THE STORY OF KIMURA SHIGENARI

I

IN the eighteenth year of Keich (A.D. 1613) Toyotomi Hideyoshi had been dead fourteen years and his son, Hideyori, now two and twenty should have been ruling over Japan as Regent in his stead. But his adherents had sustained a crushing defeat at the hands of the troops of his rival, Tokugawa Iyeyasu, at the battle of Sekigahara, and the tide of fortune had turned from him. All the daimios had given in their allegiance to Iyeyasu, and he was appointed Shogun by the Emperor. A few years later he abdicated in favour of his son Hidetada, though in reality he still steered the ship of state. On the other hand Hideyori’s star had been fast declining. He was now merely the Lord of Settsu and Kawachi, comparatively small provinces, with the honorary title of “Minister of the Right.” Nevertheless, in his stronghold, the “impregnable” Castle of Osaka, built by his father, Hideyoshi, at an enormous cost, there were still, it is said, some 100,000 men, among whom were many brave and loyal officers such as Katagiri Katsumoto, Sanada Yukimura, Susukida Hayato and Kimura Shigenari, the last of whom is the hero of this story.

A few powerful daimios, remembering with gratitude the great favours they had received from Hideyoshi, in secret still adhered to the cause of his son and watched for an opportunity to strike for the restoration of the Toyotomis’ power and prestige. Iyeyasu, with his accustomed keen insight, perceived the situation and determined by one stroke to settle matters once for all. This was the state of affairs between the two great families, and it was felt that hostilities might break out again at any moment.

 

Shigenari now twenty years of age had served Hideyori as page and attendant since his childhood. His intelligence and loyalty, above all, his prowess in arms and knowledge of tactics had just led Hideyori’s Prime Councillor, Katagiri Katsumoto, to promote him over the heads of some older men to a high rank in the army, with the title of Nagato-no-Kami, or Lord of Nagato province, and an annual allowance of 7,000 koku of rice. Mano Yorikané, one of Hideyori’s veteran generals, admiring his courage and sterling character, gave tangible proof of his admiration by bestowing his beautiful and accomplished daughter, Aoyagi, on him for a wife.

With all his manly attributes and physical strength, Shigenari was exceptionally handsome, of a slender build, and possessed of a gentle graceful manner. At first glance it was his beauty and refinement that struck the beholder, not his strength and ability. For this reason those of the warriors who had not had opportunity to witness his skill as a soldier were inclined to regard his sudden promotion with wonder and some suspicion, one or two even going so far as to say—behind his back—“Shigenari is esteemed above his merits. He is effeminate and gentle; in war he will show cowardice and fly from the sounds of strife.” Among the backbiters was a chabzu or “tea-priest”6 called Yamazoé Rykwan, a notorious bully and drunkard. Possessing undoubted skill in military arts and great muscular strength, he was apt to be boastful; and the idea seized him to pick a quarrel with Shigenari and thereby to provoke a contest between them and humiliate the courtly hero.

With this object Rykwan one day hid himself behind a screen; and as Shigenari passed hurriedly along the matted corridor on his way to the audience chamber, the tea-priest suddenly thrust his sheathed sword in his way. The surprised warrior leapt lightly over it, but the skirt of his hakama touched it as he did so. Rykwan sprang out of ambush.

“Kimura Dono, you go too fast!” he shouted angrily. Shigenari turned back.

“Excuse my rudeness,” he said courteously.

“Your apology is too late! It came only after my demand.”

“Forgive my double rudeness, Yamazoé, I was in such haste that I did not consider. Excuse me!”

“You speak like a fool! If you are late it is your own fault, and do you think you may tread on my sword with impunity? It is true that I am a tea-priest and your inferior in rank, yet I also am a samurai! A samurai’s sword is his soul. You have trodden on my soul, and such an insult is inexcusable! Out of malice you did it. I challenge you to a duel!”

“You speak wildly; why should I bear malice towards you, or wish to insult you?”

“Then why did you tread on my sword?”

“I have already explained;—because I am in haste to present myself to my lord.”

“Then allow me to do to you what I choose and I will accept your apology.”

