Part 16

“It means death,” said Aidzu.

“It is the doom of the shogunate,” cried Mori.

Still the Emperor hesitated and shivered.

Again there was a sound of running feet. Suddenly a boyish figure leaped into the group of men and sprang upon the belfry platform. A quick hand drew back the swinging hammer to the full length of the chain. Then releasing it, the hand shot the hammer straight and true at the bell’s heart.

The signal, reverberating heavily, far-sounding, floated into the distance, filling the air with its sombre zoom! gohn! gohn! gohn!

A slender boy knelt at the Emperor’s feet.

“Your Majesty commanded me to ring,” said a voice.

Mori, peering forward, recognized in an instant the boy Jiro. A great lump welled up in his throat, choking him with the intensity of his emotion.

“Treason! Kill him!” shrieked Aidzu. “Your Majesty gave no such command.”

Nettled at the air of constant authority about Aidzu, the Emperor forgot his caution. Perhaps, too, the deed of the boy had touched him, just as it had relieved him of embarrassment.

“I so commanded,” he said.

“But your Majesty spoke no words,” ejaculated the infuriated Aidzu.

“The Son of Heaven need not speak by word of mouth to be understood,” was the exasperating and perfectly dignified response of the Mikado.

Forgetting himself in his rage, Aidzu turned to Echizen and Mori.

“I will thwart your plans yet, be assured, my lords.”

Mori drew himself up proudly, and throwing back his head, surveyed the governor contemptuously.

“It is too late,” he said. “Listen!”

From all quarters of the city about the palace there came the sound of stirring movement. At first the noises mingled in confusion and were indistinguishable. Gradually, as their several origins receded and drew apart, they became capable of separate identification. Off to the west a large body of horsemen were fiercely galloping. To the east the tread of men marching in regular formation shook the ground. Farther south there was the indistinct tramp of distant horses, mingled with the metallic clank of gun-fittings. Cannon were being moved.

The march to Shimonoseki had begun.

XXXVII

IT was the last stage of Mori’s march to his seaport of Shimonoseki. In the extreme rear, with a mounted force lately assembled under the direction of Toro, the Prince of Mori rode. Near him were Jiro and his ever-constant guardian, the samurai Genji, also mounted. An empty norimon, which served as a travelling council-house, was borne by runners in advance of this, the rear-guard.

The march of the expedition was slow, since it was regulated by the pace of the laborers who preceded the main body, as they were to throw up the intrenchments without which the cannon of the Mori foundries were useless.

The division of laborers marched immediately behind the advance-guard. Feeling little apprehension of attack from the objective direction of their march, Mori had thrown his strength to the rear. Here, in addition to the cavalry forces, were the cannon brought from his provinces and those furnished by the Prince of Echizen.

Over all a moon, screened by a filmy cloud, spread its diffused light, which rendered Mori impatient to begin the work of intrenchment, since much might be accomplished before the foreign ships could learn of the Imperialist plans.

When Mori and Jiro, leaving the discomfited Aidzu and the vacillating Emperor together, had rushed from the palace enclosure to mount the horses provided by Echizen just outside, there had been no time for explanations. Mori was not even surprised to find Jiro joined by Genji before they had galloped a mile. He had become accustomed to the association of these two in a convenient comradeship.

The first work of that night had been the posting of mounted guards in advance and in the rear of the laborers, assembled by Echizen. This done, the three had galloped to the division of the cannon, which was hurriedly organized into some semblance of individual batteries and despatched after the proletariat division.

Then in a wild, quick dash across the country the Prince of Mori had marshalled his infantry, swordsmen, and riflemen from the scattered columns into one compact corps. Time was now pressing, but the Shining Prince had yet to converge his parallel lines of cavalry.

Fearing that the unstable Emperor, in some new doubt of expediency, might yet despatch other troops to recall him, Mori placed his strongest cavalry body under the command of Genji in the rear.

While waiting for one of these divisions to file past him, Mori, turning suddenly to Jiro, asked:

“How came you into the Emperor’s palace, Jiro?”

“It was simply done,” replied the lad. “I returned with the couriers sent by you to your forces from the fortress of Mori.”

