Chiushingura (1880)/Book 2

n an evening in the Yayoi^[1] month, Kakogaha Honzô, a man of some fifty years of age, and of matured intelligence, shikkenshoku^[2] of Wakasanosuke almost ever since the tall pines had overshadowed the courtyard of his lord’s castle, was pacing to and fro before the sho-in,^[3] while the servants, muttering together over their task, were sweeping up the dead leaves, and putting everything in due order.

“Yesterday, at Tsuruga-oka,” said one of them, “our master was grievously insulted by the Lord Moronaho. They talk of nothing else in the servants’ quarters. Indeed, it is said that violence was used towards him.”

“Yai, yai!” cried Honzô, breaking in, “what is all this about—what have you to do with such matters? If your work is finished, away with you, every one.”

​Honzô spoke good-humouredly enough; and, just as he ended, the clatter of footsteps resounded in the verandah, and his only daughter, Konami, and her mother, Tonasé, came together out of one of the apartments.

“How is this?” he exclaimed, in a sharp tone, “both of you absent from attendance on your mistress, amusing yourselves instead of looking after your duties. Shame upon you—ten thousand times shame upon you.”^[4]

“Nay, father,” said Konami, “our mistress is more than usually well to-day, she is now quietly asleep; is it not so, mother?”

“Yes,” replied the latter. “But, Honzô, our mistress has just been telling me a report she heard from Konami that our lord Wakasanosuke and Moronaho had words together after the close of yesterday’s ceremony at Tsuruga-oka.^[5] Our mistress is very anxious about it.”

“Now, now, Tonasé,” cried her husband, “why do you listen to such stupid rumours? Have a care, have a care! So our daughter here got hold of this rumour yesterday, did she ? How people talk, to be sure—but the whole thing is ridiculous; I must go and put your mistress’s mind at ease about what you have told her.”

Just as he was quitting the spot, however, a warder came up and announced “Rikiya Sama, the son of Ohoboshi Yuranosuke.”

“Ha!” said Honzô, “he will have brought instructions about the reception of the guests at court to-morrow. Tonasé, hear what he has to say, and inform our lord of his message. And stay, Rikiya and Konami are betrothed; so treat him civilly. I must away to your mistress.”

So saying, Honzô hurried off in the direction of the inner apartments.

“Ah,” cried Tonasé, approaching closer to her daughter, “your father was always a punctilious man, but in this matter I am not at all of his mind. ’Tis you ought to receive the message, not I. You and

​your affianced would, of course, like to see each other, and be with each other a little; therefore, you take my place and receive Rikiya—what say you?”

But Konami only turned red, and, although her mother repeated the question, gave no answer. The latter divining, however, her daughter’s real wishes, immediately feigned an attack of hysterics.

“Ai, ta, ta, ta,—daughter,—rub my back, please; I have been fearing this ever since the morning. It is another attack of my usual spasms. Ah! it will be impossible for me to receive the messenger. Ai, ta, ta, ta,—daughter,—I must get you to receive him instead of myself. Take care to treat him civilly, and offer refreshments. This fit quite prevents me. Mind you offer refreshments; and, when Rikiya has partaken of them, take his message carefully and make my excuses to him.”

With these words Tonasé hobbled off towards the inner apartments. Konami, bowing after her mother with an expression of entreaty, said to herself, “Of late Rikiya has become very dear to me, but what am I to say? How shall I act when I meet him?”

A timid blush dyed her soft cheek as she made these reflections, and her little heart went “pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat,” like the tiny waves^[6] breaking on the sea-shore.

Presently, Rikiya was announced, and immediately afterwards entered the apartment, saluting Konami courteously. He was a handsome youth; and, as he and Konami shyly interchanged glances, they were mutually charmed with each other. Neither could find a word to say, modesty dyeing her cheek with the hue of the plum-blossom, rivalled by the blush of the wild cherry that overspread the face of her betrothed; and, the pair being alone, there was no intermediary to bring them closer together.^[7]

“Welcome, Sir,” exclaimed Konami, with some embarrassment; “we ​hardly know how to thank you for the trouble you are put to on our behalf. I am charged with the duty of receiving your communication. Pray let me know what it is”—approaching her betrothed as she uttered the last words.

Rikiya, however, drew back with an offended air. “Hold!” he cried, “this is scarcely civil. All the world knows that when a message is to be received, the forms of politeness ought to be rigidly observed.” “My lord Yenya,” he continued, “informs Wakasanosuke that His Excellency’s order is, that both my lord and yours be at their posts to-morrow morning at the seventh hour precisely (4 A.M.), and in everything submit themselves, without failing in any particular, to the directions of Moronaho.”

As the words flowed softly like water from the youth’s mouth, Konami was struck with admiration, and could not find a word to say in reply: so completely was she under the charm of his address. At this juncture a partition was pushed back, and Wakasanosuke, who had heard the whole conversation from an adjoining room, entered the apartment.

“Oh, I understand—many thanks, messenger. Yesterday, when I took leave of His Excellency, I somehow missed Hanguwan. Tomorrow morning, is it? At the seventh hour precisely? Good, You may assure your master I shall not fail to be there. Commend me to your lord, and thank him for me; and I must thank you, too, messenger.”

“Your lordship, then,” said Rikiya, “will permit me to take leave. And to you, lady,” addressing Konami, “I beg to express my thanks for having received my message.”

So saying, Rikiya courteously withdrew. Tonasé who had all this time remained hidden behind a screen, where, after leaving her daughter upon a pretended plea of illness, she had concealed herself, also slipped away unperceived. Hardly had she disappeared when Honzô entered the apartment.