“By all means; do to me as you wish.”

“I will take that!” and he struck a blow at Shigenari’s cheek with all the force of his bare hand.

Shigenari smiled.

“Thank you for your chastisement!” he said, and went on his way.

Rykwan now strutted arrogantly about the castle, giving every one he met a highly-coloured account of what had occurred, and calling Shigenari “a white-livered samurai.” Those who were jealous of Shigenari’s promotion repeated the story in still more exaggerated terms, in consequence of which many samurai who had no real knowledge of the young officer’s character believed the tale and laughed to scorn his supposed pusillanimity. Shigenari knew all about this, but did not let it disturb him at all.

Not so his father-in-law, Yorikané. Being fiery-tempered and extremely punctilious concerning points of honour, he no sooner heard of the incident than he hurried to Shigenari’s residence and demanded to see him.

“Welcome, father-in-law,” said the young man composedly. “Pray sit down.”

“Sit down? No, I cannot sit down, and never again call me ‘father.’ I have come to tell you that you must divorce my daughter at once.”

“This is very sudden! What reason can you give for your strange request?”

“Fool that I was to give my daughter to a white-livered samurai such as you!”

“Ha! Do you use such a term of me!”

“You feign ignorance! Well, then, I will tell you why men call you a coward. Listen! It is said you let your cheek be struck by that low tea-priest a day or two ago and he still lives to tell the tale! Has it passed from your mind so soon? Ah, I see you recollect it!”

“Surely, I remember that Rykwan struck my cheek with his hand, but what of it!”

“What of it? What of it? Can a samurai receive a deadly insult like that and suffer it to pass unnoticed! Coward! How came you to permit him to do it in the first instance?”

“Rykwan put his sword in my way as I was hurrying to the presence of my lord; the hem of my hakama just touched it as I passed over but the man insisted that I had trodden on it and by design. It is evident he meant to pick a quarrel with me in any case. I apologised, but he refused to listen. Deeming it waste of time to argue with a bully, to end the matter as speedily as possible, I let him strike me as he wished. That is the whole affair.”

“Indolent coward!” exclaimed Yorikané, more incensed now that he heard Shigenari’s account than he had been before. “Rykwan is a mere tea-priest, and you are a samurai of high rank in close attendance on our lord. There can be no comparison as to your respective standing—you should have killed him on the spot. Your conduct it totally inexplicable!”

“You are mistaken, father, when you say I should have killed him.”

“How? There can be no two opinions on the matter. Where is your sense of honour? I will waste no more words on you. Let my daughter return home at once. I am ashamed to be called your father-in-law.”

“Calm yourself, father, and hear me for but a moment. Do you imagine I overlooked Rykwan’s insolent behaviour because I was afraid of him?”

“What else can I think?”

“Then listen. Recollect, father, that a samurai’s life is not his own—it belongs to his liege lord. Judging from the strained relations between our clan and the Tokugawas hostilities may break out at any time . . .” here Shigenari’s brow clouded and he sighed deeply; “Yes, war may break out at any moment now, and on the result hangs the future destiny of our lord and his clan. It is my intention to fight to the utmost of my strength and ability to requite if it be but the thousandth part of the many and great favours I have received from our gracious master. I shall sell my blood dear for his cause. And this is the bounden duty of every one of us, high and low alike. Our lives have never been more precious—not one can be spared except for the cause. If I had killed Rykwan out of resentment for a purely personal insult what good would it have done? Though his rank is inferior to mine, he is still a samurai; and as a samurai his death could not have been passed over unnoticed. Besides, Rykwan, though in human form, is but an insect in my estimation. It would be derogatory for a samurai to unsheathe his sword in anger against a mere insect! Therefore . . .”

“Enough, enough!” interposed the impulsive Yorikané. “I understand; you are right and I in my haste misjudged you entirely. Forgive me, and forget my thoughtless words.”

Shigenari smiled, well pleased at the reconciliation.

“We are father and son again,” went on the older man. “I am proud of the connection—you are a true samurai. But, tell me,” he added with a chuckle. “You call Rykwan an insect; to what insect do you compare him?”

