CHAPTER XVIII

KOSAKA JINNAI

When Takeda Shingen swept down upon the lower provinces in 1571, fought a rear guard action at Mikatagahara, in which he nearly extinguished Tokugawa Iyeyasu, with a taste of the latter's remarkable powers of recuperation, he went on to his real aim of a trial of strength with the main Oda forces in Mikawa and O[u]mi. The great captain lost his life by a stray bullet before Noda castle. His death for long kept secret, until the northern forces had withdrawn into the fastnesses of Kai, the war languished, to be renewed with greater activity under the rash and ignorant leadership of his son. Katsuyori and his tribe cut belly at Temmoku-zan, the last and successful bid of Iyeyasu against his former enemies. Then the Tokugawa standard was planted from Suruga to Mikawa, and Iyeyasu became indisputably the first of Nobunaga's vassals—and one never thoroughly trusted.

Among the twenty-four captains of Takeda Shingen was a Kosaka Danjo[u] no Chu[u]den. His son Heima inherited the devotion, as well as the fief, of the father. Unlike many of the Takeda vassals in Kai he clung to Katsuyori Ko[u] through all the bad weather of that unlucky prince. Kai was no longer a safe place for vassals true to the native House. Better luck could be assured with the old enemies, the Uesugi in the North. But Heima would not seek other service than that of his once lord. He only sought a place to live.

When the ex-soldier appeared with his wife in the village of Nishi-Furutsuka at the base of Tsukuba, the people thereabouts had more than strong suspicion that he who came so quietly into their midst was not of their kind. However his presence was accepted. His willingness to take up farm labour and another status, to become a go[u]shi or gentleman farmer, his valued aid and leadership in the troubled times which followed, were much appreciated. The year 1599 found the old fox Iyeyasu Ko[u] planted in Edo castle; and Jisuke, as Heima now called himself, leaning over the cradle of a boy just born—a very jewel. Jisuke's wife was now over forty years in age. Hence this unexpected offspring was all the dearer. In the years there had been losses and distress. The new-comer surely was the gift from the Kwannondo[u] nestled on the slopes of the mountain far above the village. To the Lady Merciful many the prayers for such aid.

The child grew and prospered. A farmer's boy, yet he was the bushi's son; made plain in every action. Under the tutelage of the priests of the neighbouring Zen temple he learned all that they chose to teach, far outstripped his fellows, and in class room and in sport was their natural leader. Sport was the better test. With years Jinnosuke tired of the clerical teaching. The leader of the village band he was its mainstay in the wars with boys of rival hamlets thereabouts. These were soon driven away, and their own precincts invaded at will. The mountain became distinctively the property of Jinnosuke and his youthful companions, whose whole sport was devoted to mimic warfare. Their leader, thus unchallenged, became more and more reckless; more and more longed to distinguish himself by some feat beyond mere counterfeit war. One day, under his direction, in the storming of the hill which represented the enemy's castle, much brushwood and dried leaves were gathered. "Now then! Set the fire! The foe, blinded by the smoke, perishes under our blows. On! On!" The other children eagerly obeyed. The blazing mass towered up and up. The trees now were on fire. The wind blowing fiercely drove the fire directly on to the Kwannondo[u], which stood for the citadel of the besieged. Soon the temple itself was in flames. Greatly excited the boys swarmed amid the smoke and confusion as if in real battle. "Now—for the plunder!" At Jinnosuke's order the furniture of the temple was made the object of loot, heaped up at a safe distance for future division.

Thus engaged loud shouts met their ears. In fright the band of youngsters turned to meet the presence of the enraged incumbent, the do[u]mori. The temple was his charge and residence. His small necessities were supplied by visits to the villages below. "Oi! Oi! wretched little villains! Thus to fire the temple in your sport is most scandalous. Surely your heads shall be wrung off—one by one. Terrible the punishment—from Heaven and the Daikwan."[20] The boys in confusion began to slink away. Then the voice of Jinnosuke rose above the tumult. "On! On! This priest stinks of blood. Be not cowards! The commander of the castle would frighten with words. 'Tis he who is afraid. It is his part to cut belly in defeat and die amid the ruins." In a trice the whole pack had faced around. Boldly with staves they set upon the priest. Numbers brought him helpless to the ground. There was a large stone lying close by. Heaving it to his shoulder Jinnosuke stood over the prostrate man. "According to rule the matter is thus to be conducted. This fellow is to be given the finishing stroke; then buried in the castle ruins." He cast down the heavy block with all his force. The priest's brains were spattered on the ground. Under the direction of Jinnosuke the body with feebly twitching limbs was thrown into the now blazing mass of the temple. Then forming in line, and raising the shout of victory, the youthful band of heroes marched off to the village. Under pain of his displeasure—which meant much—Jinnosuke forbade any bragging or reference to the affair. Wisely: a day or two after a peasant came on the scene. In fright the man hastened to make report. At once buzz was most tremendous. Was it accident or the work of thieves, this disaster? Said one man sagely—"The do[u]mori was a great drunkard. Deign to consider. The temple furniture is untouched. Thieves would have carried it off. He carried it out to safety, to fall a victim in a further attempt at salvage. The offence lies with the priest, not with the villagers." The report pleased all, none too anxious to offend the bands of robbers ranging the mountain mass and the neighbouring villages. Thus report was made by the village council to the Daikwan's office. The temple authorities had a severe reprimand for allowing such a drunkard to be in charge of the shrine. Jinnosuke stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Trust to the valour and skill of this Jinnosuke. These constables are fools." But his companions were a little frightened with this late exploit. Their numbers fell off. Many of them now came to the age fit for farm work. Jinnosuke was not long in finding substitutes in the real thieves who haunted the neighbourhood. Their spy, and often engaged in their raids, yet in his own district he was only known as a bad and dissipated boy.

Something of this had to come to the ears of Jisuke; but not the full extent of his son's wickedness. He sought a remedy for what he thought mere wild behaviour. Now in the town, years ago, there had lived a poor farmer and his wife; "water drinkers," in the local expression for bitter poverty. The man laboured at day tasks, and the wife laboured as hard with him, bearing her baby girl on her back. Jisuke aided as he could, and as was his wont, and when the pair were taken down and died with a prevailing epidemic disease, it was Jisuke and his wife who took the child to themselves, to bring her up as their own. O'Ichi San grew into a beautiful girl, and at this time Jisuke and his wife trusted to her favour and influence to bring Jinnosuke to the sedateness and regularity of a farmer's life. The girl blushed and looked down as she listened to what was more than request, though put in mildest form. "One so humble is hardly likely to please the young master. Filial duty bids this Ichi to obey, and yield her person at command." The mother was more than gratified at the assent and modesty—"Dutiful you have always been. We parents have no eyes. The whole matter is left to you. If Jinnosuke can be taken by your person, perchance he will devote his time to home and the farm work, now so irksome to his father. Where he goes in these long absences is not known; they can be for no good purpose." Thus the arrangement was made. The girl now busied herself about and with Jinnosuke. She was the one to attend to all his comforts, to await his often late return. Thus used to her he soon began to look on her with anything but brotherly eyes. Was she not the daughter of old Taro[u]bei, the water drinker? He knew the story well. Thus one night he took O'Ichi to himself. She pleased him—as with the parents. No objection was anywhere raised to the connection; a village of Nippon has cognizance of such matters; and in short order public notice was given of the marriage.

The influence was not of long duration. With his wife's pregnancy Jinnosuke disappeared. From the age of thirteen years he had been hand in glove with all the rough fellows of the district. These were stirring times in the south. There was something to pick up. After all was not he a samurai's son. Jinnosuke was too late for action. Although but seventeen years old his short sturdy and astonishingly active frame and skill with weapons was a welcome addition to the band that Ogita Kuro[u]ji had gathered after the fall of O[u]saka-jo[u]. Now Jinnosuke figured as Kosaka Jinnai. Here first he came in contact with the law and Aoyama Shu[u]zen. On this failure he betook himself at once to the disguise of his native village; to enter it as quietly as if he never had left it, to find himself the father of a baby girl, Kikujo[u], and to procreate another on his patient wife. But before this second girl, O'Yui, was born Jinnosuke, as the village still knew him, had again disappeared. This was in strict accordance with his principle, of which something is to be said.

Of these O[u]saka ro[u]nin, determined not to take another master, there were three Jinnai. In council over past failure, said Tomizawa Jinnai.[21] "The ambition of this Tomizawa?" He laughed. Jinnai was no distinctive term in this gathering. "It is to collect all the beautiful costumes of Nippon."—"Admirable indeed!" chimed in Sho[u]ji Jinnai (or Jinemon, as he called himself). "But why stop at the surface? As you know, the ambition of this Sho[u]ji had long been to see gathered together all the most beautiful women of Nippon. And you, Kosaka?"—"To see all distinction done away with between other men's property and my own."—"Splendid indeed! But don't poach on our ground." The two others clapped their hands and laughed. Kosaka Jinnai did not. "Well then—to put the matter to the test," said he callously. Tomizawa Jinnai forthwith took up the collection of old clothing and costumes of divers sorts. He can be said to be the ancestor of the old clothes trade of Edo—To[u]kyo[u]; and the Tomizawacho[u] at Ningyo[u]cho[u] no Yokocho[u], the place of his residence, is his memorial. To this day it is a centre for old clothes shops. Sho[u]ji Jinnai pressed the petition he had once put in (Keicho[u] 17th year—1612) as Jinemon before being finally convinced of the righteousness of a Tokugawa world. He was lucky enough to find oblivion and reward in the permit for a harlot quarter. As its bailiff (nanushi) he assembled three thousand beautiful women for the service of the Yoshiwara, then at Fukiyacho[u] near Nihonbashi, and of which O[u]mondori is the chief relic. Kosaka Jinnai, under such encouragement and auspices, betook himself more vigorously than ever to robbery; enhanced by a mighty idea which the years gradually brought to ripeness in his mind. From being a sandal bearer Hideyoshi the Taiko[u] had risen to rule. He, Jinnai, would emulate the example and rise to rule from being a bandit. He was not, and would not be, the only one of the kind in the political world. Hence his wide travels through the provinces, his seeking out all the most desperate and villainous characters, for he had "trust" in few others, his weaving together of a vast conspiracy of crime, not to be equalled in any time but the closing days of the Ashikaga Sho[u]gunate—and that not so far off. Of this period of Jinnai's life there is a tale to relate.



