Warriors of Old Japan, and Other Stories — Shiragiku or White Chrysanthemum, Part 2

In the early morning the brother and sister left the house, hand in hand.

They had not gone far when they heard pursuing footsteps, and looking back they saw two or three of the men who had escaped the night before coming after them.

Akihide bade his sister run for her life, while he stayed behind and engaged the robbers in a fight and so gave her time to escape.

Shiragiku did as she was told and fled through the woods under cover of the trees.

On and on she went, till at last she reached a place of safety out of sight.

But her heart, beating wildly with fear, was behind with her brother, wondering what had happened to him, whether he had vanquished the bandits or had been killed by them.

Who can describe her anxiety?

She had found her brother only to lose him in this sad and uncertain way.

Afraid to retrace her steps, yet anxious to know what had become of him, she climbed to the nearest hill-top to try if she could see anything of him, but around her there was nothing but hills and pine woods.

As she looked about her, she saw near by a little shrine, and, overcome with the terror of all that had befallen her within the last two days, she made her way towards it with trembling steps, and kneeling down offered up a fervent prayer for help and for her brother's and father's safety.

An old man who was cutting down trees in the forest saw her weeping there, and his heart filled with pity for the young girl.

He drew near and asked her to tell him what was the matter.

On hearing her sad story he led her to his home, saying that he would take care of her.

It was a quiet mountain place in the woods.

The ground was covered with pine needles, the chrysanthemums round the humble cottage were fading, and the bell-insects were feebly tinkling in the grass, for the last days of autumn were passing.

Here in this retired spot Shiragiku lived in peace.

The old wood-cutter and his wife, having no children of their own, loved her as a daughter, for such she seemed to them, so amiable, patient, and helpful in all her ways was she, and they told her that they hoped she would remain with them to the end of their days.

Shiragiku did her utmost to show her gratitude to the old couple for their kindness to her, but she never ceased to think of her father and brother and to look forward to the time when they would once more be a united family.

In spite of all discouragements she cherished this hope.

Now and again she implored the old man to let her go and look for them; but he would not permit this, saying that it was not safe for an unprotected girl to roam the hills, that if she did so she would be sure to fall into the hands of robbers again, and that it was far wiser for her to wait till her father and brother found her than for her to seek them, not knowing where they were.

Her reverence for old age made her obey him, and she waited in patience, hoping each day she rose that her father and brother would find her before the evening came.

During these quiet years she grew in beauty day by day and passed from girlhood into the bloom of early womanhood.

The poor cotton robe--all that the wood-cutter could give her-in no wise hid her loveliness.

She was like a fine chrysanthemum shining among the wild flowers of the plain.

She was soon the acknowledged beauty of the place, and one spring the village chief sought her in marriage.

The wood-cutter, out of respect to the suitor's position, at once gave his consent.

When, however, the old man told Shiragiku of what he planned for her, her dismay was great.

She begged him with tears to make excuses for her;

she told him that she could not think of marriage till she had found her father.

But he would not listen, saying that it was the best thing for her now to be settled in life.

That night the girl covered her face with her sleeves and wept long and bitterly when she lay down to rest.

"How can I obey the old man?"

she sobbed to herself.

"No, never-never!

I

remember now more vividly than ever what my mother told me when she was dying.

'You are not my own child, Shiragiku,' she said; 'one day many years ago I was returning from a visit to a temple.

When passing through a field, I found a little baby crying in the midst of some white chrysanthemums.

Who can have been so wicked as to forsake such a lovely child?

I said to myself; there must be some reason for this!

I carried the little one home and brought her up as my own child.

You are that child.

Praying for blessings on you, I named you _Shira-Giku_, because I found you in a bed of white chrysanthemums.

There is also something else I must tell you before I die.

There is some one in the world to whom you must look as your brother and husband; he is none other than our son, who ran away rather than meet the anger of his father.

We have never heard of him since he left, but if he is still living I am sure he will come back to his family.

Your father and I--your adopted parents--have always destined you for him; it is my last behest that you should refuse all other men and wait to marry our son, for come back I am sure he will one day; then live a happy life together in the old home, praying for our souls when we have left this world.'

