by Royall Tyler
With all his sons now dead, the father prayed in anguish that at least his wife might escape. He watched her fly up before the dogs reached her and make for the hills to the north. A falconer loosed his hawk and galloped in pursuit. She raced for cover in a thicket under a distant pine, but a dog right behind her caught her in its jaws. The falconer retrieved his hawk, which had perched on the tree.
The witness to this carnage had taken refuge deep in a clump of thick grasses and tangled brambles. Now he saw not one but half a dozen dogs, their bells jingling, sniffing their way toward him. It was too much for him and he too tried fleeing toward the hills. Hawk after hawk filled the sky in pursuit, some high, some low; and below on the ground a horde of dogs followed amid a dreadful din of bells. Behind them galloped the falconers, and the dog-keepers came after, beating the thickets with their sticks. He raced on and dove with a last effort into another deep thicket. The hawks perched on a tall tree nearby and jingled their bells to let the dogs know where he was. The dogs soon found his hideout. There was no escape. The dog-keepers’ shouts were like thunder. Knowing he was finished, he did the last thing he could: he hid his head in the muddy floor of the thicket, leaving only his tail sticking up. The dogs were very close. “Now!” he thought — and woke up.
He was drenched in sweat. Realizing he had dreamed it all, he saw that what he had dreamed was the hunting he himself had enjoyed all his life. He had killed so many pheasants! Now at last he knew what he had done, and understood with horror that he had sinned past reckoning. Too impatient to wait for dawn, he immediately freed all his hawks and dogs, then gathered their gear together and burned it. Having told the dream, in tears, to his wife and children, he went straight to a mountain temple, shaved his head, and became a monk. For ten years he called Amida’s Name day and night until he achieved a holy passing.
199.
POVERTY
A miserably poor monk of Miidera decided that the temple had nothing to offer him, and that if he meant to claim the success he deserved he would have to try elsewhere. Not wanting to leave in broad daylight, especially looking as shabby as he did, he stole off in the darkness before dawn. Having a long, hard road ahead of him, he soon lay down for a nap.
He dreamed of a pale, sad, skinny youth, clearly a traveler like himself, whom he had not seen before. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Your servant these many years,” the youth replied. “We’ve never been apart and I’m coming with you now.”
“I don’t know you. What’s your name?”
“I’m not exactly a person so I don’t have a normal name. But people who catch a glimpse of me call me Poverty.”
The monk woke up and understood his real future. With that youth beside him he might as well stay put. Back he went to Miidera, lost in thought.
200.
THE NIGHTMARE
It was during Emperor Konoe’s reign that the great warrior Yorimasa performed the most famous of all his deeds.
Every night the emperor was oppressed by a mysterious agony which the holiest monks, working all their healing rites, seemed unable to relieve.
In the small hours a black cloud would rise from a wood some way off and settle over the palace. Then His Majesty’s ordeal would begin.
The court held a council and recalled that something like this had happened in the past. General Yoshiie had stood guard that time, twanged his bow when the moment came, and roared out his name and titles just as a warrior does before fighting a human enemy. His Majesty got better at once. So the court decided to post another warrior guard.
They chose Yorimasa, who was not then of very high rank. The command troubled him, and he protested that a warrior’s job was to suppress rebellion or to impose the imperial will on the recalcitrant. “Who has ever been ordered to subdue an invisible monster?” he demanded to know. But since he could not very well refuse, he presented himself at the palace just the same, with a single lieutenant.
His lieutenant’s arrows were feathered with eagle pinions, while Yorimasa had chosen for himself two barbed arrows feathered from a mountain pheasant’s tail. With his black-lacquered bow in hand Yorimasa stood guard before the palace’s south entrance. He held both arrows ready, reflecting that if he missed the monster with the first he could always use the second to shoot the clever fellow who had put him up for this duty.