CHAPTER XIX

A MATTER OF PEDESTRIANISM

Up to the very recent days of Meiji the precincts of the Shiba San-en-zan Zo[u]jo[u]ji, now known more particularly as the most accessible of the burial places of the Tokugawa Sho[u]gun, were an excellent example of the old monastic establishments. The main temple with its wide grounds was completely girdled by a succession of halls or monastic foundations, some of which were famed through the land for their theological teaching of the principles of the Jo[u]do[u] sect. Conspicuous among these were the Tenjingatani and the Mushigatani, seminaries widely sought for the erudition of the professors. In all nearly three thousand students attended the halls, with an eye to an ecclesiastical future.

On the dawn of a cold winter morning a priestly clad man, a shoke or one of the lowest clerical order, mainly notable for the vastness and robustness of his proportions, could have been seen leaving the gate of the Tokucho[u]-in. His size alone would have attracted attention, for the mouse coloured kimono, the white leggings and mitts (tekko[u]), the double soled waraji (sandals) fastened on a pair of big feet, were usual travelling equipment of his kind, made sure by the close woven ajiro or mushroom hat covering his head; admirable shelter against heat in summer, and a canopy—umbrella like—against falling snow in winter. By somewhat devious route he strode along a narrow lane, crossed the Gokurakubashi and halted before the Chu[u]mon on the broad avenue leading up to the temple. A glance thither satisfied him for a leave-taking, which yet displayed some sentiment. A few moments carried him without the entrance gate, and but few more saw him crossing Kanesujibashi, evidently on some long tramp, if the steady swing of a practised walker, in no haste and conserving his strength, is any test.

The road in those days passed through a long succession of village houses, the cho[u] of Shiba village, broken very occasionally by a yashiki wall. It was not until he reached the barrier at Takanawa, Kurumacho[u], that he came full out on the bay just lighting up with the coming day—a beautiful stretch of water, now spoiled by the ugliness of the railway and the filling in which has turned the haunt of thousands of wild fowl into a prairie, soon to be covered by hideous factories and other sites of man's superfluous toil. Close by the little saddle at Shinagawa, now a railway cutting, a stream came into the bay from the west. On the bridge the priest Dentatsu stopped for a moment. Throughout, from the time of leaving Kanesujibashi, he had had a feeling of being followed. Now he determined to get a good look at his pursuer, it was not particularly satisfying. "Iya! An ill looking chap—with an eye like a knife." The object of these remarks had halted with him, at the further side of the bridge. He was contemplating the water with one eye, the priest with the other. A short sturdy man of forty odd years, Dentatsu noted the good but thin upper garment, the close fitting leggings, the well chosen waraji, the copper handled dagger in his girdle. Furthermore he noted a cold decision in the glance of the eye that he liked least of all in the fellow's equipment.

This was a man he would not choose for companion—"Bah! Short Legs, this Dentatsu will soon leave your stumps in the rear. A little speed, and this doubtful fellow is left behind beyond hope." So off started his reverence at the full pace of his huge legs and really great endurance. Through O[u]mori and Kamata, crossing in the same boat at the Rokugo ferry, through Kawasaki and Tsurumigi—totsu-totsu-totsu the stranger's legs kept easy pace with those of the priest. "A most extraordinary fellow," thought Dentatsu. "He moves as on springs. It would be well to settle matters at once with him." Halting he waited for this pursuer to close up the few score feet maintained between them. His frowning manner had a genial greeting. "Ah! Ha! Truly the Go Shukke Sama[22] is no mean walker. But even then company on the road is good. From the Zo[u]jo[u]ji; by that kesa (stole), dress, and carriage? Probably the honoured priest has a long journey before him—to the capital?" Dentatsu duly scanned his company—"To the Chion-In, the parent temple, and none too fond of companionship on the road. Deign, good sir, to spare yours; with such short legs the task of precedence would be out of the question. Drop the useless effort of this pursuit, which becomes an annoyance."

Dentatsu's manner was truculent, his grasp on his stick even threatening. The fellow met this rough greeting with the suavest determination. "Oya! Oya! Naruhodo, Go Shukke Sama! A very rude speech indeed! After all the highway is free to all, and I too travel the To[u]kaido[u] toward the capital. Deign to grant your company and the entertainment will be all the better. Don't be deceived by length, or lack of length, in one's legs. The promise will be kept not to detain you.... That you came from Zo[u]jo[u]ji is plain from your garb, if you had not been seen to turn into To[u]kaido[u] from the temple avenue.... I too travel Kyo[u]to way.... See! In our talk already Hodogaya town is passed. This climb.... here is the top of the Yakimochizaka. The mark stands here to bound Sagami and Musashi. Ha! Ha! The Go Shukke Sama has splendid legs, but he is handicapped by his weight. Surely it cannot be less than two thousand ryo[u] in coin that he carries in the pack on his shoulders. That contains no bills on the Sho[u]shidai (Governor) of the capital."

Ah! The matter now was fully lighted. The fellow then had known his mission from Zo[u]jo[u]ji to the parent temple, to remit this sum to the capital. Dentatsu had not anticipated difficulty so early in his journey, nor did he much care for the contest which was offered him. He judged the man by his legs, and these were almost miraculous in swiftness, activity, and strength. "Alas! A dangerous fellow indeed. The luck of this Dentatsu is bad. What now is to be done?" The cold sweat at his responsibility gently bedewed his forehead. Yet Dentatsu was a brave man. The tradesman—or robber—laughed lightly. "Don't look so queer, so put out, honoured Shukke Sama. Truth is told in saying there is business on To[u]kaido[u]. Even if highwayman, the last thing thought of would be to meddle with the funds of the honoured Hotoke Sama (Buddha). Be reassured; and as such be more assured in having a companion. The coin? Pure guess, and from the small size of the parcel and the evident difficulty found in carrying it. It weighs too much on one shoulder. Trust not only the thief, but the trader to know the signs of cash.... You would breakfast at Totsuka town? Did they send you forth with empty belly? Surely the monastery kitchen has no such reputation for stinginess among the vulgar." His manner was so reassuring that Dentatsu gained confidence in him and his profession. Gladly now he accepted this failure to relieve him of his precious burden, and this offer of company. He resented however the reflection on the monastery kitchen—"Not so! Nor is this foolish priest so at odds with the cook as not to find a bit of mountain whale (flesh) in the soup. Repletion is the aim and object of a monastic existence."—"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the fellow. "Yet the honoured Shukke Sama would breakfast so close to Edo town! Good sir, deign to leave the matter to me. Both are in haste—you to the capital; I almost as far.... This Fujisawa is a wondrous place. As priest you know its temple and its wandering prior, the precious relics of the Hangwan, but the woman Terute of course the priest despises; yet Oguri owed much to her—life and success in his vendetta. Besides in a copse, just over yonder hill, is the shrine of the other Hangwan—Yoshitsune. A prayer to his head there buried brings success in warlike adventure, no great affair for cleric or tradesman.... Already the Banyu[u] ferry is close at hand. Surely if we would reach Sumpu (Shizuoka) this day there can be no lunching short of Odawara town."

Dentatsu would have stopped short, if such halt had not involved the rapid disappearance of this elastic and now entertaining companion. As it was both had to slow pace to let him get breath taken away by pure amazement. "Odawara town! Sumpu before night! Tradesman, have you gone mad? To Sumpu it is full forty-eight ri (120 miles). You talk like a fool. Who is there, to walk such a stage in a day?"—"The honoured Shukke Sama and this tradesman. In talk and argument the ground flies under the feet of such walkers, and the promise to keep pace will be maintained. Just see—this is Kodzu town; yonder the waters of Sakawagawa. 'Tis early yet, but time can be spared for food. For exercise belly timber is needed. A good lining of wine and food to the inwards is the tonic to more talk and exertion. Now in with you, to this broad space leading to the castle—the keep of O[u]kubo Kaga no Kami, with his hundred thousand koku and the trust of the suzerain worth all his other honours. Ah! Here is the eight roofed Minoya, best of its kind in the town. And what a town. Between wine, food, and singing girls, one loiters as long as a second Odawara conference; at times to one's ruin.... Ah! Ha! A stop for the mid-day meal. Ne[e]san, no more delay than needed. Speed is urgent, yet food and wine of the best. The honoured Shukke Sama is affected toward vegetable food.... What! The Buddha called wine hannyato—hot water bringing wisdom? Ne[e]san, the honoured Shukke Sama is a man of sense, no ascetic when unsatiated—or on a journey. He would wear out belly and waraji (sandals) on the same service. Fish boiled with a little salt, sashimi (sliced raw fish)—and don't forget the kamaboku (fish paste). Two bottles for each, with as much more heating. Bring a large bowl, empty. Never mind the change.... And now, honoured Shukke Sama, deign at least to the uninitiated the basis of this wondrous argument." Dentatsu could not take offence at his merry humour. Himself he smiled, as he poured from the second bottle of the wine. "Yes; the Buddha has called wine hannyato, thus permitting its use to the initiated; just as stronger foods, properly labelled, are fit for the belly. Thus by the mouth is purified what goes into the belly. If the mouth can perform lustration in the one case, it can do so by its exercise in another and more intimate fashion." The fellow was immensely pleased. Leaning over he had drunk in the countenance of the priest in the course of his argument—"Naruhodo! A big body: 'twas feared the mind would be small. Deign, honoured sir, to wait a moment; a purchase to make...." Off he bolted with the domburi or large bowl, something of a mystery to the priest. It was soon solved by his reappearance with the vessel filled with the small salted squid (ika). "There! Honoured Shukke Sama, sample the best of Odawara town, noted for kamaboku and its small fish-salted; and of these the ika is unsurpassed." As they drank the wine, urged on by the savoury relish, he gave few and brief directions. The food was wrapped up by the ne[e]san, several bottles of wine put in the package, for use in a journey that must be pressed. "Now—the bill; for you, ne[e]san, what is left over. Honoured Shukke Sama, a gentle pace for the time being. The belly full, one loiters to let it do its work. From here to Yumoto is a ri (2-1/2 miles), of most gentle rise. And what a pretty scene; the valley narrowing to its clinging hills hiding the strange and beautiful scenes beyond, yet which cause a little fear even to the stoutest hearts. This river seems alive, twisting, and turning, and pouring in multitudinous and minute falls over the rounded boulders. The greater falls are naught else—on the larger scale. All day one could watch the twists and turns of one spot in a rivulet, white, green, almost black, yet never the same.... Note how the pass narrows. This is Hata, beyond is the monkey's clinging hill—well named. More than one rock from the steep above has torn away the traveller's grasp and crushed a skull as if an egg shell." They breasted the steep hills through forest, came out on the gentler upper slopes covered with the long bamboo grass through which could be seen the rough heaped up surface of volcanic debris. The trader came to a halt. "A request to make."

