CHAPTER XXX.
BATTLES.
Heiyas was at the gates of Osaka with an army of three hundred thousandmen. Coming from the northern provinces, he had traversed the greatIsland of Nipon, crushing, as he passed, the detachments stationed toguard the country. The soldiers of Fide-Yori died like heroes; notone flinched. The troops of the princes, on the contrary, made but afeeble resistance. However, it was impossible to stay the course ofHieyas' army, mighty as a river swollen by rain. It reached Osaka, andsurrounded the city. Without pausing for rest, it attacked the townsimultaneously on every side.
Fide-Yori had divided his army into three bodies of fifty thousandeach: Signenari and Moritzka commanded the first; Harounaga,Moto-Tsoumou, and Aroufza, the second; Yoke-Moura, the third. Thesoldiers were valiant; their leaders determined to die if they couldnot conquer.
The first shock of arms was terrible. The men fought with unparalleledfury and desperation. Had their numbers been equal, Fide-Yori's troopsmust have carried the day; they were so resolved to be slaughteredrather than retreat, that they were not to be shaken. GeneralYoke-Moura was attacked by twenty thousand men armed with muskets,having himself but ten thousand stationed on the hill called Yoka-Yama;his men also had guns. One discharge of musketry followed another inrapid succession, until the ammunition was exhausted. Yoke-Moura wasonly waiting for that moment, having noticed that his adversaries weremerely armed with guns and swords, and carried no lances. He thenrushed headlong down the hill. His troops, lance in hand, fell upontheir opponents, who, almost defenceless, fled in disorder.
Signenari, too, after a bloody battle succeeded in driving back theenemy; but at all other points the generals, overwhelmed by numbers,were defeated, and forced to retreat into the interior of the town withwhat soldiers remained to them.
Evening came, and brought a pause in the fighting. The weary soldierslay down in the city streets, on the bridges, on the banks of thevarious canals. Signenari and Yoke-Moura alone were still outsideOsaka, one on the plain, the other on the hill.
When night had fairly come, a man advanced to the foot of Yoka hill andasked to speak with General Sanada-Sayemon-Yoke-Moura, having a messagefrom Hieyas. He was conducted to the warrior's tent, and Yoke-Mourarecognized one of his former companions-in-arms.
"You come from Hieyas? You!" exclaimed the General, in a tone ofreproach.
"Yes, friend, I believe in the powerful genius of that man; I know howmuch his triumph will benefit the nation. And yet, now that I standbefore you, I scarcely dare mention the offer which I am directed tomake you."
"Then it is a disgraceful one."
"Judge for yourself. Hieyas feels the highest respect for your valor,and he thinks that to vanquish you would be a defeat for him; becauseyour death would rob the country of its noblest soldier. He proposesthat you should join his standard; your terms shall be his."
"If Hieyas really feels a particle of respect for me," repliedYoke-Moura, "why does he feign to think me capable of selling myself?You can tell him that were he to give me half Japan, I would not evenconsider his offer; and that it is my glory to remain loyal to themaster whom I have always served, and for whom I would gladly die."
"I was prepared for your answer; and if I accepted the mission offeredto me, it was only from a desire to see my old comrade once more."
"You did not fear the just reproaches I might lavish upon you?"
"No; for I did not feel myself guilty. Now a strange remorse tormentsme at the sight of your calm, brave loyalty. I see that my deeds,dictated by wisdom, are not worth the folly of your blind fidelity."
"Well! it is not too late to repent; stay with us."
"I will do so, friend. If I fail to return, Hieyas will understand thatthe man who came to buy you with bribes has given you his soul."
The same proposal was made to General Signenari.
"Hieyas offers to gratify my every desire!" exclaimed the youthfulGeneral. "Very well; then let him send me his head!"
Next day considerable forces were gathered before Signenari's camp.The young warrior knew that the battle in which he was about to engagemust be his last. He went the rounds of the camp, exhorting his menbefore the fight. Grave, gentle, and handsome as any woman, he passedalong the ranks, tolling his attentive men how slight a value shouldbe attached to life; not hiding the fact that the result of the daymust be either death or dishonor. He added that a glorious death wasenviable, and the life of a coward not worth that of a dog.