“Ah, your lordship is here? I am very sorry to have to remind you that your lordship’s presence at the palace is required so early as ​the seventh hour. It is already midnight. Will it not be well to take some rest?”

“Is it indeed so late? But hark ye, Honzô, I must have some talk with you, in private. Send your daughter away.”

“Do you hear?” cried the Shikkenshoku, addressing his daughter; “If we want you we will clap hands. Away with you.”

“I was desirous,” pursued Honzô, after she had withdrawn, approaching his lord, whose face had assumed an expression of the deepest concern, “I was desirous of being allowed to inquire what was troubling your lordship? I pray you, tell me everything without any reserve.”

“You must swear to me that you will attend to what I am about to say, whatever may be the results, without making a single objection.”

“Surely, my lord, that is a strange request to your servant; whose duty it is to do whatever he may be directed.”

“So, then, you will not give me your oath as a Bushi.”^[8]

“Nay, not so,—but first I would ask to hear the whole matter from your lordship.”

“Then you will give me your advice! Nay, but perhaps you would oppose my wishes.”

“Is not my lord assured of his servant’s respectful attention and devotedness? I will not interrupt your lordship by a single word. I pray you, therefore, tell me all, now; and be not angry with this fellow Honzô, who will treasure up in his inmost heart whatever you may deign to confide to him.”

“Well, then, I will tell you everything. As you know, the Kuwanrei^[9] Nahoyoshi came down to Kamakura a short time since, to inaugurate the shrine that has just been completed at Tsuruga-oka. Yenya and I were charged with the duty of receiving guests, and were commanded by His Highness the Shôgun to put ourselves under the ​orders of Moronaho, a nobleman of great experience in all ceremonial matters. Moronaho took to riding the high horse, and day by day grew harsher and stricter with me, who am one of the youngest and least experienced of all the samurahi in Kamakura. At last his insolence passed all bounds, and I would have ere now cut him in pieces, were it not that the respect due to His Highness has always forbidden me to give way to my passion, and wreak vengeance upon my enemy. But my patience is exhausted. To-morrow, come what may, I will throw back his insults in his face before the whole court. My honour as a samurahi is at stake. This hand shall strike the villain dead. And you, Honzô, beware of attempting to restrain me. My wife, and you too, have often remonstrated with me of late, because of my quick temper gaining more and more the mastery over me, and I know your counsel is good. But a samurahi, with the spirit of a samurahi, I can no longer brook these repeated insults. You will say, I am courting destruction, bringing grief upon my wife. Too true, perhaps; but the sword I wear, and the dread archer-god to whom I pray, command me to wipe out the insults to my honour. Even though I die not upon the battle-field, if I slay this Moronaho, a service will be done to the Empire, and the name of my house will be saved from infamy. I have spoken thus freely with you that my motives may be known, and that it may not be said of me afterwards that I rushed upon my fate in a mere fit of passion, like a mad fool or a stupid wild-boar.”

“Most clearly have you put the matter, my lord. You have indeed acted with wisdom throughout,—a wisdom your servant could never hope to imitate.”

“Yai! Honzô,” cried his master, interrupting him; “what say you? I have acted with wisdom, have shown forbearance. What means this? Dare you to insult me?”

“Far from your servant any such thought. Street-folk, it is true, take the shady side of the road in winter, and the sunny one in summer, to avoid disputes; but samurahi follow no such coward’s rule. I pray you excuse my ill-considered words. Search my heart, my lord, ​and you will find in it no thought of disrespect to your servant’s master.”

As he uttered the last words Honzô drew his short sword, and with a blow cut off a branch from a pine-tree that stood close to the verandah in front of the room where the conversation was being held: immediately returning the weapon deftly to its scabbard.

“Sa! So let the enemies of my lord perish by his hand.”

“Silence! Look well, lest there be any one about who can hear what we say.”

“And now, my lord,” said the Shikkenshoku, after having peeped into the adjoining room to satisfy his master, “it is already midnight, pray take some rest: I will myself see to the alarm-clock. Do not delay, I pray you.”

“I am glad you quite understand me. If I see my wife, I shall make some excuse for leaving her.”

Bidding Honzô good night, Wakasanosuke then withdrew. For a few moments Honzô gazed after his lord wistfully; then rousing himself, he bent his steps hastily in the direction of the servants’ quarters.

“Ho, there, some of you,” he cried in a loud tone, “saddle a horse for me, quick.”

The order was obeyed without delay, and Honzô at once swung himself into the saddle.

“Follow me, I go to the mansion of Moronaho.”

As he spoke, Tonasé and Konami came out of an apartment, and hurrying up to him, hung upon his bridle, exclaiming—“Where are you going? We have overheard everything. How, Honzô! You an old man, and yet you do not endeavour to moderate our lord’s anger by your wisdom—what can this mean? Stay, stay!”

And the two women clung beseechingly to his bridle.

“Silence, both of you,” cried the Shikkenshoku, angrily. “Our lord’s life—the existence of his house—are at stake. Mind you do not utter a word about my departure to your master. If you betray me, you, daughter, shall be turned out of my family, and you, Tonasé, ​shall be divorced. Ho, there (to the servants), I will give you your orders on the way.”

Tonasé and Konami uttered an exclamation of alarm.

“You are too importunate,” repeated Honzô, sharply. “Delay not (to the servants), but follow me.” So saying, he hastily rode off, clouds of dust marking his rapid passage. Tonasé and her daughter immediately afterwards betook themselves with heavy hearts to the inner apartments.