At Honjo[u] the reception of Cho[u]bei called forth the whole house. The pimp entered the presence of Toemon with confident and jaunty air. "He has the contract?" said Toemon to the woman. O'Haru indicated a sleeve. The banto[u] and one of the wakashu[u] (young men employes) grasped the arms of Cho[u]bei. The incriminating document was deftly removed by O'Haru and passed over to Toemon. "Now the fellow can neither produce it, nor play his tricks with it." He looked it over carefully; then placed it with his own copy. Cho[u]bei was too outraged and frightened to do more than squat and gasp as he looked around the circle of hostile faces. Without cushion he sat on the bare tatami, much as does a criminal at the white sand. Said Toemon severely—"For once Cho[u]bei has drunk hot water with this Toemon. Does he think to act thus with impunity. The younger sister of his brother Kanemon, 'a noted wench for the streets,' was brought here for life service; sold to Toemon for twenty ryo[u]. Toemon does not intend that the price shall be too high for him. Cho[u]bei cannot lie out of his own contract. Toemon has it in his hands. Cho[u]bei has the twenty ryo[u]. Toemon loses his money. Well and good: Toemon clears himself from the affair. The responsibility lies wholly with Cho[u]bei. Let him look to it." Cho[u]bei seized the moment when lack of breath in his anger halted the speech of Toemon. He would have lied, but Toemon again broke in. "Cho[u]bei has no brother. Cho[u]bei has no woman to dispose of on his own signature. The one he did have, the one he possesses, Toemon knows where to find. Toemon had a woman O'Iwa in his house. You sold the wife of a go-kenin, Iemon Dono of Yotsuya; a woman who was the heir of Tamiya Matazaemon the do[u]shin. The Lady O'Iwa is traced to the hands of Cho[u]bei. Settle the matter with those in office—machibugyo[u], do[u]shin, yakunin—when the affair comes to light...."—"Easily," burst in Cho[u]bei, once more himself. "Honoured chief, matters do not call for such earnestness. All this is mere froth and fury. It is true that Cho[u]bei has deceived the chief; but it was at the orders of those much higher. The lady of Tamiya was an obstacle. The sale was ordered by Iemon Dono himself; backed by Ito[u] Kwaiba the head of the Yotsuya ward."—"Cho[u]bei, you lie," said Toemon. The words and advice of Kakusuke still rang in his ears. "Iemon Dono? Ito[u] Dono? Who else will Cho[u]bei bring in as his bails? Such a man is not to be trusted. With this Toemon there is no more dealing. The guild is to be warned by a circular letter."

At this fearful threat all Cho[u]bei's jauntiness left him. His livelihood, his existence, were at stake. He prostrated himself before Toemon, dragging his body over the tatami to the zen (low table) at which was seated this autocrat of the night-hawks, this receiver of the refuse and worn-out goods of his greater brothers in the trade. Toemon harshly repulsed him with his foot. Cho[u]bei in despair turned to O'Matsu—"Honoured lady the chief is unreasonably angry. There shall be no loss of money, no harm suffered by the affair. Deign to say a word for Cho[u]bei."—"Since when has Matsu had aught to do with the affairs of the house? The women are her concern. She goes not outside her province." The pimp sought the feet of O'Take—"Condescend to plead for Cho[u]bei. His fault is venial. When no injury results, pardon follows. This is to cut off the breath of Cho[u]bei, of wife and child. Deign to intercede." The street harlot laughed. Her cracked voice was rough—"The commission of Cho[u]bei San has no attractions. This Take has had enough to do with the matter. Truly Cho[u]bei is a wicked fellow. Take would fare badly in such intercourse. Besides his company is too high flown. Officials! Samurai! Cho[u]bei San seeks and will find promotion in the world. Lodgings are preparing for Cho[u]bei Sama in public office—on the Ryo[u]gokubashi; of such he is assured." She drew away from him, harshly cackling. Thus he crawled from one to the other. It was "Cho[u]bei Sama," "Cho[u]bei Dono," in derision they would call him prince—"Cho[u]bei Ko[u]." All stuck out their tongues at him. The young fellows of the house, several of them, stood round the entrance, ostensibly occupied, but with one eye on the scene. As Cho[u]bei sought the banto[u]'s aid, the man raised a long lean leg and gave him a violent kick in the breast. Strong hands seized him as he rolled over and over to the edge of the platform, to land in the arms of the enthusiastic wakashu[u]. The next moment, and Cho[u]bei was picking himself up out of the mud and snow of the street. The lattice of the house entrance closed noisily.

In his confusion of mind by force of habit Cho[u]bei turned round and bowed with ceremony toward the place of his unceremonious exit—"The time is inopportune. Cho[u]bei intrudes. He will call again." The opening of the wicket gate, the peering, scowling face of the banto[u] recalled the past scene to mind. With all the haste his tottering gait allowed Cho[u]bei sprang off northward to the Adzumabashi and home. As he sped, swaying along, his active mind was making calculations. "Ryo[u]gokubashi, the last home of the outcast beggar—other than the river which flows beneath it!" He shuddered at the prophecy. "Bah! One rascal loses; another gains. Toemon loses twenty ryo[u]. From Iemon San ten ryo[u] was the commission. Ito[u] Dono gave five ryo[u] and asked no questions. The total to Cho[u]bei sums up thirty-five ryo[u]. For a year the affair of O'Iwa has fattened Cho[u]bei; with something still left." His foot struck a stone in the roadway. He looked up and around to find himself before the Genkwo[u]ji. About to enter on the maze of temple grounds and yashiki separating him from the bridge his gaze fell on the stagnant squalid waters of the canal. It was in the dirty foulness of this North Warigesui that O'Iwa had disappeared. Cho[u]bei pulled up short. A dead cur, copper hued, with swollen germinating sides and grinning teeth, bobbed at him from the green slime. Cho[u]bei slewed round—"A vile ending; but after all an ending. Iemon profits; Cho[u]bei gets the scoldings. Ah! If it was not that Ito[u] Kwaiba is engaged in this affair; Tamiya should pay dearly. There is a double ration to share with Cho[u]bei—and not to be touched! Ito[u] Dono is no man to trifle with. There was that affair with Isuke; and now, as he says, Iemon is a very son to him." A memory seemed to touch Cho[u]bei. His pace became a crawl. "Why hasten? Cho[u]bei rushes to the fiend—that demon Taki. Cho[u]bei would rather face O'Iwa than Taki in a rage." He laughed—"The attenuated hands of a ghost and the thick fist of Taki, the choice is not uncertain. From the lady mild and merciful there is nothing to fear. Evidently she has settled matters once and for all in the Warigesui. But at the tenement—there it is another affair. This Cho[u]bei will fortify himself against the shock. A drink; then another, and still more. The scoldings will fall on a blunted mind wandering in some dreamland. Time will soothe her rage. To-morrow Cho[u]bei wakes, to find the storm has passed and Taki his obedient serving wench." Near the Adzumabashi, following his prescription against domestic enlivenment, he entered a grog shop; to turn his good coin into wine.

The quarter at Hanagawado[u] in Asakusa was in an uproar. What had occurred was this—There was an old woman—"Baba" in the native parlance for Dame Gossip—a seller of the dried seaweed called nori (sloke or laver), still called Asakusa nori, though even at that time gathered at Shinagawa, Omori, and more distant places. This old trot had returned, to make her last sales to the excellent metal dealer who lived opposite her own home in the nagaya, in which she lived next door to the Cho[u]bei, husband and wife. The tongue of the doguya was still in full swing of the recital, not only of his own experiences, but of the revelations of O'Taki. He was only too willing for this twenty-first time to repeat the tale to the nori seller, his good neighbour. The good wife and wives listened again with open mouths. The Baba was the most interested of them all. This choice morsel of gossip was to be gathered at the primal source, from the lips of O'Taki herself. She was all sympathy in her curiosity—ranging in the two cases of Cho[u]bei and wife on the one part, and the metal dealer and his insulted household on the other part. Away she stepped quickly from the assembly of ward gossips. At the door of Cho[u]bei's quarters she stopped—"Okamisan! Okamisan!... Strange: is she not at home? Is she so angered that no answer is given? However, this Baba fears no one.... Nesan! Nesan!" She passed the room entrance and went into the area. Glancing into the kitchen—"Oya! Oya! The meal is burnt to a crisp. It has become a soppy, disgusting mass. Nesan! Nesan! The rain falls, the roof window (hikimado) is open." She put down her empty tubs in order to play the good neighbour. The first thing was to close the window against the descending rain. Quickly and deftly she proceeded to wipe the moisture off the shining vessels, to put everything in order in O'Taki's usually immaculate kitchen. Women of this class are finicky housekeepers in their own homes. As the old wife became less engaged she began to hear strange sounds above. Some one was in conversation—and yet it was a one-sided queer kind of talk. The voice was threatening and wheedling. Then she heard a child cry. Surely O'Taki was in the upper room; and thus neglectful of her lord and household.

The old Baba went to the foot of the ladder and listened. "Nesan! Nesan!" No answer came, beyond the curious droning monotone above, varied by an occasional wailing cry of the child. It seemed to be in pain. Resolute, the sturdy old Baba began to climb the steps. At the top she halted, to get breath and look into the room. The sight she witnessed froze the old woman in horror to where she stood. A woman was in the room. She knelt over the body of the child, which now and again writhed in the hard and cruel grasp. The queer monotonous voice went on—"Ah! To think you might grow up like your father. The wicked, unprincipled man! To sell the Ojo[u]san for a street whore, for her to spend her life in such vile servitude; she by whose kindness this household has lived. Many the visits in the past two years paid these humble rooms by the lady of Tamiya. To all her neighbours O'Taki has pointed out and bragged of the favour of the Ojo[u]san. The very clothing now on your wretched puny body came from her hands. While Cho[u]bei spent his gains in drink and paid women, Taki was nourished by the rice from Tamiya. When Taki lay in of this tiny body it was the Ojo[u]san who furnished aid, and saw that child and mother could live. Alas! That you should grow up to be like this villainous man is not to be endured.... Ah! An idea! To crunch your throat, to secure revenge and peace, security against the future." She bent down low over the child. Suddenly it gave a fearful scream, as does a child fallen into the fire. The Baba, helpless, could only feebly murmur—"Nesan! Nesan! O'Taki San! What are you about? Control yourself." She gave a frightened yowl as the creature began to spread far apart the child's limbs, and with quick rips of the sharp kitchen knife beside her dissevered and tore the little limbs from the quivering body. At the cry the woman turned half around and looked toward her. Jaws dripping red with blood, a broad white flat face with bulging brow, two tiny piercing dots flashing from amid the thick swollen eyelids, it was the face of O'Iwa glowering at her. "Kiya!" The scream resounded far and wide. Incontinently the old woman tumbled backward down the steep steps, to land below on head and buttocks.

