Shank's Mare

  'We have some broiled eels, your honour,' said the girl.

  'Beg pardon, your honour,' said the postboy. 'Shall I put your honour's baggage here, —five pieces?'

  'Just give me my money,' said the samurai.

  'Yes, your honour,' said the postboy. 'With your honour's leave I'd like to take a drink.'

  'Oho!' said the samurai. 'Are you fond of liquor?'

  'Yes, your honour,' said the postboy. 'I'm fonder of drinking than I am of eating.'

  'Get what you like,' said the samurai. 'If I were drinking I would give you some, but I don't drink myself.'

  'Even if your honour doesn't take any,' said the postboy, 'I should like some.'

  'Oh, I see,' said the samurai. 'You want some drink money, do you? I can't allow that. We fixed the price for the journey and I shall certainly not pay anything extra for drink.'

  'Yes, but your honour...'

  'If you demand any more you must give me a receipt so that I may send it to your employer's office when I return.'

  'The luggage is very heavy, your honour, for this light horse,' said the postboy. 'I should like to stop here.'

  'Very well, ' said the samurai, ' then I'll give you eight coppers more.' He took out his purse and counted out eight coppers.

  'Won't you make it sixteen coppers, your honour?' asked the postboy.

  'Well, I'll give you four coppers more,' said the samurai. He counted out four coppers and threw them down, whereupon the postboy reluctantly picked up the money and led his horse away.

  'Wait, wait,' cried the samurai. 'Where on earth are you going? There, he's gone and he hasn't given me the sandals that were fastened to the horse. I valued those sandals very much. I was going all the way to Edo in them.'

  He went on grumbling to himself till Kita, who had been watching the scene with amusement, addressed him.

  'Is your honour going to Edo?' he asked.

  'Yes,' said the samurai.

  'I overheard your honour say that you wore only one pair of sandals all the way to Edo. Your honour must be a very careful walker.'

  'No, no,' said the samurai. 'But those sandals were made by myself very carefully, and that is why they last the journey there and back.'

  'Truly your honour must be a very clever walker,' chimed in Yaji. 'Do you see these sandals of mine, your honour? I used them the year before last to go to Matsumae, and as they were as good as new when I got back I put them by for another time. Last year I wore them to Nagasaki, and as they are still quite good I am using them again.'

  'Dear me!' said the samurai. 'You must be more careful than I am. How do you manage to make them last such a long time?'

  'Oh, that's easy,' said Yaji. 'I can make them last longer than my leggings.'

  'How do you do that?' asked the samurai.

  'Oh, that's because I always ride,' said Yaji.

  'Get out!' laughed the samurai. 'Ha-ha-ha!'

  'Come, let's go,' said Yaji.

  So with apologies to the samurai they started off again. They took kago as far as Futagawa, but after they had passed Mount Takashi they met two kago coming from the opposite direction.

  'Shall we change?' called out one of the carriers. 'What do you say?'

  'How much will you give?' asked the other party.

  'I'll give a fist,' responded the first. 'Will that do?'

  'What do you say, partner? Shall we take it?'

  The bargain was thus struck and the carriers requested Yaji and Kita to alight and take the other kago, while the people in the other kago took theirs.

  'Master's in luck,' said one of Kita's carriers. 'This is an inn kago, so it has a cushion. You've gained by making the exchange, master.'

  'So it has,' said Kita. Putting his hand down to feel the cushion he found under it a string of coppers, which he concluded had been left there by the person riding in the kago before him and had been forgotten when he alighted. Saying nothing about it he secretly slipped the money into his sleeve.

  After they had passed Shirasuka one of the carriers pointed to a hill. 'Do you see that hill, your honour?' he asked. 'There are deer on that hill.'

  'Which?' said Kita. 'That's interesting.'

  'Gentlemen from Edo are generally very interested in that,' said the carrier, 'as they don't see such strange animals up there. One made a poem about it yesterday.'

  'I've made one up already about it,' said Kita, 'but I suppose it would be wasted on your ears. It's like this:—

  Deep in the hills I hear the stag's cry,

  And thick in my path the maple leaves lie.

  'Tis autumn goes by with a sigh.

  Isn't that good?'

  'Your honour is certainly very clever,' said the carrier. 'As for me I don't know anything about such things. You seem to make them up as you go on, which is certainly remarkable.'

  'I can turn them out at any time,' said Kita, 'and in return for your praise I'll treat you to a drink. Is this a stage?'

