by Royall Tyler
52.
SMALL-TIME MAGIC
Long ago Emperor Yōzei sent Michinori, an imperial guard, down to the east to collect tax revenues. On the way Michinori stopped off in Shinano province at the house of a county magistrate, who entertained him very civilly before retiring with his retainers for the night.
Unable to sleep, Michinori quietly got up again and began poking about the house. He soon found a beautiful room with fine new matting on the floor and a screened-off space inside. A lamp was burning within the screens, and a delicious fragrance floated on the air. Peeking curiously between two screens, he saw a woman in her late twenties, exquisitely lovely in face and figure, lying there all alone.
The more he looked the less he felt like leaving. No one was around. He thought it over. The magistrate had been very kind, and if this was his wife, he ought not to take advantage of her. On the other hand, he could not resist trying his luck. He slid into bed beside her.
The woman just smiled. Michinori was as pleased as punch. Her scent was delicious. Since it was early fall and the weather still warm, neither of them had much on. He undressed. When he slid his hands under her shift, she put up only token resistance and let him fondle her as he pleased.
Feeling a sudden tickle between his legs, Michinori reached for his member. It was not there. He groped around feverishly like a man trying to catch a bug in his beard, but it was gone as though it had never been. All thought of the woman, who lay there smiling enigmatically, vanished from his mind. Finally he got up, went back to his own bed completely confused, and made another minute inspection. It was hopeless.
Michinori was not too panicked to use his head. He called one of his men, told him about the stunning woman he had found, and mentioned that she was available. The man who went off with high hopes soon came back looking deeply disturbed. “He got it too!” thought Michinori, and passed the tip on to the next victim, who came back in his turn with anguish written all over his face. Michinori sent all eight of his men to the woman, and they all looked the same way when they came out.
The sky paled with the coming of dawn. Considering the night’s disaster, Michinori preferred to leave as quickly as possible, despite his host’s kind welcome, and he and his men hurried off before it was fully light. They had not gone more than a quarter of a mile when a man galloped up behind them, hailing them urgently and holding aloft a package wrapped in white paper. The rider was one of their host’s retainers.
“The magistrate told me to deliver these to you,” he said. “How could you have left them behind? We had your breakfast all ready, but you were in such a rush that you must have just forgotten them. Anyway, we picked them up for you and here they are.” Michinori and his party wondered what he was talking about.
The packet contained a heap of male organs; they looked rather like mushrooms. Dumbfounded, the men inspected them one after another, each counting nine. Suddenly the organs vanished, and the messenger wheeled his horse around and galloped away. Michinori and his men shouted for joy, “It’s back! It’s back!”
On his return journey Michinori stopped again at the magistrate’s house and made him a generous gift of gold, horses, eagle feathers, and the like. He explained to the puzzled magistrate that he hoped to learn just what had been done to him during his last visit. The magistrate felt he could hardly refuse. He told Michinori how in his youth he had had an affair with the young wife of the magistrate of another county, himself an old man, and how suddenly his member too had disappeared. He had done his best to be very, very nice to the old magistrate until he had succeeded in getting himself taught the same magic. But he reminded Michinori that Michinori was presently traveling on imperial business. If he wanted to learn the magic too, he should go straight back to the Capital, conclude his mission, and then come back privately. Michinori readily agreed, and set off.
When he came again he brought this magistrate another suitable present, and the magistrate cheerfully undertook to teach him all he knew. “However,” he cautioned, “you don’t learn this sort of thing casually. First you’ll have to spend seven days fasting and purifying yourself with cold water.”
Michinori did as he was told, and on the appointed day the magistrate took him far up into the mountains. They came to a stream beside which the magistrate went through various ritual procedures and made Michinori swear a terribly sinful oath. Then the magistrate set off upstream. “No matter what comes down the stream,” he warned, “grab it in your arms. Devil or demon, I don’t care, just throw your arms round it!”