He then returned to his tent, and despatched a message to his mother,informing her that he was about to die, and sending her a costly daggerin remembrance of himself. Next he stepped to the mirror; and pouringperfume upon his head, placed on it his helmet of black horn, crownedin front with a copper plate of crescent shape; he tied it under hischin, and cut the loose ends of silk cord. This signified that hewould never untie them again; that he vowed himself to death. If hishead were taken to the victor, the latter would understand that he hadallowed himself to be killed voluntarily.
The battle began, Signenari opening the attack; he rushed eagerlyforward at the head of his men. The first of the fight was favorableto them; they broke the enemy's ranks, and slaughtered great numbersof them. Signenari's army, decimated the night before, and reduced toscanty numbers, pierced the enemy's ranks as a ship ploughs throughthe waves; but they closed behind the little band, who were surroundedand captured, but still undaunted. The soldiers of Hieyas thought theyhad imprisoned the whirlwind. Desperate men are terrible. The carnagewas awful; the wounded went on fighting; the earth, bathed in blood,grew slippery; men stumbled in the mud; it seemed almost as if ithad rained. But ten thousand men could not hold out long against onehundred thousand. Still the heroes who encircled the youthful leaderwere not conquered; they did not flinch; they met death on the groundthat had been wrested from them. But their numbers lessened rapidly;soon there was nothing left in the centre of the army but a vast heapof corpses. Signenari, covered with wounds, fought on like a lion; hewas alone. The enemy wavered before him, they admired his courage; butsome one shot an arrow at him, and he fell.
Hieyas was on the battle-field in a litter. His men brought him thefair young head of Signenari. He saw that the helmet-strings were cut,and inhaled the perfume with which the hair was soaked.
"He preferred death to joining my cause," he said, with a sigh. "Thisvictory saddens me as if it were a defeat."
The same day Fide-Yori, sending for Yoke-Moura, asked him what nowremained to be done.
"We must attempt a general sortie to-morrow," he replied. "All theremnants of the various armies assembled in the city make a sum totalof about sixty thousand men; to which we must add the garrison ofthe fortress, the ten thousand men still left of my command, and theten thousand volunteers that you have collected. We may venture toundertake the struggle."
"Shall you return to the city?" asked the Shogun.
"It will be better, I think, for me to keep my advanced position onthe hill. When the army is set in motion I will attack the enemy fromanother point, so that he may be obliged to divide his forces."
All the officers were called together for consultation. The gravity ofthe situation silenced the quarrels which usually separated them; allyielded to Yoke-Moura.
"The enemy's forces extend entirely round the city," said the General;"so that at whatever point you make your attack, you will be met bynumbers fully equal to your own. The sortie must be effected on thesouth, so that, if possible, you may drive the enemy into the sea. Lotthe leaders cheer their men by word and deed, and we may triumph yet.".
"I will take my place at the head of the army," cried Fide-Yori. "Letthe royal insignia, borne before my father in battle, be drawn fromtheir velvet cases, and the gilded gourds mounted on scarlet handles,which have always been the signal for victory whenever they appeared,be brought forward. That reminder of Taiko-Sama will inspire the men;it will recall the former triumphs, the glorious battles won in itsshadow. This talisman will protect us, and
will fill the perfidiousHieyas with alarm, calling up before him the image of the man whosetrust he has betrayed."
The generals returned to their troops, to prepare them for the decisivebattle of the morrow. Fide-Yori hastened to his betrothed. "This may bethe last day that we shall spend together," he said; "I must not lose asecond of it."
"What say you, sire?" asked Omiti. "If you die, I die too; and we shallbe reunited--to part no more."
"Never mind," said the King, with a sad smile; "I could wish that ourhappiness had lasted a little longer upon this earth,--it has been sobrief, and my misery so long. And you! so gentle, so devoted, you havesuffered ills of every sort for my sake; and for your reward, when Ilonged to load you with riches, honors, and joy, I can only offer youthe spectacle of the horrors of war and the prospect of speedy death."
"You gave me your love," replied Omiti.
"Oh, yes!" cried the King; "and that love, which was my first, wouldhave been my last; it would have filled my whole life. Why can I notcarry you far from here,--escape this struggle and this slaughter? Whatcare I for power? It never gave me any pleasure. To live with you insome deep retreat, forgetting men and their guilty ambitions,--thatwould be true felicity."