“To a fly,” answered Shigenari. “A fly alights on filth or on an Emperor’s crown—it makes no distinction between good and bad, high or low. But no one would call a fly an impolite insect. Looking on Rykwan as a man one feels anger and disgust; consider he is but a fly and it is unreasonable to have any such feelings, he is beneath them. Therefore I take no notice of anything he can do or say.”

“Well argued, Shigenari! What a noble-minded man you are! I admire your wisdom and forbearance. As you say, the war cloud is fast darkening over us and it behoves all loyal samurai to be on their guard and not waste their energies on petty quarrels of their own. Again I ask your pardon for misconstruing your conduct. Though younger in years, dear Shigenari, you are older than I in judgment and forethought. Though old I am still as rash and impetuous as a boy.”

More than satisfied with the explanation he had received, Yorikané returned home, and thenceforth did his best to clear his son-in-law from the imputation of cowardice. He spoke in glowing terms of Shigenari’s real motive in his behaviour to the tea-priest, and told in what light he regarded him. Public opinion is ever quick to change; and those who had scoffed were soon loud in praise of Shigenari’s self-repression and loyalty. Rykwan, on the other hand, was universally laughed at and nicknamed the “Fly-priest.” As a natural consequence, instead of repenting of his misdeed, Rykwan’s envy and hatred of his superior increased, and he was ever on the watch for a chance to vent his spite.

There was a large bath-room in the castle which was used in common by all. It was usual for the samurai on night duty to bathe several at the same time. One evening Rykwan happened to see Shigenari going into the bath-room, and thinking the time to satisfy his grudge had come, he followed him unobserved. The room was misty with the dense vapour rising from the hot water, and four or five samurai were already in the large square bath. Taking one of them to be Shigenari the tea-priest approached, and mustering all his strength, struck his head a heavy blow. The naked man sprang out of the water, and seizing Rykwan by the collar threw him on the floor where he returned the blow he had received with compound interest.

“I will teach you to strike a defenceless man without provocation!” he roared. “Do you know who I am? Susukida Hayato! Prepare for instant death!” Then seeing who it was he was belabouring, he exclaimed in astonishment:—

“Why, it’s Rykwan, the contemptible Fly-priest! What is your object in striking my head as you did? You will find that though you are only a fly you cannot insult Susukida with impunity!”

Frightened almost out of his wits at the mention of the name Susukida, that of a hero renowned far and wide for his muscular strength, Rykwan stammered out:—

“I humbly beg your pardon, Susukida Sama; it was a mistake. I should never think of striking you, the blow was intended for Kimura Shigenari. Spare my life, I implore you!”

But this speech only incensed Susukida still further.

“What?” he cried. “Would you strike your benefactor?—the man who generously pardoned your outrageous conduct to him? Miscreant, I will deal a blow for my friend Kimura. Die!”

With these words Susukida raised his iron fist and assuredly Kykwan’s last hour had come had it not been that some one caught the hand before it fell. Mad with rage Susukida struggled to free himself but in vain—he was held as in a vice. Twisting round he saw to his surprise that his captor was none other than Shigenari himself.

“Excuse my rudeness, Susukida Dono. Without doubt it is as the coward says—he mistook you for me, a circumstance for which I am extremely sorry. It is natural you should resent such an insult, but if you strike him with your fist you will kill him on the spot. He is my enemy; may I request you to leave his chastisement to me?”

“Of course,” replied Susukida with a laugh and nod of assent as Shigenari released him. “It is for you to deal with him as you think best. I am told the fellow grows more arrogant and behaves with increasing rudeness to our comrades every day. I trust you will see that he has cause to repent.”