  'This is Saru-ga-bamba, your honour,' said the carrier, and he called to his mate to stop in front of the teahouse.

  'You can all have a drink,' said Kita. He called to the maid to bring out some sake and something to eat.

  'Kita, Kita,' cried Yaji from his kago, 'what's the matter with you? You've got very generous.'

  'What are you talking about?' said Kita. 'Isn't it the usual thing to give the men a drink?' He pulled out the string of coppers that he had found in the kago and showed them to Yaji.

  'You're not going to spend all that, are you?' asked Yaji.

  'Of course I am,' replied Kita.

  'Then I'll have some too,' said Yaji. He got out of his kago and went and sat in front of the teahouse. The maid now brought out the sake.

  'Thank'ee very kindly,' said Kita's carrier. Then he called to his mates to come and join him. 'Come along,' he said, 'Sarumaru Taifu is treating us to drinks.'

  Yaji also began to enjoy himself at Kita's expense. 'Landlord,' he called, 'the gentleman in the kago will pay for all this. How much is it?'

  'Yes, sir,' said the landlord. 'It will come altogether to three hundred and eighty coppers.'

  'Oh, indeed,' said Kita. 'Well, you've had quite a feast.' Reluctantly he paid the money.

  'Oh, by the way,' called Kita's carrier to his mate, 'what did you do with that string of coppers I gave you?'

  'Oh, that,' answered his mate. 'Please, master,' he said to Kita, 'if you don't mind getting up for a minute, there's some money down by the side of the cushion.'

  'What?' said Kita, startled. 'I never saw it.'

  'It must be there,' said the carrier. 'I put it there myself.'

  'I saw it myself,' said Yaji. 'Kita, wasn't that the money you took from under the cushion and twirled about?'

  'That's it, that's it,' said the carrier.

  Kita felt very angry at having been discovered, and he cast an angry look at Yaji, who turned away and pretended not to notice. There being no help for it Kita took the coins out of his sleeve and secretly slipped them under the cushion again. 'Oh, yes,' he cried, 'here it is.'

  'That's all right,' said the carrier. 'Now we can go on again.'

  They started off again and by-and-by came to the town of Futagawa, where all the teahouse girls were in the street calling to the travellers to come in. 'Come in and try our hot soup,' they called. 'Try our raw fish and saké.'

  Then a carrier who was standing by the corner of the teahouse called to the men who were carrying Yaji and Kita:— 'Hi, Hachibei, you'd better go home and look after your wife. There's bad goings on in your house.'

  'Fool,' replied one of Yaji's carriers. 'Don't you know your father's hung himself, you old dirt-eater? Ha-ha-ha!'

  Yaji and Kita alighted in front of the kago house and walked on. A daimyō's train was taking a short rest at this stage, his palanquin being set down in front of the hostel and a number of samurai and retainers gathered round the entrance, while the contractors for carrying the baggage were hurrying about.

 
; 'Halloa, the master of the house wears two swords also,' said Kita.

  'You think everybody's the owner as long as they are wearing a hakama,' said Yaji.

  'Look at that kago,' went on Kita. 'Look how the cushions are piled up on it.'

  'Of course,' replied Yaji. 'Look at the persons who ride in them. They're all fukusuké. Ha-ha-ha! Look out, there's a horse.'

  'Hin-hin-hin!' whinnied the horse, and 'Oh, oh, oh!' yelled Yaji. 'What an awkward place to put a kago.'

  Hearing Yaji grumbling, a man who looked like some sort of upper retainer began to revile him. 'What do you mean by treading on the kago with your muddy foot?' he demanded. 'I'll knock your head off.'

  'Ha-ha-ha!' laughed Yaji. 'You've got to do it first.'

  'What's that?' said the man. 'Do you want me to cut you down?'

  'Do you think your rusty sword would cut anything?' jeered Yaji.

  'If you speak like that I must cut you down,' said the man. 'Here, Kakusuké, lend me your sword.'

  He began pulling at his companion's sword, but the man resisted. 'If you want to cut anybody down,' he said, ' why don't you use your own sword?'

  'Don't make such a fuss,' replied the other. 'What does it matter whose sword it is?'

  'No, no,' said Kakusuké. 'You can't have mine.'

  'What a stingy chap you are,' said the other. 'Just let's have it for a moment.'

  'No, no,' said Kakusuké. 'What an obstinate fellow you are. You know the spearman Tsuchiemon took my real sword for the two hundred coppers I owed him.'