Some neighbours, people passing, came rushing in. A crowd began to gather. "Baba! Baba San! What is wrong?" She could not speak; only point upward and shudder as does one with heavy chills. As they moved toward the stair a roar went up from the crowd in the street. O'Taki had appeared at the window, her face smeared with blood and almost unrecognizable. She waved a limb of the dismembered infant. The crowd were frozen with horror. As some shouted to those within to hasten the woman brandished the bloody knife. Thrusting it deep into her throat she ripped and tore at the handle, spattering the incautious below with the blood spurting from the wound. Then she fell backward into the room. When the foremost to interfere rushed in they drew back in fear at what they saw. The child's head was half knawed from the body; its limbs lay scattered to this place and that. The body of O'Taki lay where she had fallen. It was as if the head had been gnawed from the trunk, but the head itself was missing. Search as they would, it was not to be found. Meanwhile the news of these happenings spread rapidly. In the next block it was shouted that the wife of the pimp Cho[u]bei had gone mad and killed and eaten five children. A block further the number had risen to twenty-five. At the guardhouse of the Adzumabashi she had killed and gnawed a hundred adults.

These rumours were mingled with the strange tale of the old woman as to O'Iwa San. In time there were many who had witnessed the suicide of O'Taki, who were ready to swear they had seen the fearful lady of Tamiya. Cho[u]bei first learned of the affair by being dragged from the grog shop to the guardhouse of the Adzumabashi. Here he was put under arrest. Distressed and discomforted he stood before the ruin in his home, under the eyes of his neighbours. These stood loyally by him. As happens in ward affairs in Nippon the aspect of the affair not immediately on the surface was slow to reach official ears. Thus it was as to the Tamiya phase involved. Cho[u]bei had suffered much, and was in to suffer more. His fellow wardsmen were silent as to all but the actual facts needed for interpretation. The marvellous only filters out slowly. But they had their own way of dealing with him. The kenshi (coroner) made his report. Examinations, fines, bribes, the funeral costs, reduced Cho[u]bei to his worst garment. With this after some weeks he was permitted to go free. The house owner had turned him out. The wardsmen had expelled him. Enough of Kazaguruma Cho[u]bei—for the present.



CHAPTER XVI

NEWS REACHES KWAIBA

Kwaiba was hard at it, practising his favourite arts. His sake cup stood before him, and from time to time he raised the bottle from the hot water, testing its temperature with skilled hand. He accompanied the action with a continual drone of a gidayu. Kwaiba by no means confined the art of gidayu recitation to the heroic tales usually therewith associated. His present effort was one of the suggestive and obscene ukarebushi, quite as frequent and as well received in the gidayu theme containing them. Kibei listened and applauded, with cynical amusement at the depravity of the impotent old man. Kwaiba had found an excellent bottle companion, and renewed his own former days in the "Quarter," with the fresher experiences retailed by Kibei. Said Kwaiba—"All has gone well. For half the year Kibei has been the son of Kwaiba. He has brought luck into the house." Kibei bowed respectfully. Continued the old man—"Iemon with his whore is fast destroying Tamiya by riot and drinking. Cho[u]zaemon is a fish in the net. The debt of ten ryo[u] has doubled into twenty ryo[u], which at any cost he must repay. Kwaiba will make him cut belly if he don't. And Tamiya! Old Tamiya; Matazaemon! O'Iwa is paying his debt to Kwaiba by becoming an outcast, perhaps a beggar somewhere on the highway. If she shows her face in the ward, seeking 'cash' to keep life in a wretched carcass, this Kwaiba will send her to the jail, to rot as vagrant. But what did become of her? Iemon has never spoken." Kibei shrugged his shoulders. "A close mouthed fellow; too wise to talk of himself. He would but say that Cho[u]bei took the affair in hand." Kwaiba threw up his hands in horror and merriment. Said he—"'Tis rumoured the fellow is a pimp. But surely he could not dispose of O'Iwa in his line. The very demons of the Hell of lust would refuse all intercourse with her."

Just then Kakusuke presented himself. "Report to make to the Go Inkyo[u] Sama. Inagaki Dono sends his compliments to Ito[u] Sama. The papers of transfer are these; by the hand of Kakusuke." As he took the documents, said Kwaiba in answer to Kibei's inquiring look—"Your honoured parent has favoured this Kwaiba. The transfer is of farms in Kazusa for others in Shimosa. Thus all can be brought under one hand. A single nanushi (bailiff) can manage the whole property in the two villages."—"But the office...," objected Kibei. He had the samurai instinct against the slightest taint of failure in obligation. "Let Kibei San deign to follow in the footsteps of Kwaiba. The successor to the nanushi recently deceased is a child. Kwaiba is in no haste to provide a substitute pending majority. The right will lapse, and at majority the boy can be found occupation elsewhere, to no small gain in the revenue. Out of sight, out of mind. Kwaiba's present manager is unsurpassed; so is the income he manages to gather." He looked around in some surprise, seeing that Kakusuke still maintained his position, although dismissed. Then noting him closely—"What has happened, Kakusuke? Your colour is bad. Too cordial entertainment by the chu[u]gen of Inagaki Dono? Or has Kakusuke seen a ghost?"

"Kakusuke has seen O'Iwa San; of Tamiya. Rather would he have seen a ghost; if indeed it was not a demon he saw." Kwaiba started—"O'Iwa! Where?"—"It was at the brothel of Toemon, chief of the night-hawks, at Yoshidacho[u] in Honjo[u]. Mobei the toilet dealer had suffered direfully at her hands. Meeting her unexpectedly, the fool let out all he knew of the happenings in the ward. In a rage she flew on him. 'To seven lives a curse on Iemon Dono, on Akiyama Sama, on Kondo[u] Sama.'"—He hesitated; then added—"on the Go Inkyo[u] Sama. Then in a straight line she flew off toward the canal. Did she drown herself? This Kakusuke could not ascertain. Going to the aid of Mobei, mauled and prostrate on the ground, the whole story was learned. Cho[u]bei had sold her for life to Toemon, to serve as a night-hawk."

Ito[u] Kwaiba sat straight up. His idle braggart words of a few moments before came home to him. In Kibei he found no encouragement. After all Kibei was a samurai; harsh, but with the courage of his caste and profession. He spoke openly—"It was an outrageous deed. To sell a samurai woman to such a life! It stinks. This comes of bringing in a low dog (yaro[u]) such as this Cho[u]bei. Did Iemon know of his intention?" He looked Kwaiba in the eye, but the latter met him squarely—"What Iemon knew or did not know, this Kwaiba knows not. But of this event he must know—and at once. Kakusuke, go in all haste to the house of Tamiya Sama. Kwaiba would consult with him." Kibei fidgetted and fumed. He walked up and down the room. Then abruptly—"Condescend to pardon the presence of Kibei. The honoured father having matters to discuss with the diviner—he finds no amusement in the counsellor." As he was withdrawing Iemon entered. Their greeting was cold to the extreme. Iemon knew that Kibei hated and despised him; as much as he, Iemon, hated and feared Kibei. Kwaiba called sharply to his genial son—"Pray be within call, if needed." He was glad to see the surly fellow's exit. In some things Kwaiba felt fear. The stiff courage of Kibei made him ashamed openly to air his weakness. He broke the news at once to Iemon. "Kakusuke has seen O'Iwa." Iemon looked at him curiously. Was Kwaiba frightened? Said the one-time priest—"What of that? She lives in Edo. A meeting with her is quite likely; at least for a man of the grade of Kakusuke." He smiled grimly—"But...," said Kwaiba. He plunged into the story of the chu[u]gen in its full details. Iemon listened carefully. "Ah! She is likely to come here."—"Come here!" bellowed Kwaiba. "Just so," answered Iemon. "If she seeks vengeance on this Iemon, on Kwaiba, or the others, where else would she come than Yotsuya. We cannot run away." Kwaiba gasped at his coolness—"And Iemon Dono, does he open Tamiya to the presence of its ex-lady and mistress?"—"A beggar, an outcast, importuning Tamiya; the severed body will lie in the ditch, for the gatherers of offal to cast as food to the dogs on the moor. Fear enters, but—honoured chief, condescend to follow the example of Iemon."

The round eyes in the round face of Kwaiba stood out. He leaned over and touched Iemon's sleeve. In astonishment Iemon noted the fright depicted in his face. The blustering old man at bottom was an arrant coward. Two knaves should understand each other—as did he and Cho[u]bei. He felt that he had been gulled during the whole of his intercourse with this old fool. He should have bluffed; and not been bluffed. Said Kwaiba in lowered voice—"Kakusuke could see nothing of her. She disappeared into the waters of Warigesui. Suppose O'Iwa appears as a ghost, to take vengeance on Kwaiba...." He straightened up in astonishment and some anger at the derisive smile playing over the face of Iemon. Indeed Iemon was more than amused. Not at the circumstances, but at finding at last this weak spot in the man who had dominated him. Conditions, however, controlled him. It was fact that the physical O'Iwa might appear—to the distress and discomfiture of all concerned. They must stand together. He spoke with severity—"Rich and afraid of ghosts! Has not Ito[u] Dono two spearmen when he goes abroad? When he has an interview with his lord does he tremble with fear? When the enemy in life, with all physical powers, is not feared; why fear a disembodied spirit deprived of all means of venting its wrath and spite? It is but the imagination which works havoc. None are more helpless than the dead. With them time and occasion has reached an end. If O'Iwa returns to Yotsuya, it will be in her own person. With O'Iwa, the beggar and night-hawk, our Kumi-gashira knows how to deal."—"Then Iemon knew the lot dealt out to O'Iwa."—"At first hand; from Cho[u]bei himself. The lean knave has prospered by the affair. Iemon had no such desire to see him, as to secure his costly presence at the dinner so unfortunately witnessed by Mobei.... But deign to call for wine; drive out these vapours with wine. Honoured chief, condescend to play the host to Iemon." Iemon's manner was not wholly natural, as Kwaiba could have detected if more himself. He felt immensely relieved. A priest—surely he was one to know all about the nature of ghosts; was one to speak with authority. Iemon was hardly to be regarded as in ecclesiastical good odour. But Kwaiba was easily satisfied. He, too, roared—"Wine! Wine! Bring wine!" As by magic Kibei appeared at the welcome sound. He disliked Iemon, but he liked wine. The servants bustled around. The wine was heated—again and again. A feast of fish—with more wine—followed. It was late when Iemon left the house, the only sober member of the party. Of his hosts, one was maudlin, the other asleep. The ample resources of Tamiya, if not of benefit to his person, in these past two years had given him the chance to harden his head; and he had grasped it.

Iemon by no means had all the confidence he displayed before Kwaiba. He was a priest, but environment influences everybody. There was a possibility—discountenanced by experience, but existing. As he walked slowly along Teramachi his thoughts strayed back into the past. "It was an ill bond between this Iemon and O'Iwa San. Without question she has drowned herself in the Warigesui. The body must be found and buried. Memorial services are to be recited, for one dying without relatives or friends (segaki)." The virtuous resolution was the outcome of his meditation and glances into the many graveyards passed in his progress through the temple-lined street. It was a beautiful street, with its overhanging trees, its open spaces populated by the many dead, its temples gorgeous in red and gilding amid the dark green of pine and cedar. Iemon on this night had to hasten his steps. Rain threatened. Gusts of wind came sharply from this side and that, driving the first drops of the coming storm. He reached home just as it broke with all its fury.