As soon as Susukida had left the room, Shigenari helped Rykwan to get up, and very kindly assisted him to his own chamber where he attended to his bruises with great solicitude. When the tea-priest had recovered somewhat, Shigenari said to him, gently remonstrant:—

“How foolish it is of you, Rykwan, to be so proud of your strength and in consequence to behave so arrogantly to your comrades and superiors. A samurai should use his gifts for his lord’s service only. You should exert yourself solely for the benefit of His Highness Lord Hideyori. It is regrettable that you should waste your powers in causeless quarrels and fights. It was fortunate for you that it was I you insulted the other day; had it been some one else you would undoubtedly have paid for it with your life on the instant. You have superior muscular power and no little skill in the use of arms; now that war is so imminent the life of every samurai is precious; that is why I spared you—that you might live to serve in time of need. But you did not understand my motive and sought occasion to insult me again. How undiscriminating! If I had not interceded for you just now you would have died a useless death at the hands of Susukida Dono. Is not a purposeless death like that dishonour for a samurai? If you repent your past mistakes I will ask Susukida Dono to overlook and pardon your rudeness, and I am sure he will not refuse. Will you not amend your conduct and from henceforth direct all your energies to doing your very best for our lord and his cause, Rykwan?”

To this long speech delivered with a winning earnestness that pierced him to the heart, Rykwan listened with bent head and averted eyes. A few hot tears stole down his rough cheeks; he brushed them away with his sleeve before he answered in a broken voice.

“Every word you have uttered has cut me to the heart, Kimura Sama,” he said. “Your kindness overwhelms me. I am deeply ashamed of myself, and I now see how blind I was not to perceive your noble and unselfish motives in the way you acted. Oh, that I might commit seppuku in atonement! But to take my life would be in opposition to your kind instruction: as you have pointed out it is the duty of us all to live till we die in our lord’s cause.... If you can forgive me it is my earnest desire that you will take me for your own retainer. Unworthy though I am, I entreat you will not deny my request.”

Touched and pleased at the success of his remonstrance, Shigenari gladly agreed to do as Rykwan asked. Having obtained permission from Lord Hideyori, they exchanged vows as master and retainer; and thus the brawling, overbearing drunkard of a tea-priest became a changed man, and with all the strength of a strong nature devoted himself to the service of the master he adored.

II.

The year following the events just narrated, the strained relations between the rivals, the Toyotomis and Tokugawas snapped, and as had been foreseen war was declared. The Ex-Shogun Iyeyasu and the reigning Shogun Hidetada with an army of 200,000 men lay siege to the Castle of Osaka, though as yet they did not venture on very close quarters. The besieged troops, though outnumbered by the enemy, were well commanded by numerous veteran generals and defended themselves with courage and skill. In several small engagements which took place without the castle, Iyeyasu’s men, ensnared with artfully constructed stratagems, suffered severe defeat. Above all they sustained signal reverses at the hands of Shigenari who manœuvered adroitly and fought bravely with his company.

The siege lasted several months and still the brave little garrison held the enemy at bay. With each success their spirits rose. The shrewd Iyeyasu, seeing the impossibility of taking the stronghold by force and hopeless of starving it out, deemed it would be the best policy to patch up peace in some way, and trust to the pride and arrogance of the opposing faction to bring about their own downfall. Therefore, most cunningly, through the Emperor’s mediation as it seemed, he proposed, nay, almost dictated peace to Hideyori. Most of his generals, including Sanada Yukimura, Chief of the General Staff, and Shigenari, considering the present situation favourable to the triumph of their side, emphatically opposed such a fatal act; but Hideyori’s infamous and beautiful mother Madame Yodogimi who had great influence over her son, being persuaded to that effect by her licentious and thoughtless favourites who were weary of the confinement necessitated by the siege, threw all the weight of her maternal authority on the acceptance of the terms. Furthermore, the proposal coming from the highest quarter could hardly be slighted; therefore the defenders were almost without option compelled to agree to the humiliating terms proposed, which were that Hideyori should destroy the outer moat of his castle—to show the sincerity of his peaceful intentions—while Iyeyasu, in return, should cede to him the provinces of Kii and Yamato.

A day was appointed for the formal signing of the treaty; and Shigenari was nominated special envoy for the occasion, with Kri Shumenosuké for vice-envoy.

