Japanese Tales

by Royall Tyler

  It was a long wait till dawn. When day came at last, he aroused his own retainers, who came out dazed and rubbing their eyes to clear away the fumes of last night’s wine. They sobered up right away when they heard what had happened and went to look at the pit. The bamboo stakes down at the bottom bristled up through corpses new and old. Kaneomaru, a lanky youth clad in a single miserable wrap and with the clogs still on his feet, lay there impaled, still twitching a little. The scene might as well have been from hell.

  Now the young man called the monk’s servants out again, and they confessed all the terrible things they had been made to do over the years. They were not punished since they themselves were not responsible. A messenger was sent with a report for the emperor, who was greatly impressed with the young man’s deed.

  Finally the young man himself went on up to Kyoto, received an official post, and found that everthing went for him just as he had always hoped. He and his wife stayed with each other through all the trials and joys that came their way, and must often have talked over their memories of that awful night. No one ever discovered any relative or other connection of the robber monk, so for him the matter was closed.

  It took a wise and prudent man to do what the young man did! Anyone who hears this story should consider himself warned not to spend the night in a place he doesn’t know. Note, too, that the young man could have done nothing without Kannon’s help. Not that Kannon ever wishes to kill, but after all, the robber had killed many people himself, and Kannon could hardly approve!

  77.

  THE SACRIFICE

  In the province of Mimasaka there are two gods, Chūsan and Kōya. Kōya is a snake and Chūsan a monkey. Each year, during the annual festival, these gods used to be offered a live human, and they had always gotten the sacrifice they required: a pretty girl with a handsome figure, long hair, and fine white skin.

  One year the choice fell on the daughter of a certain household. Her parents were heartbroken. After all, the tie of parent to child springs from a karmic bond already long established in lives gone by, and even an ill-favored child will always be dear, let alone one as lovely in every way as this girl. The girl, for her part, knew that soon she would never see her mother and father again, and she spent her days and nights in tears.

  Then a hunter from the east passed through the village. A strange, fierce man, he was so immensely strong that his accustomed prey were wild boar, which he killed and ate at will, thinking nothing of it, though to ordinary people an angry boar is terrifying. The hunter happened to stop at the girl’s house, and her father mentioned why the family was so sad. “What did she do in past lives,” he groaned, “to have been born here for this? What a horrible fate! And I don’t say so just because she’s my own daughter, you know. She’s so very pretty!”

  The hunter took all this in. “The gods are harsh,” he said. “But don’t offer her at the festival. Let me take care of her instead. She’ll die otherwise. You don’t want your only daughter cut up alive and set as meat before the god, that would be too awful. Give her to me!”

  The father was convinced. Anything, after all, rather than let his daughter die so ghastly a death. So the hunter went to the girl. She was practicing calligraphy, but with a very sorrowful air, and her sleeves were visibly wet from weeping. When she turned aside at his approach and hid her face modestly behind her hair, he saw that it too was wet with tears. How lovely she was! She looked so distinguished that it was hard to believe she was just a villager’s child. He fell in love with her and decided to take her place at the sacrifice, though it might mean his own life.

  “I have a plan,” he told the girl’s parents. “Would you be sorry to die for your daughter?”

  “Of course not,” they answered. “What good is life to us without her? Please do as you think best.”

  “In that case, stretch a sacred rope round your house and tell people you’ve begun purifying your daughter for the festival. Don’t let anyone in, and be quite sure also to tell no one I’m here.”

  He spent the next few days very happily with the girl. Meanwhile he chose the two cleverest of his dogs, which had all served him well in the mountains for years, and trained them by setting them day in and day out to catch and eat monkeys. Since dogs and monkeys are natural enemies, the two would soon attack and kill any monkey they saw, and in fact they destroyed a great many. The hunter for his part spent a lot of time sharpening his murderous dagger and sword. Often he sighed to the girl, “Ah, what link from past lives can have brought us together, to make me now offer my life for yours? I’m happy to do it, but the thought of parting from you makes me sad.” The girl answered in words of gratitude and affection.

  At last the festival day came, and the priests arrived at the head of a large throng to take charge of the victim. They brought a long chest, newly made, which they slid into the girl’s room. “Put the offering inside as usual,” they ordered, “and send her out to the god.”

  Instead, it was the hunter who got in, with his dogs. “Listen, you two,” he said, “I’ve given you a good life lately and now it’s your turn to look out for me. Understand?” He patted their heads and they whined back, then lay down on either side of him. Next he had the weapons he had so carefully sharpened laid in the chest too. Finally the lid was secured with strips of cloth, and the knots were sealed. With an expression of suitable grief on his face, the father slid the chest out again, and the priests took it. The procession set off with a great shaking of spears, bells, and branches of the sakaki tree dear to the gods, and with a great clamor from those who went ceremonially before it to clear the road.

  The girl listened to the commotion and thought once more of the man who had taken her place in the chest. She wondered fearfully what her parents would do if anything went wrong. But they assured her that in the face of the god’s harsh command they themselves were quite prepared to die, and that they feared nothing at all.