To O'Hana he would say nothing of Kwaiba's mission. On her remarking on the lateness of the hour, he made answer that the old man was out of sorts. Kibei was too robust a bottle companion for a man reaching toward his seventieth year. No matter how vigorous, Kwaiba's wine was showing on him. The two prepared for bed. O'Hana listened as the rain dashed in streams against the amado, as if trying to break its way in. She gave a little chuckle—"Who would have thought it!"—"What?" asked Iemon, perhaps a little tartly. He was nervous. O'Hana laughed—"That Iemon and this Hana should be where they now are. Their parting was on a night like this. Ah! At seeing a man weep Hana could have retired into a cave—forever. Only the fortunate accident of a drunken yakunin (constable) as guest enabled her to give warning.... And now! Once more united Iemon and this Hana live in luxury. Every wish is gratified. Thanks for the past which contained this meeting in its womb; thanks for the present in which happiness is secured:

'Losing one's way, again roads meet! The hill of flowers.'"[27]

A terrific gust struck the rain-doors. They bent and cracked before the force of the gale. The vivid white of lightning showed that one door had been forced from its groove. Iemon rose and replaced it. As he turned away suddenly the room was plunged in darkness. Said the voice of O'Hana—"The light of the andon has gone out. Oya! Oya! The lights in the Butsudan (altar) are lit. And yet this Hana extinguished them." Grumbled Iemon—"The wind has blown out the light in the andon. Doubtless a spark was left in the wick of the altar light. Fire is to be dreaded; great care should be taken in extinguishing the light." As he relit the light in the night lamp, O'Hana went up to the Butsudan to extinguish the lights there. She put her hand out to take one. A sharp scream, and she fell back in confusion and fright. "An aodaisho[u] in the Butsudan! Help! Aid this Hana!" As she fled the snake with a thud fell on the tatami. Unrolling its six feet of length, it started in pursuit. Iemon stepped behind it and caught it by the tail. A sharp rap behind the head stunned it. It hung limp in his hand. "Hana, please open the amado."—"No, no: this Hana cannot; move she will not."—"Coward!" said Iemon. "Time comes when Hana, for generations in the future existence, will wander hill and dale in such form."—"Ara!" The woman was properly shocked at this speech, wicked and brutal as an imprecation. "Has the life of Hana been so foul as to deserve such punishment in a future life? Surely 'tis not the priest of Reigan who speaks; nor Iemon." She could only see his lips move as he stood at the amado. "Evil was the connection between O'Iwa and this Iemon. Wander not as one unburied, but becoming a Buddha at once enter Nirvana. Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Wonderful the Law, wondrous the Scripture of the Lotus!" With the invocation he cast the stunned reptile far out into the garden. Returning, he said—"The aodaisho[u] is the most harmless of snakes. The farmers keep it to destroy the rats which infest house and store rooms. How can Hana be afraid of snakes, living in this yashiki overgrown by weeds and grass, from roof to garden?" O'Hana did not reply in direct terms—"It is evil fortune to take a snake in the hand."—"Never mind such talk. It is the priest who speaks. This Iemon knows all about snakes. Go to sleep." She obeyed, knowing nothing about O'Iwa and the events of the day; yet her slumber was broken and restless. By morning she was in a high fever.[28]



CHAPTER XVII

NEWS FROM KWAIBA

Kwaiba was reported as ill; very ill. His friends and dependents who had to pay visits of condolence, spoke of this illness with awe and terror. To understand what follows something must be said of the past of this man. The actor, drawing on the presumed knowledge of his audience as to the story in the gross, can pass this over with a speech or two; a horror-struck gesture and allusion. Not so the ko[u]dan writer, who perforce must lay before his reader all the minutiae of the case.

Ito[u] Kwaiba did not brag when he spoke of his beauty as a boy, his handsome figure as a young man. These had brought him wealth and position; gained, it was whispered, in vilest service to his lord. In these days he had in his employ a chu[u]gen named Isuke, or as some say Kohei. Engaged before the mirror Kwaiba was applying the paint and powder which of late had become necessary adjuncts to fit him to appear before his lord. A gesture of pain and discomfiture, and then Kwaiba turned irritably toward his satellite. "Isuke, you are a clever fellow. Kwaiba has needed no aids to his looks—up to recent days. Now paint and powder, all the armoury of a woman, or paraphernalia of an actor, hardly avail to conceal the blotches which disfigure Kwaiba's face and body. The voice broken and husky, the lightning pains in limbs and joints, these violet patches—in such state it soon will be impossible to act as attendant on his lordship's household service, as kami-yakunin. What disorder eats into the life and happiness of Kwaiba?"

For a time Isuke made no answer, beyond a bow at his master's acknowledgment of his cleverness, and in which he heartily concurred. He seemed engaged in a close contemplation of the end of his nose. "Hei! Hei!" It was all that Kwaiba could get out of him for the moment. Then noting the growing anger Isuke began with—"Condescend beforehand to pardon this Isuke. Though the anger of the Wakadono (young lord) is hard to bear, yet a faithful servitor should speak. Deign to step this way." He conducted Kwaiba to one of those small retired rooms, opening on an inner garden and common to every properly built house of any size in Nippon. He closed the few rain-doors, shutting out the light. Then fetching a piece of camphor, he set fire to it. When the thick yellow light flared strongly he took up a hand-mirror and passed it to Kwaiba. Kwaiba was frightened at what he saw. His face was dark as that of a peasant of Satsuma. Said Isuke—"The darkness is shown up by the light of the burning camphor. The colour is due to the poison circulating between the body and the outer skin. The white sunlight does not show up this symptom. But there is another test." Lighting a candle, he took a long steel kanzashi needle and heated it to redness. Holding the cold end by his head towel he grasped the arm of Kwaiba. The latter drew back, afraid. "Nay, it will give no pain," said Isuke. He thrust the hot length of the needle several inches under the skin. As far as Kwaiba was concerned he might as well have thrust it into the straw matting (tatami) at his feet. Isuke withdrew the needle and carefully pressed the arm. A brownish liquor oozed out; not blood. "The Danna has a nose—as yet." Kwaiba hastily applied his arm to that member. He turned his face to one side in disgust and horror—"Is this Kwaiba already dead and rotten? In such condition all is lost. Duty no longer can be performed. Service and income cease together. Isuke, there remains naught but to get out the mats. Kwaiba will cut belly."

Isuke examined him carefully and quizzically. Satisfied with his inspection, he said—"Deign to have confidence in Isuke. In former days he was not Isuke the chu[u]gen. Son of a doctor of the Dutch practice at Nagasaki; gambling, wine, women have reduced Isuke to the state of a servant. Family and friends long since have discarded and cast him out. The severance of relations between parent and child was formal. Isuke owes naught of service or duty to any but his master Kwaiba. Here is his refuge. Deign to give Isuke three silver ryo[u]. The disease is curable. Trust the matter to Isuke. Soppin (mercury) duly applied will remove the poison, and with it all the disastrous symptoms. The two hundred and thirty tawara of income are enjoyed by the Wakadono. Service can be performed; and Isuke preserves such a good master." Flattered and frightened Kwaiba at once handed over the money. Isuke disappeared to secure the drug necessary to the "Dutch practice." Baths and potions, potions and baths, followed in due course. The promises of Isuke were fulfilled. The fearful symptoms gradually were alleviated. In the course of six months Kwaiba was himself again; his position was assured to him. He heaved double sighs—of relief from the nightmare which had pursued him; of anxiety at the nightmare substituted for it.

Kwaiba was a rake and a gambler. So was Isuke. The two hundred and thirty tawara of income was saved to Kwaiba—and Isuke. Not long after the cure was thus assured Isuke disappeared. Kwaiba sighed gently, with relief at the departure of one who knew too much of his affairs, and with a scared feeling on losing the only "doctor" in whom he had confidence. "These fellows come and go, like leaves on a tree. Isuke has grown tired, and deserted. Some day he may return. This Kwaiba is a good master." Isuke did return—in the form of a note from the Yoshiwara. Twenty ryo[u] were needed to pay his debts to pleasure and gambling. Severely reprimanded, Isuke opened his eyes in astonishment. "Respectfully heard and understood: has the income been reduced? But that does not affect the share of Isuke. He keeps well within his limit." This was the first intimation Kwaiba had of Isuke's views as to his role of physician. In those days the doctor usually had the pleasure of performance, not of payment. Moreover with the great—like Kwaiba—performance was carried out at a distance; the pulse felt by the vibration of a string attached to the wrist, or at best by passing the hand under the coverlet. For a time Kwaiba's strange medical attendant devoted himself to his more prosaic duties of chu[u]gen. Within ten days his master ransomed him from a resort in Shinagawa; price, ten ryo[u]. A few weeks later he was heard from at a gambler's resort in Shinjuku. The note was peremptory—and for fifty ryo[u]. Kwaiba lost all patience. Moreover, just then he held office very favourable for bringing this matter to an issue. But he must have Isuke; and have him in Yotsuya. As usual payment secured the presence of a repentant Isuke, full of promises of amendment. Kwaiba smiled, used soft words; and shortly after Isuke was confined to the jail on a trumped up charge of theft from another chu[u]gen. Kwaiba, then acting as magistrate for the district, had full power. On notification he assured Isuke of a speedy release. This the unhappy man secured through a poisoned meal, following a long fast. He died raving, and cursing his master. No one heard him but his two jailers, who considered him crazy—this man of bad record.

Years had passed, but Isuke merely lay dormant in the mind of Kwaiba. Then came up the affair of Tamiya—the threatening curse of O'Iwa San. Iemon's counsel lasted but over night. With soberness and morning Kwaiba straightway showed the results of wrecked nerves and distorted imagination. Sleepless nights he now visited on his friends by an increasing irritability. The first few days of this state of Kwaiba were laughable. He spoke of O'Iwa San; not freely, rather with reticence. He made his references as of jesting expectation of her advent. Then he passed to boisterous tricks; springing out on the maids from dark corners or the turns in the corridors. Alarmed by these manifestations of the old man—not entirely strange, for he was a terror to the female element in his household—they soon noted that there was an unnatural wildness in his amusement at their discomfiture. Now he would talk of nothing but O'Iwa. From this hysterical mirth he passed to an hysterical fear. Afraid of visions of the Lady of Tamiya he stayed awake at night. To be alone appalled him. He would have others keep awake with him. He was now at the gibbering stage. "Night in the house of Kwaiba is to be turned into day. The day shall be the time for sleep. Lights! Lights! More lights!" He sat surrounded by his household, until the white light of dawn filtered through the spaces above the rain-doors. One of his women, her hair down for washing, met him unexpectedly in the corridor. With a howl of terror he started to flee. Then recognizing her, he flew on her and beat her almost to a jelly in his insane rage. People began to talk of the eccentricities of Ito[u] Kwaiba—the honoured ward head.