Iyeyasu had the entrance to his camp strictly guarded; and with a view to displaying his authority before all the daimios assembled to witness the ceremony, he secretly instructed his most trusted generals to humiliate the expected envoys as much as possible. These officers who felt much chagrin at their frequent defeats were only too glad to have opportunity to wreak vengeance on the enemy by affronting their representatives.

Shigenari and Shumenosuké arrived on horseback, escorted by a little band of some eighty men. On their appearance before the camp of Td Takatora, the sentinels one after the other called out:—

“Halt, sirs! As His Highness’s camp is so near you must dismount.”

Shumenosuké hurriedly pulled up and was about to get off his horse; but his superior stopped him with a gesture, and looked haughtily at the men in front. He cried loudly:—

“We are Kimura Shigenari and Kri Shumenosuké, the representatives of Lord Toyotomi, Minister of the Right. No code of etiquette requires anyone to dismount before his equal in rank. You are insolent! We proceed.”

Then Shigenari rode calmly forward followed by his suite.

When the envoys came to General Ii’s camp his sentinels likewise demanded that they should dismount.

Giving the same reply as before, Shigenari, disregarding their attempts to stop him, put spurs to his horse and rode on.

At the camp of Lord Echigo more strenuous efforts were made to force the strangers to proceed on foot. In great wrath Shigenari protested against such unwarranted discourtesy.

“What mean you by such conduct?” he cried. “Judging from our reception I conclude it is the intention of Iyeyasu to disregard the Imperial mandate to make peace. Well, then, it is useless to go further. We will return at once to the castle and report to our lord the shameful treatment we have received!”

So saying he turned his horse and was about to go back, when Lord Echigo’s men seeing they had gone too far, apologised profusely and begged him to pass on to fulfil his mission.

At length the envoys came to the entrance of the building where they were to meet the great Ex-Shogun. Here they dismounted and carrying their swords were about to enter when two ushers intercepted them, crying:—

“Your weapons must be left without!”

In no wise discomposed Shigenari said sternly:—

“It is a rule with a samurai never to leave his sword behind when he goes into an enemy’s camp, on any pretext whatever.”

This being an indisputable fact, the ushers could say no more, but led them armed as they were to the spacious apartment which had been prepared for the ceremony. A large number of daimios already occupied their places on two sides of the room. With a manner composed and dignified, Shigenari strode into the assembly in no whit daunted by the many hostile looks cast upon him, and took the seat to which he was directed in the centre, facing at a short distance the dais prepared for Iyeyasu when he should make his appearance.

Shumenosuké closely followed the deportment of his chief, and took his seat beside him.

Two Masters of the Ceremonies informed them that His Highness would be there presently. “And,” they added, “as it is disrespectful to carry swords in his august presence you will kindly take them to the ante chamber and leave them there.”

“Disrespectful!” thundered Shigenari in tones that reverberated through the hall. “To whom do you address such a word. Recollect that we are the honourable representatives of the Minister of the Right! The disrespect is on your side and if you repeat your insolence you will have to answer for it!”

And he glared so fiercely on the two officials that they withdrew in consternation.

In a short time Iyeyasu, accompanied by many attendants, made his appearance and with impressive solemnity took his seat. All the daimios bowed reverently, and awed by his majestic demeanor and the example of others, Shumenosuké did the same. But Shigenari deigned to give the great statesman but the slightest acknowledgment and calmly looked him straight in the face.

“I am glad to see you, Shigenari,” said Iyeyasu mildly. “Thank you for coming on this important mission. Your father Hitachi-no-suké and I were intimate friends and I am much indebted to him.”

“Pardon me, your Highness,” replied Shigenari, “but to-day I am the messenger of the Minister of the Right and private matters are out of place.”

The tactful Iyeyasu, though put in the wrong, showed not the slightest trace of embarrassment. Producing a document from a receptacle in his hand, he passed it to Shigenari by an attendant and said quietly:—

“Kindly see that this is correct, Shigenari.”

Shigenari carefully read over the paper which ran as follows:—

“In compliance with an Imperial Edict, Iyeyasu and Hideyori agree to make peace, on the sole condition that Hideyori fill up the outer moat of his castle as a token of his peaceful intentions. Either of the parties concerned who first appeals to arms henceforth, shall be guilty of disobeying the Imperial Mandate and shall be treated accordingly.