“You came in good time,” Mori said, in quiet commendation.

The distribution of the various forces completed, Mori, ordering Genji to exercise a general oversight until his return, had turned to gallop back to the palace. He had gone but a short distance, however, when he found that the lad Jiro was close behind him.

“Return to Genji’s cavalry division,” he ordered, briefly.

“But, your highness, I am your personal armor-bearer; I must accompany you.”

The hard-riding form of Genji at this moment had dashed forward. Mori was astounded at this singular disobedience.

“What, you!” he had cried. “You leave an army to care for itself!”

“But the lad—Jiro,” said Genji.

“Is he, then, so precious that you endanger the safety of a whole cause? Return at once, both of you, to your stations.”

Without a word more, Mori rode to the palace to confer with Echizen. He found the premier greatly troubled.

“Mori,” he said, “I cannot prevail upon the Emperor to make me his own premier as well as that of the Shogun. Already he is weakening. You must expect little aid from me now, since I will be under the Shogun. I may aid you unexpectedly, but rely upon nothing more than my willingness. Undoubtedly, efforts will be made to interfere with you, but disregard them. Obey the order you have received, and allow no Shogun to countermand it. The foreigners once aroused, the rest will come in time.”

So it was with an anxious heart that Mori rode in the rear of his forces on the last stage of the journey. Up to this time nothing untoward had occurred. He had met and joined to his army the forces under Toro, ordered earlier to proceed from the Mori fortress to Yedo. All was well with them.

The melancholy of the Prince was broken by the entrance through a sudden opening made in the group of his horsemen of some strange samurai. Straightway these samurai, having delivered to him some rolls of parchment, were dismissed to the advance.

The general staff of Mori, which included Genji, Toro, and the boy Jiro, were summoned about the Prince for council.

Mori, who had dismounted from his horse, spread out upon the ground and examined by the light of a lantern the plans of the heights overlooking Shimonoseki. Quickly he marked upon their surface black spots.

“Here you will dig your trenches,” he ordered Toro. “It is time for the work.”

The heights overlooking the water below were entered first by the advance-guard, now under Mori in person. A cordon was placed about them, with every approach from the land guarded. Into the large circle thus formed Toro led the laborers under their direction. At once the trained pioneers began the erection of earthworks upon a system imparted by Mori to Toro, and from the latter direct to the chief pioneers. The entire space of the immense circle was soon filled by the burrowing, grubbing laborers.

While these were sinking holes on the landward side, it became apparent that no raised fortifications were to be made a target for ships. The hills themselves were cut into, but always upon the landward side, leaving their natural elevation towards the sea. Thus the guns would lie in a pit below the surface of the highlands. The walls were all within.

Mori’s next task was the formation of the infantry into another circle to the landward of that occupied by the pioneers. Into the centre of it the cannon were drawn, where they were to remain until the trenches were ready for their occupancy. The remaining force of cavalry was massed at a convenient station, whence they could be sent quickly to any desired point.

Now at last there came a period of inaction for Mori. The pioneers were making full speed, but nothing further could be done until the trenches were completed. In this breathing space Mori rode apart from all his forces, dismissing his temporary staff to their tasks of oversight.

Upon a lonely bluff the Prince dismounted, where he was able to make out indistinctly the foreign ships of war at anchor below. Concerning their identity he was little informed. He knew several nationalities were represented, since the advent of the Americans had drawn English, Dutch, French, and Russian men-of-war to the coast. At least four nations must be represented in the little fleet that stretched out yonder over the water.

“It little matters,” said Mori. “They may be American, English, French, or Russian, but they are all foreigners, and desire to encroach upon our sacred realm.”

As he turned away from the water a young officer of his staff saluted him.

“Many trenches are now prepared, your highness,” he said.

At once the task of installing the guns was begun. Out from their guarded circle they were drawn. The horses originally transporting them were aided by the cavalry mounts, while footmen pulled enthusiastically at the wheels as they sank into the trampled mire or were blocked by natural obstructions.

Once within the pits destined for their reception, the guns were levelled and adjusted by men from Mori’s works. The crews appointed to each gun were composed of the followers who had come from the Mori fortress.