"Ah! Now the fellow's mask is off—in this lonely spot.... He shall have a tussle for it." Dentatsu was as much enraged as scared. Grasping his staff he faced the townsman with harshness and visible irritation. Said the latter testily—"Put off the honoured scowl. Truly the distrust of the Shukke Sama is most uncomplimentary. But—as priest of Zo[u]jo[u]ji, and on its mission, there is a passport. Women or guns with such, and those unfurnished, cannot pass the barrier. I am unfurnished." Dentatsu showed his amazement—"Yet you would journey to the capital! And...."—"Started in great haste, without time even for equipment, as can be seen—in a way. Deign to grant the request of entering in 'companion.' With this favour all will be well, and the obligation greater." Said the priest gravely—"True: and companions for the day, breaking food together, it is no great matter. But a townsman as company—the barrier guards would certainly make question."—"Write the matter in; write the matter in. They shall have answer.... For whom? The name is Jimbei, of Kanda ward; but just now a servant of Zo[u]jo[u]ji. Jimbei will be a credit to the honoured Shukke Sama. Write it in." His manner was so peremptory that the priest drew forth his writing materials. With one hand grinding his tablet of ink, with one eye watching Jimbei, he saw him disappear into the bushes. With misgiving the characters were added to the passport, a gentle forgery easy to the cleric in mind and hand. Who would not cheat barrier and customs, and feel all the better for the deed? To the misgivings were added a gasp of astonishment. From the bush appeared Jimbei clad in full raiment of a temple servant, carrying pole and the two boxes (ryo[u]gake) on his shoulders, and so like to the role that Dentatsu felt as travelling in the style of his betters. "But ... in this lonely place how effect such change? How...." Jimbei quietly removed the document dangling from his fingers. "How—and why—and which—and where—all these are for later explanation. Time presses if Sumpu is to be reached at night. Jimbei answers for the credit of the Go Shukke Sama. Now, honoured sir—down the hill with you." They were standing on the crest overlooking the lake far below. Jimbei set the example by starting off at a rapid pace. Never had priest better attendant, or one more skilled in dealing with barrier curiosity. He was loquacious, without giving information. The matter was clear, and Jimbei gave hint as to the mission and the burden. Dentatsu was given early clearance. At the top of Muko[u]zaka Jimbei loyally restored to him the precious burden until then assumed. "Now, sir priest, be assured of Jimbei Dono's good faith. The favour has been great. The acknowledgment shall be as great. In this life the Go Shukke Sama and this Jimbei are bound in brotherhood." If Dentatsu felt grateful, he also felt a little chilled.

"A wonderful fellow! Such legs on such a small body have never been seen.... Nor such an eye. This man is as much brains as bulk. Every member is intelligence—Extraordinary!" He kept this opinion to himself. Aloud—"This Dentatsu admits his inferiority. He is worn out. Since Jimbei balks Mishima town, from there onward this foolish priest takes nag or kago." Was he speaking truth, or trying to get rid of him? Jimbei stopped and observed him keenly. Bah! His was the master mind over this poor cleric. "The Shukke Sama already has had test of Jimbei's wit and talk. Deign not to spit folly. Leave the matter to Jimbei, and be assured that the passage of time and space will go unobserved." Nor did the priest find it otherwise. The leagues passed on apace. At this rest shed they stopped awhile for tea, and to consume provision. At another Jimbei halted to order sake for himself and companion. The sun was far down as the ferrymen landed them on the further side of the Fujikawa. Okitsu? Mio no Matsubara? No indeed: passing under the walls of the Seikenji, Jimbei spoke with enthusiasm of the place famed for eatables—Sumpu town. To[u]to[u]mi-wan, Suruga-wan, furnished the fish, unsurpassed; the tai (bream) of Okitsu, famed for sashimi—all these, including the best sake in Nippon. Dentatsu sighed with weariness and anticipated pleasure of the table set. Passing through the darkness of full night the mass of a castle bulk could be made out. Then they came into the blaze of such light as a large provincial town afforded. Said Jimbei, with some exultation—"Sumpu town, and its inns of note. Eh! Honoured Shukke Sama!"



CHAPTER XX

THE AFFAIR OF KISHU[U] KE

Jimbei, as of one born and bred in the town, at once led his companion off from the castle precincts. The many lanterns hung out in the narrow streets showed this Jinshukucho[u] to be the lodging quarter of the town. Approaching the entrance of one more conspicuous—"The Yorozuya.... Ah! Shelter for the night." The maids kneeling at the entrance chorused their welcome. Keenly they took in the prospective guests, garb mainly, possessions less conspicuous. All Nipponese travel light, and tea money is to be judged by outward appearance. "Deign to enter;" the usual mechanical and none too enthusiastic greeting. Jimbei was at home—"And the eight mat room over looking the street?... Oh! Ne[e]san is without memory." The girl, a little puzzled, admitted the defect and made apology. Alas! The room had been taken for one of the train of Kishu[u] Ke. They were samurai, on their lord's business, and would have no near neighbours. Another room of size and suitability was available. "Honoured Shukke Sama, water for the feet." Deftly he stripped off the sandals of Dentatsu, acted the servant to perfection, and attended to his own purification with practised swiftness. Then under the guidance of the maid the room was sought. The host appeared almost as soon with the inn register. "Dentatsu, shoke of Jo[u]jo[u]ji; one companion—from Mishima this day." With grave face Jimbei made the entry; and Dentatsu gave all the approval of an outraged weariness.

"And now—the bath? Ne[e]san, the Danna Sama is large of body and liberal of needs. No vegetation as repast for him. Just a...." Jimbei went into a huge order of food and wine to repair their tired bodies. The girl sighed in relief—"The honoured bo[u]zu-san (sir priest) is most considerate. He asks but what is easily supplied." To Jimbei's supposed inquiry—"To furnish out of the usual course is never easy. The honoured priests often give trouble." A serving man stuck his nose within the sho[u]ji. "For the honoured guests the bath...."—"Danna, the bath." The girl stood expectant. Following her guidance the weary Dentatsu, under the manipulation of his more active companion, underwent this partial renovation. Before the zen, well covered with the eatables, Dentatsu sighed—"Ah! Ha! This Dentatsu is weary beyond measure. To-morrow he will rest here. The distance...." Jimbei cut him short—"The Danna deigns to jest. The rest of a night, and all the weariness departs. Wine and food, sleep, will show the folly of such thought. Besides, the temple's important affair...." Dentatsu did not seem to be so solicitous concerning temple matters as his attendant. Jimbei gave him little chance to show it. He prattled and talked, had much to ask of ne[e]san. This shortly, and as decided—"With an early start let the beds be laid at once." Off he dragged the unwilling Dentatsu. When they returned from preparation for the night the beds were laid. Dentatsu tumbled incontinently into one, and in a moment was snoring. Jimbei sat smoking, watching him and the girl making the final preparation of the chamber for the night. As she passed close to him suddenly he seized her and drew her down to him—"Ara! Danna, this won't do at all. A maid in the inn, such service must be refused. Condescend to loosen." But Jimbei did not let her go. He drew her very close.—"Ha! Ah! Indeed one is much in love. However don't be alarmed. It is another affair. The Go Shukke Sama has a little soul in a big body. He is wearied beyond measure; yet the temple affairs require an early start. Deign to call us at the seventh hour, but be sure to say it is the sixth. Is it agreed?... For a hair ornament." The maid understood the coin and the innocent deception. Dimming the night light she took her departure. An inn of Nippon never sleeps.

Dentatsu was aroused, to find the lamp still burning brightly in the room. The maid, somewhat frightened, was vigorously shaking him. "Oya! Oya! To shake up such a big Danna, 'tis terrific. He may deign to bestow a beating." Said Jimbei, with calm philosophy—"For the kerai to inconvenience his master is not to be permitted. You are of the inn service. Hence not to be reproved by strangers. It is your function to arouse."—"The sixth hour!" grumbled Dentatsu. He rubbed his eyes as one who had just gone to sleep. Jimbei carried him off to the cleaning processes of early morn. The return found the table laid with the meal. With quietness and despatch Jimbei settled all matters with the aplomb of the practised traveller. Before he was well awake Dentatsu found himself following after through the dark streets. "Surely the maid has mistaken the hour.[23] 'Tis yet the darkness of night."—"Not likely," interjected Jimbei, as swiftly he urged him on. "The girl sees to departure every day in the year. It is the darkness of bad weather, and all the more need for haste." He looked around in surprise. They had reached the ferry at the Tegoe crossing of the Abegawa, at the edge of the town. "Naruhodo! Not a coolie has yet appeared. There is no one to carry us across the river. How now! Has the girl really mistaken the hour?... Return? Why so? That would be to look ridiculous, and the woman is not worth scolding. However, this Jimbei knows...." With misgiving and protest Dentatsu followed him a little up stream, toward the Ambai-nai or Nitta crossing. Here the broad middle space is usually left bare of flood. Jimbei began to strip.

