He was poor; coarsely and scantily clad as he came on his return through the darkness and snowflakes now coming down wet and moist, whirling and twisting under the increasing gale and gradually turning into a penetrating chilling sleet against which the straw raincoat was poor protection. In this guise Wataru Sampei was the gardener, making a precarious living at which his skill was accidental and vicarious. In his shabby home he was thesamurai, his two swords treasured, carefully wrapped and put away in the closet; struggling to live in order to bring up this boy Jumatsu in his own cult, to better times and retribution on the upstarts from the South. This night too had been part of hissamurai'sduty, in itssankeior pilgrimage to the Asakusa Kwannon. O'Kiku believed in efficacy of prayer to the goddess of mercy. A hasty word, implied rather than spoken, as to a passer by during the first sight of her, and the gesture of acquiescence on his part who had little faith. But the gesture was as strong in its obligation as an oath written and signed in blood.
On approaching his home with surprise he noted a woman by the door. She seemed to be in the act of coming or going. Surely he could not mistake that figure; nay, throwing the light of his lantern ahead a glimpse of the white wan face startled him. His heart leaped within him—"Is it Kiku? How comes the wife here at this hour? How has exit from theyashikibeen permitted?" But the woman answered not. Instead she moved away from him, into the darkness. More and more astonished Sampei called after her and followed. Always she eluded him. Thus he was led away two hundred, three hundred yards. There she was, halted beneath the willow tree on the river bank. Hispace broke into a run. Now she did not move or attempt to elude him, but as he came up the figure was but a stela to point the way to a near-by shrine. Sampei passed his hand over his brow. Kiku was too much on his mind; this forced widowerhood with charge of a toddling boy. Ah! If pity and affection would but allow him to transfer the child to others! Better would it be for both. But how face the mother without the child—and then, the lot of one's favoured child in the house of strangers and under their cold glances? Sampei himself could not part with Jumatsu. Easy was it for him to cut belly—and leave mother and child in this desolate condition. Meanwhile his uneasiness of mind at their present outlook was driving him to delusions.
Taking off his wet outer garments he stole into the bedroom. Now it was very late in the night; he would not disturb the child. To his surprise he found him sitting up on the quilts, shivering and weeping. "Bōchan! What's gone wrong?" He took the child's hands, anxious to note any sign of distress or fever. But Jumatsu made answer in his turn—"Mother has just been here. She was crying. She said—'Bō, the parting is for long. Never again will the mother be seen. Grow up, Bō; grow up to be a fine man.' Then she cried more than ever." A hand seemed to grasp the heart of Sampei—"Mother here, Bōchan!" Surely the child could not lie, even make up the story at this age, so fitting into his own uneasy vision. Continued the little fellow mid his tears—"It was not her fault. Someone broke the holly hock plate and charged mother with the crime. Then the Tono Sama killed her. He wanted her for his concubine; and so came to hate her and easily took the tale. It was not her fault. She said this—then went away."—"Whither?" Sampei's tone was so abrupt and harsh to startle the child into quiescence. He pointed to the house altar on its stand—"Mother just went away; into the Butsudan.... And she hasn't come back—to Bōchan." He ended in a wail and childish weeping. Ah! The hands now grasping at Sampei were of ice. Slowly he approached the Butsudan. Startled he saw the snow within it. This wild tale was taking the hold of certainty on his mind. He lit first one light, then the other in the altar stand.Then sharply of itself rang the little bell. A cold sweat stood out on Sampei's body—"Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu!" Earnest the prayer for some departed soul. Unconvinced, yet feeling the truth of the impression he passed the night with eyes wide open. With dawn he would go forth to make inquiries at the Banchōyashiki. This would be the fifteenth day. Anyhow Kiku would be expecting him.
He set out early, carrying the boy on his back. Humbly and with experience of such places he approached the gateman. "An inquiry to make."—"What is it?"—"At thisyashikiis there not a woman labouring, one O'Kiku?" The man eyed him with the contemptuous tolerance of him who knows—"Woman labouring? In theyashikithere are two score and more. Of Kiku more than one; although those of the men's quarters have nothing to do with such matters. Perhaps the slave girl Kiku is intended.... See her! Good fellow, are you mad? One under condemnation is not to be seen.... You have come far? Even if you had come from Ōshū or Kyūshū you could not see her.... But all the way from Honjō; it's too bad." The man looked at him with more benevolence. After all he had some heart, and many distressed people came to thisyashiki; entered into it. "Are you thirsty?... No? In that case entrance there is none; although the water of the well in theyashikiis said to be superior to all other, sovereign to cure thirst.... Ah! You have been dying with thirst all night. Your tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth. Then the case is altered. For the silver thanks are felt. Just enter. Perhaps some maid will come to the well to draw water. Perhaps this Kiku herself. One so ready—of tongue—can easily excuse his presence and this Yōzaémon, if there be question."
With humble thanks and joy Sampei followed the instructions. The well was at the corner of the larger paved space and from it he could see into the inner garden and the greater privacy of the establishment. Here he could note more life at this early hour, and even the stir of excitement. People were running to and fro as under some unusual stimulus. Slowly he drank, delayed as long ashe could, unnoticed and unquestioned. He could not thus act too long. Indeed as he moved off a foot soldier (ashigaru) passing asked his business. He gave excuse as on mission to a servant, whose name he picked up from one just gone by. As the man had taken a message outside his answer was a safe one. Sharply theashigarurepeated the fact of absence, and Sampei had no excuse not to leave. The excitement now was spreading to the front quarters of theyashiki. Fragments of talk showed him that his visit was most inopportune. Her ladyship had just died, and the household was in a buzz. When he would again speak to the gateman, the functionary's manner did not encourage it, Sampei took the hint of his cold unrecognizing eye and bowed in humble acknowledgment to all in going out the gate. "Chūdayu Dono—where is Aikawa Sama to be found?"—"The honoured chamberlain? He left theyashikilast night in the other watch. There has been no return during this of Yozaémon." So much he caught in passing.