  'Oh ah!' said the other. 'I'd forgotten. Well,' he added, turning to Yaji, 'I'll forgive you this time. You can go.'

  'Go?' said Yaji, pushing up against him. 'I shan't go. Why don't you cut me down?'

  At this the retainers who stood round began to laugh and seemed too amused at the scene to think of interfering.

  'Well, then, there's no help for it,' said the retainer. He drew his sword, but as it proved to be only a piece of lath, Yaji caught hold of him and threw him down, whereupon the fellow began to bawl loudly, 'Murder! Murder! Help! Help!'

  But the daimyō was now leaving his lodgings and the signal for the train to form was given. The quarrel thus ended, and fortunately Yaji was able to get away with Kita.

  'Ha-ha-ha!' laughed Yaji. 'That was a funny quarrel.'

  As they went along Kita began to yawn. 'Heigho!' he said, 'I am tired. What a trouble it is to have to carry even this small amount of baggage. I'll tell you what, Yaji. Suppose one of us carries the lot and we'll play the priest game.'

  'That's a good idea,' said Yaji, 'and luckily here's a bamboo that someone's thrown away which will come in very handy for carrying our things on.'

  They slung the baggage on to each end of the bamboo so that one of them could carry it on his shoulder. 'There, you carry first,' said Yaji.

  'You're older than I am so you'd better carry it first,' said Kita.

  'We'll play for it,' decided Yaji. So they played for it and Kita lost. He shouldered the baggage grumbling and they went on, but they had not gone far before they met a man who looked like a priest of the Hokké sect. He was chanting 'Dabu, dabu, dabu! Fumiya, fumiya, fumiya! Dabu, dabu, dabu!'

  'There you are, Yaji,' said Kita. 'Take hold of the baggage.'

  'Oh, oh!' groaned Yaji. 'I hope we meet another priest soon.'

  Then came a postboy and a horse, the bells of the horse going shan-shan-shan, while the postboy sang to himself:

  She in the valley,

  I on hilltop withdrawn:—

  Oh, she looked pretty

  Bleaching the lawn.

  'Kita,' called Yaji. 'Look at that priest on the horse.'

  'It's too soon,' grumbled Kita as he took the baggage. Then they came upon a cripple by the side of the road.

  'Take pity on a poor cripple, travellers,' he cried.

  'He's a priest, too,' said Kita. 'Give him a copper.'

  'He may look like a priest in front,' said Yaji, 'but he's got hair on the nape of his neck.'

  'Get out,' said Kita.

  Then there came up behind three nuns who were singing and keeping time with clackers in their hands.

  However humble I may be,

  Oh, let me share my dreams with thee,

  However humble I may be.

  'What fine voices they've got,' said Kita. 'Who are they?' He turned round to look and found that they were nuns. 'Here, Yaji,' he cried, 'take the baggage.'

  'What a nuisance!' grumbled Yaji.

  'It looks awfully well to have somebody carrying your baggage for you,' said Kita. 'It's as though you were travelling with a servant. I say, Yaji, that nun looked at me with such a charming smile, the little dear.'

  'There's no charm about her,' said Yaji. 'Her face is ail out of shape.'

  The nuns passed and re-passed them. One of them was about twenty-two or three and the other was considerably older. They had with them a little girl of about eleven or twelve. At last the younger nun stopped Kita. ' Could you give me a light?' she asked.

  'Certainly, certainly,' said Kita. 'I'll strike a light for you in a minute.' He pulled out his flint and commenced striking.

  'There you are,' he said. 'By the way, where are you going?'

  'We're going as far as Nagoya,' said the girl.

  'I should like to stop with you to-night,' said Kita. 'Come as far as Akasaka. Let's go together.'

  'Thank you,' said the woman. 'Could you give me some tobacco? I've forgotten to buy any.'

  'Pull out your tobacco pouch,' said Kita. 'I'll give you all I've got.'

  'I'm afraid you'll want some yourself,' said the girl.

  'No, no, that's all right,' replied Kita. 'By the way, I'm astonished at a beautiful girl like you shaving her head. It seems such a shame.'

  'Why, nobody cares if I cut my hair off,' said the girl.

  'I do,' said Kita. 'I care very much. Won't you care for me?'

  'Ho-ho-ho!' laughed the girl.

  'I wish we could stop together,' added Kita. 'I say, Yaji,' he called, 'shall we stop at the next stage?'