"Naruhodo! Townsman, surely the crossing is not to be trod without the practised guidance of the coolies? This Dentatsu budges not a step...."—"Deign to be silent," was the reply. Jimbei was already in the water; with the priest's luggage and his own. With fright and interest Dentatsu watched him feel his way through the stream. Surely he was a most surprising fellow. On the other bank doubtless he would disappear at once. The big legs of Dentatsu trembled under him. He had thoughts of entrance, but the impossibility of overtaking these legs of quicksilver prevented him. "Ora pro nobis"; these departing treasures. No! Now he was returning. "Now, Go Shukke Sama, up with you." He made a back for Dentatsu, but the big man backed away. "Jimbei! Are you mad? Is Jimbei one to carry the big...."—"Body in which is lodged such a small soul? Be sure, sir priest, this Jimbei easily could shift double the weight. Up with you!... Don't put the hands over my eyes. A little higher: that's it." Off he started into the flood. The first channel was easy; barely to the thigh. Dentatsu walked across the intervening sand, with more confidence and not a word of doubting protest. Again, and readily, he mounted this surprising conveyance. The second attempt was another affair. The river flowed swift. The legs of Dentatsu were wound around the neck of Jimbei, now in water to his chest. He looked in fright and some pleasure at the waves, flicked here and there with white. Jimbei halted—"A fine sight, sir priest. Note the deep blue. It shows depth, yet this is the ford. Just below it runs far over man's head, with swift undercurrent. He who once is caught in it rises not again until the crossing is reached, far below." Said Dentatsu, scared and annoyed—"Why loiter then in such a dangerous place?"—"Because just now the world is Jimbei's world." The tone of voice, the look up he gave, froze the soul of Dentatsu.

"Just consider, sir priest. A movement, and the honoured Go Shukke Sama is food for fishes. His disappearance accounted for, his luggage, the two thousand ryo[u] of the temple, pass to Jimbei as his heir, and none to make report. The honoured Shukke Sama, is he prepared?" Dentatsu was no fool. This man was in earnest for the moment. With all the calmness of a desperate position he made terms—"Life is everything. Deign to place this foolish priest on solid ground. Jimbei takes the coin, goes unscathed, without word now or hereafter. The priest's word for it—and surely Jimbei fears not for himself." He clung fast to Jimbei's neck. The latter had gone off into a most outrageous peal of laughter which almost shook his freight from the perch aloft. Then slowly and carefully he proceeded into the shallows, set down his charge on the further bank—"A magnificent compliment: but no more of this. Perhaps now the Go Shukke Sama will have trust in Jimbei, submit to his guidance. For once in earnest, the escape was a narrow one.... Ah! Ha! Ha! Ha! How scared!" Dentatsu did not deny it—"More than frightened; thoroughly scared." He scanned his companion. "A most surprising fellow! Surely...." He was perplexed. But Jimbei paid no attention to his questioning deferential manner. He was plainly the master—"Come now! All haste is to be made." Urging the pace soon they were amid the hills. The white light of dawn was approaching as they were reaching the top of a difficult climb. "The Utsunoya-to[u]ge (pass)," said Jimbei. A peculiar vibration in his voice made Dentatsu look at him with surprise. His mouth was set. His eyes shone colder than ever. Every faculty of the man was awake and alert. Silent he halted, put down the pack on the steps of a little wayside shrine, drew out his pipe to smoke. "Beyond is the Tsuta no Hosomichi, running along the mountain side for some cho[u]; the 'slender road of Ivy,' for it is no wider than a creeper."—"A bad place!" mechanically murmured Dentatsu. "A very bad place!" was the grave reply.

Then the sound of steps was heard. A man, puffing, came up on the run. He addressed himself with respect to Jimbei—"Honoured chief, they enter on the pass."—"Good: now—vamoose; but be at hand." The man saluted, to Jimbei and the priest, and disappeared in the direction whence he came. "Vamoose? Vamoose? What and why this word vamoose?"—"Shut up!" was the emphatic reply of Jimbei. His eye turned to wayside shrine, close by at the summit of the pass. "Now, in with you, sir priest. No word or motion, if life be valued.... In with you." Dentatsu looked him all over. In resentment? If he felt it, he did not dare to show it. Mechanically he turned and huddled himself within the grating. Jimbei forced it in on him, for the space would but hold the big body of the priest. He had hardly done so when another man came running up, almost breathless—"Chief! They are at hand."—"Good: vamoose."—"Again 'vamoose'", grumbled Dentatsu openly.[24] "Why such strange words; and at least why not explain them?"—"Ah! Ha! A noisy priest; these clerics can do nothing but clack, clack, like a parcel of geese or women. Even the best of them—who thus consorts with Jimbei. Remember, Bo[u]zu—silence, or the Go Shukke Sama finds Nirvana—not Gion; or was it Chion." With a silent ferocious laugh, or expression of such, he disappeared into the bushes.

But few moments passed. Dentatsu wriggled uneasily in his robes, the only motion space permitted. Then was heard the merry sound of bells. A pack train appeared; or rather two horses, one as carrier. A samurai rode in front; another followed on foot. Four or five grooms were in attendance. Close by the shrine, at the top of the ascent, they halted to get wind after this last steep pull. "What a splendid sight! Naruhodo, Gemba Dono! The sun rises from the bosom of the waters. How blue they seem! The hills take shape in the dawn's light. Truly the start, so inconveniently early, is repaid in part. One could stay here forever ... what call you this place?... Tsuta no Hosomichi? And the resort of highwaymen. But the samurai has his sword. Such fellows are not of the kind to trouble. Much more so a tanka couplet to celebrate the beauty of the spot." He laughed, and his companion swaggered to the front of the shrine, with that peculiar hip motion of his caste. Dentatsu held his breath. The grooms chanted the few lines of a song—"The eight ri of Hakone—the horse's pack; the Oigawa—its wide flood, not so." Slowly they rose to follow the masters. He who walked preceded. The pack horse followed. The rider was well engaged in the narrow way. The grooms were preparing to follow. Then a man burst forth from the bushes at the roadside. "Atsu!" The samurai had but hand on his sword hilt when his assailant had cut deep into shoulder and pap. His companion tried to turn. Then Dentatsu saw the animal he rode stagger and fall. The rider had but time to throw himself to the ground. Before he could rise his head rolled off a dozen paces, then bounded down the steep slope. Striding over the body smoking in blood, Jimbei grasped the rein of the pack horse. The grooms, who had looked on eyes agog, took to flight down the pass as they had come. The whole affair had not taken two minutes.

Gasping with fright Dentatsu allowed himself to be dragged from the shrine. "Ah! Ha! Ha! A surprising fellow! Such activity was never shown by man. Truly Jimbei is of the hobgoblin kind." Jimbei was once more transformed. His costume of priests' attendant had been resumed. The carrying boxes, now much heavier, were ready to shoulder. Gravely he indicated the burden. "Four thousand ryo[u] there; a thousand ryo[u] to be carried elsewhere. But now there is need for great haste. Neither Jimbei nor the Go Shukke Sama is to be found in these parts. On with you, sir priest."—"Ah! Jimbei! Jimbei! A strange fellow indeed! What manner of company has this Dentatsu fallen in with?"—"This is no time for questions—or answers," was Jimbei's stern reply. "The relation evidently is for life. Jimbei recognizes it.... Yes, the crest is that of Kishu[u] Ke; the money, funds remitted to his treasury. Hence all the greater need to hasten." Speed they did, by paths and shorter ways unknown to Dentatsu as frequent traveller of this road, and which spared the Hamana bight and rest at the tea sheds of the To[u]kaido[u]. Fright urged on Dentatsu without protest; settled purpose hastened Jimbei. Thus Yoshida post town was reached in good time to inn, for the priest was half dead with fatigue.

Jimbei surveyed his charge, critically and with much kindness, as one does what has been of greatest use to him. "Not a step further can this Dentatsu go." It was not refusal; it was plain assertion of fact; and Jimbei agreed. "There is no longer need for haste. Two, three days stoppage, with the best of food and wine shall be the reward of the honoured Shukke Sama. Nay, until thoroughly restored." They had come from the bath and were seated at a table loaded with wine and food. Dentatsu prepared to eat. Just then the landlord stuck his head in between the sho[u]ji. His face was anxious and frightened. "Regret is felt. On Utsunoyama, at the crossing of the pass, the honoured money train of Kishu[u] Ke has been held up and robbed. 'Tis a great affair; by some notable robber! At Yoshida none are allowed exit or entrance during the next six days. People and strangers are to undergo strict examination. Deign the honoured pardon, but ... after all the charges are to be met for the detention." The morsel then being conveyed to the mouth of Dentatsu stopped short. A warning look from Jimbei nearly made him choke. The townsman was all suavity and glee—"How fortunate! The honoured Shukke Sama, foot sore, would rest several days. And at no expense! The generosity of Matsudaira Ko[u] passes measure. Are we not lucky, Danna?" To the host—"So it makes no difference. But at this distance...." The host shrugged his shoulders. "It would seem so; but the order is official. The notice came by boat from Oigawa. The whole To[u]kaido[u] is up—from Yoshida to Numazu town."—"And why not to Edo and the capital (Kyo[u]to)," Jimbei laughed. The host laughed too. Well satisfied with his guests' satisfaction he withdrew. Dentatsu did but blink.