Slowly Sampei passed down the Gomizaka and along the moat of the castle. It was with greatest reluctance he left this place. The child began to whimper. "Otosan(father), this Jumatsu is hungry." The little fellow's whimper turned to genuine tears. The father heartened him. Just ahead, on the Kudanzaka, all that should be remedied. Of the number of small shops Sampei noted the sign of the Kikkyōya—the House of the Full Well Bucket. Bending under the curtain strips hanging at the front he entered the cook shop. "Deign to come up here.... For food? Of the best: clam soup, a stew of vegetables and fish, hot boiledtōfu... andsaké, none better." The place did not promise much despite the advertisement. Avoiding the doubtful stew Sampei ordered wine for himself and hot boiled bean paste (tōfu) for Jumatsu. As he fed the child, and at opportunity sipped his wine, a blind shampooer entered; in this tiny place to take a seat close by. Apparently he was well known thereabouts. In bringing wine the host sat down beside him to talk—almost into the ear of Sampei.—"Toku no Ichi San, you are early abroad. Does illness or luxurious idleness summon the honouredAmma Santo the couch?... But yourself, you do not look well. Worklate into the night goes not with early rising. This is going to excess." The man coughed and drank, turned his sightless eyes on Sampei. What he said made this latter all attention.
"It is no early call brings out this Ichibei. Ah! What a night this last!"—"Truly so," replied the matter of fact host. "And no sign of the storm's cessation." He looked out for a moment on the flakes of snow, again coming down thick and heavy. "Drink your wine, Ichibei Dono. In truth you are as white as yonder falling flakes which you do not see. And 'tis said your kind cannot see ghosts."—"See them; no. To those whose eyes are darkened by the night of blindness the gods have granted grace against such visions. But alas! Other faculties have been sharpened. He who cannot see, can hear. Listen Jirōbei San. Last night this Ichibei was called to theyashikiof Ōkubo Sama. Theokugatawas in pain and needed his treatment for the limbs. It is a kindly house, one good to go to. The storm kept Ichibei in theyashiki: Food and the mat was granted, for his lordship would not send a cur, once granted shelter, out into storm and darkness. But next door it is very different. Here is theyashikiof Aoyama Shūzen Sama—the Yakujin of Edo. Jirōbei San knows of him. His lordship took theyashikifor the old well of the Yoshida Goten. 'Tis said at nights he takes wine and pipe, sits by the well, and in his hardiness and defiance of weather and season challenges the ghosts to appear. Last night.... Ah! The scene rung into the ears appears before the eyes even of the blind. It was the sound of blows—as of a wet cloth striking bare flesh. A woman plead for mercy. 'Vile wench.... Kiku.' These words were heard. Then such a scream—'Kiya!' as of rending silk—that yet it rings into the ears of this Ichibei; to banish sleep and peace of mind for the rest of the night. What could it be? Had the ghosts appeared? Or had some maid displeased the Tono Sama, and hence suffered death at his hand (te-uchi)? He is not one to spare suffering.... Ah! How she suffered! All night Ichibei has lain awake and suffered with her. It seems as if her cry never would depart from these ears. With dawn I fled—without food, and doubtless to the astonishmentof all. Feeling faint, your shop offered refreshment."—"Another bottle?... O'Kabé! At once: for Toku no Ichi San.... Honoured guest, thanks. Deign again the honoured patronage. Sixtymonthe price,sayonara."
Sampei paid the scot, and with Jumatsu carefully wrapped up against the storm passed out into the open air. Now he was himself again; thesamuraiof Kai, with the old traditions of his province and his liegeship to the great Takéda House. Against this Aoyama double was the vendetta—for Jinnai, for his wife Kiku. His ears had drunk in the convincing tale of the blind shampooer. His decision was as ready. His steps now were bent to the Miuraya in the Yoshiwara. At his name thebantōexpressed surprise. "Theoiranwas about to send a message; most opportune the honoured coming. Deign for the moment to wait." Related to their great attraction Sampei had every attention. Shortly the sound ofzōriwas heard, and O'Yui entered the room. Jumatsu viewed her beauty and splendour with grave approval, astonishment, and fear. "Obasan (auntie)? But she is young; beautiful, just like mother. Oh! Just like the pictures of the great Tayu." The two elders listened, preoccupied and with pained smile. "What book; and where seen?... Oya! Oya! In the priest's room at the Fukuganji? That should not be. Priest andoiranare not of kin." O'Yui's laugh was so silvery that Jumatsu in admiration pressed close to her knee. Clasping him she spoke to Sampei. Ah! How great was her anxiety. As she told her tale the heart of Sampei was filled with wrath and certainty—"This Chūdayu is such a strange fellow. The weather still holds him to the place. Hence by good luck it was possible to ask for a consultation. Has not some injury befallen the person of Nēsan? The ravings of this man in his drunken sleep, the vision of the sister, the face and garments all dyed with blood, cannot these find confirmation or disproof? In the embrace of this man Yui shudders." She wept.