Dawn found much of the work completed. The trenches were fashioned, the guns within the pits, and the cavalry in their appointed station. The outer cordon of guards was instructed to dismount and to recline, horse and man, so that nothing suspicious could be seen from the decks of the vessels below.

Within the trenches the adjustment of the heavy pieces was in progress, together with the levelling of a gun platform or the furtive sighting of a gun. Such of the infantry as were not engaged in this employment were thrown out as scouts on the landward side, that no Shogun force might attack them in the rear.

Mori now made a round of inspection within the fortress. Seeing that a number of the guards were in position for their final firing elevation, the Prince called Toro to him.

“Let the crews be drilled,” he ordered, “but without raising the guns above the tops of the trenches.”

The young and impetuous Toro gave his orders speedily. The crews were thus familiarized with their pieces.

During the course of the forenoon it was observed that the foreign fleet changed its position, standing off from land, and that two vessels left the squadron and disappeared around the headland.

“They are in communication with the Shogun’s people,” said Mori, aloud.

“Catzu will be upon us shortly,” said a voice at his elbow.

Turning, Mori found the youth Jiro. His eyes warmed with interest as he regarded kindly the boy who, with the spirit of a samurai, had never faltered in his service. Feeling strangely drawn towards Jiro, the Prince looked about him for some piece of especial employment to give him as a token of favor.

“Ah, my boy,” said he, “there is a rare spirit within thee. Would that thou wert a man.”

Hot blood colored the cheeks of the boy.

His eyes clouded, then his head drooped forward.

“My lord,” he faltered, almost tremulously, “I am indeed a man, I do assure you.”

Mori smiled.

“Only a boy, Jiro, that is all. But see yonder, they are bringing in the last and largest of the guns. Do thou attend its mounting.”

“And after,” asked Jiro—“after it is mounted, my lord, who is then to have charge of it?”

“Perhaps thou also,” replied Mori, still smiling.

“I thank thee, my lord,” said Jiro, bowing deeply and hurrying away.

The Prince was still standing there, smiling across the water, when Oguri, his chief of staff, approached him, and bowing low, awaited his pleasure.

“What is it, Oguri?” he asked.

“Your highness, the Lord of Catzu is at the outer guard-post, announcing that he comes with a message from the Shogun.”

Mori’s brows darkened.

“Tell him,” he ordered, “that we know no Shogun here,” and turned again to the water-front.

In a flash he saw that the foreign fleet was approaching a spot opposite his position.

Oguri maintained his place.

“Will you not see him?” he asked.

The sight of the fleet changed the determination of Mori.

“Tell my Lord of Catzu that I will see him outside the works, as Lord Catzu simply. Have him conducted outside, if you please.”

The Lord of Catzu was brought to the spot mentioned by the samurai deputed by Oguri. Mori met him coldly. When Catzu offered credentials from the Yedo government the Prince waived them aside.

“No credentials are necessary, my lord,” he said. “I receive you as a private individual.”

“I come as an official,” returned Catzu.

“What is it you wish to say to me?” inquired Mori, in as haughty a tone as his own.

“As a representative of the Shogun, I order you to disarm. The shogunate alone makes peace and war.”

“I have the sanction, the command, of the only master I acknowledge—his Serene Majesty the Mikado.”

Catzu still breathed heavily from his labored ascent of the hill, for the Mori men had refused to permit him the attendance of even his runners.

“Do you still refuse to obey the august Shogun?” he cried, testily and with difficulty.

“I obey the Mikado,” returned Mori.

“Disarm!” roared the now infuriated Catzu.

Mori raised his hands as though in preparation for a signal. He held them aloft as he shouted:

“I shall give you my answer with awful effect, your highness.”

Sharply Mori lowered his hands. The sally-port facing them crashed sharply open, disclosing the interior of the lately erected fortifications.

“Look, my Lord of Catzu.”

In trepidation Catzu looked about him. The silent, absorbed patriots were at their guns. Directly across from the sally-port within the works the gun of Jiro had been placed in position. The youth bent forward, was sighting the piece, while Toro, arms akimbo, stood back, approval written upon his face.

