The Usurper

"I, Go-Mitzou-No, the one hundred and nineteenth of my race," said the Mikado, "have been insulted; and if the earth is not cleft in twain, it is solely because my feet yet rest upon its surface; it is spared for my sake. Yes, my subjects – mere men – came to the Dairi; they forced the doors; they strove to seize upon me, – to imprison the Son of the Gods! And to escape them I was forced to fly! A Mikado fly from men! I am choked with rage. I will plunge you all into darkness; I will put out the sun; I will turn the sea topsy-turvy; I will dash the earth into a thousand pieces."

"We are your submissive slaves!" said the Minister of the Left Hand.

"If you are my slaves, obey!" screamed the Son of the Gods. "I command that all shall come to an end; the war shall cease, and everything return to its accustomed order."

"Divine Lord! master of our destinies!" said the Prince of Nagato, "will you allow me to speak in your presence?"

"Speak!" said the Mikado.

"The monster whose name is Hieyas," said the Prince, "fears nothing, and insults the gods. But if the command which you have just issued were made known to him in the face of all Japan, he would be obliged to obey, and consent to peace."

"Explain yourself," said Go-Mitzou-No.

"It is with pain that I confess," continued the Prince, "that, in spite of the many defeats he has undergone, Hieyas is still the stronger; his allies increase daily. But they would rapidly diminish, and all would soon abandon him, if he should openly resist an order universally known to emanate from the Mikado."

"No doubt of that," exclaimed the ministers and nobles.

"What shall I do?" asked the Mikado, turning to the Prince of Nagato.

"Sublime master," said the Prince, "my opinion is that you should despatch a herald to proclaim your will in every city and village; at the same time addressing to Fide-Yori and Hieyas a large deputation, charged to inform them that the war is to cease, since such is your pleasure."

"Your advice shall be followed," said the Mikado; "it is good. To reward you for it, I give you the title of Nai-dai-Tsin."

"Sire," cried the Prince, "I am not worthy of such an honor."

"Let the envoys he sent off promptly," said the Mikado. "No more war; let us have peace and repose as of old. I feel exhausted by all these emotions," he added in a lower tone, turning to the prime minister; "it might easily kill me."

They soon separated. On leaving the castle, the Prince of Nagato met a messenger in search of him.

"Whence come you?" asked Iwakura.

"From Nagato."

Then the messenger related all the events that had occurred in that province, – the various battles, the taking of Hagui, and the capture of Fatkoura by the lord of Tosa.

"What!" cried Nagato, "Fatkoura is in the hands of that scoundrel, who beheads princes! I must not delay my vengeance another moment. I will set off at once to deliver her, and make that infamous wretch pay dearly for his crimes and his impertinence."

He then inquired for his little troop, anxious to learn how many the skirmish of the morning had left him. Of the two hundred sailors, eighty had been killed, and fifty wounded; about sixty being in fit condition to resume their march.

Raiden's arm had been pierced by an arrow; but the bone was uninjured. The sailor had had his wound dressed, and declared that it did not pain him at all. He begged the Prince to let him go with him.

"The journey will do me good," said he; "besides, there are not more than sixty of us. That's very few to capture a kingdom; and in so small a number, one man more or less counts for something."

"I need twenty thousand men to march against Tosa," said the Prince; "I shall ask the Shogun to let me have them. So you see that you may well afford yourself a little rest."

"Is it because I have not behaved well, that you want to drive me from you?" asked Raiden.

"No, brave servant," said the Prince, smiling; "come if you will. You can stay at Osaka if your wound troubles you."

"Shall we start at once?" asked the sailor.

"Are you crazy?" cried the Prince. "We have spent a hard night, and a still harder day; you are wounded: and it never occurs to you to take a little rest! I confess that, if you are indefatigable, I, who am by nature very inert, feel quite exhausted."

"If sleep is permitted, I shall sleep with a good will," said Raiden, laughing; "but if you thought best to start off again, I could have held out a little longer."

"Where is Loo?" asked the Prince; "I lost sight of him in the thick of the fight."

"He's asleep in a house on the shore, and so sound asleep that I could pick him up and carry him off without his ever knowing it. That young Samurai earned his sleep well; he snatched a gun from one of our dead comrades, and I hear that he fought like a little devil."

"Is he wounded?"

"Fortunately, he escaped without a scratch."