"Let us not think of that," said Omiti; "it is an idle dream. To dietogether is an additional delight, which will not be denied us."
"Alas!" cried the Shogun, "my youth revolts at the thought of death.Since I have found you again, dear heart, I have forgotten the contemptwhich I was taught for this transitory life; I love it, and I would notquit it."
Under cover of night, Harounaga contrived to regain the heights ofTchaousi, which he had lost. General Yoke-Moura had advised him to makethe attempt, whose success would allow him to protect the Shogun'ssally.
All was ready for the final effort: the soldiers were full of ardor;their leaders were hopeful. Fide-Yori was encouraged; he believed thatthey would be victorious. One thing, however, grieved him, and that wasthe absence at this supreme moment of his most faithful friend, hiswisest counsellor, the Prince of Nagato. What had become of him? Whathad happened to him? No news had been heard of him since he left Osakaso abruptly, three weeks before.
"He is dead, since he is not by my side in the hour of danger," thoughtthe Shogun, sighing heavily.
From the earliest dawn the inhabitants of Osaka thronged the approachesto the fortress; they wanted to see the Shogun come forth from thecastle in battle array, in the midst of his richly dressed warriors.While they waited they chatted with the soldiers encamped in thestreets, pouring them out bumpers of saki. The aspect of the city wasjoyful; in spite of all that had occurred, the gay disposition of thecitizens gained the upper hand. They were going to see a fine sight;they were happy.
Towards the eighth hour the gates of the second wall of the strongholdwere opened wide, and revealed a confused mass of banners floatingamong the bright rays of the tall spears.
The first division of the Shogun's lancers advanced, wearing cuirasses;on their heads the helmet with visor, hollowed at the neck, andornamented over the forehead with a sort of copper crescent; lancein hand, a little flag fastened behind the left shoulder. Then camethe archers, their brows bound with a strip of white stuff, the endsstreaming behind them, their backs bristling with long arrows, holdingin their hands the tall lacquer bow. After them marched strangecreatures, who looked more like huge insects or fantastic shellfishthan like men. Some wore above their grinning black masks a largehelmet decked with copper antennae; others had their heads adornedwith monstrous horns curving inward, and their masks bristled withred or white mustaches and eyebrows; or else they had a hood of mailbrought over the face and head, leaving nothing visible but theireyes. The plates of their armor, made of black horn, were square,heavy, and oddly arranged; still, beneath the parti-colored silkenstitches fastening the sheets of horn together, they produced a fineeffect. These warriors, dressed as were their ancestors, were armedwith halberds, monstrous bows, and two-handed swords. They filed by inlong lines, to the great admiration of the people. At last Fide-Yoriappeared upon a horse with braided mane. Before him were borne thegilded gourds, which had never been taken from the castle since thelast victories of Taiko-Sama. They were hailed with enthusiastic shouts.
"I intrust them to you," cried Fide-Yori, showing his army the gloriousinsignia. He said no more; and drawing his sword, rode off at a gallop.
The whole army, moving with heroic impetus, left the city. The peoplefollowed them beyond the suburbs.
From the summit of the hill, Yoke-Moura watched Fide-Yori and histroops march out from Osaka and deploy in the plain. He awaited theShogun's first offensive movement to attack Hieyas' men.
"Certainly," thought the General, "victory is possible. Signenari,who met death so nobly yesterday, did the enemy much injury; I myselfrepulsed with considerable loss the detachment which attacked myposition. We may cut to pieces that division of the army upon which theShogun pounces. Then the two hostile forces will be almost equal; andwith equal numbers we shall surely triumph."
Fide-Yori's army halted on the plain, occupying the ground whereSignenari's camp had been pitched the day before.
"What can they be waiting for?" wondered Yoke-Moura; "why do they pausein their forward movement?"
The leaders ran to the flanks of the various battalions. Strangeagitation prevailed in the ranks; evidently something new had occurred.They hesitated; they were making plans. All at once the whole armywavered, faced about, and retracing their steps, re-entered the city.
"What does that mean?" cried Yoke-Moura, amazed, and pale with rage."What sudden madness has seized upon them? It is a mockery! Are theycowards?"
The soldiers of Hieyas then advanced across the plain abandoned byFide-Yori. At the same moment Yoke-Moura's men gave the alarm. Theywere attacked on two sides at once.