“Keicho 19, 12th month, 27th day.”

As he read Shigenari’s face grew darker and darker, and when he came to the end he started to his feet and exclaimed indignantly:—

“Are these your terms of peace, Your Highness? If so you have already disobeyed the Imperial command! Prepare!”

Sword in hand it seemed as if he were about to attack the old statesman. All present started up and sought to intercept the thrust. Iyeyasu, alarmed, raised both hands in deprecation and bade the young man resume his seat.

“Calm yourself, I pray you,” he said hastily. “Old age makes me forgetful. By mistake I have shown you the wrong paper—here is the right one.”

The crafty statesman produced another document from the case he held and handed it to Shigenari. It is hardly necessary to explain that this was an artifice. Iyeyasu had caused to be prepared two documents in different terms. Should the envoys accept the first in which all the advantage was on his side his intention was to keep back the other in which were stated the real conditions of the treaty. Shigenari had been too astute for him. He now examined the new document which read thus:—

“VOWS OF PEACE

“Article I.—In compliance with an Imperial Command, Iyeyasu and Hideyori vow to make peace and to enter into friendly relations.

“Article II.—Hideyori shall destroy the outer moat of his Castle, and Iyeyasu shall in return cede to him the provinces of Kii and Yamato by January next.

“Article III.—Immediately on the signing of the Vows of Peace, Iyeyasu shall disband his army and depart for Yamato.

“Article IV.—Either of the parties who violates the above vows and resorts to arms shall be found guilty of disobedience to the Imperial Command and shall be punished by the gods.

“Keich 19, 12th month, 27th day.”

Shigenari read the paper carefully several times.

“This is correct, Your Highness. Be pleased to put your signature and seal.”

Iyeyasu complied. The envoy receiving it back put it into a bag made of rich brocade. Then bowing courteously, he said gravely though not without a touch of sarcasm:—

“I beg to congratulate Your Highness.”

Then turning to the assembled daimios he bowed to them also saying:—

“I thank you for your attendance.”

Receiving their salutations in return, he once more made an obeisance to Iyeyasu.

“Allow me to take my leave, Your Highness. Farewell, Your Highness and your Excellencies.”

With graceful courtesy he bowed once more and with his subordinate left the audience-chamber. All were constrained to admire his noble bearing and courage.

III.

Hideyori faithfully observed his part of the “Vows of Peace,” and the outer moat which had constituted the greatest element in the “impregnability” of his castle was filled up and levelled with the ground. But Iyeyasu who had never had the least intention of fulfilling his part of the treaty held back the stipulated provinces in spite of all the demands of Hideyori. Hence in the spring of the following year hostilities were resumed, and a great army commanded by Iyeyasu once more invested the Castle of Osaka.

The garrison made a stubborn resistance for some weeks; but the fortress was now shorn of its main protection, and most unfortunately the discord between Madame Yodogimi’s favourite generals and the other officers assumed formidable dimensions. In consequence, the defenders were severely defeated in more than one engagement, and their numbers were so greatly reduced that it was impossible for them to hold the castle much longer.

One night Sanada Yukimura, the Chief of the General Staff, met Shigenari in secret.

“It is not possible for us to hold out,” he said gloomily. “We must effect the escape of our lord out of the castle and convey him to a place of security—he can take refuge in the province of Lord Shimazu. Through him we may be able to do something to retrieve our losses and restore the power of our clan. Some of us must go with our chief, but in order the more easily to get away the enemy must be deluded with the idea that Hideyori and his bravest warriors have fallen; therefore we must leave substitutes behind us who resemble us in some degree. Their bodies will be found, and the enemy will think we are dead and not try to pursue us as they most certainly would do if they thought we had fled. I have found my substitute; do you find yours. I must regret that it is necessary for these men to sacrifice their lives for ours, but we must all act for the future good of the clan to which we owe allegiance—all personal considerations must give way. Do you not approve of my plan?”