“Guns and men,” muttered Catzu; then, catching sight of Toro, he almost rushed upon him. Toro, surprised, turned about and faced his father.

“Thou recreant son!” roared the senior Lord of Catzu. Meeting his father’s eyes squarely, Toro kept silence.

“Thou art,” said Catzu, “truly a vicious product. Hast thou forgotten all the precepts of honor taught thee from childhood? Thou art no son of mine, nor indeed of Japan, for what man can be a patriot with honor who sets his father at defiance? It is admitted by even those more ignorant than thou that a true son owes his first allegiance in life to his parent.”

“Nay, my lord,” replied Toro, quickly. “You do labor under a mistake. The first allegiance a son of Japan owes to any man is that claimed of him by his supreme master, the Emperor. Banzai, the Mikado!”

Mori stepped quietly before the enraged Catzu.

“Now, my Lord of Catzu,” he said, “you shall have my answer.”

As he spoke, he caught up a light rifle from a guard at the gate and fired into the air. Instantly the crews, with hoarse cries, elevated their pieces until their muzzles stood above the breastworks; carefully they trained them upon the ships.

“Ready, my lord,” shouted Toro.

“Ready, my lord,” echoed Oguri.

Mori made a sign. Instantly a heavy discharge rent the air and shook the ground whereon they stood.

Jiro, at his gun, directly before Mori and Catzu, himself applied the match, and then, stepping back, squinted along the piece to see the effect of his fire. The ball broke a foremast on the leading vessel. In consternation Catzu left the place, the design of the crafty Mori to embroil him with the enemy through his accidental presence dawning upon him.

For upward of an hour the firing continued. At the end of that period the ships drew off from range. Mori, elated at having held his own against the foreigners, and now certain of the consequences of his action, withdrew his people from the batteries. That night the army rested, for Mori knew that the foreigners would lay the cause of the bombardment to the shogunate and make new demands upon it.

The next day a courier from the Kioto court entered his works.

“It is some new mark of the Mikado’s regard,” cried Toro, impulsively.

Sadly Mori smiled.

“I fear me it is,” he said.

With a calm face and firm hand Mori opened the despatch. His face darkened.

“What is it?” cried Toro.

“We are branded as outlaws,” answered Mori, his spirit quite gone, a deathly pallor creeping over his face. “We are forbidden to approach the Imperial city.”

“Aidzu?” whispered Jiro, almost in tears.

“Yes, Aidzu,” repeated Mori.

* * * * *

A garrison was left in the works in charge of Oguri, who was to make more intrenchments. Mori, with his cavalry and footmen, accompanied by Toro, Jiro, and Genji, returned inland that night to the fortress of the Prince.

XXXVIII

WITHOUT the Imperial city of Kioto, in an open field, lay encamped a little army of thirteen hundred men. It was some months following the decisive action of Mori at Shimonoseki. Imperialists of the neighborhood could not have told who the commander of this force was. They were known simply as the “Irregulars.”

Small as was the force, it was admirably trained and drilled in all three of its divisions of cavalry, infantry, and artillery. Each division was the flower and choice of some larger body. The force, which had remained in inaction for a considerable period, showed nevertheless a state of ruling vigilance, whether for attack or defence could not have been told from its appearance.

The camp was in the shape of an elongated circle, whose circumference was regularly defined by field-pieces set at regular intervals, and trained to oppose any invading force. Near each cannon were tethered the horses furnishing the motive power. Hard by, stretched upon the ground, or lounging within the scant shadows of the gun-carriages, were the artillerymen. Infantry guards, in armor, and for the most part armed with rifles, patrolled the space without the circle. Other soldiers and samurai, armed only with swords, sat in the openings of tents assigned to their division, or occupied the time in sword exercise in the open spaces between their shelters. Near the centre of the encampment were assembled the horses of the cavalry division, saddled and in complete readiness for their riders, who lounged near by.

Within a short stone’s-throw of the horsemen was pitched what seemed, from its commanding position on a little eminence, the tent of the commander of the “Irregulars.” Close by its entrance stood an enormous samurai, whose naked sword was held lightly, carelessly, in his hand. In conversation with him stood a hardy youth, attired as a cavalryman.