Soon a heavy rainstorm blew in from upstream. The sky blackened and the water rose. Down the stream came a colossal snake. Its head alone was big enough to fill a man’s arms and its eyes were like great bronze bowls. The snake’s back was a deep blue and its belly was red. Michinori knew well enough that he was supposed to throw his arms around it but instead was so terrified that he collapsed on the spot.
The magistrate quickly returned. “How did it go?” he asked. “Did you hold on to it?” Michinori reported what had happened. “Too bad!” said the magistrate. “You won’t be able to learn. Well, anyway, let’s try again.” And off he went.
In no time an enormous boar came hurtling down, bristling with fury, crushing great boulders, and belching fire. Once again Michinori was terrified, but he desperately screwed up his courage and dashed forward to clasp it in his arms. It turned out to be a bit of old log. He was terribly let down, especially when he realized that the snake too must have been a log. He was kicking himself for not having gone after the snake when the magistrate reappeared.
Michinori told him how it had gone this time. “Well,” replied the magistrate, “you lost your first chance and that means you can’t learn what you wanted. But I think you could manage some other little amusement. I’ll teach you one.” Michinori learned what he could and returned disappointed to the Capital.
Back at the palace he bet his fellow guards that he could turn all their shoes into puppies, then did it, and the puppies scrambled around all over the place, yapping madly; and he turned an old straw sandal into a great big carp flopping around on a dinner tray. When the emperor heard about these goings-on, he summoned Michinori and got himself taught magic too. His Majesty used it to make the grand procession of the Kamo festival go by over the screen he always sat behind.
People deeply disapproved of the emperor himself learning an art which offended the Buddha’s way, and one has to agree that not only was Michinori (who after all was a nobody) very wrong to teach him, but that however rare these sort of tengu tricks may be, His Majesty was a bit crazy to want to learn.
53.
THE LITTLE OIL JAR
Sanesuke, the Minister of the Right, was traveling up Omiya Avenue one day on his way to the palace when he saw a little oil jar rolling and hopping along in front of his carriage. This was so odd that he guessed a spirit must be at work. Eventually the jar turned west off Omiya, and after still another turn rolled up to a certain gate. The gate was locked, and the jar began jumping against it in an obvious effort to get in through the keyhole. After missing time after time, it finally succeeded, and in through the keyhole it went.
Sanesuke left now, but he identified the house to one of his servants and had the man find out as discreetly as possible whether anything unusual had happened there. The man came back to report that the daughter of the house, who had been ill for some time, had just died. Sanesuke realized that the jar had indeed been a spirit, and that it had killed the girl once it got in.
His cleverness greatly impressed everyone who knew him.
54.
A HARD MOMENT
Kotōda lived with his wife and daughter in the mansion of Lord Sadafusa, for all three were in Sadafusa’s service. He was very proud of the expert way he saw to all his master’s affairs, and he had taken care to provide his daughter with a very fine husband.
Having just spent the night with Kotōda’s daughter, the young man woke up one morning to
find that it was pouring with rain; so instead of leaving as usual, he stayed where he was. Meanwhile the daughter went to look after her mistress, leaving the young man lying in their bed completely surrounded by screens. The spring rain showed no sign of letting up.
In time Kotōda decided that his son-in-law must be getting rather bored. With a tray of snacks in one hand and a gourd of wine in the other, he headed for the young couple’s room. Discretion prompted him to enter not from the garden, as he would normally have done, but from inside the house.
Naked under the covers, his son-in-law was lying staring up at the ceiling, hot for his wife. That sound of a door in the house sliding open obviously meant that she was finally back from Her Ladyship’s. Whisking the covers over his face and off everything else, he rubbed up a good hard-on and arched his back to display it. The screens parted.
Kotōda’s shocked recoil sent food and drink flying. He fell flat on his back with his beard in the air and hit his head so hard he saw stars.
55.