"Well, go join him, and take a little repose; to-morrow, at noon, we will start."

Next day Nagato went to take leave of the Kisaki. She had returned to the summer-palace, where he found her surrounded by her women.

"You leave the city which owes its triumph to you so soon, and without taking time for rest?" she exclaimed.

"I leave with an aching heart," said the Prince; "but an imperative duty calls me. Before the peace is signed, I must avenge the insult to my name; I must save Fatkoura, my betrothed."

"Is Fatkoura in danger?"

"She is the prisoner of the Prince of Tosa; a messenger brought me the news yesterday."

"Such reasons admit of no reply," said the Queen. "Make haste to punish that villain; and may the God of Battles be with you."

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke: he was about to run new dangers; to expose his life, – perhaps to die.

"I believe that I am invincible," said Nagato; "an all-powerful goddess protects me."

The Kisaki forced herself to smile. "May you triumph, and return speedily," said she.

The Prince retired. As he left the hall he fixed a last lingering look upon her; a singular feeling of disquiet chilled his blood.

"Every time that I part from her I feel as if I should never see her again," he muttered.

She too gazed at him, a prey to the same anguish; she pressed to her lips the tip of the fan which the Prince had given her.

He tore himself from her presence. That very night he reached Osaka, and went at once to the Shogun.

"Is it you!" joyfully exclaimed Fide-Yori. "I did not hope to see you so soon; your presence is a consolation to me amid the cares that overwhelm me."

"What!" said Iwakura, "when we are victorious! Why are you sad?"

"How can you ask me, friend? True, Yoke-Moura drove the enemy from the village that they held near Osaka; but Harounaga has just been completely routed in his retreat on Yamashiro. Two thirds of the kingdom are in the power of our foe."

"No matter! We won the day at Soumiossi; we cast confusion into the camp of Hieyas; we triumphed at Kioto. And the Son of the Gods, starting for a moment from his torpor, is about to order the two parties to be reconciled."

"Hieyas will refuse."

"He cannot refuse; he cannot revolt openly against the Mikado."

"He who attacked him with such sacrilegious daring!"

"He attacked him to gain possession of his person, and dictate his own terms to him. The Mikado a captive would be a mere nobody; the Mikado free, and grasping the reins of power once more, is omnipotent."

"Hieyas will impose conditions which I cannot accept. It is his interest to continue the war."

"Nevertheless, he will be obliged to obey for the moment; and our most pressing need is a few months of respite."

"To be sure; we could then assemble all our forces. Communication is cut off; the armies of the various princes have not arrived."

"Are Signenari and his twenty thousand men still on the Island of Awadsi?" asked the Prince.

"Still," said the Shogun; "and the young General is desperate at being reduced to inaction."

"I was just going to ask you to issue orders for him to open the campaign."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a personal injury to avenge. I entreat you to lend me that army."

"On whom do you wish to be revenged, friend?" said the Shogun.

"On one of those who betrayed you, – on the Prince of Tosa. He has attacked my kingdom, plundered my fortress, carried off my bride; and deceived by a resemblance into thinking he had captured me, he refused the man the death of a nobleman, and cut off the head of one of my servants."

"Such things can indeed only be washed out in blood," said Fide-Yori. "I will give you an order for Signenari, and I put a war-junk at your disposal. Do not spare that infamous Tosa, – that envious, cowardly traitor, unworthy of the rank he holds."

"I will raze his towers, burn his harvests, and kill him as one would butcher a hog," said the Prince; "only regretting that he has but one life to pay for all his crimes."

"May you succeed!" said the Shogun. "Alas!" he added, "I was so glad to see you; and you come only to go again! What solitude! what an empty void about me! What sorrow! My heart is gnawed by a secret grief which I must not reveal. Some day I will confide it to you; that will solace me."

The Prince raised his eyes to the Shogun's face; he remembered that several times before, a confession had risen to the King's lips, and had been arrested there by a sort of timid modesty. Now, as then, Fide-Yori was embarrassed, and turned away his head.

"What can it be?" thought Nagato.

Then he added aloud: "My vengeance once appeased, I promise to leave you no more."

As he left the Shogun's apartments, the Prince of Nagato met Yodogimi.

"Ah! you are here, illustrious victor!" she said, bitterly; "you come to receive the praises due your noble deeds."