  The offering was carried to the shrine. All the priests lined up in front of it, in order of precedence, and the chief priest solemnly intoned the divine invocation. Then he opened the sanctuary doors, slid the chest inside, and closed the doors again.

  The hunter, meanwhile, had carefully pierced a peephole in the chest with his dagger. He now saw before him, in the seat of honor, a giant monkey eight feet tall with a red face and buttocks, and long, glossy white fur. Two hundred lesser monkeys crowded around it on either side, some with flushed faces, some with eyebrows excitedly raised, and all barking and chattering madly. A huge carving board and a long, long knife lay before them; and around the board stood jars full of salt, vinegar, and wine.

  While the others all clustered round, the giant monkey approached the chest and undid the knots.

  “Get ’em!” the hunter shouted. His dogs burst from the chest, set their teeth in the giant, got him down, and dragged him along the floor. Out leaped the hunter right behind them, his blade glittering like ice. He hauled the giant onto the carving board, put the sword to his neck, and roared: “Scum, this is what you get for killing and eating people! You listen to me! I’m going to cut off your filthy head and feed it to my dogs!”

  The giant monkey’s red face got even redder. He blinked and great tears rolled from his eyes, while his lips drew back to expose gleaming teeth. Though he rubbed his hands together in abject entreaty, with a ghastly expression, the hunter gave him no quarter. “All these years you’ve been eating young women and leaving people childless!” he bellowed. “Now your head’s coming off for it! Just you try eating me!” He struck a savage blow, but the giant monkey’s head did not roll quite so easily. Meanwhile the two dogs had chased the others into the trees, where they sat shrieking so frantically that the mountains rang and the earth seemed ready to split.

  Next, the god possessed one of the shrine priests. “Never, never make me a live offering again!” he howled. “The practice must stop! I’ve learned, oh how I’ve learned not to kill humans! And don’t harm the man who did this to m
e or punish the family that was supposed to provide the offering! I’ll protect them and their descendants forever! But quickly now, please, beg this man for my life! I’m in terrible danger!”

  The priests and their followers rushed into the sanctuary and pleaded with the hunter to desist. “We understand,” they cried, “but please, please release the god! He’s promised not to do it again!”

  “Don’t just let him go!” the hunter retorted. “He’s a murderer, and I’m going to teach him a thing or two about suffering!” As he showed no sign of relenting, the monkey’s head seemed as good as off. The chief priest made every promise he could think of and the god swore that he would never, never do it again.

  At last the hunter gave in. “All right, all right,” he said, “just make sure you don’t!” The monkey went free.

  When it was all over, the hunter returned to the girl’s house and lived on happily as her husband. Since he was actually of noble stock, he made an excellent match.

  After that, it was boar or deer which served as live offerings to the god.

  78.

  THE LURE

  A fine young man of the highest birth (a captain of the Palace Guards, let us say) once made a secret pilgrimage to Kiyomizu, where he spotted a very pretty girl. She was beautifully dressed, and to the captain she was obviously of gentle birth. She too seemed to be there on a secret pilgrimage.

  He watched her worship innocently before the altar. In her early twenties, she was by far the loveliest young woman he had ever seen. Who could she be? He was going to be courting her, there was no doubt about that, and was already deeply in love. When she left the temple, he had a page follow her.

  The captain was home again when the page returned to report. “I found out where she lives, sir,” he said. “The house isn’t in the city at all, but in the hills south of Kiyomizu, just north of Mount Amida. It’s a fine, prosperous-looking place. The woman with her noticed me behind them and asked what I thought I was doing. I told her I was just obeying my master, because he’d seen her lady at the temple and had told me to find out where she lived. The woman said next time I came that way I should be sure to stop by.”

  Greatly encouraged, the captain sent a letter to which the girl replied very sweetly. Several such exchanges followed, and in one letter the girl wrote that living as she did back in the mountains she really could not go into the city. “But do come here,” she added. “I’m sure there’s no harm in our talking through a screen.”

  Desperate to see her again, the captain rode off gaily at dusk with just two attendants: a groom and the usual page. Needless to say, he did not advertise his departure.

  When they arrived, the page announced them and the older woman invited them to follow her in. The compound was surrounded by a stout earthen wall pierced by high gates and divided by a deep trench with a bridge over it. The woman had the captain’s attendants and horses stop at a lodge short of the bridge, then led the captain himself on across. Among the many buildings on the other side was what seemed to be a guest pavilion. The captain entered to find himself in a beautifully appointed apartment, complete with folding screens, a curtain of state, very nice mats on the floor, and blinds dividing off the main room. For a mountain retreat, the place was thoroughly impressive.

  The evening was well along by now and the girl herself appeared. The captain went straight in behind her curtains and lay down with her. By the time they had made love he knew she was infinitely more beautiful in his arms than she ever had been at a distance.

  As they talked, the captain let her know how much he loved her. But she seemed very downcast and apparently was even weeping, though she tried to hide it. Not understanding, he asked her why. She only answered that she had just thought of something sad, which puzzled the captain still more. “But we love each other now!” he said. “You shouldn’t hide things from me! What’s the matter? What is it?”