A NICE MUG OF MOLTEN COPPER
A chamberlain courting the daughter of the abbot of Daianji in Nara was so much in love with the girl that sometimes he did not even leave her at dawn, as he should have, but stayed on into the day. On one such occasion he was napping in her room when he dreamed he heard the whole household weeping and wailing.
He went to see what was the matter and found them all, from the abbot and his wife (now a nun) on down, holding mugs and sobbing. This seemed very odd till he realized that the mugs were full of molten copper. The most fearful demon could hardly force anyone to take so gruesome a refreshment but, tears or no tears, these people were drinking it; and when in agony they had emptied one mug, some were even asking for more. The servants were drinking up too, every one of them.
When a maid came to call the chamberlain’s sweetheart, she got out of bed and went. In horror he watched the maid fill a silver mug with molten copper and give it to his Beloved. The girl took it, uttered a heart-rending little cry, and downed the liquid metal, whimpering pathetically. Smoke poured from her eyes and nose.
“Serve our guest!” commanded the abbot, and the maid approached the chamberlain with a cup on a tray. “Am I going to have to drink it too?” he wondered in terror, and woke up.
On opening his eyes he saw that the maid had brought lunch, and he heard loud slurping and chewing from his future father-in-law’s room. Clearly the monk was in fact guilty of a grave sin: he was eating up what rightfully belonged to the temple. Saddened by his discovery, the young chamberlain wanted no more to do with the family, and his love for the girl evaporated. He excused himself with the plea that he felt unwell, left without eating a bite, and never came back.
56.
THE LITTLE BOTTLE OF TEARS
Heichū, the great lover, was quite prepared to feign dramatic sobs when rejected, even if he did not really care for the woman that much; and he went courting with a little bottle of water fastened to his arm so that he could produce tears and wet sleeves whenever he needed them.
One day Heichū’s wife noticed him slip something up on top of a beam in their house, and the next time he stepped out she took it down. It was a little bottle of water and a packet of the tiny dried flower buds that people chew to make their breath smell nice. She emptied out the water, filled the bottle with rich black ink, switched the flower buds for mouse turds, then put the bottle and packet back on the beam.
Heichū went off that night as he always did. He came back at dawn in a very sour mood and spat vigorously as he lay down. “Must be some goblin got into that packet!” he muttered. By daylight he noticed his sleeves were all black. Then he looked in the mirror. His smudgy, black face, almost invisible but for two eyes shining out of the darkness, gave him quite a turn. Next he checked the little bottle. Yes, that was ink in there, all right; and he knew a mouse turd when he saw one.
Deeply mortified, Heichū gave up his fake tears and his flower buds.
57.
ELIMINATION
Taira no Sadafun, commonly known as Heichū, was the deputy commander of the Palace Guards. He was a man of respectable rank, handsome and elegant, and in everything he did or said the most amusing fellow of his time. Naturally he courted every wife, every daughter, and above all, every lady-in-waiting within reach.
A certain minister had in his household as lovely and as witty a young lady as ever there was, and her name was Jijū. Heichū knew about her since he often visited the minister, and in fact had been pursuing her for ages, but she had not deigned to answer a single one of his letters.
Much put out, Heichū finally tried a note that begged her at least to answer the one word “acknowledged”; and he ended it, “Yours in ceaseless tears.” When he saw the messenger return actually carrying a reply, he ran out and opened it feverishly. The lady had torn the “acknowledged” out of his own letter, stuck it on another piece of paper, and sent it right back to him.
Heichū went wild. “All right, that’s enough!” he swore to himself. “I give up.”
That was on the last day of the second moon. Heichū sent Jijū nothing between then and well into the fifth moon when, on a dark and dismally rainy night, he found himself brooding over her again.
“If I went tonight it’d surely do something to her,” he ruminated, “even if she’s got a heart of stone.” The hour was late, the rain was beating down interminably, and the blackness of the night was final. The helpless Heichū found his way to the minister’s residence and called for a little maid who had passed messages for him before.