With growing weight and terror at heart she noted the increasing gloom of Sampei's face. "Kiku is no longer of this world. It is true. Herself she told the tale to Jumatsu. At theyashikiall is confusion with the death of the lady of the House. By accidentJumatsu's vision is corroborated by the blind shampooer, led into the cook shop of Kudanzaka by the same hand which led Chūdayu to the arms of theoiranO'Yodo. The evidence is complete for this Sampei. To-night—at the first opportunity—Sampei kills this Aoyama Shūzen; then cuts belly. As for Chūdayu, Kiku has brought him to O'Yui San. Deign to accept the charge. Last night he has been the lover, and the chance of the weather and the charms of O'Yui have kept him here. Let the coming night be his last." He put a restraining hand on the sleeve of O'Yui. In vengeance at once she would have rushed off to poniard this obscene fellow. Be once more the object of his embraces? Alas! Hers indeed was "the bitter toil," which led her to the arms of this scoundrel dripping with a sister's blood. But she listened to the cold and cautious counsel of Sampei, and nodded comprehension and assent. When she re-entered the room where Chūdayu was drinking and roistering there was not a sign of any emotion. Once again she was the harlot, to charm and inveigle him into remaining with her. Ha! Ha! The gods had granted his prayer. "Kiku? She was a beauty—and the impression of childhood would be corroborated by her later appearance. But even thus she is a faded old woman to the honouredoiran. A bag of bones!" He roared with drunken laughter; and O'Yui fingered the handle of the dagger in her bosom, in frenzy at the vile jest. "Come now! Kiku has been the object of Chūdayu's love. He confesses it. But now—away with such an O'Baké. He seeks the greater solace of O'Yodo's arms." The wine nearly choked him. His eyes stood out. He gasped and choked. Anxiously theoirannursed him back to breath.
Late that night he had gone to bed very drunk. The ninth hour struck (1a.m.). O'Yodo, who had sought temporary excuse, entered. Chūdayu again was dreaming, horribly. Ah! This vision would never pass. O'Kiku was standing by him. At first faint, then loud came the voice, and Chūdayu counted with her—"One"—"One"—"Two"—"Two"—"Three"—"Three".... On went the count. Now she was astride of him, pressing him down, throttling him. "O'Kiku Dono! It was not Chūdayu.The treachery was his; but the Tono Sama gave the blow." He writhed and struggled in his sleep. Then O'Yui dealt the thrust, straight downward. "Yai! Yai! Ah!" The scream rang out, startling all around. Alas! A little misdirected the dagger glanced from the bone and pierced the shoulder. As the man rolled her off the girl made one desperate effort. Deep she thrust the blade into his right side, ripped it up and side ways. "Kiya!" Chūdayu staggered and rolled over, hands to his side to hold in the severed liver and guts. When she would strike again her hands were held. The bawd (yarité), aroused and passing, saw the shadow of the raised dagger. Thebantōhad come to her aid. While some sought to aid the desperately wounded man, others drew away O'Yodo, again the woman and overcome with tears of regret at her failure.
Jinzaémon of the Miuraya questioned her. Was itshinjū—a mutual suicide to insure happiness together in the next life? Had she really known the man before, and not pretended new acquaintance? Then, without mention of Sampei, she told the story of her vision, her certainty that inquiry would establish the truth of its accusation. Jinzaémon had no recourse. The Yoshiwarabugyō, withdōshin, was soon at hand. "To kill a man on such evidence...." But before applying torture he would question the victim. Chūdayu's case was hopeless. The liver was almost severed. Death was but a matter of an hour or two. During that time his ravings in delirium, his confession in lucid moments, added a new and momentous phase to the case in corroborating the tale of theoiranas to the strange vision. Thebugyōdid not dare to go further. He must consult those higher in authority. Ahatamotoof the land was involved; one just favoured with appointment astsukaiban(staff officer) to the suzerain. Themachibugyōhimself had no power in this case. Hence the affair—its nature and its proof—must be submitted to thewaka-toshiyori, the officer of State in immediate charge of thehatamoto, their control and interests. Meanwhile the affair must be smothered and strict search made for the recent visitor Sampei, who had completely disappeared. Jumatsu readily was traced to the care of the house master (iyenushi) at Koumé. His tenant, on plea of business in Kai, had left the childwith him. Thus they went astray, and thus failed to act. Meanwhile Shinano no Kami at last determined to send for and question Aoyama Shūzen. The seventh day following the retribution was reached—to the great enlightenment of these puzzled magistrates.[33]
Aoyama'syashikiblazed with light. The guests looked around, at the many lamps, the waiting-women in dainty attire, the ornament of service and of substance; and then looked into each other's faces. The unseemliness of the thing was on the minds of all these dozen to twenty gentlemen. The body of the wife had hardly been carried from the house to the funeral pyre. It was true that grief was to be given no display in thesamuraicode. The new promotion offered excuse for its celebration. But on the whole this feast seemed an indecent exhibition of rejoicing. "Aoyama Uji is not the Shūzen of old. What has got into the man this past month?" Thus Okumura Shūzen spoke of his namesake. "Bah! It is the shadow of Kiku, the 'sewing girl.' Aoyama rejoices in thus replacing old material. May he get a better heir on her than his last. 'Tis said to be a monster!" Endō Saburōzaémon whispered, half in jest and half in a savage earnest of disapproval.