The black cloud moved over the palace with a strange shape inside it. His whole career at stake, Yorimasa fitted an arrow to the string, called silently on his clan god Hachiman, and let fly.
There was no doubt about the hit. His bow arm felt it instantly and he yelled in triumph. The thing fell. His lieutenant moved in swiftly, pinned it to the ground, and ran it through nine times with his sword. When light arrived, they saw a beast with a monkey’s head, a badger’s body, a snake’s tail, and a tiger’s paws. Its moaning cry had sounded like a night thrush. It certainly looked frightening.
Overcome with relief and gratitude, the emperor gave Yorimasa an imperial sword named Lion King. After that Yorimasa’s name was honored at court. The monster’s body was stuffed into a hollow log and sent floating down the river. His Majesty was never bothered again.
201.
THE DOUBLE
Lord Minamoto no Masamichi lived south of Fourth Avenue and west of Muromachi Street in Kyoto. His son, not yet two years old, was playing by himself outside when suddenly Masamichi heard him howl, and there were loud shouts from the nurse looking after him.
Masamichi picked up his sword and ran from the other side of the house to investigate. He found not one but two identical nurses struggling for possession of the boy. Each had hold of an arm and a leg. Clearly one of them must be a fox, though he had no idea which. As he charged, brandishing his sword, one of the nurses vanished.
The other nurse and the boy collapsed on the ground. Masamichi had his servants call in a healer of proven power, and after the healer had worked his rites awhile the nurse came to. At last Masamichi was able to question her.
“I was letting the young master play a little by himself, sir, when a woman I’d never seen before came out of the house and claimed the young master was hers. In fact she tried to take the young master away, and I held on to him to stop her. When you ran up with your sword, she let go and rushed back into the house.”
Masamichi was seriously frightened. He never found out whether the double had actually been a fox or some sort of angry spirit. People commented, though, that you just shouldn’t let little children play by themselves.
202.
BEWITCHED
The Kamo Virgin, an imperial princess, wad the
high priestess of the Kamo Shrine in Kyoto.
An officer of the Bureau of Civil Affairs named Yorikiyo was serving as director of the Kamo Virgin’s household when unfortunately the Virgin’s displeasure forced him to retire to an estate he owned at Kohata, south of the Capital.
Omoto, one of his servants, had her own house in the city and so got leave to stay behind when he moved away. One day a messenger from him asked her to come immediately. Something had happened at Kohata, and Yorikiyo had left the day before for Yamashiro, the neighboring province to the north, where he was now renting a house. The messenger pleaded with Omoto to come quickly. She responded by picking up her four-year-old son and setting out.
When she arrived her master’s wife greeted her with unusual warmth, fed her well, and put her to work dyeing cloth. After the two women had worked together for several days, the lady asked Omoto to take a secret message to a watchman she had left at the Kohata house. Omoto left her son with a fellow servant.
She naturally imagined that the Kohata house would be gloomy and deserted; she found there, on the contrary, everyone she had just left. One of the first people she met was her master’s wife in person. She thought she must be dreaming and stood there in a daze while the others gathered around her. “Well, well,” they were saying, “here’s Omoto! What kept you so long? The Kamo Virgin has pardo
ned our master and we sent someone to let you know, but your neighbors said you’d left two or three days ago. Where were you?”
Trembling all over, the terrified Omoto told her tale. Almost everyone in the household was frightened, including her mistress, but a few laughed.
Convinced now that her son must be dead, Omoto begged to be allowed to lead a party back to the place she had just come from. On arrival she found no house at all, only a broad expanse of moor. After hunting desperately far and wide, she found her son wailing in a thick clump of pampas grasses and joyfully took him in her arms.
Back at Kohata she reported the outcome of the trip. Her mistress declared that she must have invented the whole thing, and her fellow servants looked at her very doubtfully.
But would she really have abandoned her little boy on a wild moor? It’s far more likely that foxes tricked her. At any rate, people often came after that to talk with Omoto about her experience and to marvel that the boy was still alive.