"It is only when falling from your lovely lips that praise is pleasant to my ear," said the Prince, bowing with somewhat exaggerated politeness; "but you favor me with none but rude and scornful words."

"If we are enemies, it is your own fault," said Yodogimi.

"I never wished to offend you; it was my slight merit which wrought my ruin. You declared war against me; but I never accepted the challenge, and I remained your slave."

"A very humble slave! who attracts all the light to himself, allowing no one else to shine in his presence!"

"Am I really so resplendent?" said the Prince. "Against your will, you see, you let fall the praises which you refused me."

"Cease your raillery!" cried Yodogimi. "I seize this opportunity to tell you that while all the world admire and love you, I detest you."

"She cannot forgive me for Harounaga's defeat," muttered the Prince.

Yodogimi withdrew, hurling an angry glance at Nagato. The beautiful Princess once loved Iwakura in secret. The Prince would not see her love; hence the hatred with which she pursued him.

Nagato left the palace; and, a few hours after, set sail for the Island of Awadsi.

CHAPTER XXIII.

FATKOURA

The captive of the lord of Tosa found her days long and monotonous. She waited for her avenger, sure of his coming, but impatient at the delay. She was tormented by the love, steadily gaining strength, with which Tosa pursued her. After the execution of the man whom he supposed to be Nagato, he had abstained from visiting her; then, seeing that Fatkoura's grief was not violent, and that she seemed resigned, he took courage and renewed his importunities. Sometimes he was humble, submissive, suppliant; sometimes he raged and stormed; and again, he would try to melt her by his tears. But she was still implacable.

"Your tears," said she, "are like the tiger's, when he fears his victim will escape him."

"You shall never escape me," shouted Tosa.

Fatkoura was severe with Tika; she saw that the maid favored the Prince's love. Tika schemed to make her mistress Princess of Tosa. "The Prince of Nagato is dead!" thought she. "Besides, Fatkoura was quickly consoled for his loss."

"You are free now," she said to her mistress one day; "you can love the Prince of Tosa."

"I shall never love any one but Iwakura," was the young woman's answer.

"Love a dead man! That won't last," thought Tika.

But from that day forth Fatkoura ceased to talk to her; she did not even permit the girl to remain in her presence. Tika wept outside the door; her mistress pretended not to hear her. Yet she missed her maid more than she was willing to confess. This companion of her misfortunes, this confidant of her griefs and her sorrows, was a necessity of her life. Captivity seemed harder to her since she had exiled her from her side; she especially missed the girl's conversation. Finally, she resolved to forgive her, and to confess to her that the Prince still lived. She accordingly summoned her.

The repentant Tika knelt in the centre of the room, hid her face behind her flowing sleeves, and her tears fell fast.

"You will never mention the Prince of Tosa to me again," said Fatkoura.

"Never, mistress," sobbed Tika; "except to curse him."

"Well, I forgive you. Talk to me of my beloved as you used to do."

"Alack! he is dead," said Tika; "I can only mourn with you."

"Don't you think I was speedily consoled?"

Tika, in surprise, looked up at her mistress, who smiled.

"Why, I thought – " she stammered, "I thought he was wrong to submit to defeat in your presence."

"What if I were to tell you that he was never defeated, that he is alive – ."

"He triumphs over your heart; he lives in your imagination: that is what you mean."

"No; he still breathes the breath of life."

"Alas, that is impossible! Before our eyes – I shudder to think of it still – his ghastly head fell to the ground."

"That man, whose death we witnessed, was not Iwakura."

"Has grief affected her reason?" thought Tika, scrutinizing her mistress in some alarm.

"You think me mad?" said Fatkoura, "You shall see, when he comes to open the doors of our prison, whether I speak the truth.".

Tika dared not contradict her mistress; she pretended to believe that Nagato lived. "Better this strange hallucination than her former blank despair!" she thought.

They then began to talk of the absent one as had been their wont in the Dairi. They recalled the words that he had spoken, the anecdotes he had told. They tried to imitate the tones of his voice. They reconstructed his every dress, rehearsed, his features, his smile, his attitude. Often they would hold a long discussion over some detail or date, or a simple phrase which he had uttered. In this fashion the hours glided rapidly by.