The meal removed Jimbei sat in apparent thought. "A boat—and Yoshida! Who would have thought it? Ah! The wicked are not to escape punishment. Three feet nearer Heaven—on a stake; and one's belly full of wind holes—from the spears. Go Shukke Sama, the crime was a dastardly one. Five thousand ryo[u]! Surely it means crucifixion on the embankment. We will furnish poles for plover—to roost upon."[25] Dentatsu made a sign of frightened repulsion. He could not speak. Jimbei seemed to catch an idea. "Ne[e]san! Ne[e]san! keep the honoured Shukke Sama company over his wine. There is a purchase to make.... By the house? No such trouble asked. It is for waraji, with cloth in front and rear, indispensable.... Not found here? Nay, these eyes saw them on entering the town. Someone will get ahead in the purchase—with great regret. The place was seen, but not knowing the streets it is not to be described." When the girl carried out the dishes, to bring in more wine, Dentatsu raised heavy reproachful eyes—"Then Jimbei would run away, leave the priest in the lurch." He cast a look at the hateful ryo[u]gake, stuffed with recent spoil. Jimbei froze him into silence—"From the town there is no escape. Leave the matter to Jimbei. Drink: even if the liquor chokes."—"A means of escape will be found?"—"Truly a big body and a cowardly heart. Why, man this but a difficult place. Jimbei leaves, to find an exit."—"Just so!" was the gloomy answer of the priest. He put his head in his hands. Meanwhile Jimbei betook himself to the front. To avoid annoyance he borrowed an inn lantern. With its broad mark of "Masuya," the name of the inn, he sallied out into the darkness.

He was gone nearly a whole watch. Dentatsu, assured of his desertion, was in despair. He had relied on the fertile mind of this scamp. Ah! What a predicament this fellow had got him into. Then the voice of Jimbei sounded at his shoulder. Dentatsu almost leaped up. Instead he gulped down the sake, until then barely touched, to the maid's great astonishment. "Surely the Danna Sama must be ill."—"More likely tired, than unwell. But the wine will make it pass. The waraji? Here they are." He laughed as he drew them from his bosom. The girl was all astonishment. They were just as described; such as were never seen west of Hakone. Truly a sharp-sighted guest! When alone Jimbei spoke briefly—"Take courage. The matter is arranged." Said Dentatsu, heavy-eyed—"The mission settled? Has some other lost his life at Jimbei's hand?" Jimbei laughed; then frowned. "Neither blood nor coin does Jimbei spill for mere pastime. He has purpose." He handled the waraji. Said Dentatsu in some amaze—"Where did you get them?"—"In Odawara."—"Has Jimbei been to Odawara?"—"Just so: but not now. Jimbei is no Tengu Sama. Did not the Go Shukke Sama take food at Odawara? This kind are only found there; and pretexts are always needed to range a town in darkness. The mission is performed. Be assured that before day these very people will urge departure.... How so? Jimbei is not without friends; and has done his own part as well. The train is laid, and in all quarters of Yoshida town the fire will break out. The wind blows strong, and ... 'tis them or us." His look was so cold as to freeze. Dentatsu, in ecstasy of gratitude did but seize his hands and murmur—"Wonderful man—truly a great captain!" For the first time Jimbei looked a genuine benevolence.

Dentatsu pushed the covers partly away and sat up in bed. Severe had been the chiding of Jimbei—"Honoured Shukke Sama, such conduct will never do. Fortunate it is that the event is postponed but an hour or so. Ne[e]san surely is amazed at the sudden abstinence of the Go Shukke Sama from food and drink. Moreover there is work to be done. The body unnourished, it gives way. Deign to rest. Be assured the urging will come from others." These the final words before the townsman-bandit had himself dropped off into soundest slumbers. Dentatsu watched him, with confidence and some awe. Smoothed out in sleep and under the influence of some pleasant dream, Jimbei was as harmless looking as one of the doves in the temple of the war god Hachiman. He leaned over and would wake him. "Urusai! Annoying fellow! Ah! This bo[u]zu is part hare, part ass, part swine. When not braying, he is stuffing, or ears up in fright. Deign to rest, honoured priest. Legs and body will soon have enough to do." Again he turned over; and again the snores rose loud. Dentatsu could not sleep. He lay awake, listening to the diminishing sounds of inn life.

The temple bells were striking the sixth hour. The sound was a strange one. The strokes of the hour ran into one continued roar. Jan-jan-jan—pon-pon—gon-gon—cries of men, the racket of wooden clappers and of drums, were now added to the uproar. For a few moments Dentatsu stood the increasing excitement. Through the cracks of the closed amado he could see a reddish glare, becoming brighter and brighter. He sat up and roughly shook Jimbei by the shoulder. "Oh! This rascally cleric. Nothing will satisfy his stupidity, but to carry it to extremes. Honoured Shukke Sama, wait the urgency of others; don't supply it. We at least lack not preparation.... Ah!" The sho[u]ji were thrown hastily back. The host of the inn appeared, his face pale and lips trembling. "Honoured guests! Still in bed? Deign at once to flee. The town is in a blaze. Every quarter has its conflagration which walks apace; and in this gale hopeless to overcome...."—"Don't talk folly," sleepily answered Jimbei. "Is not the town in ward for these six days. Why disturb oneself? Let all burn together?" The host wrung his hands—"Honoured sirs, the blame and punishment falls on this Masuya if injury befall its guests. All lies wide open. Deign at once to leave.... Naruhodo!" His mouth was wide open. Jimbei and Dentatsu rose as on springs, full clad, waraji on their feet. The way "lies wide open." This was the watchword to Jimbei. "Edokko (sons of Edo) always are ready, and need no urging." With this genial explanation he and Dentatsu shouldered past the astonished landlord. If the latter would have had suspicions they were thwarted or postponed by the cries which rose below. His own main house was now in flames. Hands to head in this confusion of ideas he abandoned all thought of his guests and rushed down below. As if in his own home, with no guide but the outer glare Jimbei passed to the inn rear. In the darkness of the passage he had stopped, leaned down and struck a light. The precious ryo[u]gake on his shoulders, with the priest he took to the fieldpaths in the rear of the town. The ground was level; the land rich rice field with its interspersed and picturesque clumps of trees and bamboo, its verdure bowered villages. From time to time they looked back at the sky, flaming red, and in its darker outer parts a mass of glittering flying sparks "like the gold dashes on aventurine lacquer ware."

For two days they had lain at Okazaki town, Dentatsu incapable of movement after the mad run along the classic highway in the darkness of that fearful night. As refugees from the stricken town they met with kind reception. The greater part of Yoshida town lay in ashes; and so great the disaster, so unsuspected the cause, that men looked rather to the hand of Heaven than of human kind for the source of such punishment. Jimbei spoke gravely as the two stood on the long bridge leading to Yahagi across the river. "The luck of one, the misfortune of another—'twas the life of the Go Shukke Sama and of this Jimbei against the lives and fortunes of those wretched people. And is there aught to outweigh life?" The priest nodded a lugubrious and pleased assent to this plain doctrine. "It is just as well the host of Masuya lost life as well as goods. He might have made plaint, and had too long a tongue.... Jimbei could not foresee such weakness in so huge a body." He looked Dentatsu over with a little kindly contempt. "And so the honoured Shukke Sama would ask the name of this Jimbei? Honoured sir, the favour of your ears—for Kosaka Jinnai, son of Heima of that name, descendant of the Kosaka known to fame in service with Shingen Ko[u] of Kai. Times have changed, and misfortune driven Jinnai to seek revenge for his lord's undoing." He mocked a little; the tone was too unctuously hypocritical. Then abruptly—"Sir priest, here we part. Your way lies ahead to Gifu town. Delay not too much, until the lake (Biwa-ko) is reached. Travel in company, for Jinnai, though his men are numbered by the thousand, controls not all the craft. A priest can scent a true priest. Seek out your kind.... Ha! You make a face.... Here: two hundred ryo[u]. The monastery is none too generous, and would have you live—abroad. Sutra and prayers are not amusing. By face and years the honoured Shukke Sama loves the sex as well as the best of his kind. The very shadow of a monastery is prolific. More merriment is to be found with the girls of Gion than with those who dance the kagura (sacred dances) at Higashiyama. Besides, these are for your betters. If further off—seek Shimabara (the noted pleasure quarter). Go buy a Tayu; the funds are ample and not to be hoarded.... There need be no hesitation. 'Tis money of no thief. The prince robs the public; and Jinnai robs the princely thief. No trader ever has hung himself from the house beam for act of Jinnai; and more than one owes credit and freedom from a debtor's slavery to his aid."

It was with thanks, the parting with a man famed by deed before one's eyes, that Dentatsu slowly passed on to the bridge. From its further end he could see the road leading into the Nakasendo[u] hills. Long he waited until a diminutive figure, hastening along it, appeared from time to time between scattered houses on the outskirts of Okazaki town. Then in earnest he took his own way, partly impelled by fright and anxiety at loss of his companion and being thrown on the resources of his own wits. He felt for a time as a blind man deprived of his staff. It was years after that Yoshida Hatsuemon, he who died so bravely at O[u]saka, accompanied Marubashi Chu[u]ya to the new fencing room opened at Aoyama Edo by the teacher of the yawatori—a new style of wrestling introduced from Morokoshi (China)—of spear exercise (so[u]jutsu), of ju[u]jutsu. Marubashi Chu[u]ya had tried the new exponent of these arts, and found him master in all but that of the spear, in which himself he was famed as teacher. At this time (Sho[u]ho[u] 3rd year—1646) the crisis of Jinnai's fate and the conspiracy of the famous Yui Sho[u]setsu were both approaching issue. To his amazement Hatsuemon recognized in Osada Jinnai the one time Jimbei of the days when he had journeyed the To[u]kaido[u] in priestly robe and under the name of Dentatsu. The recognition was mutual, its concealment courteously discreet on the part of both men. Sho[u]setsu appreciated the merits, the audacity, and the certain failure ahead of Jinnai's scheme. The better remnants he would gather to himself. Yui Sho[u]setsu Sensei aimed to pose as a new Kusunoki Masashige, whose picture was the daily object of his prayers and worship. All was grist to the mill of his designs; but not association with such a chief—or lieutenant—as Kosaka Jinnai. Forewarned Marubashi and Yoshida (Dentatsu) held coldly off and sought no intimacy. Thus watched by keen wits of greater comprehension Jinnai rushed on his course into the claws of Aoyama Shu[u]zen and the meshes of the Tokugawa code for criminals of his class.