My mother's words are still in my ears.

I hear them more clearly than ever," she sobbed to herself.

"I owe her my life; how can I disobey her bidding?

And yet how can I refuse to do as the old wood-cutter asks, for he has been as a parent to me these last three years?

What shall I do?

Oh!

what shall I do?"

Day by day the old man pressed her to accept the suitor and day by day in great perplexity she put him off.

At last, seeing no way of escape from being unfilial to the memory of her mother and from fulfilling the old man's wish, she made up her mind to die and put an end to the struggle.

At this time the _nakodo_ (go-between) of the marriage came and presented her with a roll of brocade for the _obi_ (wide sash) and of damask silk for the _kimono_, the betrothal gift of the bridegroom.

The old man and his wife rejoiced at what they considered her good fortune and regarded the matter as settled, and the neighbours came to congratulate them and to catch a glimpse of the chosen bride of their chief.

Shiragiku, however, had made up her mind.

That night during a rainstorm she stole out from the wood-cutter's cottage.

She looked back wistfully many times at the place which had fed and sheltered her for so long; but she told herself that there was no other way than this, for she must hold as sacred law her mother's last behest.

In the despair of the last few weeks, when this unexpected marriage was being forced upon her, she had lost the hope of finding her father and brother again; but she would die rather than marry a stranger against her foster mother's dying wish.

The night was dark, for the sky was clouded.

Down the empty street of the village Shiragiku hurried with the tightly closed thatch-roofed cottages on either side.

Out across the silent stretches of rice-fields she ran till she reached the blackness of a pine wood, seeking for some spot where she could die.

The roar of water at last reached her ears, and she knew that she had come to a river.

The moaning of the wind in the pine trees sounded to her like the voices of pursuers.

She stopped to look around, but there was no one to be seen.

The path leading down to the river grew rougher and darker as she entered the shadow of the trees, but Shiragiku never faltered in her determination to reach its bank.

At last the water glimmered like a wide white ribbon in the gloom of night.

"I will now die," said Shiragiku, weeping; "but alas!

how sad my father and brother will be when they hear of my death.

Forgive me," she cried aloud, "oh, my father, oh, elder brother, that I die first.

I will await your coming beside my mother in Heaven."

Shiragiku now reached the edge of the bank and was about to dash down into the river with a prayer to Buddha on her lips when she found herself caught from behind and a familiar voice said to her: "Wait a moment!

Tell me who you are and why you seek to take your life."

It was her brother Akihide.

She gazed up at him in the dim light of the moon just coming forth from the clouds.

They both clasped each other by the arms and burst into tears.

"Little sister!"

"Elder brother!"

cried the sister and brother both together in that shock of simultaneous recognition.

In the speechless moments which followed they heard the sound of a flute from the village near by break the silence of the night--they watched the rain cease and the stars shine out one by one.

Akihide led Shiragiku to a large stone; here they sat down and told each other all that had happened since they last parted.

[Illustration: SHIRAGIKU WAS ABOUT TO DASH DOWN INTO THE RIVER] While they were talking the day broke; together they watched the sun rise in splendour and glisten and glow in thousands of rain-drops on the trees and grass around them.

"Let us go and tell the kind old wood-cutter and his wife all that has happened," said White Chrysanthemum, smiling through her tears; "I must bid him farewell and we must thank him, for indeed I owe him my life."

They walked to the village and went at once to the old man and told him their story.

Shiragiku begged him to forgive her for not doing as he wished.

Then Akihide told him that it had been his mother's dying wish that he should marry White Chrysanthemum and keep up the family name.

With tears the brother and sister thanked the old couple for their ever-to-be-remembered kindness to White Chrysanthemum in her distress.

They promised to come and see them whenever they could and to let them know all that happened to them in the future, a promise which they faithfully kept.

They at last took leave with many gentle words on both sides.

Then Akihide and Shiragiku began a happy journey homewards, walking over the hills by day, and passing the night at some farmhouse or cottage they came to on their way.

When the brother and foster sister reached the little house in the valley at the foot of Mount Aso, it was early in the month of May; the cuckoos were singing, and the air was fragrant with the scent of orange-blossoms.