Ōkubo Hikoroku first broached the matter openly at table. "Aoyama Uji, is this not a strange meeting? Here we are, all members of the Gaman Kwai; ashatamoto, men close to the suzerain's knee and ready for the call to battle. But this—with the glitter of apparel in substance and women, it is show and feast forkugé(court nobles), a meeting to view the moon and its light upon the snow. Deign to explain." Aoyama smiled. He might have made some formal excuse for this eccentricity. Saburōzaémon spoke out for him—"Don't be obtuse, Ōkubo Uji. The one lacking here is the cause of the feast. O'Kiku Dono still delays. Is it not so, Aoyama Uji?" He spoke with cold certainty, a curious intonation in voice. Aoyama was black with a fury about to burst forth when Ōkubosprang up. He looked around. "Just so! Wait but a moment. We'll have her here." Aoyama was turned aside, and would have detained him. "Hikoroku Dono, it is useless. Kiku is not in theyashiki." To the dubious look of astonishment—"It is fact. She was a vile disloyal woman. Breaking the holly hock plate, the trust gift of the Tōshōgu, this Aoyama put her to death. This shall be apology to the suzerain's House." Ōkubo sat down again in pure amazement—"For what is said one feels regret. The apology is made; but surely...." Endō Saburōzaémon laughed outright. He seemed with intention to egg him on. Ōkubo turned indignantly. "Why laugh, Endō Uji? Is the life of a human being to be put against a piece of porcelain?"—"Saburōzaémon laughs at your credulity, Ōkubo Dono. It is but a ruse to put us from the search. Kiku certainly is not far off."
Ōkubo danced up in a fury. This time he was not to be kept. "'Tis true! But the badger's lurking hole, the place where he keeps her, is known. Soon she shall be here." Defying Shūzen's wrath he and Endō left the room. Ōkubo was ahead. Throwing open theshōjiof the maid's room he looked within. Ah! Standing by the closet in the dim light was the figure of O'Kiku. "Kiku, why are you here, not joining in the feast? The beauty and the lady, whose love seduces so stern a man as Shūzen to soft ways, is not to neglect the guests. Come to the banquet hall." He seized her sleeve. Said Saburōzaémon from therōka—"Whom do you address, Ōkubo Uji?" He looked around the room. "There is no one here.... Kiku? You grasp a garment hanging on the clothes rack." It was true. Dazed and somewhat upset Ōkubo returned to the banquet room. Aoyama met defiantly the hard look of Endō, the inquiring question of Ōkubo—"Is it true Aoyama? Did you really value a human life against a plate, and kill her?"—"It is plain fact," was the answer.
Again the strange looks passed between the guests. Some shrugged their shoulders. Others looked at him and whispered. Some laughed, with glances at the frightened faces of the waiting women. "It's not to be believed," said the emphatic tones of Ōkubo. Suddenly a breath seemed to go round the room. Everylight went out; except the one before Hikoroku. Dimly outlined by Shūzen's side could be seen the figure of O'Kiku. The wan face amid the long disordered dangling hair; the gore smeared face, and neck, and bosom, sent a thrill and shudder through those present. At the exclamations Shūzen turned. He saw her—"Vile jade! You too would reproach Shūzen. A cut for you!" He sprang up, dagger in hand to cut her down. Then followed a wild scene with the raving man. The maids sought to avoid death; happily with success beyond trifling injuries, for sight of a woman made him frantic. Surrounding Shūzen the men drew him on. From behind Ōkubo, Okumura, Endō rushed upon him. Overpowered he was secured. With the madness of the host the banquet came to an end. As they left Ōkubo said to Endō Saburōzaémon—"Really Endō Uji, why so rough in speech with Aoyama? With those of one band quarrels are not to be sought."—"Nor will be," answered Saburōzaémon with a slight tinge of contempt. Then he added slowly—"There is a strange affair in Yoshiwara. The chamberlain of Shūzen, one Chūdayu, is involved; and Shūzen with him. This matter of Kiku threatens grave issue with thewaka-toshiyori. It is said that the two murdered the woman—because both wanted her for concubine." He laughed harshly—"Why tell these facts to neighbour Ōkubo?" Said Hikoroku, with his blunt truth—"The sounds and sights from Shūzen'syashikiare not always pleasant. There are tales in the household of a night—that on which Shūzen's wife died. All there was in confusion. It is for fellow-members to protect the reputation of each other." Endō was rebuked in turn.
Shūzen was himself again. With the passing of the wine, the guests, the confusion, he was the cold, collected, dreaded master of a few hours ago. Respectfully thekeraiwithdrew. Left to himself he pondered the events of these hours. He recognized and measured the concentrated dislike expressed in the words and actions of Endō Saburōzaémon, egging on Ōkubo, irritating himself to desperation. To Shūzen it was a question as to just what was meant. At his age even in his caste men did not seek each other out to draw the sword. The issue was much more serious, involving disgrace. He would like to get at the inner motive of this fellow's action.How invaluable the aid of Chūdayu, who knew the ins and outs of theyashikiof all Edo, and particularly of his lord's intimates. But he had disappeared—as if the earth had swallowed him. Shūzen had condoned too many instances of the chamberlain's free use of his lord's funds, to come upon him harshly for any peculation. The man had been useful in many dubious actions; in bribery, solicitation, pimping, as a useful and facile witness. Chūdayu would worm himself to the bottom of this matter in short order.