"It is well," said Yoke-Moura; "all is now lost."
He summoned his young son, Daiske.
"My son," said he, "return to the city; rejoin the Shogun, and say tohim that nothing is left for me now but to die a glorious death forhim, as I intend to do before evening. Remain with the master while helives, and die with him."
"Father," said Daiske, casting an imploring look at the General, "Iwould rather die with you."
"Do as I bid you, my son," said Yoke-Moura, his voice tremblingslightly.
A tear rolled down the boy's cheek; but he made no answer, and went.The General watched him for an instant as he descended the hill,sighed, and then plunged abruptly into the thick of the fight.
Without resistance, without exchanging one shaft with the enemy,the Shogun's army had returned to the city in disorder! The peoplecould not believe their own eyes. What had happened? Why should routprecede the battle? This is what really occurred: Harounaga, suddenlyabandoning the position which he held on the hill, hastened towardsFide-Yori, accompanied by a man coming from the camp of Hieyas. Thisman, who was a relative of Hieyas, declared that the majority of thearmy had gone over to Hieyas, and that when the fight began Fide-Yoriwould be hemmed in and taken prisoner by his own men. He said that hehad surprised this secret, and hastened to warn the Shogun, to preventhis falling into an odious trap.
"Return to the fortress," said he to Fide-Yori. "In the shelter of itsramparts you may defend yourself still, and die nobly; while here youare at the victor's mercy."
After some hesitation the troops returned to the city. This tale oftreachery was completely false: it was an act of perfidy planned byHieyas, who, although he was strong, did not disdain to employ a ruse.But the people refused to accept the plea; the retreat of the soldiersproduced a fatal effect.
"They don't know how to behave!" was the cry.
"They are lost; all is ended!"--
"After all, it's no concern of ours."
Half the citizens began to desire the accession of Hieyas.
The Shogun had no sooner returned to his castle, than the hostile armyattacked the outskirts of the city. The inhabitants shut themselves upi
n their houses. A terrible conflict ensued; the ground was defendedinch by inch, and yet the enemy advanced. They fought in the narrowstreets, on the brink of the canals, upon whose waves, red with blood,dead bodies rocked to and fro; every bridge was carried after adesperate struggle. Little by little, Fide-Yori's troops were drivenback towards the fortress.
Inside the castle the confusion was great. No one thought of defendingthe outer wall; the bastions no longer existed; the moat had not beenre-dug to a depth of more than two feet. All withdrew into the secondenclosure; but there they were too remote to offer any aid to those whofought. The latter, after three hours of struggle, were repulsed to thewalls of the castle; they invaded the first courtyard, and shouted tothose within to open the second, otherwise they must be crushed againstthe walls.
Yodogimi cried to the men to open the gates. All the doors were thrownwide at once, and the soldiers rushed in. But the enemy were at theirheels; when they had passed, the doors could not be closed, and thefollowers of Hieyas came in behind them.
Fide-Yori, with a thousand men, had taken refuge in the third courtyardof the castle, which contained the great goldfish tower, the residenceof the Shogun, and a few palaces of the most noble princes. He did nothope to to defend himself, but merely that he and his family mightnot be captured alive. In a hall of his palace, drawn sword in hand,between his mother and his betrothed, he gazed through the open window,and with bowed head listened to the awful clash of arms behind thesecond wall. Many of his troops surrendered. The man whose duty it wasto guard the gilded gourds of Taiko-Sama, whose name was Tsou-Gawa,burned them outside the palace, before the eyes of Fide-Yori.
"All is over!" murmured the Shogun. "O you who are dearest in all theworld to me, you must die for me and with me! I must take your life tosave you from falling into the hands of the victors alive."
He looked at his naked blade; then raised his eyes to his mother andsweet Omiti with a bewildered air. "Is there no way to save them?" hecried; "to let them live? What does it matter to the victor, so I butdie!"
"Live without you!" said Omiti, in a tone of reproach. Both women werepale, but calm.
"No, it is impossible!" suddenly exclaimed the Shogun. "I cannot seetheir blood flow; I cannot see them die; let me be the first to expire!"
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE FUNERAL PILE.
"No one shall die!" suddenly shouted a voice, as Fide-Yori turned hisblade against himself.