CHAPTER XXI

IF OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT

Thus Kosaka Jinnai, under the name of Osada, at the beginning of Sho[u]ho[u] 2nd year (1645) was established at Aoyama Harajuku-mura. For a gentleman of such abilities his pretensions were modest. It is true that he hung out a gilt sign before his fencing hall, with no boasting advertisement of his qualities as teacher. Yet his fame quickly became such that students flocked to him by the score. In a few months, on plea of being over-stocked, he was turning away all who would seek his instruction. Some he could not refuse—retainers of yashiki in his vicinity. But the generality of his disciples were a very rough lot; and this finer quality of his flock were carefully segregated, came and went at their appointed time apart from the common herd; and as matter of fact profited much from their teacher, and knew very little about him. Which was exactly the aim of Jinnai. This was remembered of him later.

There is but one domestic episode connected with this period, so short and purposely obscure in its duration. About the time of his first establishment a villager, on visit to Edo town, chanced upon the practice hour of Jinnai. The years had passed, yet the rustic had no difficulty in recognizing in the Sensei the one time Jinnosuke. When later he sought a more personal interview the great man was found courteous but freezing cold in the reception. The news from Tsukuba district was of that mixed character not to afford any exuberant pleasure. His reputation for bad company had gone abroad, though no great deeds of wickedness had been attributed to him. With the devotion of a daughter his wife had nourished the old folk, brought up her two daughters. On her shoulders during all these years had rested the management of these small affairs. The girls grew toward womanhood. When O'Kiku was in her seventeenth year Jisuke had died—unconsoled at the ill turn fortune had played him in this unfilial son. These grandparents had lingered out the years, crippled and helpless, urging a re-marriage on O'Ichi—always refused on the plea that such relation was for two lives. Jisuke Dono had united them, and he alone could separate her from Jinnai. She sought no second relation herself and plead against it; and Jisuke would not force it on this filial daughter, who thus would block the disinheritance of the son. Thus the farm stood, ready for the master on his return. Truly the whole village wondered, and admired her filial conduct.

To most of this Jinnai listened with indifference. "These girls—their looks and age?" Replied the man—"O'Kiku now is seventeen years; O'Yui Dono has fifteen years. Truly they are the village beauties, and rarely found in such life, for they would spare the mother all labour." He spoke with enthusiasm. "Then the mother lives?" The man shook his head—"The grave mound yet is very fresh. When she died she spoke no word of Jinnosuke Dono." Boldly he looked in rebuke at the unfilial man. Jinnai, if anything, showed annoyance. The old woman alive would have kept the inconvenient wife—the three women—at the distance of Tsukuba's slopes. His plans admitted of no possible descent on him at Aoyama Harajuku. Briefly he made request for the favour of bearing a message. Gladly the mission was accepted. With a discouraging cordiality in the leave taking the old acquaintance took his way back to the village. With something of a flutter O'Ichi opened and ran out the scroll he brought—"Unexpected and gratifying the meeting with Taro[u]bei San. The news of the village, not pleasing, is subject of condolence. Deign to observe well the instructions here given. The time will come when a summons to Edo town will be in order. At present the establishment is new and tender, and stands not the presence of strangers to the town. Condescend to show the same care in the present as in the past. The farm and its tenure is left to the hands of Ichi. As for these girls, look well to their care. They are said to be handsome and reputed the daughters of this Jinnai. Obey then his command. These are no mares for the public service, or for the private delectation of some rich plebeian. Service in a yashiki need not be refused, and jumps more with the plans and purposes of Jinnai. Keep this well in mind, and await the ripeness of time. With salutation...." Such the cold greeting through the years. "Reputed the daughters of this Jinnai." Ah! He thought and knew the years turned the beauty Ichi into the worn and wrinkled country hag of nearly forty years, only too ready to market her girls for her own necessities. She was ill and worn in her service. Here Jinnai was to be recognized. He was the man of his caste, with contempt for the plebeian he turned to his uses, but who must have no intimate contact with him or his.

Edo town was in a turmoil. North, East, South of the town the lives and purses of men who walked were at hazard. Plainly some band was operating in these quarters of the town. Aoyama Shu[u]zen was hard put to it. His arrests, outrageous and barbarous, increased with his difficulties. Some specimens have been instanced. His bands of yakunin lay out in a wide net around the threatened quarters of the city. On the outskirts of Honjo[u] a country mansion would be fired and plundered. In O[u]kubo a temple (the Jisho[u]-in) was clean gutted of its treasury—without notice to its neighbours. Not a sign of the spoil could be traced until the Sho[u]shidai of Kyo[u]to sent as present to the suzerain a most valued hanging picture (kakemono) of Shu[u]bun, picked up for him in O[u]saka town, and worthy of being seen by the eyes of Edo's ruler. Murder and rape were the common accompaniments of these crimes, the doers of which left no witness, if resisted. Tsujikiri, cutting down wayfarers merely to test the value of a sword blade, found revival. Such murders in the outward wards of the city were of nightly occurrence. Yet they all centred in Aoyama's own precinct; starting forth from the fencing hall of Osada Jinnai. What a band they were! At this long distant date the names read with that tinge of the descriptive which such nomenclature gives—Yamaguchi Chiyari, Kanagawa Koni, Sendai no O[u]kami, Okayama Koshin, Kumamoto Kondo[u], Tsukuba Ende;[26] their great chief being Kosaka Jinnai.

The eleventh month (December) was closing its first decade. The wine shop at Shiba Nihon Enoki was celebrating a first opening, a feast in progress for some hours, and to be maintained for the few ensuing days. The enthusiasm was at its height, and the wine flowed like water. Some few guests, who could, tottered home at midnight. Clerks and domestics—there is little difference in Nipponese practice—shut up the premises as well as their drunken state permitted. Those who had still some trace of sobriety proceeded to guzzle what was left in the opened casks. When the hour of the ox (1 A.M.) struck, not a man in the place knew front from rear. They lay sprawled out dead drunk—as were some of the women. This was the hour watched for and chosen by Jinnai. Such of the females as could give the alarm were bound and gagged by the masked invaders. Then they gutted place and store-houses. With bending backs they betook themselves over the hills the short distance to Harajuku. Here Jinnai, in the unwise benevolence of the bandit chieftain, gave rein to the licentiousness of these favourites of his mature age, to these lieutenants and agents in the great movement for which all this loot was gathered. The circuit was formed. The heads of wine barrels just stolen were broached. The grizzled, tousled member who officiated as cook, and as such had been left behind to his own offices, produced the feast of fish and delicacies in celebration of the great deed and accomplishment. "Now is the turn of this company," said Jinnai in pleasant reference to the victims of the raid. "A real banquet of extreme intoxication.[27] Alas! We have no tabo.... Too dangerous a loot," commented Jinnai amid the roar of laughter and approval. "Use and abuse go together; and the necessity to slit the throats of such chattering parrots. For this company the remains would give trouble, and might bring unexpected visitors about our ears. Be virtuous—and spare not the wine." The advice was followed to the letter. Soon the house of Jinnai was a match for that of the looted wine shop.

With the light of the December dawn a metal dealer (doguya) was trudging his way over the sifted cover of an early snow fall. He lived thereabouts; often had had small jobs of mending the weapons and implements of this sturdy establishment of Jinnai, hence had some good will to its owner, which was more than could be said of most of the neighbours. To his surprise he noted the wide open gate to Jinnai's entrance, the many tracks leading within. Strange sounds were heard. He would venture on a look. "Oya! Oya!" The man stood stock still, half in fright and half in a wondering concupiscence of curiosity, as he took in the riotous vision of the fencing hall. Some twenty men lay scattered in different postures—all dead drunk. The noise arose from their wide open snoring mouths and nostrils. A score of wine casks lay tumbled, the liquor spilled on the tatami. Mingled with the remains of food and vomit were stained cups and dirty plates. More suggestive to his frightened eyes was the heap of packages laid out at the side. Some of them had been opened, and displayed the varied assortment of the contents. Most conspicuous was Jinnai, who had gone to sleep with the bag of all the coin found in the wine shop as pillow. Ah! Ha! The scene needed no interpreter. This was a mere band of thieves, the house their den. The man stole to the kitchen. He knew his ground, and that in these bachelor quarters no women would be stirring. Jinnai was a misogynist—on business principles. Hearing a stir he would have fled at the rear, but the body of the drunken cook, the intermediary of their dealings, lay square across the exit. Fearful he made his return. As he passed out the front—"Alas! Alas! What is to be done? The Sensei, so just and prompt in his dealings, so kind in his patronage, is a mere thief. Report is to be made. As witness this Sentaro[u] will send the Sensei to the execution ground. But the honoured mother—no trouble is to be brought on her. By other discovery ... and perchance someone has seen this entrance! What's to be done? What's to be done?" He did one thing in his perplexity. He shut the outside door, closed fast the big gate, and departed by the service gate. Thus no others should intrude on this rash man; and likewise Jinnai had no inkling of his visit. Then the doguya fled to his home, so blue in the face and overcome as to frighten the household. They gathered round the unhappy man with hot water to drink as restorative. "Had he seen a ghost?"