“Here I am. I can’t stand it any more.” That was what he sent the maid off to tell Jijū. The maid was soon back with word that Jijū was presently attending His Excellency and Her Ladyship, and couldn’t retire just yet because the household was still up. “Wait a bit,” Jijū’s message concluded. “I’ll talk to you in private later on.”
Heichū’s heart beat fast. “Well, well,” thought he, “she really couldn’t turn a fellow away on a night like this! I’m so glad I came!”
He waited by the darkened door for what seemed like years. An hour or more later he heard the sounds of people going to bed. Then someone came to his door and quietly opened the latch. With bated breath he tested it: it slid easily aside. He wondered whether he was dreaming. In fact he was shaking with joy, but he managed to calm down enough to steal inside.
A sweet fragrance of incense filled the room. Heichū groped his way toward where he knew the bed must be and found someone was lying there. Yes, it was a woman and she had only one robe on. He felt over her head and shoulders. Her features were fine, and the hair streaming out along the floor was as smooth and cool to the touch as ice. All but delirious now, Heichū was temporarily deprived of speech by a fit of trembling.
“Oh dear,” exclaimed the woman, “I’ve forgotten something very important! I didn’t lock the door into this part of the house. I’ll be right back.”
That sounded all right to Heichū. “Don’t be long!” he called after her.
She got up and went just as she was, while Heichū undressed and lay down. A lock clicked. Any moment she would be back. But no, the footsteps faded out deeper into the house. Time passed. With grave misgiving Heichū went to check the door. It was locked, all right — from the other side. He danced up and down and wept with rage, then just stood there in a daze, against the door, pouring as many tears as the rainy skies outside. “What a trap she led me into!” he groaned. “Oh, this is awful! If I’d only realized, I could have stayed with her when she went to lock the door! I suppose she wants to see how far she can push me. She must think me a perfect idiot!” This thought, even more than the missed opportunity, brought Heichū to the last pitch of despair.
“Well, let the day dawn!” his mind ran on. “I don’t care, I’m going to sleep right here, and if they come in and find me, so much the better!” But as dawn actually approached and he heard the household waking up, he decided that discretion was the better
part of valor and sneaked quickly off while it was still dark.
Forever after, Heichū longed to hear some rumor about Jijū that would really put him off her, but since he never did he went on burning for her instead. Then one day he had an idea. For all Jijū’s beauty and wit, the matter she deposited in her chamber pot was bound to be the same as what he left in his own. If by hook or crook he could get hold of some of that, that ought to cure him! “I’ll ambush her maid when she goes to wash the pot, I’ll steal it, and I’ll have a good look inside!” he promised himself.
Heichū went straight off to lurk (as innocently as possible) outside Jijū’s room. Out came a smart young maid with hair down almost to the hem of her pink and green jacket, which she wore over a purple trouser-skirt casually tucked up. She was carrying a pot (a box, actually, as was the custom then) wrapped in filmy, light-orange silk, discreetly screening it from view with a red paper fan that had some scene or other painted on it. She made a very stylish picture. Heichū shadowed her till she was out of sight of the house, then charged up and snatched the box. She burst into tears and refused to let go, but Heichū tore it ruthlessly from her grasp, fled into a deserted building, and locked the door from the inside. The maid was left crying outside.
Heichū examined the box. It was beautifully lacquered — so pretty, in fact, that he hated to go further. The contents were one thing, but for a chamber pot this was a unique work of art. To think he was going to open it and destroy forever his fond visions of its owner! He could not bear the idea, and for a while just stared at the box instead.
Still, this was no time to turn back. Tremulously he removed the lid. A rich fragrance of incense perfumed the air. What on earth? Golden water half filled the box, and in it swam three brownish, cylindrical objects about the thickness of a thumb. “Well,” thought Heichū, “there they are!” But this heavenly scent was not exactly what he expected from them. He speared one with a slip of wood and held it gingerly to his nose. Musk, clove, sandalwood: these perfumes and more mingled in an exquisite blend which floated into his nostrils like a giddying caress.