my back. I was led out to a court crowded with warriors in full armor, and forced into a kago, over which nets were wound. Dawn had not yet come, but torches flung a weird and lurid light over the outlandish figures of the armored samurais.

Another kago was borne forward past mine. Within the nets that enmeshed it I saw the bowed form of a woman. She raised her head, and I perceived the pallid face of Kohana. She greeted me with a smile that wrenched my heart.

“Buddha bless you!” I called. “Be strong. There is one who awaits us beyond!”

Her dark eyes glistened with tears of gratitude at the words of sympathy. But the bearers of her kago hastened past. She disappeared among the close ranks of the samurais. A signal was given, and the torch bearers filed out of the court. The samurais strutted after, with clanking armor. Others appeared and fell in behind my kago. I was borne out in the midst of the procession.

Outside the gateway of the yashiki, Keiki, mounted on an armored stallion, waited at the head of several thousand warriors. The lowly geisha and the despised tojin were to be escorted through Yedo by an army of samurais—though not in honor.

Dawn was at hand as we started along the causeway of the outer moat towards Owari Yashiki. Far away, over the western suburbs of the city, I caught the glorious vision of Fuji-yama, glowing high in the blue-black sky, like a symbol of hope in the night of my despair. My spirits revived with unreasoning elation. But Keiki led his warriors on along the causeway, and within the half-hour the exultant Mito men were marching past Owari Yashiki in the full light of dawn, with an insolent clamor of conches and wooden clappers. The ranks about me opened out, that I might be seen.

No sound came from the yashiki; no face peered from the grated windows. We clashed past the great gateway. It was closed tight. The Mito men strutted past, shouting in derision. No band rushed out in fierce sortie, as I had expected. No face appeared at the windows. I was abandoned to my fate. My head sank forward upon my breast.

Before me rose a picture of the beautiful gardens and fairylike palace; of my quaint and gentle little mother Tokiwa, my stately father. But all vanished before the white face of Azai. A pang of doubt and despair pierced my brain. Was Azai still here in the yashiki, vainly longing for me?—had she gone before me, with her dirk through that white throat?—or had she been taken away to be given to Keiki? I muttered a curse upon my friends. I was being borne past the end of Owari Yashiki, and not even Yuki my swordbearer had struck a blow for me....

Down through west and south Yedo was a long and tedious march. But I failed to heed the passage of time. I had sunk into a lethargy of despair. Only once I roused up. They were bearing me past the groves of Shiba, now glorious with the tints of autumn. The northeast monsoon, after weeks of steady effort, had blown the moisture of the Japan Current southward. The air was as clear as crystal, the blue sky cloudless. It was no day to lead a man out to a hideous death—I should have been strolling through the gardens with Azai....