203.
THE FUNERAL
Once a professional courier, on his way up in haste from the western provinces to Kyoto, passed through Inamino in Harima province. Since it was nearly sundown he looked for somewhere to spend the night, but far out in the fields where he was he could see no promising house, only a miserable hut for the people who in season guarded the crops. The hut would have to do. He went in.
Though traveling light, he still wore a sword. In a lonely spot like this he felt safer not even undressing, and instead lay down as he was, watchful and silent. Late at night he heard a faint sound of bells to the west and a chorus of voices chanting the Buddha’s Name. Oddly enough, the voices were coming his way. Peering outside, he saw a chanting crowd carrying torches and accompanied by priests ringing bells. Apparently it was a funeral. The closer they came the more worried he got, till he hardly knew what to do with himself.
The crowd stopped nearby, laid the coffin down, and began the ceremony. The courier kept more silent and still than ever, and reminded himself over and over that should he be discovered he would say quite plainly who he was and why he was there. But he also wondered about one very strange thing: whereas the spot for a burial is normally marked clearly beforehand, he had noticed nothing of the kind when he arrived even though it had been daylight at the time.
When the funeral was over, a large force of laborers armed with mattocks and spades built a mound on top of which they planted a grave-marker. Then they tidied up and put their tools away, and the crowd dispersed.
Being so close to a fresh grave horrified the courier more than the eerie funeral itself, and the hair rose on his head when he thought of it. He longed for the night to be over, but meanwhile kept an eye on the mound. All at once he thought he saw something on it move. Surely his eyes were deceiving him. But no, something on the mound was moving. Whatever it was, it was coming up little by little from the earth. At last a naked human form emerged and charged the hut, blowing and slapping at the flames that danced over its body. All the courier could see in the darkness was that the figure was ghastly and huge.
He knew that where a funeral has taken place there is bound to be a demon. Obviously the demon was now rushing to eat him and he was finished. Still, if he had to die he might as well get out of the hut before the demon reached it and try a direct attack. Drawing his sword he dashed out, charged the demon, and whacked off its head with one blow. The demon crashed over backwards.
The courier did not wait to see more. He raced on till he got to a village (it was a painfully long run), stole up to a house, and crouched by it in terror. The next morning he presented himself to the villagers and told them why he was there. Disturbed by his story, they decided to investigate.
He led the bravest young men of the village to the spot, but they found no mound or grave-marker, and no sign either of torches or fire. There was nothing there but a huge, headless boar. How horrible!
Apparently the boar had seen the traveler go into the hut and decided to give him a scare. “What a dumb way to get yourself killed!” murmured the villagers as they gazed at the corpse.
204.
THE GRINNING FACE OF AN OLD WOMAN
People often went hunting to an old pond in the Minase Hills which was frequented by flocks of water birds, but something in the pond would catch the hunters and many of them died.
Three brothers, personal guards at the retired emperor’s palace on the Minase River, were just setting off hunting when someone warned them to stay away from the pond. One of the three, Nakatoshi, refused to believe the story, and feeling anyway that it would be unworthy of him not to brave the pond’s dangers, he set off undaunted, with just one young attendant.
It was evening and too dark even to see the path, but Nakatoshi got through the hills, found the pond, and waited on the bank under the overhanging branches of a pine. Deep in the night the water trembled and waves rolled across the pond. The frightened Nakatoshi fitted an arrow to his bowstring. Next, a luminous mass rose out of the pond and flew over the pine. As soon as Nakatoshi drew his bow the thing flew back to the pond, returning only when he relaxed and removed the arrow from the string. This happened several times till Nakatoshi understood that his bow would be no use. He put it down and drew his sword instead. This time the luminous mass came so close that Nakatoshi saw in the light the grinning face of an old woman.