  'What a fool you are, ' scolded Yaji. ' I wish we had never met these nuns. '

  They passed Hiuchizaka and reached Nikenchaya, when the nuns turned off into a side road.

  'Here,' called Kita. 'Where are you going? That's not the way.'

  'Goodbye,' said the nun. 'We've got to leave you here.' They went along a field path while Kita looked after them very disappointed.

  'Ha-ha-ha!' laughed Yaji. 'You're in bad luck to-day.'

  'It's a shame,' groaned Kita. He continued to look behind him at the nuns as he went along till at last he ran into a man who was going the other way.

  'Oh, oh!' yelled Kita. 'Can't you use your eyes? Who are you?' He turned round to look, and it was a priest.

  'There you are,' said Yaji. 'You take the baggage now.'

  'It's not fair,' said Kita, as he reluctantly took the baggage.

  Thus going along they passed Yoshida, and soon caught up with a party of five or six pilgrims, rather more smartly dressed than usual, who were talking loudly. One man, dressed in a wadded garment of a bright pattern and carrying a bundle on his shoulder, turned round and called to the man behind him.

  'Hi, Genkuro Yoshitsuné,' he called. 'Come along, come along.'

  Yaji and Kita, struck by the name Yoshitsuné, took a closer look at the man thus called. He was wearing a lined kimono with wide sleeves, and was also carrying a bundle on his back. His face was deeply pitted with pock marks, and he was a little bald on one side.

  'Brother Kamei and Brother Kataoka are that quick on their feet,' he said. 'Mine are all chapped, so I can't walk quick on the rough stones.'

  'What's happened to Lady Shizuka?' asked Kamei.

  'I'll tell you,' said Yoshitsuné. 'At the last stage Lady Shizuka got an attack of his old complaint lumbago. He was in terrible pain and we had great trouble with him. And Lady Rokudai also, he made himself sick by eating thirty dumplings, and he was writ
hing in agony. Besides that Benkei got a skewer from one of the dumplings stuck in his throat, and he was crying and crying, so that I and Niiya-no-Tomomori had to nurse him. They're all coming on behind. You were lucky in starting early and getting out of all the fuss.'

  Yaji and Kita were greatly amused at this talk, and after passing and repassing the pilgrims several times, Yaji at last spoke to them.

  'Where are you gentlemen bound for?' he asked.

  'Oh, we're going to Isé,' said Yoshitsuné.

  'I heard you just now calling each other Yoshitsuné and Benkei and so on,' said Yaji. 'What's the reason of that?'

  'It must have sounded strange to you,' said Yoshitsuné. 'I'll tell you. Just before we left our village there was a festival and we acted in the piece called "The Thousand Cherry-trees," and as we all took part, and one was Yoshitsuné and another Benkei and so on, we got into the habit of calling each other by those names and even now continue it.'

  'I see,' said Yaji. 'Then I suppose you took the part of Yoshitsuné?'

  'Yes,' said Yoshitsuné. 'Before that we had some players down from Edo who acted "Tenjinsama" and what do you think happened? I'll tell you. There's a bad man in the play named "Shihei" or "Gohei" or something like that, who caused Tenjinsama to be banished because he said he had spoken disrespectfully of the Emperor, and there he was in his palanquin, going into banishment, and all the people coming out to see him, and all the old women and the young women weeping and wailing. It was like the passing of an Imperial Abbot. And all the people in the theatre were throwing rice and money on to the stage because they felt so sorry for him. Then a horsebroker in the audience named Yogoza, a man of no account, ran up on the stage and shouted, "This play is no good. Why should Tenjinsama be banished to an island? That noble who appeared before, who looked like Emma at the Chōraku temple, he is the bad man. Tenjinsama isn't guilty. No matter if it is only a play, they shouldn't make fools of the people. I, Yogozaemon, will take Tenjinsama's punishment on myself; I will battle for him with Shihei, —I, who am strong enough to lift up two bales of rice." Then all the people in the theatre were astonished, but there were none to say him nay, and they all cried out, "You are right, Master Yogoza, you. are right. Let us take this man Shihei and beat him." Then some of the young men of the village bounded into the greenroom with the idea of beating Shihei, and the actor who was doing the part, seeing them coming, cried out in fear and tucked up his skirts and ran. Then the chiefs of the village called a meeting and it was decided that henceforth actors from Edo should not be allowed to enter the village. So we had our own theatre after that, and I can tell you we attracted more people than the actors from Edo. The theatre was crammed to bursting, so popular we were.'