Every day the Prince of Tosa sent presents to Fatkoura, – flowers, rare birds, marvellous fabrics. Every day Fatkoura let the birds fly, threw the silks and flowers from the window. The Prince never wearied. At noon he would pay a visit to the prisoner, and discourse of his love.

One day, however, he entered Fatkoura's room with a strange expression on his face.

He dismissed Tika with a gesture that suffered no reply; then he stepped towards Fatkoura, and gazed at her fixedly.

"You are firmly resolved to resist me still?" said he, after a pause.

"Now and always; and to hate as much as I despise you."

"That is your final answer? Think again."

"I do not need to think. I hated you from the first moment I saw you; I shall hate you to my death."

"Very well!" cried the Prince, in a terrible voice; "I can force you to become my wife."

"I defy you to do so," said Fatkoura, who never quailed before the Prince's gaze.

"I will conquer you, I swear, as I conquered your lover."

Fatkoura smiled scornfully.

"Yes," resumed the Prince, "you have exhausted my patience. My love made me merciful, timid, – even shy. I implored, I wept, I waited! I left your grief time to heal. Your repeated refusals inflamed my passion; I was enraged; then I humbled myself. But I am tired of this prolonged torture; my prayers are over. No more gentleness, no more tears; you must henceforth be the one to weep and entreat. For the last time, will you love me?"

"Truly you have a singular nature," said Fatkoura. "The vulture does not seek gratitude from the bird he strangles in his clutch; and you insist on love from a woman whose husband you have killed!"

"I know that you can never love me," said Tosa. "Still, you shall say that you do; you shall strive to make me think you do."

"I am curious to learn what means you will employ to make me say such things."

"You will know them soon enough," said the Prince, withdrawing.

From that day a series of sufferings for the prisoner began. At first they separated her from Tika, and locked her into her room; then they stopped up the windows, only letting a few rays of light enter from above. In this way Fatkoura was deprived of seeing the gardens, and of the cool evening air. She was served with food she did not like. Gradually, all utensils for her personal use disappeared. Each day made her situation worse. At last none of the servants would wait on her. She was put into a prison cell, and finally removed to a dungeon, where she had to wait all day for a bowl of cold rice.

"These are the means he takes to win my love!" said Fatkoura, sustained by a hope of rescue.

But one day, abruptly, these stern measures ceased. The young woman was brought back to the rooms which she had at first occupied. Tika was restored to her, and seemed very happy.

"The province of Tosa is invaded," she exclaimed. "An army is at hand; we shall be set free."

"I told you he would come, my lord, my beloved spouse!" said Fatkoura. "He comes to deliver us from our troubles, and to avenge the man who died so bravely in his place."

"I heard no mention of any one but General Signenari, sent by the Shogun."

"Be assured that Iwakura is with him."

"It may be so," said the girl.

"It is so! I shall see him again at last! After so many trials, happiness will return! Is anything known of the fight?"

"The Prince of Tosa set off hurriedly. His soldiers, who did not expect this attack, and were resting on their laurels, were completely beaten. The Shogun's army is but a few leagues away."

"It will soon be beneath these walls," said Fatkoura, "and we shall have to undergo a second siege. But while at Hagui we longed for victory, we now tremble with desire to be vanquished."

Several days passed in feverish expectation. Suddenly, the Prince of Tosa's army, put to rout, returned to the fortress in confusion. The gates were closed, and the siege began. The assailants, leaving the besieged no time for reflection, stormed the place.

A terrible uproar filled the castle. Within, were dismay, continual coming and going, shouts and cries; without, uninterrupted blows. Tika ran in search of news; returned; then started out again. On the third day, the soldiers suddenly rushed to one point: a breach was effected. Cries of discouragement rose on all sides.

"Better surrender."

"We can't hold out long."

"We are lost."

Towards noon the Prince of Tosa entered Fatkoura's room abruptly. She was standing by the window, looking out; her face was radiant with joy. She turned, and saw her enemy gazing at her with folded arms. A sort of instinctive terror took possession of her as she beheld him. He was pale, with a sinister expression. In his right hand he grasped a bloody sword, which dripped upon the floor. He quietly returned it to his belt.

"The battle is lost," he said, with a scowl; "I am conquered."

"The man whom you thought to dishonor is at your gates, and comes to chastise your crimes," said Fatkoura.