The curtains of the tent on the eminence were parted deftly, and the slight figure of a boy hastened towards the two.

“My Lord of Catzu,” he said, “the Prince Mori desires your presence, and that of you also, Sir Genji.”

Toro smiled at the youth’s ceremoniousness.

“Is there news, my Jiro?” he asked.

“Oguri, as you know, has arrived from the south, and our enemies have reported concerning the condition of the city.”

The three hastened within, where they found Oguri and Mori.

“Now, then, Oguri, your news,” commanded Mori.

“Your highness,” said Oguri, “the British have bombarded Kagoshima as a result of our attack upon the foreign fleet.”

“Kagoshima!” exclaimed Mori—“the capital of our old friend Satsuma. Then, indeed, have we brought trouble upon our allies.”

Other members of Mori’s staff sent through Kioto reported the results of their investigations. The premier Echizen had abolished the custom of the daimio’s compulsory residence in Yedo during a portion of each year, and now all these territorial lords resided in Kioto. Within the Imperial palace of Kommei Tenno the Lord Aidzu appeared to have controlling influence. The Lord of Catzu was there with him in consultation. Troops of the Aidzu clan had arrived at the palace in great numbers and were encamped in the flower-gardens. Though loathing the shogunate, the Mikado appeared to be completely under its control.

Having ascertained these facts, Mori dismissed all the staff save Oguri, Toro, Genji, and Jiro.

“No answer has come to our petition?” he asked.

The four shook their heads.

“None,” they said.

“You have heard the reports,” continued Mori, “and will perceive that the Aidzu-Catzu party, now in possession of the Emperor’s person and the palace, are determined upon something. These constant arrivals of new troops, the silence of the Mikado to our petition, the crowding of the palace with armed samurai—all these things mean that we are to be punished for having petitioned the Mikado to remove from us the ban of outlaw.”

“Then, your highness,” broke in Toro, “since the petition was not signed by you, but came from us, your followers, they may now know of your arrival here, and may be preparing to send out an expedition against you in the south.”

“No,” replied Mori, “I think they know I am here with you, and propose to attack me at once here in my camp. Now, my friends, the time has come for me to disclose to you the real purpose of this expedition. We have respectfully petitioned the Mikado to admit us again to his favor. He is silent. He is surrounded by his enemies. We must attack the palace and rid it of the Aidzu-Catzu combination, thus allowing the Mikado once more to become a free agent.”

Oguri and Genji leaped to their swords.

“Now, on the instant, my lord,” they cried.

Mori answered, calmly:

“No; we must first gain some knowledge of the exact plans of those within the palace. I want a volunteer for this service.”

Simultaneously the four cried out for the service. Mori considered.

“No, not you, Toro; you would be recognized too quickly; nor you, Oguri, for you are needed sorely here. Perhaps you, Genji, but you are too large.”

“I am small. The task is mine,” broke in Jiro. “I will go.”

“Not without me,” said Genji.

“Why not without you, Sir Genji?” inquired Mori, mildly. “The boy Jiro needs no guardian. He has proved his valor and discretion upon many an occasion.”

With a smile whose influence was ever potent with the Shining Prince, Jiro moved nearer his commander. He said, gently:

“Permit Sir Genji to accompany me. I have resources within the palace I need not speak of now, which will insure me complete safety, but I would ask that the samurai be placed”—he smiled boyishly—“under my command, so that if I am forced to remain within the palace he may carry to you whatever news I may gain.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Mori. “What resources can you have in the Mikado’s palace?”

The lad, stammering, blushed.

“My lord,” he said, “you know I visited the palace before, and—and—”

He broke off in confusion.

“As you will,” said Mori, turning aside.

An hour later the samurai Genji strode through the eastern gate of Kommei Tenno’s palace, accompanied by a young woman with the air of a princess. They were allowed to pass, while Genji answered the challenge of the guard readily.

“Of the household of the Lord Catzu,” he said, pointing to the young woman. “My lord’s apartments?”