All day he pondered. Then he told his story to Aikawa Chu[u]dayu. The officer was indebted to Sentaro[u]; for many a hint in his operations. "Deign somehow, honoured yo[u]nin, that the Sensei be allowed to escape. For this Sentaro[u] to appear as witness will bring down the curse of one sure to be visited with execution. Condescend this favour." Chu[u]dayu looked on him with approval, but shook his head in doubt—"Never mind the curse of one dead. The service to the suzerain is most opportune. Thus surely there will be reward, not punishment. For the present you cannot be allowed to leave, but the mother shall suffer no anxiety. There is much serious matter against this man; perchance no testimony will be called for.... Strange he should be caught thus; on both sides, and in accordance." He looked over the scroll he held in his hands, and with it took his way to his master's apartment. Thus it was he could spring on Shu[u]zen the greater affair concerning the long missing man. Making his report of the tale of the doguya he passed over the scroll he held in his hand—"The fellow is caught in both quarters. There are three of these ro[u]nin, most intimate. Of this Marubashi Chu[u]ya little favourable is known, but he has the support of Yui Sensei, the noted master of the Ushigome Enoki fencing room, and favourite of all but Hida no Kami, whom he would rival in attainment. Shibata Saburo[u]bei and this Kato[u] Ichiemon seem honourable men, of clean lives and reputation beyond the fact of being ro[u]nin. All experts at arms they live by teaching one form or other of the practice. Curiosity led Chu[u]ya to the encounter of this Osada at his fencing hall, to find him more than his match at everything but his favourite art of the spear. But here lies the point. Later he returned, in company with a one time shoke of the Zo[u]jo[u]ji. As Dentatsu the priest had met with Jinnai, and nearly suffered at his hands. In what way he did not say, but told Chu[u]ya that the man's real name was Kosaka—of the stock of Kosaka Dansho[u] no Chu[u]den of Kai; of him your lordship already has had experience in early days. At last he comes into the net and under such fair terms."

Aoyama did know his man; even after all these years. He had ripened much. Why not Jinnai? He would have gone himself, and chafed at not doing so; but his satellites showed him the lack of dignity in such procedure. The magistrate in person to take a common thief! Darkness offered chance of escape; so with dawn a host of yakunin was sent under a yoriki[28] and several do[u]shin. Aikawa Chu[u]dayu himself volunteered. Jinnai and his men were not yet up. On the previous day awaking amid the unseemly debris of the night's debauch, with no clear recollection of its progress and ending, the chief's first alarm had been dissipated by finding the outer gate locked. The unbarred wicket was attributed to an oversight which hardly would attract notice from the outside. Indeed he had not been the first to rise and take tale of his companions, to ascertain which one had occasion to open it and go without. With such a chief few would admit negligence. The day passed without notice. Confidence was restored. Now from the outside was heard a hum of voices. "On his lordship's business! On his lordship's business!" The cries came together with an irruption of yakunin into the entrance hall, Jinnai and his men promptly sprang to arms. A scattered fight began, with none too great stomach of the officers before the stout resistance offered. It was no great matter to reach a ladder to the loft. Jinnai was the last man up. The more daring to follow was laid low with an arrow shot from above, and the ladder disappeared heavenward. Panels now were thrust back, short bows brought into use, and almost before they had thought to fight or flee the constables had five of their men stretched out on the tatami.

Before the shower of missiles they could but retreat. At the request for aid Aoyama Shu[u]zen was in a rage. There was now no preventing his departure. Mounting his horse off he rode from Kanda-mura toward Harajuku-mura. But it had taken some little time for the messenger to come; and more for Aoyama with his staff to go. Meanwhile much had taken place. The ward constables had joined the yakunin of Shu[u]zen. The place completely surrounded, tatami were taken from the neighbouring houses for use as shields against the arrows. Then on signal a concerted rush of the hardiest was made. Pouring in, with ladders raised aloft; tumbling each other into the ditches, in the confusion pummelling each other with mighty blows, and in consequence securing stout whacks from the enraged recipients; the unlucky constables were soon indistinguishable in their coating of mud and blood. The outrageous ruffians, however, were soon tumbled from the posts of vantage and precise aim by well directed thrusts. A dozen men poured up the ladders and through broken panels into the loft above. Here in the uncertain light they hesitated. The figures of the foe could be seen, armed and ready for an arrow flight. Then a shout was raised from below. Stifling smoke poured up from every quarter. The scene was illuminated by the blazing figures of the archers, for these were old armour and weapons, lay figures stuffed with straw and meant but to gain precious moments of respite. The yakunin now had themselves to save. The retreat was as disorderly as at their first advent, but their rear was not galled by aught but flying sparks and burning timbers. Discomfited they watched the blazing mass of Jinnai's once establishment; watched it until it was a mere mass of ashes and charred beams.

Jinnai had been long prepared for such an adventure. The yakunin at first driven back he followed his company through the tunnel[29] leading to beneath a subsidiary shrine in the grounds of the neighbouring temple of the Zenkwo[u]ji. Here he dismissed them, with hasty division of the raided coin, and instructions to their chiefs to meet him at the festival of the Owari no Tsushima in the fifth month (June). Himself he would go north, to give notice and gather his recruits. Thus exposed at Edo, the great uprising now must centre in O[u]saka. They scattered to their different courses; and thus Jinnai failed to meet the enraged Aoyama Shu[u]zen, now present on the scene. But even the harsh discipline of their master had to yield to the piteous appearance of his men in their discomfiture. Aikawa Chu[u]dayu bent low in most humble apology. They had underestimated the man, had virtually allowed him to escape—"Naruhodo! The figures were of straw, and no wonder yielded so readily to the spear. Only the sight of the flames rising amid the armour betrayed the deceit in the gloom of the loft. Deign to excuse the negligence this once." A do[u]shin, an old and experienced officer, spoke almost with tears. Aoyama gave a "humph!" Then looking over this mud stained, blear eyed, bloody nosed, ash dusted band of his confederates he began to chuckle at the battered and ludicrous composition. All breathed again. But when he had re-entered his yashiki, and was left to himself, without concubine for service, or Jinnai for prospective amusement, then indeed he stamped his feet, his belly greatly risen. Alas! Alas! How could Yokubei Sama find a substitute for the one; and secure the real presence of the other?



CHAPTER XXII

THE SHRINE OF THE JINNAI-BASHI

It was one of those small Fudo[u] temples, tucked away on a shelf of the hillside just above the roadway, embowered in trees, with its tiny fall and rock basin for the enthusiastic sinner bathing in the waters of this bitterly cold day. The whole construction of shrine, steep stone steps, and priestly box for residence, so compactly arranged with the surrounding Nature as to be capable of very decent stowage into a case—much like those of the dolls of the third or fifth month. The nearest neighbour was the Shichimen-shi—the seven faced Miya—in this district so dotted even to day with ecclesiastical remnants, from Takenotsuka to Hanabatakemura on the north edge of Edo—To[u]kyo[u]. However it was not one of their resident priests who stood at the ro[u]ka of the incumbent cleric seeking a night's lodging. The kindly oldish do[u]mori (temple guardian) looked him over. Nearly fifty years of age, two teeth lacking in the front, his head shaved bald as one of the stones from the bed of the Tonegawa, a tired hard eye, thin cruel and compressed lips added nothing to the recommendation of the rosary (juzu) and pilgrim's staff (shakujo[u]) grasped in hand; and indeed the whole air of the man savoured of the weariness of debauch, and of strife with things of this world rather than of battles against its temptations. Yet the wayfarer was greeted with kindness, his tale of woe heard. His own quarters—a flourishing tribute to the mercies of the eleven-faced Kwannon, with a side glance at Amida—had gone up in smoke the day before. Naught remained but the store-house, with its treasure of sutra scrolls and hastily removed ihai of deceased parishioners. The disaster was not irreparable. His enthusiastic followers already sought to make good the damage. Himself he would find aid from the cult in Edo.

Kosaka Jinnai, for the unfortunate cleric was none else, seated himself in the comfortable quarters of the do[u]mori, to earn his shelter by a talk which in interest richly repaid the meagre fare, and made amends for no prepossessing exterior. On his pleading weariness the do[u]mori got out futon and spread a couch for the guest. This suited Jinnai's real purpose, which was not to loiter close to Edo and Aoyama's claws, but to push on that night toward Tsukuba and old friends, and recent ones he knew he would find on its none too savoury slopes. But Heaven does not permit the wicked a continued license in ill deeds. The weariness and indisposition pleaded, in part genuine, rapidly grew worse. The chilled feeling passed into its palpable and physical exposition. With alarm the do[u]mori watched the progress of this ailment. His hot drinks and solicitude would not produce the needed perspiration. Instead the chill was followed by high fever and delirium. The medical man, summoned from the village, was taking leave—"A plain case of ague from Shimosa's swamps. Is he friend or relative of the honoured Shukke Sama? No?... Alas! A case of resting under the shade of the same tree; of drinking from the same stream.[30] Deign to have a care with this fellow. He says strange things, and raves of robbery and strife—'I am Kosaka Jinnai; the famous Jinnai.' Truly you are to be pitied at being saddled with such a guest. Doubtless it is affliction for some deed committed in a previous life, a connection of two worlds between the honoured Shukke Sama and this doubtful guest."

The do[u]mori was an old and foolish fellow; but still able to catch the warning tone and manner of the leech. With anxiety he went to his guest. Jinnai was sleeping under influence of the draught administered, and on the word of the medical man was insured for some hours unconsciousness under the drug. Placing food and drink close to hand, out into the darkness went the sturdy old chap. The day saw him at Harajuku-mura, wandering around the site of ashes and charred beams of the late conflagration. No sign of renovation was there found. For satisfaction and a meal he turned to the benches of a near-by eating shed. His inquiries confirmed his own fears and aroused the suspicions of others. "Truly the honoured Bo[u]zu San must live far from this part of Edo. These ruins are of no temple. Here stood the fencing room of one Osada Jinnai, a ro[u]nin. This fellow turned out to be a famous bandit and escaped criminal; no less a person than the Kosaka Jinnai engaged in the attempt of years ago to carry off or slay the Tenju-in-Den of the suzerain's House. Heaven's vengeance long since visited the others. Now Aoyama Dono seeks this fellow. Is he friend or relative that thus inquiry is made?" The do[u]mori in fright cut short his meal and questions. Paying his scot he made off in a hurry. Soon after one of Shu[u]zen's spies passing, he was informed of the matter. Then the hue and cry was raised through the ranks to find this suspicious cleric.