Thus he went to rest. Despite disordered brain his sleep was sound. It was Gekkeiji's bell striking the ninth hour (1a.m.) which roused; or else the throat fouled and dried his mouth. He was parched beyond measure; his tongue seemed to fill the whole cavity. Impatiently he called—"Heigh there! Water! Is there no one to attend?"—"At the lord's service...." The gentle tones of a woman made answer. She knelt at his pillow. The water pitcher was offered. He took it and drank greedily. Then—"What maid is this? Does she seek Shūzen's bed? He is in no humour for such favour." And the girl wailed in answer—"Ah! Ah! Harsh his lordship's tone, harsh his words. Has not long since his command been issued? The fault lies not with Kiku. A lying officer stands between the Tono Sama and his handmaid." Shūzen sat bolt upright, glaring. Framed by the long trailing hair there appeared to his eyes the wan, blood smeared face of O'Kiku. With a yell he was on one knee—"Wretched woman! Does Kiku still pursue and solicit Shūzen? Make ready! Again a cut!" He sprang to his feet, grasped and drew the pillow sword. With smothered cry of terror and anguish the figure turned to flee; but he cut her down from shoulder to pap. As he did so theshōjiwere flung wide apart. The moonlight from the openedamadoflooded the room and lighted up the intruder.
Rage and hate growled in the tones of Shūzen—"A bandit thief and doubtful fellow, thus to push himself into the presence of ahatamotoof the land! Fellow, name yourself: who thus by night breaks into Shūzen's presence, intrudes upon his pleasure." Harsh and insulting the laugh of Sampei. He pointed with his drawn sword to the bleeding prostrate corpse of the unfortunate waitingmaid, cut down by Shūzen in belief of the apparition of her namesake. "More than one Kiku harbours in the lair of Aoyama. Would he slay them all in sacrifice to his lust? Wataru Sampei comes to ask account of his wife Kiku, daughter of Jinnai,rōninof Takéda Ke of Kai, as is himself. Now—to the contest! God of the bow and feathered shaft, favour this Sampei!"—"Favour this Shūzen!" Both men made invocation almost in the same breath as they sprang at each other. Sampei was pushed on by rage and vengeance; Aoyama by a savage joy in combat. Here was a worthy antagonist, a true taste of old of the battle field. If Sampei was the younger man, he was also in worse training than Shūzen; and in his poor condition hardly a match for the practised soldier. However Shūzen was compelled to admire a resourcefulness in parrying his own fierce attack, the beauty of his enemy's Muramasa blade, which seemed itself to act and seek his life. "Shūzen's prize—the sword of Sampei!" He shouted in exultation. Sampei was forced back to therōka. At the sill he tripped and fell. "Now off with you—to Meido and the Yellow Fountain, to join wife and parent thief." Shūzen in joy swung high his blade for the fatal blow. Sampei without sword was helpless at his feet. But the blade did not descend. Shūzen's arm was held fast. By the outraged wife, O'Kiku, as later tradition would assert? At this pass Sampei used his dagger. Plunged straight into the belly of Shūzen with it he disembowelled him. Abandoning hold on his weapon, with a screech Aoyama fell, twisting and writhing in the pool of his blood. When thekerai, roused by the disturbance, the shouts and the clashing of swords, fell on Sampei, to disarm and make short work of him, thekarōMakishima Gombei prevented them. With difficulty he dragged Shūzen's sword out from the deep cut it had made in the beam of the partition. "Stain not good weapons with the blood of a rascal and thief, who shall undergo the torture and the disgrace of the execution ground. Be sure his lordship will be well avenged. It is better so."
Thus with bitter regret Sampei found himself avenged, but still in life. The next day, with the presence of the messengers from Shinano no Kami, the situation changed. With the report from Makishima was demanded the person of Wataru Sampei,whose story fitted into present evidence obtained. Deeper and deeper went the investigation into Aoyama's house affairs. Here was great disorder—harshness, lust, ill discipline. On this latter charge—lack of discipline—official displeasure gladly fell. The tale of the monster, obviously unfit for any service to the suzerain, came out. Thekaiekiof the House—deprivation of rank and income—followed. As far as posthumous action could disgrace, so far did Shūzen suffer.
Much better was the fate of Sampei. The case of the Banchōyashikino longer could be hid under a bushel. It was the affair of ahatamoto, so hated by thedaimyō. Satsuma no Kami sought and obtained his charge. During the weeks which followed Sampei was the object of respect and solicitude of those who had the care of him. Asrōninof the Takéda House this was all the greater in thisyashikiwhere the Tokugawa were held in no great affection. The breaking into theyashikiof ahatamoto, the slaying of its lord, could not be condoned. The official world was glad to combine this with the lack of discipline decision. When the inevitable order came to cut belly it was a chamberlain of Satsuma no Kami who acted askaishaku(second); and Sampei knew that to this man would fall the possession and adoption of his little son. Thus came he to his end, and his House into this brave heirship. Thus was disappointed the malice of Shūzen, in his last breath denouncing his slayer as the husband of O'Kiku. Announced Horibé Izumi no Kami, themachibugyōwho made final disposition of the case—"Between Sampei and Kiku no marriage being proved, the issue belonging to the man, the child Jumatsu is held sinless; for the woman Yui detention for further examination of conduct and condition." This examination never came; nor was intended to come. For some months she was detained in theyashikiof Horibé Sama. Then the third Shōgun died; a general pardon followed of all ordinary offenders. Under this order she was released, and the Miuraya had the hint or good sense not to press for renewed service. A nun, she cut off the long and beautiful hair, to pray in this world for the souls of father, sister, he who had acted as more than brother in the vengeance taken. Thus through the long years to her final and irrevocable release without any earthly condition.