Barely three weeks after Iemon's visit a violent scene occurred in the mansion of the Kumi-gashira. Shouts and screams, the smashing of screens and sounds of a terrific struggle were heard in Kwaiba's room. Kibei, who with the men preferred night for sleep, rushed in. He found the old man standing, stark naked and alone. His attendants had fled—to a woman. His pillow sword drawn, Kwaiba was dancing to this side and that. "Isuke! O'Iwa! Pardon! This Kwaiba is a wicked fellow! Isuke was poisoned by Kwaiba. O'Iwa San? Kwaiba sold her for a street whore. For seven lives they pursue him. Ah! A merry chase! But Kwaiba deals not with night-hawks. His game is higher. Away with the huzzy!" He had grasped in both hands the flower vase standing in the alcove (tokonoma). Kibei dodged, and catching him by a wrestler's hold, threw him to the ground. Kakusuke, just entering, was knocked flat by the heavy missile. Groaning, he rose, and with other servants came to the aid of the Wakadono. Kwaiba was overpowered and guarded during the remainder of the night.

With daylight he knew nothing of what had occurred; at least he made no reference to it, no response to the talk of others. His fear was now full on him. He babbled of nothing but Isuke and O'Iwa San. Now he was incapacitated, downright ill. There was no more turning of day into night, and vice versa. He was in the hands of his nurses. But to humour him Kibei marshalled the women. Their beds were made encircling that of Kwaiba in the midst. Kibei and Kakusuke were present. Thus they lay in this room brilliant with its scores of lanterns, its wax lights blazing on the lamp-stands. At the sides and in each corner were placed the scrolls of the holy sutra. Kwaiba in despair sought a sleep which would not favour him. "Some one walks in the corridor.... Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu!... Kibei! Kibei!" The appeal to the man would bring quicker response than that to the Buddha. Indeed there was a sound, as of hair rubbing across the paper screens, of some one or something trying to peer through the opaque material. There was a rattle and dash of rain. A gust swept through the corridor, the sho[u]ji slightly parted. Kwaiba gave a shriek—"O'Iwa! O'Iwa San! Ah! The bloated face, the drooping eyelid, the corpse taint in the air. It catches Kwaiba's throat. O'Iwa the O'Bake would force away Kwaiba the living. Ha! Ha!" A stronger gust, and the sho[u]ji dislodged from its groove whirled round and fell noisily into the room. Terror gave strength to the sick man. Kwaiba sprang madly forward. It was horrible to see the ghastly renovation of this tottering, flabby, emaciated man, who yet inspired the fear of a maniac's reckless strength. The frightened women huddled and crouched in the now darkened room, lit but by a single andon near the alcove. Was Kwaiba mad? As the men fought over the ruins of the sho[u]ji, in the darkness of the corridor, at first faint as a mist, then distinctly seen, the women were assured of the presence of O'Iwa. In long black robe, face wide and bloated, of a livid greenish tint, hair in wild disorder, bulging forehead, swollen eyeless lids, she stood over the struggling men. Suddenly she thrust the severed head she carried into the face of Kwaiba, leering horribly at him the while. With a yell he fell flat on his back. The braver entered with lights. All gathered round the unconscious Kwaiba.

This scene was the crisis of his disorder. The disease, once dormant, now fell on him suddenly and with full force. Perhaps these mental symptoms were its first indication. More annoying to his comfort, ulcers broke out all over his body. The itching drove the man nearly frantic. His mad scratching spread the sores. The boils developed. They ran with pus. So terrible was the stench that few would stay by him. The women fled the room in terror, driven away by the running stream of physical corruption, the continual babble of lewdness from the corrupt mind. He soon noted their absence. Kibei, attended by the sturdy and faithful Kakusuke, remained to nurse him. Suddenly said Kwaiba—"O'Hana, the harlot of Reigan; this Kwaiba would have talk and dalliance with her. Summon her hither. Let wine and the samisen be brought, a feast prepared. O'Hana! O'Hana!" He raved so for the woman that Kibei thought her presence would quiet him. A request was sent to the house of Iemon. Wishing her to know nothing of the affair of O'Iwa, Iemon had kept silence. He would have refused the mission—on the pretext of a quarrel with Kwaiba and Kibei. O'Hana showed herself unexpectedly obstinate—"It is to the favour of Kwaiba Sama that Iemon owes this Hana. She has a duty to the past, as well as to the present." With a snarl she turned on him, glowering. Iemon shrank back. He passed his hand across the eyes into which O'Iwa had just looked. He no longer opposed her going.

O'Hana was still weak from repeated attacks of the fever which had visited her ever since the night Iemon had cast forth the aodaisho[u]. She said that the snake had bitten her. It was the poison, not fever, working in her. Iemon had laughed at her proposal to try the exorcisms of the priest. Behind the irritation aroused by his scepticism was that peculiar clinging of a woman to an old lover, to a man with whom she had been intimate. In the heart of O'Hana there still remained a strong leaning to the man who had removed her from the rapid and nauseating life of the Fukagawa brothel, which cast her into the arms of anyone who paid the price and raised his finger. With time and the old conditions probably she would have been as unfaithful to Iemon as she had been to Kwaiba. The latter showing his desire, she would have answered his call. Even before this disease-eaten swollen mass of dropsy, she showed but temporary repugnance. Leaning over him, almost overcome by the stench, with endearing terms she strove to rouse him to consciousness and recognition of her. It seemed fearful to have him die without the word of parting. Kibei aided her by raising the old man. The result was a horrible frightened stare in eyes made large by fever and delirium. Long he gazed at her. Said the woman—"'Tis Hana; Hana once the intimate of Kwaiba. Deign to take courage. This is but a passing affliction. With Hana as nurse recovery to health is assured." She laid her hands on his shoulders. In so doing her hair, come loose, fell down around her wan face. Kwaiba was as galvanized. With a howl the old man pushed her violently away. "Scrawny wench! What impudence to show your face here! Ah! To the last moment, waking and in dreams, she pursues this Kwaiba. I sold you. 'Tis true—I sold you for a night-hawk—to Toemon of Honjo[u]. Does Kwaiba consort with wenches of such ilk?" Raising his fist he dealt her blow after blow, all the time shouting—"O'Iwa! O'Iwa! The O'Bake solicits Kwaiba. Broken loose from Hell and the waters of Warigesui she would force away Kwaiba. Help! Help! Aid for Kwaiba! Away with the O'Bake!" The old man again had broken into his mad fit. The shouts of Kibei brought Kakusuke. Kwaiba's hands were detached from the masses of O'Hana's hair. The wounds on her face were not so deep as those inflicted on her mind. At last the secret was out. In bare feet she fled along the muddy street toward the Samoncho[u] house.

It was true that the vileness of the disease, the vileness of Kwaiba's tongue, had driven the women from attendance in the sick room to the remotest quarters of the house. But there was a deterrent even to their now limited service. All said the place where Kwaiba lay was haunted. Under press of necessity a maid had brought needed medicaments to the sick man's room. Putting down the light she carried on the ro[u]ka, she pushed open the sho[u]ji to enter the outer chamber. Her robe caught as she did so.

Turning to release it she gave a fearful shriek. Standing in the corridor, at the open screen behind her, were two tall figures robed in black. With dishevelled hair, broad white flat faces, bulging brows, eyelids swollen and sightless, yet they gazed through and through the onlooker and into the farther room. One creature, even more hideous with drooping lid and baldness extending far back, half moved, half fell toward the frightened maid. The woman's screams now were mingled with wild laughter. Kibei came rushing out, sword drawn, to find her in a fit of mad hysterics. Catching the drift of her broken phrases he went out on the ro[u]ka. There was no one there. Haori and kimono, hung up there to dry, rustled and moved a little in the draft. Had these frightened the woman? Kakusuke carried her back to her companions. Henceforth no one would enter that part of the building occupied by the sick man. Kibei as son, Kakusuke the old and faithful attendant, were isolated in their nursing.

Kibei noted the sick man's face. "Father, why the forehead so wrinkled? Is pain condescended?" Said Kwaiba—"'Tis the rats; they gnaw and worry at Kwaiba."—"Rats?" replied Kibei in some astonishment. He looked around. The sho[u]ji were tight closed. Kwaiba noted the inspection. He shook his head, and pointed to the rama-sho[u]ji, the ornamental open work near the ceiling. This could not be obviated. "Auntie (Obasan) is old and deaf. She sleeps; while rats, attracted by the foul sores of the scrofulous child, enter and attack the infant in its cradle. The child gets thinner and weaker every day; then dies. A terrible creature is the rat." So much for the opinion of Nippon. Kibei had brought a mosquito net. Its edges were weighted down with heavy stones. Thus the watchers could not be taken by surprise. Under its protection the sick man was saved from annoyance.

Said Kibei—"This illness is most tedious. Could not Kibei go to the Yoshiwara for a space? The letters of the Kashiku (oiran) accumulate. Kibei has nothing to give, and has given no explanation for not giving. What thinks Kakusuke?" Kakusuke was brave. Moreover he knew the Wakadono was brave. The prospect, however, of facing his old master in a crazy fit—and perhaps O'Iwa—had no attraction. He gave his advice—"The Go Inkyo[u] Sama is in a very precarious state. He is now very weak. The worst may happen at any moment. For the Wakadono to be taking his pleasure at the Yoshiwara would arouse criticism in the ward; nay, even more than criticism. It would be held unfilial. Deign to reconsider the purpose." Kibei looked sourly at the swollen corruption which represented Kwaiba—"How does he hold on! His strength must be great." Kakusuke shrugged his shoulders—"The Go Inkyo[u] Sama will not die easily. He has much to go through yet."—"In the name of all the kami and Buddhas, how has he come to such an end? He is a sight to inspire fear—in those who can feel such." Replied Kakusuke with sly look—"The Go Inkyo[u] Sama has lived high, and loved beyond measure. The Wakadono does well to reconsider his purpose."