"Ah! You know that Nagato is not dead," cried the Prince. "But what does it matter? He is there, it is true; he comes to deliver you: but before he takes you back," he added, in tones of thunder, "before he crosses the crumbling walls of my castle, – mark me well! – you shall be mine."

Fatkoura sprang back, and darted to the farthest corner of the room.

"You may fancy," continued Tosa, "that I did not abandon the field for nothing. The victors are at my heels; there is no time to be lost in idle entreaties." As he said this he sprang towards her.

"Help!" she shrieked in an agonized voice; "Tika, help! Nagato, come to my rescue!"

Tosa laid his hand upon her mouth. "What's the use of shrieking?" said he; "nobody will come. Submit! for you are mine at last; you shall not escape me now."

He encircled her with his arms; but all at once he saw something gleam above him. Fatkoura had snatched a dagger from the Prince's belt.

"You are wrong; I shall escape you yet once again," said she. "My last thought is for you, Iwakura!"

Tosa uttered a loud cry. He saw the dagger buried to the hilt in the young woman's breast; then she drew it out and threw it to the ground.

At that instant the panel which closed the entrance flew in splinters. The Prince of Nagato, sword in hand, rushed into the room and leaped upon the Prince of Tosa.

"Ah, wretch!" he shouted; "you insult your captive and my betrothed! You add this unparalleled crime to all your former misdeeds! But the hour of vengeance is at hand; the earth shall be rid of you!"

Tosa had drawn his sword; he struck it against Nagato's blade. But he shuddered; a superstitious fear froze his blood; he felt that he was about to die.

Iwakura, with irresistible force, drove him back to the other side of the room, and brought him to a stand against the wall. Tosa, with bloodshot eyes, glared wildly at his foe; he could but ill defend himself. Nagato dashed the sword from his hand.

"Now you shall die!" he cried; "I will kill you, – not as a man frees himself of a loyal enemy, but as he would crush a scorpion." And with one fearful blow, he nailed him to the wall by the throat.

Fatkoura had not fallen. She stood leaning against the wall, her hand pressed to her wound. The blood gushed between her fingers. The Prince of Nagato left his enemy writhing in awful agony, and ran to her; he saw the blood flowing in rivers.

"What is it?" he cried.

"I am dying," said Fatkoura.

She sank to the ground. The Prince knelt beside her, and supported her on his knees.

"Is there no one here?" he cried. "Let some one bring a doctor."

"I implore you," said Fatkoura, "do not call; nothing can heal my wound. It was to prevent a stain upon your name that I struck home; I cannot be saved. Let no one enter; let me die by your side, as I could not live there."

"Unfortunate girl! and I have brought you to this!" cried the Prince. "You die for me after a life of suffering, – you, so fair, so young, and so formed for happiness? Ah! why was I placed upon your path?"

"I was happy for a time," said Fatkoura, "very happy; for you seemed to love me. But I have dearly paid for those days of joy. What did I do to you, cruel one, that you should desert me as you did?"

"You guessed the reason, sweet Princess. An all-powerful, invincible love turned me from you; my will refused to obey my reason any longer."

"Yes! how can we struggle against love? I know the power it gains, I, who vainly strove to hate you. Yes! you have felt those sharp pangs, that aimless expectation, those fevered dreams, those hopes that would not die; you have known those sobs which would not be stifled, those tears that burned like drops of fire. A prey to hopeless love, you suffered as I did. Is it not frightful, and can you not pity me?"

"I would give my life to repair the harm I have done you."

"There is no rest by night or day, is there? It seems as if you were at the foot of a precipice lined with steep rocks, which you fain would climb, yet fall back again and again. But I am mad," added Fatkoura; "your suffering was nothing as compared to mine, for you were loved."

The Prince started.

"Yes, she loved you; I know it," resumed Fatkoura, with a faint sigh. "Do you think that the jealous eye of the woman you scorned could fail to read her face I – how its pride died away when she looked at you; how her voice, against her will, would soften when she spoke to you; what happy tremors when you came, what sadness when you went! I watched and noted all; each discovery was like a sword thrust into my heart; rage, hate, and love devoured my soul. No, you never suffered as I did."

"Do not overwhelm me, Fatkoura!" said the Prince. "I did not deserve such love; see how I have rewarded it! You are dying for my sake, and I cannot save you. The horrible grief that rends me at this moment avenges you for much of the suffering that I have caused you."