Again the site of the Yoshida Goten lapsed to waste land. Through the years stood theyashikiof Aoyama Shūzen, in wall and roof and beam gradually going to rot and ruin. Passing by on nights of storm wayfarers saw most frightful visions—the sports and processions of spectres issuing forth from the old well of the one time inner garden. Their wailing cries and yells were heard. Conspicuous among them was the sight of the unfortunate Kiku, her wan face framed in the long rank disordered hair; the weird beauty frightful in its expression of horror, as with the stumps of fingers she counted—"One, two, three ... four, five, six ... seven, eight, nine." Then came the haunting fearful cry—"Alas! What's to be done? One lacks. Oh! Oh!" Sight, sound, glare went to the hearts of the stoutest witnesses. Soon the ill fortune of those thus favoured with the vision of the Lady of the Plates was rumoured abroad. Wounds, money losses, even death fell on them or on their households. Men no longer were curious. They fled the neighbourhood of this ill omened gap in Earth's surface, unseemly exit for these foul spirits. On nights of rain and storm none passed that way. Even by day the children were rebuked and forbidden to approach the well.
Many are the stories as to the place. To instance one of these: It was Hōei third year (1706)—the approach of winter in this tenth month (November). Then came to Edo town a wandering pilgrim (shugenja) and his wife. Tramping the land all summer to Nippon's varied shrines and sights, now they were on the return to their home in Michinoku (Ōshū). Much had they heard of Edo, capital seat of Nippon's great lord. Every day busied with its sights they returned wearied to their inn in the Shitaya district.This day they had wandered far. Returning from Renkeiji of Kawagoé they passed the Naitō Shinjuku quarter. Almost as great, if of different kind, was the woman's curiosity at sight of the caged beauties, waiting the summons of those far better supplied with cash than her own spouse. Finally in indignation she dragged away the loiterer; and muttering rebuke followed after the jingle of the rings on his pilgrim's staff. They were passing through the Go Banchō, along the long stretch ofyashikiwall. From a postern gate came forth a woman. The light of her lantern fell on the man and his equipment—"Oya! Oya! Good fortune indeed: honouredshugenja, a moment's stay. To-night a memorial service is to be said for the mansion's lord. Condescend to enter and grant service." Willingly husband and wife heard the invitation to rest their wearied bodies. Passing through the garden water was supplied to wash the feet. Then they were seated before an ample feast fit for their kind; of glutinous rice balls coated with the sweet bean paste (botamochi), of macaroni the savour of which tickled the nostrils,sakéfollowed, in generous quantity and of quality to match.
Said the girl—"It is an all night service that is requested. Deign to undertake the watch and prayer. Ample shall be the reward." Prostrate theshugenjaspoke his thanks. The Butsuma, or room containing the little shrine, was close at hand. Seating himself, his woman just behind, he bowed and made reverence. "Thanks for the honoured entertainment so generous and excellent. May the honoured spirit find rest, at once entering Nirvana ... and now, the Hannya Shinkyō—Sutraof the divine intelligence."[34]He began the recitation, accompanied by his wife. Both intoned thenembutsu—"Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! Praise to Amida the Lord Buddha!" Again the recitation of theSutrawas begun. The hours of the night advanced. Man and wife became more and more drowsy; slower and slower came the words of the sacred writing. Then the man nodded off to sleep; as long before had the wife. The hour of the ox struck at Gekkeiji, filling this whole district with its heavy boom. The man wokewith a start. What fearful shriek was that? Close by in the next room a woman's voice began counting. But such a voice! "One, two, three...." on it went to "nine.... Ah! Woe is me! One lacks. What's to be done!" Shrill, blood chilling the cry of anguish which followed. Curiosity overcame terror. The man stole to the screens and gently opened the merest slit. Over his shoulder looked the startled wife.
A shudder went through both at the sight. Wan, frail, the beautiful anguished evil face of a girl could be seen through the long tangled hair framing it. Slender to the emaciation of great suffering she knelt before the pile of plates she was counting—"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...." The wild chilling scream froze man and woman. For at the moment in sprang another female, in whose worn emaciated face and figure was displayed such concentrated evil passion of hatred and jealousy as rarely to be seen on human being. Like the flying hateful god Idaten she sprang upon the girl, grasped her long black hair, and hurled her to this side and that. Helpless the victim held up the bloody stumps of fingers. Now the face was seen to be dyed in blood, the garments dyed red with blood, the girl again agonizing in a pool of blood. With horror the pilgrim and the woman hid their faces. The man's hands trembled as he struck the bell and intoned the holy recital. Thus in a daze, amid the counting, the cries and shouts, the weeping and the wailing, he went on. The cry of the cock was heard. As if by magic all the wild sounds ceased. The wanderers looked around in amazement. The altar was the stone curb of a well. Theyashikiand its magnificence stood close by; but the building was roofless and in ruins. Chilled to the bone, half dead and half mad with fright, the two fled—to reach their inn.