In spite of the years of desertion and neglect, the tiny home still stood safe and firm as when Shiragiku had left it, though the grass had grown tall and thick in the garden and moss covered the roof.

The sun was shining brightly over all, and the balm and gladness of the spring morning rested on their young souls.

For a moment White Chrysanthemum paused at the bamboo gate and said: "This is our home, elder brother!"

Then quickly they ran down the garden, quickly they pushed back the paper screen of the entrance and entered.

Were they waking or were they dreaming?

Who should they see coming forward to meet them but their father, whom they had almost given up as dead.

For a moment they were all silent.

It seemed as if their hearts must burst with inexpressible joy.

"Father!

Father!"

cried Akihide and Shiragiku together, "is it really you?

Are you safe and well?"

"Children, my children!"

cried the astonished father, "have I found you at last?"

Then Akihide knelt before his father, and with his face bowed to the ground, confessed everything, and begged his father's forgiveness for the past.

He told him all--how bitterly he had repented his behaviour, how hard he had tried to make a new life for himself, how long he had searched for his parents in vain, his one wish being to make amends, how wonderfully he had met Shiragiku when he had at last despaired of ever finding any one of his family again, of all that had happened since her coming to the temple.

The father listened gravely to the long sad story; then with gentle words he forgave his son; he bade him to cease all self-reproach, and as he spoke the kind words his eyes grew dark with unshed tears.

When Shiragiku told her story he commended her filial piety, her courage, and her patience.

Now that they had as by a miracle of the gods found each other again, nothing should ever separate them.

Thus the little family found again the vanished happiness of other years.

Shiragiku now busied herself preparing the evening meal, and as she filled her father's and her brother's wine-cup the father told them all that had happened to him.

"When I went out hunting three years ago, I fell over a precipice, and found myself at the bottom of a chasm a hundred or more feet deep.

I was quite unable to get out, so I lived on wild fruits and stream water for many days.

"One morning I chanced to see a band of monkeys climbing the chasm by means of a large wistaria-vine which formed a bridge from side to side.

I followed their example and soon found myself free on the hillside once more.

I returned here with all haste, only to find that Shiragiku had disappeared.

Imagine my distress.

I inquired of every one in the village, but no one had seen her go away, and there was no one who could tell me anything about her.

There was but one thing left for me to do and that was to try and find her.

So I set out walking through province after province, looking for her, but all in vain.

At last I gave up my quest as hopeless and returned here only yesterday."

The joy of the little family was great beyond all words.

This unexpected meeting--the utmost desire of their souls--was a happiness which took away their breath and left them silent with wonder and thankfulness.

Only one thing saddened them--that the good mother, who had died of grief and anxiety, could not be present to share in this joyous reunion, and to know that her prayer was answered and that the long-lost son had returned to his family.

But she was not forgotten--they spoke of her and missed her.

Shiragiku rose and opened the little shrine standing in a closed recess at the end of the room, and taking some sticks of incense set them burning before the name-tablet set up in memory of her mother;

for though Shiragiku now knew that she was not really her own mother, yet she always thought of her as such, for she had known no other.

Father and son and adopted daughter then knelt and with hands clasped and bowed heads prayed before the little altar.

Shiragiku now fetched and tuned her _koto_ (harp) and sang the songs she knew her father liked to hear.

This done, she accompanied her brother, while he paced through some stately measures of the classic dance.

The father, calling Akihide and Shiragiku to his side, told them that he wished them to marry, as his wife had always planned.

He was now an old man, he said, and could not expect to live much longer, and before his death it was his ardent wish to see his house established.

He then named an early date for the wedding.

Akihide, having only entered upon a religious novitiate, was able to obey his father without breaking any vows.

He bowed his willingness and Shiragiku blushed happily.

She was content in fulfilling her good foster mother's last behest.

Now the sun set, a crane cried on the hill at the back of the house, and the stars came out one by one in the soft and darkening turquoise of a May twilight, and peace and joy reigned in the home and the hearts of the three wanderers.

[1] The war of the Restoration.

[2] An autumn grass (Miscanthus sinensis).