The night was passing. The two men, worn out by the continued watching and nursing, after vain struggle to keep awake had gone to sleep. Kakusuke was in the room with Kwaiba. In his slumber Kibei was back in the fencing room. The clash of the wooden swords (bokken), the cries of the contestants, rang clear in his ears. He woke to find rain and storm shaking and tearing at the amado. But it was the shouts of Kakusuke, standing at the sho[u]ji, which had aroused him—"Danna Sama! Danna Sama! Wakadono! At once! At once! Deign to hasten!" Kibei rushed into the next room. In fright Kakusuke pointed to the mosquito net. A figure stood upright within it, swaying, gesticulating, struggling. It was a figure all black and horrible. "Un! Un!" grunted Kwaiba. He was answered by a mincing, gnawing sound. "Father! Have courage! Kibei is here." He rushed at the heavy stones, to toss them to one side and enter the net. The swaying figure within suddenly toppled over in a heap. With his sword Kibei tore and severed the cording of the net. The black mass of rats scattered to the eight directions of space. On approaching Kwaiba a terrible sight met the eye. Eyes, ears, nose, chin, toes and fingers had been torn and eaten off. The lips were gnawed away and exposed to view the grinning teeth. A feeble groan—and Kwaiba had met his end. Neither Kibei nor Kakusuke dared to touch the foul body. In their panic the two men looked in each other's faces. "Namu Amida Butsu! Holy the Lord Buddha, Amida!" prayed Kibei, on his knees before the corpse. "Namu Amida Butsu!" answered Kakusuke.[29]



CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE SHADOW OF THE GO-INKYO[U]

Said a neighbour next day, on meeting his fellow-gossip—"Ah! Is it Goemon San? It is said the Go Inkyo[u] is to be congratulated." Kamimura Goemon sniffed. He was a long man; with long face, long nose, long thin arms, long thin legs; a malicious man, who longed to give advice to his fellows which they much disliked to hear, and liked to see them writhe under the infliction. In fact this epitome of length rarely spoke in good faith or temper—"The Go Inkyo[u] is to be congratulated? Escaping the troubles of this world, perhaps he has fallen into worse troubles in the next." At this unorthodox reply Mizoguchi Hambei showed surprise. Continued Goemon—"The Go Inkyo[u] died a leper, eaten by the rats. Such an end hardly calls for congratulations." Mizoguchi gasped, with round eyes and round face. "Extraordinary!"—"Not at all," replied Kamimura, complacently tapping the palm of one hand with the elongated fingers of the other. "The Go Inkyo[u] drove out O'Iwa San from Tamiya. He gave O'Hana in her stead to Iemon as wife. Hana the harlot! Cursed by O'Iwa in dying, he has met this frightful end. Akiyama, Natsume, Imaizumi will surely follow. As will all those involved in the affair."—"But is O'Iwa San really the cause of the death? The Go Inkyo[u] in life was not the most careful of men in conserving health." This was timidly interjected by a third party. Kamimura suppressed him with a scowl—"Of course it is O'Iwa San. Has she not been seen? The women of the house answer for it. Only Kibei the sceptic, and Kakusuke who would face the devil in person, attempt to deny it." He threw up a hand. With unction—"Ah! It inspires fear. Small is the profit of wickedness and malice. He is a fool who indulges in either.... How cold it is for the time of year!"

Said the interloper—"But the congratulations have to be rendered all the same. It will be necessary to attend the all-night watch. How vexatious! Perhaps O'Iwa San will not appear. There is no getting out of it?"—"Certainly not," answered Kamimura. "The Go Inkyo[u] was the head of the ward association. Twelve neighbours have been invited to the watch. At dawn the body is to be prepared. A pleasant undertaking, if all that is said be true! The viands will be of the best, the wine no worse and plentiful. None must fail to attend." He smacked his lips. The others likewise, but much less heartily.

It was an unwilling band which crawled in laggard procession through rain and mud and the length of the Teramachi to Kwaiba's house. A do[u]shin, the ward chief, a rich man, the mansion displayed all its splendour. The atmosphere, however, was oppressive. Kibei greeted the guests with heartiness, and accepted their condolence and gifts with lavish thanks and the cheerful face of him that profiteth by the funeral. Kakusuke was his main aid in connection with the Go Inkyo[u]'s last appearance. Occasionally a timid white-faced woman was seen, but she would flit away from the scene of these festivities, to seek the companionship of her panic-stricken fellows. Entering the funereal chamber the body was found, laid out and decently swathed so as to cover, as far as possible, the horrible nature of the death. On a white wood stand was the ihai in white wood, a virtuous lie as to the qualities of the deceased. It ran—Tentoku Gishin Jisho[u] Daishi. Which can be interpreted—"A man of brilliant virtues, virtuous heart, and benevolent temperament." Screens, upside down, were placed at the head:

"Alas! The screen: the carp descends the fall."[30] Akiyama, Natsume, Imaizumi, were the last to appear. The former had been composing a violent quarrel between his two friends—the long and the fat. Much recrimination had passed, and the usually peaceful Imaizumi was in a most violent and truculent humour. He glared with hate on Natsume, who now aided Akiyama in efforts to soothe his anger. On entering the assembly the looks of all were composed. "A retribution for deeds in the past world. Old; but so vigorous! The offering is a mere trifle. This Kyuzo[u] would burn a stick of incense." Kibei extended his thanks and suppressed his smile as much as possible. He was breathing with full lungs for the first time in weeks. The storm was over; happiness was ahead; the clouded sky was all serene. "Thanks are felt. This Kibei is most fortunate: nay, grateful. Such kindness is not to be forgotten during life."—"The Inkyo[u] an hotoke; Iemon Dono and O'Hana are the husband and wife not present?" The question came from some one in the room. "O'Hana San is very ill. Her state is serious. Iemon does not leave her." Akiyama answered for the truant pair. Kibei's joy was complete.

Akiyama, Natsume, Imaizumi were standing by Kwaiba's body. Kamimura slowly approached. The long man's face was longer than ever; longer, much longer than that of Natsume; and Kibei was not in the running. Goemon meditatively fondled his nose; on the pretence of concentrating thought, and for the purpose of relieving that member from the savour arising from Kwaiba's bier. This was no bed of roses—"Yes, the Inkyo[u] is indeed dead." He sniffed. "Soon it will be the turn of all of you—to be like this;" another sniff—"of Iemon and O'Hana, of Natsume and Imaizumi, of this Akiyama San." The latter gave a violent start. With hand to his nose also, he turned on the intruder. Continued Goemon—"A plot was concocted against O'Iwa San. Beggared and driven from the ward, deceived and sold as a street harlot, this death of the Inkyo[u] is but the first in the roll of her vengeance. Kamimura speaks with pure heart and without malice. You men are not long for this world. Is Akiyama San reconciled? And...." He pointed a skinny finger at Kyuzo[u], then at Jinzaemon. "You show it. Your eyes are hollow; your nostrils are fallen in. The colour of the face is livid. You seem already to be hotoke, prepared to lie with the Go Inkyo[u]." Akiyama found his tongue. He burst out in a rage—"The jest is unseemly. Kamimura San goes too far. It is true this Cho[u]zaemon gave counsel to Ito[u] Kwaiba. Kyuzo[u] and Jinzaemon took some part in what followed. But we acted on the orders of Ito[u] Dono, of Iemon San. On the first will be visited any grudge." Goemon laughed harshly. He pointed to the corpse. "Here he lies. How did he die? Goemon does not jest, and the argument of Akiyama San is rotten. The master bids the servants to beat the snow from the bushes. The snow falls on them; not on him. How now Akiyama San?" Cho[u]zaemon turned away discomfited. All three felt very bad—in mind and body.

The bell of Sainenji struck the eighth hour (1 A.M.). Just opposite, its clangour filled the whole mansion with a ghostly sound. In the depths of night this inert mass of metal seemed a thing of life, casting its influence into the lives of those present, rousing them to face grave issues. Noting the absence of Natsume, the round-faced, round-eyed, round-bodied Imaizumi followed after. Kibei came forth from the supper room, to find his guests all flown. "Where have they gone to, Kakusuke?" He looked around in amazement—"They were taken with pains in the belly. With this excuse they departed. Yotsuya is afflicted with a flux." The chu[u]gen answered in the dry and certain tone of one unconvinced. Kibei shrugged his shoulders. "There is naught wrong with wine or viands?"—"Nor with the guests," replied Kakusuke. "They are cowards, who have caught some inkling as to the not over-nice death of the Go Inkyo[u]."—"The latter day bushi are not what the bushi were of old; at least this brand of them. Ah! These wretched little bureaucrats; bushi of the pen. Two men to eat a supper prepared for twelve sturdy trenchers. Well: two are enough to wash the corpse. Lend a hand Kakusuke."—"Respectfully heard and obeyed," replied the chu[u]gen.

The white dress for the last cover to the body was laid ready. Secured by Kwaiba many years before in a pilgrimage to the holy Ko[u]yasan, the sacred characters were woven into its tissue. Kakusuke dragged a large tub into the bathroom. Kwaiba's body was unswathed and placed in it. Kakusuke eyed his late master with critical and unfavourable eye. "Naruhodo! The Go Inkyo[u] is a strange object. No eyes: nose, ears, lips gone; his expression is not a pleasant one.... Nay! The Wakadono is awkward. Throw the water from head to feet.... Take care! Don't throw it over Kakusuke. He at least is yet alive. The Wakadono is wasteful. More is needed. Deign to wait a moment. Kakusuke draws it from the well." He opened the side door and went outside. Kibei drew a little apart from the body. It stank. A noise at the sliding window (hikimado) in the roof made him look up. Oya! Oya! The face of O'Iwa filled the aperture—round, white, flat; with puffed eyelids and a sightless glare. With a cry of horror and surprise Kibei sprang to the door. As he did so slender attenuated hands groped downward. "Kakusuke! Kakusuke!"—"What is it, Wakadono?"—"O'Iwa: she looks down through the hikimado! She seeks the Inkyo[u]!" Kakusuke gave a look upward—"Bah! It's the cat. Is the Wakadono, too, getting nerves? They are a poor investment."—"The cat!" Kibei sighed with relief. Nevertheless he kept his hand on his sword.

He turned round—to give a shout of surprise—"Kakusuke! Kakusuke! The body of the Go Inkyo[u] is no longer here." As the astonished chu[u]gen came running to look into the empty tub, both men nearly fell over in their wonder. The body of the Inkyo[u] was whirling around the neighbouring room in execution of a mad dance. Followed by Kakusuke, his worthy son and heir sprang in pursuit. Invisible hands led Kwaiba and the pursuers into the darkness of the garden, into the rain and storm. Kibei heard the steps just in front of him. He pursued madly after them. "To lose his parent's body—this was against all rules of Bushido[u]." Thus comments the scribe of Nippon. Kibei could commit all the moral and physical atrocities except—failure in filial conduct to parent and lord; the unpardonable sins of the Scripture of Bushido[u]. Kakusuke soon lost his master in the darkness. Disconcerted and anxious he returned to secure a lantern. The wind promptly blew it out; then another, and a third. He stood on the ro[u]ka in the darkness to wait the return of the Wakadono. For the first time Kakusuke had noted failing purpose in his young master. He was more solicitous over this than over the strange disappearance of the Inkyo[u]'s body. Was the Wakadono losing his nerve; as had the O'Dono?

In time Kibei reappeared. To Kakusuke's inquiring glance—"Kibei pursued to Myo[u]gyo[u]ji; then up the hill. Here sight was lost of the Inkyo[u]. The darkness prevented further search. A lantern is next to worthless in this gale. Kakusuke, go to the houses of Natsume and Imaizumi close by. They are young and will aid Kibei in the search." Kakusuke did not demur. Pulling his cape over his head, off he posted. He asked but to come across the Inkyo[u]'s body, in O'Iwa's company or not made no difference to this iron-hearted servitor. His mission was fruitless. The two men had expressed the intention of spending the night at the Kwaiba wake. Neither had as yet returned. Grumbled Kibei—"The filthy fellows! With this excuse to their wives they seek new pastures at Nakacho[u] (Shinjuku), to spend the night in dissipation. 'Tis Natsume who is the lecher. Gladly would he wean Imaizumi from his barely wed wife."—"Or wean the wife from Imaizumi Sama! Wakadono, nothing can be done now. The dawn should be awaited." With these sage comments the chu[u]gen squatted at respectful distance from his master. From time to time one or other arose, to look sceptically into the empty tub in which once had reposed the Inkyo[u]'s body. Finally both nodded off into sleep. At dawn—don, don, don, don, came a loud knocking on the outer gate. Kakusuke went out, to return with astonished face and portentous news. The dead bodies of Natsume Kyuzo[u] and Imaizumi Jinzaemon had been found at the foot of the bake-icho[u], a huge tree close by the guardhouse. Finger tip to finger tip three men could not girdle this tree. With the bodies of the men lay that of a woman. Two corpses, man and woman, were stark naked. Kibei's presence, as the successor to Kwaiba's office, was required.