At their tale host and those assembled shook their heads. "It is the Sarayashiki of the Banchō, the well that of the old Yoshida Goten, whence ghosts issue; unless by good fortune the vision be a trick of fox or badger. Honoured Sir, have prayers said to avoid ill fortune." But a merry, foul, cynical old fellow—peasant turned townsman—twinkled in his laughter. "Then O'Kiku San hasfavoured theshugenjaand his spouse with feast and gifts?"—"'Twas very strange," naively replied the pilgrim. "Copious and splendid the entertainment. Of the reality there can be no doubt. This Jubei did not feast in a dream on those dainties." The host and other auditors broke into coarse laughter—"Feast! Thebotamochiwas of horse dung, the macaroni was earth-worms, the wine—was urine." All roared in their great joy. The unfortunate pilgrims, much put out, made gesture of discomfiture and fright. Said the peasant-townsman, in sly hit at the host—"Perchance O'Kiku brought the viands from near-by inn or cook shop. Surely these furnish little better." Laughing he left the now angry innkeeper to aid his wretched guests, writhing and retching in all the pains, actual and imagined of such a feast.
Command went forth to the holy man—and from the Shōgun Ke himself. A halt must be brought to these unseemly proceedings so close to the suzerain's dwelling. These priests of the Dendzu-In, in the shadow of whose temple rested so many of the Tokugawa dead, were famed for learning and for piety. The founder of the Hall, Ryōyō Shōnin, had set to his successors this standard as necessary accomplishment, bequeathing to them perhaps the ability to meet the demand of his title of Mikatsuki Shōnin. Between his eyes was a mole in shape like to the crescent moon of the third day. Hence the appellation and its meaning application; for as the moon waxed to its full, so did the Shōnin with advancing years wax great in learning, and throw his increasing light upon mankind. Of this first prior there is a tale. It was the period of the Ashikaga wars, and the Shōnin, for safety and on business of his order, was resident for the nonce at Asonuma in Kotsuké province. As he prayed and wrought in the night, without rose violent sound of fighting and disturbance. Rising he looked forth. Two bands of men at direst odds displayed the greatest cruelty to each other. But what men! Emaciated to flesh and bone, weird and unhappy of face, the Shōnin saw that these were not of this world. His determination was at once taken. Rosary in hand and intoning thenembutsuhe stepped forth. The strife parted before him; its actors were prostrate in his presence. "What means this fierceness ofbattle?" asked the prelate. "Surely ye are not of the world, thus without mercy to strive to do such pitiless cruelty."—"Not of this world," said one raising his head; "but no more cruel than men in the flesh. In the Gempei wars, fighting we lost our lives. Our bodies tumbled promiscuously into one common ditch, without rites or worship, the grudge still continues through the decades. Deign, honoured priest, the aid of prayers of one so holy, for the rest of all." Gladly the prior grasped the opportunity—"For such surely is the charm of the Sacred Name—the paper with the sacred characters of the Nembutsu, Namu Amida Butsu. Not this ignorant foolish cleric, but the vow of the Nyōrai, Amida, relieves you from the Hell of fighting (Shuradō). Deign to accept the charm and enter Nirvana." Gladly the outstretched hands received it. Then all vanished in a mist. On the following day with discretion and modesty the prior told his experience to his open mouthed and credulous disciples. An ancient man of the place was found to point out where tradition placed the burial and its mound. The bones found on digging were sorted, and with rites found burial. Never after were prior, disciples, or villagers troubled with these visions. But the prior's reputation took an upward bound, to the credit of his sect.
Thus it was with his successor—himself a true Mikatsuki Shōnin in the illumination of his learning—"From his youth he had abandoned the world, and all the scripture had passed under his eyes. At eighteen years he knew all thesutraand the doctrines of Shaka (Sakyamuni), and books whether exoteric or esoteric. Moreover he understood thoroughly astrology and almanacs, the poetry of Morokoshi (China) and Nippon, and instrumental music. Truly once heard he knew ten times, so clever he was." It was to this Saint, in his eighty-second year, that the order came to lay the ghost of O'Kiku, to dispel the disorderly spectres of the well of the Yoshida Goten. "A difficult, nay a severe task; but one well within the power and mercy of the Buddha. To-night we go forth to the attempt. Let all exert themselves." His subject clerics bowed low—"Respectfully heard and obeyed." They liked it not. The nights were cold; the place noted for bad company, and bad weather. But the order of their head was not to be disobeyed.
With the first watches of the stormy night the Shōnin and some thirty priests were assembled about the well curb. Earnestly the Shōnin read the sacred writing. Vigorously his followers made the responses. Louder the voices and greater their confidence as the night progressed without sign of visions. Then said the Shōnin—"Surely great is the efficacy of thesutra. Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! All evil visions and spectres vanish; to seek the peace and oblivion of Nirvana. Let the event prove the efficacy of the charm."—"Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu!" Loud the voices of the priests, but now in terror. The bell of Gekkeiji was striking the hour of the ox (1a.m.). Crouching and shivering they saw the spectral lighting up of the well. The blue glittering points began to dot its mouth. Then swarms of spectres began to pour forth, obscene and horrible. Among them appeared the ghost of O'Kiku. Stricken with fear the priests stopped all reading of the holy writ. Flat on their faces, their buttocks elevated high for great concealment, they crouched in a huddled mass. "Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu! Spare us, good ghosts—thus disturbed most rudely in your nightly haunt and revels. Ha! Ah! One's very marrow turns to ice. No more! No more! Away!" But the Shōnin held firm. Surrounded by the jibing menacing mass of spirits, steadily and without fear he hung on to his scroll, read thesutra, intoned thenembutsu. One by one his company stole away; as did the spectres with approaching dawn.