“It is an excellent idea,” replied Shigenari, after some reflection. “And I heartily approve of it. But if every experienced general leaves the castle even though substitutes are left, the shrewd Iyeyasu will soon suspect the truth. I at any rate must remain. I was seen by Iyeyasu and his staff only a short time ago; they will not have forgotten my features and cannot be deceived by another man clad in my armour. Therefore, I leave the escort of our lord and the restoration of the clan to you and the other generals. I will stay alone with the garrison and fight to the last. My death and your life are equally necessary for the sake of our lord. So do not seek to dissuade me. I am resolved.”

“A truly noble resolve, my friend,” said Yukimura with admiration. “Would that I could remain with you! I am reluctant to leave you alone and we shall miss your help, but if you are determined to do this thing far be it from me to dissuade you. It must be well-known to the enemy that you are a favourite of our lord and always in close attendance on his person; so when they find your dead body on the field they will never suspect he has escaped. Your death in this way will be the means of restoring the power of the Toyotomis. I could find it in my heart to envy you, good comrade!”

“Then that is settled. To-morrow I will charge the enemy’s line with my men and divert his attention while the rest of you steal out from the rear.”

After a few words of affectionate farewell, the two men parted knowing they would never meet again.

 

On retiring to his room for a brief rest, Shigenari spoke to his young wife in his usual cheerful manner.

“To-morrow our troops are going to make a sally that will effectually dispose of the enemy,” he said. “On such a notable occasion I wish to wear the armour my lord graciously gave me last year; pray bring it to me.”

When his wife brought it he took the helmet; and burning some very precious incense called Ranjatai, held the helmet so that the smoke ascended into it. Aoyagi, divining from his manner that he had some solemn motive for this action, felt her heart sink.

“You intend to die fighting in to-morrow’s engagement:—is it not so, my husband?”

“Die fighting?” said Shigenari. “Why do you ask? Does not a soldier always take his life in his hand when he goes to the field of battle?”

“Yes, but there is some special reason why I think you will fall to-morrow. I have often heard that a warrior burns incense into his helmet when he is determined to die on the field. I know the castle will fall before long and I am sure you mean to give up your life in to-morrow’s battle. Do not seek to deceive me. I am the daughter of a samurai. I will not let you die alone.”

“My brave wife! Forgive my hesitation in disclosing to you my resolve. I forebore to take you into my confidence fearing just this thing.”

He then gave his wife an account of his conversation with Sanada Yukimura and of their decision.

“Though I give up my life for my lord,” he concluded, “do not be so rash as to die with me. It is my wish that you should live and pray for the prosperity of our lord. Live for his sake. It is my last request.”

“Your wish is my law,” answered his wife. “I will obey you. I know you will die a glorious death and leave undying fame behind you!”

Then Aoyagi brought saké and two tiny cups in which they drank to their long farewell. That ceremony over, Aoyagi excused herself and retired to her own apartment. As she did not return, Shigenari, wondering at her long absence, went to seek her; and to his horror and amazement found that she had committed suicide with a short sword that lay beside the lifeless body. A written paper explained her rash act.

“Husband,” it ran, “forgive my dying before you. I meant to obey you, but I cannot do so. K-u of China, though a brave warrior overcome with grief at parting with his wife, hesitated shamefully before going to his last battle. In our country Kiso Yoshinaka showed the same weakness. Not for a moment do I compare you to those men, but still I think that I, who losing you shall have no further hope in this world, had better die now before you fight your last fight and go to wait for you in Hades. Do your best against the foe! We shall meet again in the Spirit World—till then farewell! Aoyagi.”

 

The morning of the next day broke clear and cloudless. It was the first day of the fifth month in the twentieth year of Keich (1615).

A large force under the command of Ii Naotaka advanced from the enemy’s camp and rushed to the attack. Shigenari met them at the head of seven hundred cavalry, and a fierce struggle took place. With the strength of desperation Shigenari’s company, though so inferior in numbers, beat back the foe. But as one regiment was beaten, another and yet another dashed forward to take its place, and it was impossible that the castle party could win in the end.