He prepared at once to start for the Okido[u]. The tale was in time learned from the prolix Kamimura Goemon, who had witnessed part at least of the scene. As he was knocking at his door on the Shinjuku road, having just returned late from the watch at Kwaiba's house, rapid steps were heard in the street. A man, recognized as Kyuzo[u], passed, running at top speed. He dragged along by the hand a woman, the wife of Imaizumi. The two were nearly naked. Close in the rear pursued Imaizumi Jinzaemon, his drawn sword in his hand. They sped up the wide road. Goemon stepped out, to follow at a distance this flight and pursuit. At the icho[u] tree the fugitives were overtaken. The woman was the first to be cut down. Kyuzo[u] turned to grapple with the assailant. Unarmed his fate soon overtook him. He fell severed from shoulder to pap. Having finished his victims Imaizumi seated himself at the foot of the tree, and cut open his belly. "Long had such outcome been expected," intoned the long-nosed man. The case needed no explanation. Others echoed the opinion of Goemon, who was merely many fathoms deeper in the scandal of the neighbourhood than most of them. It was agreed to hush the matter up. Reporting his own experience, to the astonishment of his hearers, Kibei, accompanied by Kakusuke, started down Teramachi toward Samegabashi. As they passed the Gwansho[u]ji attention was drawn by a pack of dogs, fighting and quarrelling in the temple cemetery. A white object lay in the midst. With a shout the men sprang in. Tearing up a grave stick Kibei rushed into the pack, driving off the animals. There lay the body of Ito[u] Kwaiba, brought hither by the hands of O'Iwa to be torn and mangled by the teeth of the brutes. Thus was it that the funerals of Ito[u] Kwaiba, Natsume Kyuzo[u], and Imaizumi Jinzaemon took place in one cortege on the same day and at the same time. The postponement in the first instance—was it providential?



CHAPTER XIX

TAMIYA YOEMON: WITH NEWS OF KONDO[U] ROKURO[U]BEI AND MYO[U]ZEN THE PRIEST

Tamiya Yoemon was stumbling home in all haste from the funeral of Ito[u] Kwaiba. He was full of news for the wife, O'Kame. The neighbours could talk of nothing but the strange happenings in the ward, and details lost nothing in the telling; perhaps gained somewhat by the process. Most edifying was the reported conduct of the wife of the late Natsume Kyuzo[u], the observed of all observers at the funeral, the object of that solicitous congratulation which embodies the secret sigh of relief of friends, neighbours, and relatives at the removal of a prospective burden. Natsume had left behind him a wife, an old mother, an infant child, and huge liabilities. To administer this legacy—and perhaps to get rid of her mother-in-law—the wife had promptly and tearfully sacrificed her status, and sold herself for a term of years to the master of the Sagamiya, a pleasure house at Shinagawa post town. The sum paid—one hundred ryo[u]—relieved the immediate future. The neighbours derided the ignorance of the Sagamiya in accepting the uncertain bail of Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon. If the lady behaved badly, small satisfaction was to be obtained of her security. "Ignorance is bliss." Let the Sagamiya bask in both and the beauty of the prize. Meanwhile their concern and admiration were for the lady destined to this post town of the crowded To[u]kaido[u], the stopping place of high and low, noble and riff-raff, entering Edo town. Of the inmates of the pleasure quarters, the harlots of Shinagawa, Shinjuku, Itabashi, were held in lowest esteem.

Arrived at his door Yoemon stopped short in surprise and alarm. To his loud call of "Wife! Wife!" answer there was none. Looking within he could barely distinguish objects through the thick smoke which filled the house. The last thing the Nipponese would do under such conditions, would be to throw open doors and panels. This would convert the place at once to a blazing conflagration. Where was the fire getting its start? Choking and spluttering Yoemon groped his way through the rooms into the rear. Wherever the fire was, it was not in the living rooms. The smoke was accentuated on reaching the kitchen. Here was a smell of burning rice, of Yoemon's dinner gradually carbonizing under the influence of an element other than the juices of his round stomach. Looking into the room, through the thickened haze he saw the flame of the fire brightening. O'Kame the wife could be made out, on her knees before the portable furnace. She was blowing a mass of slivers and brushwood into flame by the aid of a bamboo pipe. It was this stuff, green and partly wet, which gave out the choking acrid smoke. Yoemon was angered beyond measure at the sight of his ruined meal and expectations. "Kame! Kame! What are you doing? Have you gone mad? Ma! Ma! The dinner is being ruined. You are ill. Kame's head whirls with head-ache. Yoemon will act as cook. Go to bed—at once." At his peremptory speech the wife looked up into the face of the husband standing over her. She scowled at him in a way to cause fear. "Not a sho[u] of rice; not a mon. Yoemon would give freely to a beggar, rather than confer a 'cash' on Iwa. Yoemon sells me as a street harlot." He started back in fright before the snarling distorted visage. The wife sprang to her feet. Pash! On his devoted head descended the hot iron pan with its content of stew. "Ah! Kame is mad—clean daft." With a wild laugh she seized the pot full of boiling rice and began to pour it into the drain. When he tried to stop her, he received the mess full in his bosom—"Mad? Not at all. This Kame never felt in better spirits. When grass grows in Samoncho[u] we enter Nirvana. Ha! Ha! Ha! To hasten the happy time!" With a kick she knocked over the furnace. In an instant the tatami was in a blaze. Yelling like mad, shouting for help, Yoemon leaped from the house. O'Kame seized the burning brands in her bare hands, hurling them into this room and into that. Outstripping the old Yoemon, the younger men of the neighbours rushed in. The mad woman was soon overcome and carried from the burning building. Nothing else was saved. They took her to the house of Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon. Here she was tied hand and foot, and put in a closet. The old man Yoemon stood by in despair, watching the progress of events. Before the conflagration was extinguished his own and four other houses were destroyed. He was a ruined man; responsible for all.

Myo[u]zen the priest had just set foot on the slope leading up from Samegabashi to Yotsuya. A somewhat long retreat at Myo[u]honji, attendance at the ceremonies held on the Saint's (Nichiren) birthday, had kept him in ignorance of recent events in Yotsuya. In the dawn of the beautiful day of earliest 3rd month (our April 13th) he had set out from Kamakura. Sturdy as were the priest's limbs, yet he was a little tired. He rested at the foot of the hill. Then his eyes grew big with astonishment. In the waning afternoon a funeral came wending its way downwards. But such a funeral! Two spearmen led the way. Then came a long train of attendants. Three catafalques followed, the first a most imposing bier. Then came the relatives. Kibei on horseback headed these. The women rode in kago. That it was a ward funeral Myo[u]zen had no doubt, both from its source and make up. He noted a parishioner in the cortege. "Kamimura Uji!" The long-limbed, long-faced, long-tongued man left the ranks and obsequiously greeted his spiritual father. At Myo[u]zen's question he expressed gratified surprise, and unlimbered his lingual member at once—"Whose honoured funeral this? Nay! It is a triple funeral; that of Natsume Kyuzo[u], Imaizumi Jinzaemon, the Go Inkyo[u], our ward-head. It is owing to this latter that there is such an outpouring of the ward, with attendance of barrier guards and firemen. Although the ending of Natsume and Jinzaemon was not edifying, that of our honoured once head gratified still more the public curiosity. Gnawed and eaten by the rats he died most horribly." He told of the eventful night. "Hence delay in the burial. The deaths of Natsume and Imaizumi were almost coincident. The body of the adulterous woman, rejected by both families, was cast out on the moor." He noted with satisfaction the great impression his tale made on the priest, as also the clerical garb and rosary held in hand. "Pray join the band. A little re-adjustment...." He bent down. With the baton he held in hand as leader of his section he carefully dusted the robes. Adjusting the folds he pronounced the results as most presentable. "The honoured Osho[u] is ready to bury or be buried." Myo[u]zen took this remark in very ill form. He prepared to answer tartly, but curiosity overcame his weariness and ill temper. The procession was moving fast. He fell at once into line, with hardly an acknowledgment of Kamimura's courtesy, as this latter hastened forward to his place.

His neighbour in the procession explained. The nature of the deaths of the three men had aroused the feeling in the ward. Their connection with a conspiracy against O'Iwa San was now generally known. Without doubt it was owing to her vengeance that they had died as they did. Let them lie outside the quarter. The protest to Kibei was respectful but emphatic. A newcomer, he had made no great resistance. It was determined to bury them at the Denzu-In, close by the mound of the nameless dead of Edo's great fire of more than half a century before. Hence the direction of the cortege. As the cemetery of the great temple was approached the curiosity of Myo[u]zen, morbidly growing the while, became overpowering. The priest slipped from rank to rank. At the grave he stood in the very front. As long-time friend he besought a last glance at the dead. Those given to Natsume and Imaizumi called forth a careless prayer for each. The men hesitated before raising the cover concealing the body of Kwaiba. At Myo[u]zen's peremptory gesture they complied. He bent over and looked in. Frozen with horror, he was fascinated by those great holes for eyes, large as teacups, which seemed to fix him. Dead of leprosy, gnawed and torn by beasts, the face presented a sight unforgettable. The holes torn in the flesh twisted the features into a lifelike, though ghastly, sardonic grin, full of the pains of the hell in which Kwaiba had suffered and now suffered. A stench arose from the box which made the hardened bearers hold their noses and draw away. Yet the priest bent down all the closer. In his corruption the lips of the old man seemed to move. Did Kwaiba speak? Closer and closer: Myo[u]zen seemed never satisfied with this inspection. The poise and brain gave way. Priest and corpse met in the horrible salutation. With exclamation the attendants sprang forward. Myo[u]zen in a dead faint was carried apart and laid on the ground. Some priests of the hall busied themselves over him. Somewhat revived he was taken off to the residence quarters of the temple, and soon was able to return to his home. "Curious fool." Kibei was greatly angered. He was easily irritated in these days. The delay in the rites almost maddened him. Would old Kwaiba—his father Ito[u] Inkyo[u]—never be got out of men's sight? Out of Kibei's sight?