From Jinnai the do[u]mori got little satisfaction on return at dark. He found him sitting, with natural and restored presence, smoking, and measuring him with the cold cynical glance which froze the marrow in his spine. "Ha! Ah! The honoured Shukke Sama wanders far and long." The priest did not attempt to conceal fright or mission—"Honoured guest, the poor quarters of this foolish cleric are open to the afflicted of his kind. But Kosaka Dono, deign at once to remove from here. Already the yakunin are on the trail. Yourself, in the mad fits, you make no concealment of name and exploits. Found here, discredit is brought upon the Buddha, and ruin to this his follower. Condescend at once to seek other quarters." He looked earnestly and pleadingly at the bandit chief, with squawking groan to lower his head almost to the tatami. Jinnai's eye went through him in his cold wrath—"Be assured of it; that I am Kosaka Jinnai; and hence one without fear. Let the yakunin come—to their own destruction. These quarters just suit this Jinnai—for the time. Cowardly and foolish cleric, you would prattle and bring trouble on yourself with that wheel of a tongue. Then get you hence. This Jinnai undertakes the charge and exercise of the weapons of the furious god. Bah! They are but of wood." To the horror of the priest he gave the wooden Fudo[u] which adorned the chamber such a whack that the unfortunate and flawed divinity parted into its aged fragments. "What! You still delay!" A hand of iron was laid on the old fellow's neck. Jinnai bent him to the ground. He looked around for implement. None was better to hand than part of the outraged god. Holding firm his victim, and raising his robes, a vigorous hand applied to the priest's cushions such a drubbing as he had not had since childhood's days. Then grasping him neck and thigh Jinnai cast him out onto the ro[u]ka and down the steps which led to it. The old fellow heard the amado close tight with noise. Thus the unwilling god entered on the service of this new satellite.

The hue and cry was loud. In the cold of the night the do[u]mori wandered, afraid in his shame and trouble to approach parishioners; afraid in the chill outside air to sleep. A hail came to his ears—"Sir priest, have you not dropped coin?" Ah! Here was a stranger; and his tale he did unfold. Parlous his case; and for him the sky was upside down. "Most lucky! At our place to-day a prayer of hyakumanban (memorial service) is to be held. Food, sleep, and counsel, wide enough for this weariness and distress are offered. Deign to go in company." Thus the spy led him to his officer, a yoriki established at Fuchiemura in the attempt to net this desperate fellow. With joy the news of Jinnai's close proximity was heard. Entrusting the tired and barely conscious priest to the village head-man, officer, do[u]shin, and yakunin set out. Jinnai had overrated his capacity. Again the fit was strong on him. He shook and shivered, helpless under the weight of every covering he could find, and dared not move or turn in fear of the chill aroused. Then at the outside came the shout—"His lordship's business! Make no resistance; submit at once to the rope, in hope to secure grace." The yakunin roughly broke down the doors of the priest's house. They found Jinnai on foot. Growled he—"You are not the kind to face Jinnai. A rush—to freedom; with such of you as stand for carrion." He boasted overmuch. His fit was too strong even for such iron resolution. The crisis of the fever was at hand, and his legs bent under him. A shove from behind sent him weakly sprawling in a heap. Then they all fell on him, bound him hand and foot, and carried him to the village.

The cortege halted on its way to Edo town. Loud had been the lamentation of the unfortunate do[u]mori. He was a ruined priest. At best a witness, perhaps to be regarded and tortured as the accomplice of this desperate villain; jail or the execution ground awaited him. He plead with this one and with that. With sympathy they heard, but in stolid silence. The spy, who had accosted him, knew the old man well—holy, pure, somewhat simple and guileless of mind, he was object of reverence and gentle derision of the parishioners who sought his service in every trouble. The man spoke to the do[u]shin, explained the matter. The do[u]shin took him to the yoriki seated beneath a tea shed. The officer nodded; then called for the report. "There is an error of transcription." Thus he altered the characters [tsujido[u]] to [tsujido[u]]. Instead of tsujido[u] a cross road temple, now it read "taken at the cross roads"—"Call the old man here." To the priest—"Through no fault of yours has this man visited you. Be better advised as to other guests.... But now—take this coin. This man's course is run. He surely will be ordered to the execution ground. Great has been his wickedness, and his grudge is not to be visited on others. Prayers are to be said for his soul in the next world. The do[u]mori of the Fudo[u], his zeal and honesty, his purity of heart and manners are vouched for by those who know. Pray for him.... Now—get you hence!" He put a gold koban in the priest's hand, allowed the joyful reverence, and cut short the protests of inconvenient gratitude. The do[u]shin shoved him off to the rear. The friendly spy carried him apart and pointed to a path running through the fields behind the houses of the hamlet. None cared to observe his departure. Thus Jinnai came to Edo, minus his ghostly purveyor.

First carefully was his body nourished for the coming entertainment. With clement genial smile Aoyama Shu[u]zen claimed the acquaintance of this one time antagonist. As to the past and recent events there was no doubt. Aoyama had hazy, but little confirmed, ideas of greater objects; knowing as he did the early nature and history of Jinnai. But the Tokugawa were now so firmly seated. Confession was to be secured in the first place, to legalize the execution; and information in the second place, if such existed. Of confession there was none; not even answer. Jinnai closed tight his lips in scorn. Then first he was scourged; the scourging of he who is already condemned. The stout fellows stood forward with their madake; those thin slips of rattan, two feet in length, wrapped into a bundle an inch in thickness with stout hempen cord. Ah! How flexible and painful! As they laid on quickly the welts and bloody stripes appeared. At the hundred and fiftieth blow the medical man and legal procedure demanded forbearance. He was removed. "Cure his back!" roared Shu[u]zen. "Rub salt into the cuts. Next time the tender surface will force at least words from his lips." But he underestimated his man. Bound to a stake, with arms behind, kneeling on the sharp grids, Jinnai hugged the stones—five, six, seven—Chu[u]dayu leaped down to aid the do[u]shin in pressing down the weight of nearly eight hundred pounds resting between chin and doubled hams. The body of Jinnai grew lobster red, his lips were tinged with bloody foam and gouts appeared. The hours passed. The black colour of the feet rose upwards. Then the sign was given and the man taken away in a dead faint, without the utterance of word or groan.

Thus the game went on. Now it was the lobster. Aoyama would not go to the prison, nor miss the sight. For a whole morning with curiosity he watched the progress of the torture. Jinnai lay on a mat. Arms pulled tight to the shoulders and behind the back, the legs drawn together in the front and dragged up to the chin. The body at first had the dark red of a violent fever, but the sweat which covered it was cold as ice. Then the colour darkened to a purple, changed to an ominous blackish green. Suddenly it began to whiten. In alarm the doctor ordered relief. With wrath Shu[u]zen rose from his camp chair close by; still no confession.

What was suspension to this? Jinnai hung limp as a dangling fish from the beam. Arms drawn behind his back and upward to the shoulders, a weight added to the feet made any movement of the limbs agony to the whole body. It was a sort of prolonged crucifixion. When blood began to ooze from the toes again removal was ordered. Of the latter part of the torture Jinnai knew little. He was unconscious. This hardy body of his was adding to his torments. Even Shu[u]zen could not help admiring this obstinate courage. He would try one other means—flattery; genuine in its way. "Useless the torture, Jinnai, as is well known with such a brave man. But why prolong this uselessness? Done in the performance of official duty, yet it is after all to our entertainment. Make confession and gain the due meed of the fear of future generations, their admiration and worship of such thorough paced wickedness. Surely Jinnai is no ordinary thief. Shu[u]zen never can be brought to believe him such." He spoke the last somewhat in scorn. At last Jinnai was touched with anger. He opened eyes, and, for the first time, mouth—"Aoyama Dono speaks truth. But why regret past failure? My followers? They number thousands. Why rouse envy or show favour by giving name of this or that lusty fellow? The object? As to that exercise your wits. Fat wits; which in these twenty years could not hunt out this Jinnai. Ah! 'Twas but this unexpected illness which played this evil trick; else Jinnai never would have faced Shu[u]zen; except sword in hand. This Jinnai is a thief, a bandit; the tongue grudges to say. Such is his confession. Not a word more—to Aoyama Uji." He closed his eyes and mouth. Enraged at the failure and familiarity Aoyama shouted out—"The wooden horse! The water torture!" They mounted the man on the sharp humped beast. Lungs, belly, abdomen wide distended, in every physical agony, his body could but writhe, to add to the torture of his seat as they dragged down on his legs. Eyes starting wildly from his head, gasping for air, the unfortunate wretch was given the chance to belch forth the liquid. "Atsu!" The cry was between a sigh and a yelp of agony. Then he fainted. With chagrin at his failure Aoyama Shu[u]zen put official seal to the confession bearing the thumb print of Kosaka Jinnai. Thus ended this phase of the contest between the two men.

Jinnai's body was too racked by the torture for immediate sentence. When he was brought in the court Aoyama Shu[u]zen had another wicked surprise to spring upon him. Jinnai's rejuvenating eye noted the band of peasants, the two beautiful girls brought captive in their midst. He knew at once who they were; even if the viciously triumphant look in Shu[u]zen's eyes, the piteous fright and affectionate sympathy in theirs, had not enlightened him. The presence of O'Kiku and O'Yui was due to an ill freak played by fortune. In the fall of the year an illness of the mother—cold?—came to its end and herself with it. What was to be done with farm and girls? To the villagers this question was of serious debate. Of one thing they were in dense ignorance. Three years before a new farm hand appeared in Jisuke's household, and men could well wonder at the favour he found with the old man. With some misgivings they had warned him against recklessly introducing a strange muko, without first consent of the village. Jisuke assured them against what was actual fact. Wataru Sampei was a samurai, of samurai stock, and liegeman to his own old masters of Kai province. It was with the consent and approval of the dying man that O'Kiku was united to him. The household in Nippon is adamant in its secrets to the outside world—and that against the most prying curiosity anywhere found. O'Kiku lay in of her child and nursed the babe in her own nurse's house. Thus in full ignorance the council met to consider the request made by the girls to communicate with Jinnai—Osada Sensei—at the famous yashiki of Aoyama.