The Prince of Nagato appeared on the threshold; Loo stood beside him.
"Oh, my brother!" cried the Shogun, rushing towards him, "I did nothope to see you again."
"I knew that victory was impossible," said Nagato, "and I was busypreparing means for your escape when your final effort should fail. Youare the sole offshoot of your race; you are vanquished now; but lateryour dynasty may flourish."
"Is it really in your power to save us?" said the Shogun.
"Yes, master," said Iwakura. "A boat awaits you on the shores of theYedogawa; it is manned by Raiden, a brave sailor, whose loyalty I know.He will take you out to sea. There a large junk, belonging to thePrince of Satsuma, lies at anchor ready to receive you. As soon as youembark in her she will set sail for the Island of Kiu-Shiu. The lord ofSatsuma, the most powerful prince of your kingdom, the most faithfulof your subjects, will open his province and his castle to you; thereyou may live happily with the wife of your choice until the day ofvengeance dawns."
"I recognize your untiring devotion," said the Shogun, his eyes dimwith tears. "But how can I leave the castle,--how pass through thefrenzied hordes which surround it,--without being massacred?"
"You will leave as I entered," said the Prince, "undisturbed by anyone. If you will follow me to my palace," he added, bowing low to thetwo princesses, "I will show you the road that you must take to quitthe fortress."
"Prince," said Yodogimi, "your generosity fills me with confusion; I,who have so often striven to injure you, now see how unjust and blind Iwas. Tell me that you pardon my past errors, or I cannot submit to besaved by you."
"I have nothing to forgive, Princess," said Nagato; "it is I who amguilty of the boundless misfortune to have displeased you."
"Come, let us begone," said the Shogun, "you can explain yourselveslater."
They left the hall; Loo walked before.
In the outer court of the palace the insignia of Taiko-Sama stillburned, forming a mass of smouldering coals. As he passed them,Fide-Yori turned away his head. They reached the Prince of Nagato'sdwelling, and entered his chamber. The trap-door leading to thesubterranean path by which the brave Sado was wont to gain admittanceto the palace was open.
"This is the way," said he; "it leads to a fisherman's hut on the banksof the Yedogawa. There Raiden awaits you with the boat. Go; Loo willguide you through this underground road."
"What!" cried Fide-Yori, "will you not go with us?"
"No, master, I remain here; I have work yet to do."
"Are you mad? To linger in this palace, which will soon be entirelyoverrun! What have you yet to do? You will be unable to escape."
"Do not be anxious about me," said Iwakura, with a strange smile; "Ishall escape, I promise you."
"Iwakura!" cried the Shogun, gazing at his friend in alarm, "you meanto die! I understand you; but I will not accept safety at such a price.I am master still, am I not? Very well; I command you to follow me."
"My beloved lord," said Nagato, in a firm voice, "if it be true thatI have served you loyally, do not refuse me the first favor that Iask,--do not order me to leave this palace."
"I do not order, friend, I conjure you not to rob me of a companionsuch as you; I entreat you to fly with us."
"I join my supplications to those of my son," said Yodogimi; "do notsend us forth with sorrow in our hearts."
"Illustrious Prince," said Omiti, in her sweet, shy tones, "it isthe first time I have ever spoken to you; but I too would venture toentreat you not to persist in your cruel resolution."
Loo fell upon his knees. "Master!" he cried; but he could say no more,and burst into tears.
"I recommend this boy to you," said Nagato.
"Then you are deaf to our prayers?" said the Shogun. "Can nothing thatwe say move you?"
"If she were lost to you," said the Prince, turning to Omiti, "couldyou consent to live? Oh, cannot you, to whom I have confided the dreadsecret of my life, understand how painful my existence is? Do you notsee the joy that sparkles in my eyes, now that I approach the end of mysufferings? Had I been unable to serve you, I should long since haveended the torment of life. You are not victorious, as I would wish tosee you; but I behold you in some safe retreat, full of flowers, joy,and love. You will be happy, if not powerful; you need me no longer. Iam free; I can die."
"Ah, cruel friend!" said Fide-Yori, "I see that your resolve isirrevocable."
"Make haste!" said the Prince; "you have delayed too long. Reach theshore; Raiden will conceal you under the sail in the bottom of theboat; then he will take the oars. Loo will hold the helm."
