The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan. Wingfield Lewis
"Why is it? You, Koshiu, whose words were ever of moment, and treated with respect, although from your stubborn pride you were never popular, instead of helping us, have been hanging back, content with grumbling complaint. We must act now, I tell you, and rend the air no more with idle moaning, or else we perish all! Gird up your loins, man. Awake! For unless this torrent of greed be stemmed, although less poor than most, you will soon be a beggar like the rest."
"My husband," interrupted Kennui, "is misjudged. He loves the people, and grieves for them, but perceives that resistance is useless-idle remonstrance will but make their plight more pitiful."
"The beetle in combat with the bear!" laughed the farmer drearily. "Act, forsooth! All this is idle prate, believe me. What can we do but die?"
"No idle prate," retorted Zembei. "Listen. By deputation-of which you would not form one-we humbly prayed and entreated the local counsellors of my lord: – the leeches-to be more lenient; but they replied that they were only tools, exactly performing his bidding. Then, after anxious thought and discussion, gathering together in secret the chiefs of a hundred villages, at peril of our heads, we resolved to draw up and send a solemn petition, signed by all, to my lord's golden dwelling at Kiŷoto, imploring justice. Twelve of the most respected elders, chosen from the assembly by lot, undertook the dangerous task. Clad in their grass rain-coats, they sallied forth, and arrived in time at Kiŷoto."
"Idiots!" scoffed Koshiu. "Did they pay a long farewell to wives and little ones?"
"Arrived at the Golden House, they were received at the gate with blows and contumely."
"What else did they expect?" inquired the farmer-"to be feasted in the room of honour? Other lords perhaps, dreading public exposure of their misdeeds, might, if pushed, hasten to repair a wrong-the Hojos never; for the Hojos have no shame."
Miné pouted, and rapped the pavement with impatient clog.
"To be sweeping is always to be unjust!" she cried shrilly, from the border of the pond. "There are good as well as bad in every family."
"Hush, child, hush! Be dutiful!" reproved her mother. "Thou wast bewitched by soft empty speeches and a bold bearing. It was a bad day for thee when the lord Sampei came among us!"
"He is good and brave and generous," returned the girl, with burning face, "my lord Sampei!"
Miné cooed out the name that was on every one's lips, with such an exceeding abandonment of tenderness as startled her father into attention.
"More words less sense!" he remarked testily. "My lord Sampei! what hast thou to do with him or his? My lord Sampei forsooth! Wouldst be a Hojo's concubine? Never! I'd see thee dead first."
"The maid speaks not untruly," nodded Rokubei. "Sampei is in all things, save his name, unlike his brother. Through his mother Masago, the holy Abbess, he has peasant blood in his veins."
"And she," chimed in the girl, "the late lord's concubine, although of peasant stock, is worthy to be noble. As good as her son is the Abbess Masago. Cold and severe, no doubt, but just and lovable."
"How the child prates!" cried Madam Koshiu. "The lord Sampei has been absent these five years, skull-cracking, and is but just returned. What canst thou know of him? When he sailed, thou wert a little maid, and even than now more foolish."
"From his mother I have heard of him," admitted the blushing girl.
"So this was thy religious fervour, praying so often at the temple!" exclaimed the angry farmer. "Take heed, thou silly wench, or I will punish thee, and grievously. What! A cur can bark loudly before its own gate, and I can defend my own. Once for all, no more of the lord Sampei, or it will go ill with thee. Banish from thy feather-pate idle worship of thy betters."
The mien of Koshiu was so stern and threatening, that though words of indignant protest rose to her lips, the girl was silent.
"What if he were prevailed upon to intercede for us?" mused Rokubei. "He is as generous as brave-no doubt of that. My lord, after his brother's career of victory, could scarce refuse him a favour."
"Five years bring about great changes," growled the farmer. "Five years ago Hojo No-Kami was no worse than others of his rank. You will never persuade me that aught of good is to be found in a Hojo, legitimate or otherwise. Enough of him. Go on with your story of the elders."
"They were received, as I told you, at the outer gate with blows and curses. Had they not fled, murder would have been done, for a posse of samurai rushed out of the guardhouse, like devils, brandishing pikes. Disconcerted, grieved, and bruised, they returned to their inn to consult. Was the journey to go for nothing? Were they to return like beaten dogs, without even seeing my lord? Peradventure face to face with him something might yet be done, and his hard heart softened by their dismal catalogue of woe. They plumed their ruffled feathers, therefore, and lay in wait, and when he rode forth citywards, emerged from a clump of trees, and kneeling humbly in the dust, presented their petition. He took it, and, grinding his teeth with eyes aflame, turned savagely to his attendants.
"'Remove these wretches!' he thundered, 'who by persistent insolence have deserved more than death. By-and-by will I pass judgment on them. Torment shall reward their temerity.'"
A silence of dismay followed the elder's narrative. Koshiu was surely right-his deep hate justified. It seemed that the existing Hojo was worse than any of his ancestors-and so young too! What a gloomy future for unhappy fatherland! What a sunless roll of years!
"The land is ripe for revolt, if we could find a leader we could trust," observed Zembei, who had been nursing his knees in silence. "The other lords are weary of the Hojo, but unfortunately jealous of each other. If they would bury for a time their private feuds, things might yet come right. He who ventures not within the den, will never take the cub."
"There is no trusty leader, except the victorious General, himself a Hojo!" added the other elder. "Buddha has forgotten us. The case is beyond mortal settling. There is left for us nothing but to die."
Here was a dismal and unsatisfactory conclusion to the debate, and it seemed that there was no other, for each with dolorous visage eyed his neighbour, with nothing more to say.
Miné, tossing off her geta on the garden stones, and springing up with pretty pink feet upon the matted floor, came forward.
"I am but a girl," she said timidly, "and, my father tells me, foolish. Yet from mouths of fools sometimes come words of wisdom. You can die, you say. Is not death the last resource, when all else has failed, for escaping from earthly woe? Masago, the dear Abbess, is worshipped for miles around. Prejudiced though you are, you have nought to say but praise of her goodness and her piety. Sampei is her son-nay, I will speak-and who should know a son better than his mother? In your grief you are prone to believe evil, and speak harsh and unjust words of him you know not. Seek him out, and implore his intercession with his brother. Seek out the lady O'Tei-an angel come to earth. She, the chatelaine, is now at the castle yonder. Entreat her help as well, and sure betwixt the two that stony heart shall melt."
Miné blushed like a tea-rose at finding herself thus boldly haranguing a trio of grizzled pates, and flinging herself down by her mother's side in sudden bashfulness, buried her hot face in her bosom.
"Buddha is not asleep," observed Madame Koshiu, with conviction, as she stroked her daughter's head. "Verily the child speaks wisely words that are put into her mouth."
"We will follow her counsel," assented the marvelling Zembei, "for the gods-whose names be praised-are with us. Urged by his brother and his wife, my lord will surely give us the lives of the devoted elders. We-Rokubei and Zembei-will journey ourselves to Kiŷoto, and make another effort. Learn, O stubborn Koshiu, a lesson from thy child, who has given us the counsel that we needed."
The farmer shook his head.
"Cursed be the tree of Hojo, root and branch!" he cried. "Its fruit is crime, its blossom, wickedness. My lord Sampei and my lord No-Kami are scourges both! Go your ways, and do as you think fit. I tell you your errand will be vain."
Was there ever any one so obstinate as this sturdy Koshiu? – a man who could only rail instead of bestowing help. The two elders were about to upbraid him for his mulishness, for they, like others,