“We must cut our way into the main regiment,” said Shigenari during a short breathing space to his faithful retainer Rykwan—once known as the “Tea-priest”—“If we can only manage to kill Ii Naotaka, the Commander in Chief, the enemy will be disheartened and we may have some chance.”

Then inspired by the example of their leader, the little band hurled themselves on the foe: and unable to stand against such fury, the fourth and fifth companies fell back in disorder, and it seemed that a general rout would be the result.

Ii alone stood his ground. Brandishing his saihai or baton he roared in stentorian tones:—

“Cowards! Do you fly before such a handful of men? Back, back, and the day is ours!”

His words took instant effect. His flying troops rallied, maintained their position and fought bravely. Seeing this, Shigenari smiled grimly to himself.

“Now is my time to break through the lines, kill Ii and then die!”

Putting spurs to his horse he darted forward swift as a flash of lightning, his brilliant helmet and shining armour gleaming in the sun. Rykwan followed close with his heavy iron rod, and the rest of the devoted band strove to keep up, cutting and hewing their way through the ranks. So violent was their onset that again Ii’s men wavered. At this critical juncture Seki Jrozae-mon, a samurai noted for his huge strength, suddenly appeared and struck at Shigenari with a great halbert; but Shigenari’s spear point pierced clean through his breastplate of mail and he fell dead from his horse. Ii’s soldiers were panic-stricken and none ventured to oppose Shigenari who continued his onward rush and attacked Ii before he had time to escape. Being no match for his assailant, Ii must have fallen had it not been for one Fujita Noto-no-Kami who came to his rescue. Furious at this check Shigenari turned to throw him from the saddle with a single thrust, and in that moment Ii managed to escape.

Looking back, Shigenari could see but few of his men; nearly all had fallen in the mêlée. Severely wounded, and faint with loss of blood, Shigenari realised that he could do no more. Unnoticed he alighted from his spent horse and retired to a small grove on some elevated ground. His approach was observed by a low fellow belonging to Ii’s camp who was hiding behind the trees. Such was the estimation in which Shigenari was held that even in his weakness he inspired awe and dread. The skulking coward did not dare to attack him openly, but as the wounded hero lay gasping on the ground stole softly up behind him and aimed a blow to his head. Shigenari heard the slight rustle of his approach and turned, whereupon the wretch made off. Shigenari called him back.

“Fellow,” he said, “whoever you are, come here and take my head.”

But the man fearing some trick hesitated to obey.

“Coward,” cried the dying warrior, “you have nothing to fear from me. Cut off my head, but I conjure you not to remove the helmet till you present it to your master, Iyeyasu. I am impatient—cut off my head as I bid you.”

As he spoke Shigenari lifted the lower plates of his helmet and stretched out his neck for the blow. As in a trance the craven crept up and severed the head from the body. Then gaining courage he raised the dripping trophy high in the air and shouted at the top of his voice:—

“I, And Chzabur, single-handed, have taken the head of Nagato-no-Kami Shigenari, the most renowned warrior in the Osaka Army!”

The boast reached the ears of a man covered with blood who was still in the thick of the fray. It was Rykwan.

“My Lord, Nagato-no-Kami, was not the man to be killed by such a weakling as And,” he cried, as loudly as his failing strength would permit. “He had some reason for allowing his head to be cut off. Remember that, my enemies.”

With that he stabbed himself in his abdomen and expired.

 

After the battle the head of Shigenari, enclosed in its helmet, was taken to Iyeyasu for inspection. It had been the desire of all that day to get the head of the hero, and Iyeyasu had the helmet removed for verification. As this was done the sweet odour of incense floated through the air.

The old statesman surveyed the noble features with something of reverent admiration.

“Never was a more loyal or courageous samurai than Nagato-no-Kami!” he said slowly. “Would that I had many like him!”

The attempted escape from the castle proved a failure. On May 8th, the besiegers once more attacked the castle on all sides, and there ensued one of the bloodiest struggles in the history of Japan. It resulted in the complete overthrow of Hideyori’s faction and the destruction of the castle by fire. The unfortunate nobleman, his mother and all the maids of honour perished in the flames.