That night Myo[u]zen sat alone in his quarters. Somewhat shaken, he was ashamed and regretful at thought of his unseemly curiosity of the afternoon. The priests of Denzuin had regarded him with covert amusement and repulsion. He had noted one passing the sleeve of his robe over his lips. Myo[u]zen explained the incident by more than usual weariness. They condoled with him, and made horrified gestures of ill-disguised glee when they thought his attention was elsewhere. In his present privacy the scene at the grave came back to mind again and again. "Ah! Ah! If this Myo[u]zen had not looked. The Inkyo[u]'s face was terrible. Myo[u]zen cannot put it from mind." He glanced at the pages of the sutra lying before him. He turned them over. He knew they spoke of the horribleness of death; but what was the cold script to the actuality? It was no use, the attempt to read. Kwaiba's face interposed. "Oh! That salute! The very idea of that terrible salute, the contact with corruption!" He was as if plunged in an icy bath. He started nervously. It was but rain dashing against the amado, rattling and twisting in the gale. He could not sleep. That night he would watch. The fire was hot in the hibachi (brazier). He went to the closet to get some tea. On opening it he sprang back with a shout of alarm, to lean trembling and quivering in every limb huddled against the wall. "Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]!" One character of the wondrous formula secured pardon and safety to the believer in that paradise of Amida which Myo[u]zen was in no great haste to visit. Shivering as with a chill intently he watched the animal as it glided along the edge of the room, to disappear into the shadows. He shrugged his shoulders wearily. A rat had frightened him almost out of his wits! His heart beat tumultuously, almost to suffocation; then it seemed to cease altogether; to resume its wild career.

Hardly was he again seated, his hand on the kettle—don—don, don—don, don, don, don. Some one was violently knocking on the door. Myo[u]zen sprang up. Approaching the amado with silent step he eyed the bolts: "All secure." Snatching up a stake close by he jammed it in between floor and crosspiece. Leaning heavily on the panel he listened. "Myo[u]zen Sama! Osho[u] Sama! Condescend to open; deign to give entrance! The storm nearly throws one to the ground. News! News for the Osho[u]! A request to make!" Myo[u]zen held his ground against this outer temptation. "Who are you, out at this hour of the night and in such weather? To-night Myo[u]zen does not open. Go away; return in daylight."—"But the honoured Osho[u] Sama is needed. His presence is requested. Deign to open; at least to hear the message. The priest aids the afflicted." There was something in the voice he recognized, despite its terror. Regaining some courage he parleyed. The priest was for the consolation of the unfortunate. O'Iwa had been, was unfortunate. He could not open. "Who are you? Unless the name be given this Myo[u]zen holds no further talk. To-night he is unwell, positively ill. Come at dawn and Myo[u]zen will receive you."—"Who? Does not the voice answer for the person? This is Tomobei, from the house of Kondo[u] Rokuro[u]bei. Deign to open. The master needs and calls for the aid of the Osho[u] Sama."

Voice and speech, the importance of Kondo[u] in the life of Myo[u]zen, broke down his hesitation. Slowly he removed the bars. Tomobei entered, dripping with wet. He cast down his straw coat at the entrance. The man's eyes and manner were wild. He kept casting frightened looks into the wild welter of storm outside. When the priest would withdraw into the room he held him by the skirt. "What has happened?" commanded Myo[u]zen briefly. Replied Tomobei—"A terrible thing! To-day the master was ready to attend the funeral of Ito[u] Inkyo[u]. The wife was engaged in putting the house kimono in the closet. O'Tama was playing on the upper ro[u]ka. She is but seven years old. Leaning far over to see her father leave, she lost her balance. Down she fell, to be impaled on the knife-like points of the shinobi-gaeshi. The sharp-pointed bamboo, protection against thieves, have robbed the Danna of his greatest treasure (tama). Deep into throat and chest ran the cruel spikes, to appear through the back. The sight inspired fear, so horrible was it. He could but call out—'Tomobei! Tomobei!' All effort to detach the child, to saw off the points, did but make matters worse. It was necessary to fetch a ladder. When taken down she was dead. Alas! Alas! The Okusama is nearly crazed. The Danna Sama in his cruel distress does but rage through the house. 'Myo[u]zen Osho[u], he loved the child. Let Myo[u]zen Osho[u] be summoned to say a prayer of direction, while yet the child spirit hovers hereabouts.' Such is the cry of the Okusama. Hence the presence of this Tomobei. Otherwise he would rather be scourged at the white sand than face the darkness in which O'Iwa San wanders abroad." Man and priest were weeping. The former in his fright and over the confusion and distress fallen on the household; the priest over the sudden and dreadful end of this child to whom the homeless one, the man devoted to the solitary life, had taken an unbounded affection as of a father. Great as was his terror, he forgot his own ills in the greater misfortune of the life-long friend. He remained bowed in prayer. "Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Oh! The wondrous law, the sutra of the Lotus!" He rose—"Myo[u]zen comes."

As they struggled through the storm, Tomobei kept up a nonsensical, running talk, full of the superstitious fear of the man of the lower classes. "Iya! The affair has been terrible, but misfortune is in the air.... What's that! Ah! Something passes by ... above. O'Iwa! O'Iwa!" He seized the priest's arm and clung to him in terror. Myo[u]zen's fears had all returned. He would have run away, but was too tightly held. "Where! Where!" He shrieked and whirled around toward Samegabashi. Tomobei held on tenaciously to his skirts. An object was bearing down on them in the dark. Close upon priest and man they jumped to one side. A cold hand was laid on the neck of the cleric, who squawked with fear. A howl answered the howls and mad cries and blows of the two men, who now threw themselves flat on the ground to shut out sight of the apparition. The beast sped down the hill. Discomfited, Myo[u]zen disentangled himself from the embraces of a broken water spout, which descending from the roof under which he had taken shelter, was sending its cold stream down his neck. Tomobei rose from the mud puddle in which he lay face downward. They gazed at each other. "A dog! A wandering cur!" Myo[u]zen eyed his once immaculate garments with disgust. How present himself in such a state! Tomobei read his thoughts and determined to keep a companion so hardly won. "There are present but the master and the Okusama, Tomobei, and Kiku; other company there is none.... Yes; the Ojo[u]san."—"The corpse needs no company," said Myo[u]zen testily. In his disgrace and unkempt condition Myo[u]zen was unduly irritated at his child friend. The business was to be gone through. They were opposite the cemetery of Sainenji, on its western side. Said Tomobei—"A paling is loose. There is no need to descend the hill. This is no cheerful spot at this hour. Deign to sprint it, Osho[u] Sama. In the time one can count ten the entrance at the rear is reached. Deign a spurt, honoured priest; deign to sprint." Myo[u]zen felt he was in for everything this night. With Tomobei he tucked up his robes to his hams, as if entering a race. Crawling through the bamboo palings into the haunt of the dead, at it they went—a mad spurt across to Ko[u]ndo's house. Tomobei was the more active. He turned to watch the priest tripping over hillocks in the grass, knocking into gravestones hidden by the darkness. So near home, courage was returning. He burst into laughter at sight of Myo[u]zen madly hammering a battered old stone lantern of the yukimido[u]ro style. The broad-brimmed hat-like object he belaboured as something naturally or unnaturally possessed of life, all the while giving utterance to anything but priestly language. Tomobei ventured back to his rescue. Myo[u]zen was quite battered and bleeding as the two rushed into Kondo[u]'s house.

The master was expecting them; but he threw up his hands as they appeared in the room. "Osho[u] Sama! Tomobei! What are you about! Why rush into the room, clogs still on the feet? Deign to withdraw. The tatami are stained and streaked with mud.... Water for the feet of the Osho[u] Sama! Tomobei, are you mad? Out with you: bring water to clean up this mess." In confusion the priest withdrew. His apologies were profuse as he reappeared—"Alas! Terrible the loss, and in such dreadful manner. Kondo[u] Dono, Okusama, part at least of this grief Myo[u]zen would take on himself. Great is the sorrow at this end of one just beginning life." The wife received the condolence of the priest with a burst of weeping. Then she turned fiercely on the husband—"It is all the fault of Rokuro[u]bei. He was nako[u]do for O'Iwa San in the marriage with Iemon. Turning against her, he took O'Hana into the house. Did she not spend her time in idling, and teaching the child the ways of her questionable life—'how to please men,' forsooth?... Ah! Tama did have pretty ways. Though but of seven years, she danced, and sang, and postured as would a girl double her age. Now thus cruelly she has perished." Her mind, reverted to the child, again took a turn. "The plot against O'Iwa—with Ito[u] Kwaiba, Iemon, Cho[u]zaemon—here is found the source of this calamity. O'Iwa in dying has cursed all involved. Now 'tis the turn of Kondo[u] and his unfortunate wife." She ended in another outburst of tears, her head on the mats at the feet of the priest. Rokuro[u]bei was tearing up and down the room, gesticulating and almost shouting—"Yes! 'Tis she! 'Tis she! The hateful O'Iwa strikes the father through the child. Ah! It was a cowardly act to visit such a frightful ending on one budding into life. O'Iwa seeks revenge. O'Iwa is abroad; and yet this Kondo[u] cannot meet with her." Myo[u]zen was almost deafened with his cries and noisy earnestness. Truly to bring peace into this household, with division reigning between husband and wife smitten with fear of the supernatural, would be no easy matter. His priestly experience taught him the safest way to bring about his object.

"'Tis true; 'tis true. But loud cries avail nothing. The aid of the Buddha for the deceased is to be sought." Apologetically he showed something of his condition to the wife. At once she rose. Outergarments were removed. Muddied undergarments were renewed. Myo[u]zen went into the mortuary chamber. The little "Jewel" was laid out as in sleep. The wounded chest, the torn throat, were concealed by garments and a scarf-like bandage adjusted by a mother's sad and tender care. The incense sticks lay in clay saucers near the couch. "Oh, the wonderful Law! The sutra of the Lotus! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]!" He looked long at the little silent figure. His eyes were full of tears as he turned and took the hands of the weeping mother who had followed him into the room. Then for long he spoke in consoling tones. She was somewhat quieted when they returned.

Kondo[u] Rokuo[u]bei was still moving restlessly about the room. Now he was here, now there; from the death room he returned to the company; from them he passed to the kitchen. The wife thought of the friend and priest. "Tomobei, go to the store-room and bring wine." Myo[u]zen was a curious mixture. His weak spot was touched—"Deign it, honoured lady, for all. Let the occasion be made seemly, but more cheerful. Cause not sorrow to the dead by an unmeasured grief. This does but pain the Spirit in its forced communion with the living. Death perchance is not the misfortune of subsequent existence in this world, but a passage to the paradise of Amida." He spoke unctuously; as one full informed and longing for its trial. His homily had no effect in moving Tomobei, who was flatly unwilling to perform the service ordered. "The wine...," broke in Kondo[u] harshly.—"The go-down is at the end of the lot. The hour is very late, and the storm ... and other things ... it rages fiercely. This Tomobei...."—"Shut up!" roared his master, with easily roused anger. The maid O'Kiku timidly interposed—"There is a supply in the kitchen. This Kiku early brought it there, anticipating the need. Indeed the storm is terrible. One gets wet to the bone in traversing the yard." The wife caught the last words—"Aye! Wet and chilled the lost child spirit wanders, ringing its bell and vainly seeking aid and shelter; no aid at hand but that of the heartless hag in the River of Souls."[31] At the thought of the little O'Tama in cold and storm she broke down. Crying bitterly, she crept from the room and laid down beside the bier.