With the light so unexpectedly close and the form inside it so clear, he dropped his sword and attacked barehanded. When the thing tried to drag him into the pond, he braced himself against the roots of the pine and resisted until he could draw his dagger and stab it. The light went out.
A hairy beast lay dead at Nakatoshi’s feet. It was a badger. Nakatoshi carried it back to his room at the Minase Palace and went to bed. The next morning his two brothers came to find out how his expedition had gone.
“Look at that!” cried Nakatoshi, and threw the badger out to them.
They were deeply impressed.
205.
FOX ARSON
A retainer who served the governor of Kai was heading home one sundown from the governor’s mansion when he saw a fox, gave chase, and shot at it with the kind of noisemaker arrow used for scaring off dogs. He hit it in a back leg.
The fox yelped in pain, rolled over, and dove limping into the brush. As the retainer went to retrieve his arrow the fox reappeared in front of him, and he was about to shoot at it again when it vanished.
A quarter of a mile from home he saw the fox running ahead of him carrying a flaming brand in its mouth. What could it be up to? He spurred his horse on. On reaching the house, the fox changed into a human being and set the house on fire. The retainer was ready to shoot as soon as he got within range, but the human changed right back into a fox and got away. The house burned down.
Beings like that exact swift vengeance. It’s better to leave them alone.
206.
THE FOX’S BALL
A healer and his woman medium were once called to get rid of the spirit that was making someone ill. The spirit declared through the medium that it was a fox. “I didn’t mean to put a curse on anyone,” it said. “I only came because I thought you might have something good to eat. You didn’t have to shut me up like this!”
The medium drew from the fold at the breast of her robe a little white ball (foxes often have one), and began tossing it in the air and catching it. The people present thought the ball pretty enough, but they were sure the medium had hidden it in her robe beforehand to trick them. One among them, a brave young man, waited for the medium to toss the ball into the air again, then quickly stuck out his hand, caught the ball, and popped it into the front of his own robe.
“Confound you!” snapped the fox. “Give me back my ball!” The man ignored its pleas till finally it said tearfully, “All right, you’ve got the ball, but you don’t know how to keep it. It won’t be any good to you. For me, it’s a terrible loss. I tell you, if you don’t give it back I’ll be your enemy forever. If y
ou do give it back, though, I’ll stick to you like a protector god.”
The young man decided the whole thing was a waste of time. “So you’ll protect me?” he asked.
“Of course I will. Creatures like me never tell lies, and we always repay a debt of gratitude.”
“Will the guardian spirit who caught you vouch for you now?”
“Listen, guardian spirit!” cried the fox. “I swear I’ll protect him if he gives me back my ball!”
The man took the ball out and returned it to the woman, which made the fox very happy. Next, the healer dismissed the spirit and the fox left. The people seized the medium immediately, before she could get up, and searched her. The ball was not on her. She really had been possessed.
Sometime later the man was on his way home after dark from a visit to the great temple at Uzumasa. When he reached the Ōten Gate he became afraid, for the neighborhood was well known to be dangerous at night. Visions of all the awful things that could happen to him ran through his head. Then he remembered that the fox had sworn to protect him. All alone in the darkness he called, “Fox! Fox!” A series of sharp barks rang out in answer, and in a moment the fox was before him.
“You did keep your word, fox!” he said. “I’m touched. You see, I’m afraid to go through this area and I want you to stay with me.”
The fox seemed to understand. It went ahead, looking carefully all around and avoiding the usual path, while the man followed. Eventually it stopped, arched its back, and moved forward again only with the lightest steps, glancing about even more cautiously than before. The man tiptoed. He soon caught the sound of human voices and a glimpse of human shapes moving just beyond a fence. Through the gloom he spied a large group of armed men. They seemed to be talking something over, and shortly he gathered what it was: they were discussing where to commit their next robbery. The fox had led him this way — a way no ordinary person would know — just because the bandits would not be looking for a traveler to pass so close. The fox disappeared once he was safely by, and he reached home without further difficulty.