"No, no!" shrieked the boy, clinging fast to his master's dress, "Icannot go; I will die with you."
"Obedience is a good servant's first duty, Loo," said the Prince,gently. "I command you henceforth to obey the master of us both, and toserve him unto death."
Loo flung himself, sobbing, down the dark stairs of the undergroundpassage. The two women followed him; then the Shogun descended in histurn.
"Farewell! farewell! my friend, my brother! noblest, best, mostfaithful of my subjects!" he exclaimed, his tears flowing fast.
"Farewell, illustrious friend!" said the Prince; "may your happinesslast as long as your life!"
He then closed the trap-door. At last he was alone. Then he returnedto the courtyard of the palace; and taking a burning brand from thestill smouldering brazier, set fire to all the princely pavilions andto Fide-Yori's palace, going through every room. Then he reached thegoldfish tower, and kindled a conflagration on every floor. At the tophe flung away hi
s brand, and leaned upon the red lacquer railing of theplatform, which was surmounted by a broad roof turned up at the cornersand supported by four substantial pillars.
The Prince gazed towards the sea. The little boat was already at themouth of the Yedogawa. Alone upon the water, it seemed to attract theattention of the victorious soldiers encamped upon the beach; butRaiden the fisher cast his net, and the reassured soldiers allowed theboat to pass. In the offing the Prince of Satsuma's junk formed a tinydark spot against the purple of the setting sun. The atmosphere wasincomparably clear; the sea seemed like a huge turquoise.
The shouts of the soldiers were heard around the castle.
"Fide-Yori has set fire to the palace; he will perish in the flames,"they yelled.
Those who were still within the shelter of the third courtyard openedthe doors and rushed out; they surrendered. Besides, the battle hadceased; the Usurper was at the gate of the fortress. The spectatorsknelt as he passed; he was greeted with cheers, and proclaimed the soleand legitimate Shogun. This was on the second day of the sixth moon ofthe first year of Nengo-Gen-Va.[1]
From the summit of the tower the Prince of Nagato saw the litter inwhich Hieyas lay; he heard the triumphant clamor which hailed him.
"Glory and royal power are nothing in comparison with happy love," hemurmured, turning back to look at the boat which held his friends.
It was out at sea now, out of reach of the soldiers; the sail was set,and the boat skimmed swiftly over the waves.
"They are safe," said the Prince.
Then he turned his eyes in another direction, towards Kioto and Naikou.He saw the beginning of the road that leads to the sacred city, whichhe had travelled so often; he saw the coast outlined against the azuresea, and stretching away till it was lost in the distance, towards theprovince where the ancient temple of Ten-Sio-Dai-Tsin stands. He seemedlonging to distinguish, across the distance, the form of her whom hewas never to see again.
The sun disappeared; the glare of the conflagration began to overpowerthe light of day. The palace of the Shogun, at the foot of the tower,was a vast furnace, which, seen from above, appeared like a lake offire tossed by a tempest. The flames surged and seethed, and rearedlofty crests, like waves in a storm. Now and then a cloud of red smokepassed before the Prince's eyes, obscuring the horizon. The entiretower was burning; a fearful roar, mingled with a continual cracklingsound, filled its walls. The topmost platform, however, was not yetkindled, but already the floor cracked and shook. A jet of flame leapedup and touched the edge of the roof.
"Come, liberating fire!" cried the Prince; "come and allaythe devouring fires of my soul! Extinguish, if you can, theinextinguishable flame of my love."
He took from his bosom a crumpled paper, and unfolding it, raised itto his lips; then read it for the last time by the lurid light of theconflagration.
"One day these flowers hung their heads to die. They let fall theirluminous soul like a diamond. Then the two drops of dew met at last,and were mingled in the stream."
The heat was intolerable. The paper suddenly blazed up in the Prince'sfingers. He gasped for breath; he felt that he was dying.
"My beloved," he cried, "I go before! Do not make me wait too long atthe tryst!"
Like the huge petals of a fiery flower, the flames shut in the lastfloor; they spread to the roof. The two monstrous goldfish writhed onthe ridge-pole as if suddenly endowed with life; then they melted, andflowed down in two incandescent streams. Soon the entire edifice fellin with a terrible crash, and an immense sheaf of sparks and flamestreamed up to heaven.
[1] June 2, 1615.
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