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you,” she replied, “but oh, I can’t bear to!” She wept all the more.

  “Speak! Tell me! Am I going to die somehow?”

  “Oh, I must tell you! You see, I’m the daughter of so-and-so who used to live in the Capital. When my parents died I was left an orphan. The master of this house is a beggar outcaste whom a tremendous stroke of fortune had already brought to live here. He abducted me, and now he sees to my every need and dresses me in the best. From time to time he sends me off on pilgrimage to Kiyomizu, where men see me and fall in love with me just as you did. I lure these men here as I did you, and while I sleep the outcaste thrusts a spear down from the ceiling. I guide the point to the man’s chest and the spear runs him through. When he’s dead, he’s stripped of his clothes. His attendants in the lodge on the other side of the moat are all murdered and stripped too, and the horses are stolen. I’ve done this twice already, and all I have to look forward to is more of the same. So this time I’m going to take the spear point instead of you and die myself. Run away! I’m sure your attendants are dead. Oh, to think that I’ll never see you again!” She sobbed as though her heart would break.

  The captain’s mind reeled, but he managed to gather enough wits to say, “How horrible! And you talk of dying for me! No, no, thank you, but I can’t escape by myself and leave you behind! We’ll go together!”

  “Yes, I’ve longed for that too, many times. But if he doesn’t feel flesh under his spear he’ll be down instantly to see what’s wrong. If we’re both gone, we’ll both be caught and killed. No, please, save yourself and do pious works for the good of my soul. I can’t go on committing these monstrous crimes!”

  “How can my good works ever repay the debt I’ll owe you? But all right, I’ll go.”

  “They’ll have taken up the bridge over the trench after you crossed it. Go out the door there and make your way along the narrow bank beyond the trench till you get to a little opening in the outer wall, where the brook comes in. You can squeeze out through that. Ah, it’s time! When the spear comes down, I’ll put it to my own chest and let it stab me to death.”

  Already the sound of voices, terrifying now beyond description, could be heard elsewhere in the house. Weeping, the captain drew on a single robe, tucked the skirts up into his belt for ease of movement, and stole out the door. He got along the bank and out through the opening. So far, so good. But where was he to head now? He simply ran in the direction he happened to be facing, and as he did so he heard footsteps running behind him. They were after him! He glanced back in panic. It was his page.

  “Where did you come from?” he cried in relief.

  “As soon as you were gone they took away the bridge, sir,” the boy replied. “That was a bad sign, so I got out over the wall. When I gathered they’d killed the groom, I wondered what they might have done with you, so instead of getting away I hid in a thicket to see what might happen. When I heard someone running, I hoped it might be you, sir, and I followed to make sure.”

  “I had no idea such a horror was possible, I just had no idea!” the captain groaned as they ran on together toward the city.

  On reaching the river at about the level of Fifth Avenue, they looked back and saw a great fire. Having thrust down his spear, the outcaste had assumed he had killed his intended victim. But he expected the girl then to say something. Alarmed by her silence, he came down to see what was wrong. He found the girl dead and the man gone. Obviously there would soon be people there to arrest him, so he had set fire to all the buildings and fled.

  Once back at home the captain swore his page to silence and never breathed a word of what had happened. Every year he commissioned solemn Buddhist rites, and though he never revealed who they were for they must have been for the girl who had died to save him.

  In the end, rumor of the incident did get out and someone built a temple where the house had stood; in fact, it’s still there.

  It all goes to show that you shouldn’t let a lovely woman sweep you off somewhere you don’t know.

  79.


  JUST LIKE A BIRD

  As a young man Tadaakira, an officer of the Imperial Police, quarreled with some local toughs below Kiyomizu Temple. The toughs had their swords drawn and were out to surround and kill Tadaakira if they could. He too bared his sword and broke away up to the main hall. When still more toughs came after him, he fled into the hall.

  Now Kiyomizu Temple is built out from a steep hillside and stands on a structure of huge wooden pillars. From the open platform before the temple you look out over the treetops. Tadaakira seized one of the great shutters that protect the temple from wind and rain, dashed out clutching it under his arm, and hurled himself off into the valley below. The wind caught the shutter. He sailed like a bird down to a gentle landing and disappeared with all possible speed.

  The toughs watched in a row from the railing above. They could not believe their eyes.

  80.

  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

  The foxes which infested the house and grounds of Major Counselor Yasumichi’s old mansion were always making mischief, but since they never really did any harm Yasumichi let the matter pass. They got naughtier and naughtier as the years went by, though, until one day he angrily decided that enough was enough. Those foxes would have to go.

  He announced a grand fox hunt to his household, for the next day. The servants were to bring bows and arrows, sticks, or whatever weapons they could devise, and flush out every last one. They would surround the house, and men would be posted not only on the garden wall but on the roof as well, and even in the space between the ceiling of the rooms and the roof. Every fox that showed itself would be killed.

  Near dawn on the fateful day Yasumichi had a dream. A white-haired old man, looking rather like an aged menial, was kneeling under the tangerine tree in the garden, bowing respectfully to him.