He did not reproach his flock. Said the prior to the shamed assembly—by daylight: "Surely this is a very difficult undertaking. This curse of the dead is no ordinary one. It is a soul without light, of some highly debauched sinner, of some woman vowed to eternal hate. Deep the malignancy; but deeper yet the efficacy of Mida's vow. Seven nights will do it. Let all make every effort." He looked around, with trace of gentle rebuke—"We are men who have left the world (shukké). Why then fear the dead; when ye are part and parcel of them? Perhaps greater company is needed." He sought it from his fellow priors. From Shiba to Asakusa they swarmed. With fifty, with seventy, with ahundred and seventy priests, all reciting theSutra, intoning thenembutsu, the noise and confusion rose high above the sound of storm and spectre. Sleep was banished far and wide thereabouts. But this could not last. "One, two, three, four...." with the counting of the plates the chilling heart rending shriek, the wail of the unhappy girl, the stoutest volunteers quailed and with their hands shut out the spectral vision. These volunteers disappeared with the second week of recitation entered on by the Shōnin. Even his own band began to fail him. They sent substitutes, in the shape of the temple servants, the lowest grade, the Shoké Sama. When a third week was announced, as sure to accomplish the exorcism, there was open rebellion. It was with sadness and admiration that the Shōnin saw his band thus reduced to a few faithful men, the oldest of his flock, almost as old as himself—and these deaf, blind, and almost dumb. "Ah! It is a tremendous affair. Deep the malignancy of this curse. This foolish priest has overrated his reputation with the Buddha. Great the discredit to the sect and temple at the wide heralded failure." He felt as ill and out of sorts away from the presence of the vision, as did his disciples in its presence. He was old and foolish and over-confident.
The prior slept on his cushion, his robes still wet with the storm and rain of the previous night. Then came a woman, dressed in sombre garb. Approaching the sleeping priest she wrote upon his sleeve the characterki機, bowed reverently, and disappeared. He awoke seeming to hear her footsteps. How clear was this dream! The characterki, what did it portend? The Buddha would not fail his priest. Taking himself to the altar he prostrated himself before the seated figure. Then he prayed. And as he prayed—perhaps resumed his nap—wonderful to say again the character 機 appeared, this time on the Buddha's sleeve. The Shōnin rubbed his eyes. Was he awake or dreaming? He did not know. "Ki," the chance, the opportunity that the successful man in every undertaking grasps, where others fail. He must apply it to his own calling and the crisis. They exercised their brains; he was reputed to be well furnished. This next night was the last ofthe third seven days. Failing favourable issue he would take up his staff and depart to other place, never to reappear in the beloved precincts of his hall. Thus inspired he thought and thought. The grave, kindly, piercing eyes became brighter and brighter. Then his monks came running in surprise and alarm. The reverend prior was laughing—not in merriment, but with the joy of him who has found the successful issue to be so plain and easy.
This last and critical night in storm and riot proved to be the worst of all. Said the Shōnin with grave kindness—"This night the Shōnin goes; others need not accompany." All rejoiced—until they saw his preparation to face the rain and cold. Then they weakened, and all plead to accompany him. Splendid the train assembled around the well curb. Again the reading of thesutrabegan, the intonation of thenembutsu. Again the clerics cursed their ill timed enthusiasm, which brought them out in the storm and to such unseemly company. Again the ghosts issued forth from the old well in their obscene riot. Jeering, menacing they swarmed around the frightened priestly band. Immoveable the prior. Natural and supernatural seemed to hang on the issue between priest and spectres. The figure of O'Kiku, wan, sad, malignant appeared. She counted—"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...."—"Ten!" shouted the Shōnin, extending the Junen. "Ara! What joy! None lack. Ah! By the Shōnin's virtue this Kiku secures Nirvana. Gratitude and obeisance are due." With the words the figure faded, the spectres disappeared, the storm rumbled and passed off rapidly to the distance, and the stars shone out on the cold clear sky of a perfect fall night with its studded firmament.
Thus did the Shōnin find the secret in thetenrepetition of the sacred formula—thejunen. On her finger stumps O'Kiku counted—counted as does the successful man in the business of life. But O'Kiku was maimed. The thumb was lacking. Hence the tale went but to nine. The missing factor once supplied her count found completion. Long had been accomplished her vow of indignant vengeance, but still the plates remained to count for her own release, and this she could not effect. Great was the reputation thusacquired to priest and temple. Probably it was this feat which has confused him with his greater predecessor, the founder of the temple; transferred most anachronistically to this latter the tradition of the actual laying of the ghost.
There is an old book[35]in which the matter is discussed—"It was in the old well that Kikujō was drowned, says tradition in Shōhō 3rd year (1646). By the ability, merit, and power of Mikatsuki Shōnin her soul was saved, and at once she became a Buddha. Though such be the story, by the temple register the founder of the Dendzu-In, Ryōyō Shōnin, entered the Hall in Ōei 22nd year 9th month 27th day (29th October 1415). One smiles. Ho! The Shōnin lived two hundred and fifty-six years before, and dates do not amalgamate. How many generations had the Shōnin seen when Kikujō became a Buddha! The Mikatsuki Shōnin becomes a bubble Shōnin. The learning of this Mikatsuki Shōnin was notorious, and it has been banded down to people of later generations in matters concerning Ryōyō Shōnin. Deign to take a glance at facts here indicated. The 'Edo Bukkaku Ryakuden' (Epitomised Record of Buddhist teaching in Edo) says under the heading 'Muryōzan Jukyōji Dendzu-in'—