The wine was served. Myo[u]zen drank. Then he drank again. His potations gave him confidence—for more drink—and recalled him to his functions. "Let us all pray. Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Wonderful the Law! Wonderful the sutra of the Lotus, explanatory of the Law by which mankind are saved, to enter the paradise of Amida. Be sure the wanderings of O'Tama will be short. Scanty is the power of the Shozuka no Baba. Soon shall the child sit upon a lotus. Early shall be her entrance into Nirvana. Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]!... Honoured master, let all join in. Command the servants to join in the recital of the Daimoku." Kondo[u] waved a hand at Tomobei and O'Kiku, in assent and command. Vigorous were the tones of all in the responses. Myo[u]zen drank again. He pressed the wine on the others; drinking in turn as they agreed. The night was passing. It was the eighth hour (1-3 A.M.). Said he—"Don't get drowsy. By every means avoid it. Now! A vigorous prayer." He raised his hand—"Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]!" But the responses were flagging. Said Myo[u]zen—"This will never do; at this hour of the night." He drank again—to find that the supply had come to an end. Kondo[u] was nodding. Tomobei, if awake, was deaf to words. Myo[u]zen rose himself to fetch a new supply.

Kondo[u] pricked up his ears. The temple bells were booming the hour watch in solemn unison. The rain splashed and pattered on the amado. A rustling, swishing sound was heard, close by, in the next room. Now it was as if a hand was passing along the screen. He sprang up, drawn sword in hand. His eyes were riveted on the sho[u]ji, anticipating an appearance. Then he laid a violent hand on the interposing obstacle and threw it back. A tall figure robed in black, with broad flat face and bulging brow, puffed eyelids in which were sunken little dots in place of eyes, hair in wild disorder framing the dead white face, stood before him. "O'Iwa! O'Iwa!" The lamp was knocked over, but not before he dealt the one fierce upward blow. Madly he sprang on the apparition and slashed away in the dark. "Kiya!" The cry rang loud. Kondo[u] danced with joy, calling loudly for lights. "O'Iwa! O'Iwa! Kondo[u] has slain the O'Bake, the enemy of his child! Rejoice with Kondo[u]! The vendetta is accomplished!" In the darkness and confusion a groan was heard; then another, still fainter; then there was silence. Tomobei appeared with a light. He leaned over the long black robed body; to raise an alarmed face to his joyful master. "At what does the Danna Sama rejoice? What has he done? 'Tis Myo[u]zen Sama, the Osho[u] Sama, who lies cut down. Dreadful has been the mistake of the Danna Sama. This is like to cost the House dear."—"Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]! Namu Myo[u]ho[u] Renge Kyo[u]!" The sword had slipped from Kondo[u]'s hand, and in genuine grief he knelt beside the body of the unfortunate priest, seeking for some sign of life. Alas! Myo[u]zen had almost been cut in two by the upward sweep of the sword. From liver to pap was one gaping wound. He lay in the pool of almost all the blood in his body. Gathered around the corpse the four people eyed each other with terror.

Don—don—don, don, don, don. They sprang up in a huddled mass. The sound was at their very shoulders. "Some one knocks at the back door," said Tomobei. "Go open it," commanded Kondo[u]. Tomobei flatly refused, and without respect, nay with insolence. Kondo[u] picked up and weighed in his hand the bloody sword. Why mingle vile blood with good? Instead of cutting the man down he went himself and opened the half door at the top. A woman, dripping with water, her hair in wild disorder, her face white as chalk, stood outside in the storm. Kondo[u] gave an exclamation of surprise—"O'Kame of Tamiya! How comes O'Kame here? It was said that Yoemon San had shut her up, as one gone mad." The woman smirked with satisfied air—"Kondo[u] Rokuro[u]bei is seer as well as murderer. This Kame was bound and imprisoned; nay, almost divorced. Myo[u]zen, just dead at Kondo[u]'s hands, to-morrow was to pronounce the divorce. For so much, thanks to Kondo[u] Dono. But O'Tama has died. Kame would condole with Kondo[u] San; burn a stick of incense for O'Tama. Condescend to grant entrance." Said Rokuro[u]bei abruptly—"How knows O'Kame of the death of Myo[u]zen; who told her of the fate of O'Tama?" She laughed wildly—"Who? O'Iwa; O'Iwa is the friend of Kame. It was she who loosed the bonds. 'O'Tama of Kondo[u]'s house is dead. O'Kame should condole with the wife, the friend of this Iwa. Get you hence, for Kondo[u] has murdered the priest.' ... So here we are; O'Iwa accompanies Kame. Here she is." She waved a hand into the storm and darkness. "Deign to give passage to the chamber where lies O'Tama. O'Iwa and Kame would burn incense to the darling's memory, to the little Jewel." With a roar Kondo[u] seized the breast of her robe—"Vile old trot, off with you!" He gave her a violent push which sent her on her buttocks. The woman remained seated in the mud, laughing noisily. She held out two skinny arms to him. With a slam he shut the door.

He knelt by the priest's body, truly grieved—"Ah! O'Iwa is abroad. How has this mad woman knowledge of this deed? What was the offence of Myo[u]zen thus to deserve the hatred of Tamiya O'Iwa?" O'Kame had seen the priest enter, had stood in the wet listening to the wild talk of Kondo[u], had seen the bloody sword in his hand. Her mad brain had put riot and death together. The talk as to O'Tama she had overheard from her closet. Kondo[u] thought of neither explanation. He was at odds with Akiyama, and had sent no message to his house. As he speculated and thought how best to compound matters with the temple, now grieved at the rash blow fallen on a friend, now aghast at the certain and heavy indemnification which would be exacted by the enraged clerics, an uproar arose outside. There were wild cries and a scream of pain. Then came a loud triumphant shout—"Heads out! Heads out! O'Iwa is slain! This Akiyama has killed the O'Bake. The incubus of the ward is lifted. Help!" Kondo[u] sprang up and out of the house. Were the words true? Had another succeeded where he had failed? His lantern, the lanterns of many others, threw light on the place where Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon bravely stood ward over the prostrate body of the apparition. Returning late from Shitamachi he had entered the ward with shrinking terror. As he skulked along, with eyes on every dark corner, the figure of a woman was seen close by the eaves of the house of Kondo[u] Rokuro[u]bei. As he approached she came forward laughing wildly the while. The light of his lantern fell on the ghastly white face, the disordered hair. In a spasm of fright he dropped the lantern and delivered his blow in drawing the sword. The cut was almost identical with the one delivered to Myo[u]zen the priest. The men there gathered looked into each other's faces, then at the body of O'Kame lying in their midst. The crowd parted, and Tamiya Yoemon appeared. Kondo[u] Rokuro[u]bei and Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon stood by with bloody swords, their own skins without a scratch. They were self-accused.

The upshot of the affair was ruin for all. Matters in Yotsuya were coming to the official ears. Yoemon was forced to make charges against Akiyama; the more willingly as therein lay a chance to recoup his own losses through the wife he intended to divorce on the morrow. Kondo[u] easily cleared his skirts of this offence, but was involved with the irate temple priests. All were entangled in the heavy costs of the law of those days. Of these three men something is to be said later.



CHAPTER XX

KIBEI DONO

Kibei was in great straits, financial and domestic. The death of Kwaiba had brought him anything but freedom. In Nippon the headship of a House is much more than the simple heirship of our western law. Relieved of his obligation in office the old man's hands were wide open to shower benefice or caprice on the most worthless. Endorsement for cash and goods to Natsume, Imaizumi, and Kamimura; donations to the temples of Teramachi and the Yotsuyazaka; favours in every direction except that of Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon, in the pursuit of whom Kwaiba found much amusement; all these items added to the very free living in his household had pledged deeply the ample revenue of two hundred and thirty tawara, and would have upheld the samurai trait of not knowing the value of money—if Kwaiba had been of that kind. Between Kwaiba and Kibei, the wild debauchery of the last year had brought the House to the verge of ruin. Kibei was aghast. Long since he had become deeply involved with the Kashiku Tamagiku of the Yamadaya in Edomachi Itcho[u]me of the Yoshiwara. The ugly fellow was madly in love with the beauty. On her he had poured out the treasures of the Ito[u] House during the six months which preceded the illness of Kwaiba. During his prolonged absence from her the letters of the Kashiku had inundated the writing table of Kibei. Had he deserted her? Was all affection gone? Where now were the promises of ransom, the blood-sealed vow to become husband and wife, to assume the relation which endures for two worlds? Kibei sullenly read these lines; cursing Kwaiba and cursing himself. Ransom! With strict living for the next five years he might set matters straight and free the Tayu; and any day she might be bought by some rich country samurai or go[u]shi (gentleman farmer), or be carried off to ornament the besso[u] of some hatamoto. Kibei wiped the bitter saliva from his lips.[32]

The domestic difficulties were accompaniment to these more important matters. In the large mansion Kibei was now alone. The tenth day had witnessed the flight of the last of the servants. The women had departed with the funeral, through fear, sacrificing wages and even such clothing as could not surreptitiously be removed. What woman—or man—could remain in a house which was the nightly scene of such fearful sounds of combat. Shrieks, wails, groans, came from the quarters once occupied by the dead Kwaiba. As to this there was no difference of opinion. The more venturesome had been favoured with actual sight of the scenes enacted. They had seen the old man as he was in death, pursued from room to room by two frightful hags, as gaunt, blear, sightless as himself. Dreadful were the cries of the dead man as the harpies fastened upon him, descending from above like two huge bats. These scenes took place usually at the eighth hour (1 A.M.), not to cease until dawn. As for the men servants, they took their leave in the days following, asking formal dismissal (itoma) with recommendation to another House. They scented the approaching ruin of their present employer.

One day Kakusuke presented himself. Kibei looked up. He understood at once that the man had come in his turn to take leave. Kakusuke alone had remained with him. He was chu[u]gen, stable boy, cook, maid; and did the work of all four without complaint. The change in his master was too marked. Kibei, in his turn, had become irritable, timorous as a girl, subject to outbreaks of almost insane rage. To Kakusuke the young man seemed to have lost all nerve. Kakusuke wanted to serve a man. As long as the Wakadono gave promise of redemption, of rising above his difficulties and emerging into a splendid career in which Kakusuke could take pride, the chu[u]gen was ready to take the bitter with the sweet. To be maid servant and keeper of a man half mad had no attraction for this blunt-nerved fellow. He spoke plainly—"The Wakadono should deign to throw up the whole connection. Under the present conditions the ruin of the House is unavoidable. Condescend to return to the original House in Honjo[u] Yokogawa. This course will be best. At least the Wakadono secures his own salvation. This is the advice of Kakusuke, grown old in experience of service in a samurai household. In naught else is there hope. As to himself, would the Wakadono condescend to grant dismissal." Long had been the intimacy between Ito[u] Kwaiba and Inagaki Sho[u]gen. Kakusuke, the messenger between the two Houses, had watched this Fukutaro[u] (Kibei) grow to manhood, had noted his prowess. It was with delight he had carried the documents which were to bring this new and vigorous blood into the home of his decadent master. This was the result. "A pest on these witches—and their craft!"