Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
"No, wait," Yoshihira interposed hastily, "you'll spoil my chances of getting at Kiyomori if you do that."
"No, I'll bide my time. I had no chance when she was living in Itogo's house. When you're through with Kiyomori, I'll deal with Tokiwa," Konno-maru replied bitterly.
In spite of himself, Yoshihira was torn by conflicting emotions. His dead father—this unendurable affront to the Genji, the disgrace.
". . . but not right away. Kiyomori first. Not until you hear that Kiyomori has got what he deserves."
Yoshihira and Konno-maru fell silent, when a sudden crashing overhead brought fragments of bark showering down on them. They looked up, startled. A large crow that had been about to alight on the shrine roof flapped wildly as it flew to a branch higher up. On the roof the two spied a figure—a monk. The ragged shape craned down at them and smiled, showing a row of white teeth through his beard. There was something both friendly and mocking in the quick disinterested look he gave them. Yoshihira, Konno-maru, and Rokuro felt their hair stand on end; they grew pale. Had he overheard them? Their first impulse was to kill the monk, but the figure on the roof seemed to sense this and called down to them:
"I had nothing to do with this. That was the crow. You need not be afraid of me."
He had undoubtedly heard every word of what they had been saying, for he sat with his back flattened against the triangular side-wall of the gable; not even the crow had seen the monk in his cramped position on the projecting roof.
Yoshihira at length smiled wryly and motioned to him. "Your reverence, I have something to ask you. Won't you come down here?"
"I'm busy, that's why I'm up here. If you have something to ask me, speak to me from where you are. I can hear you quite well."
"What are you doing up there?"
"Can't you guess? Mending this roof."
"Thatching it?"
"Yes, I'm a traveling monk and I've been living in this old shrine. The sanctuary is always flooded when it rains. That crow must have been scratching around in the thatch, too. A fine day, isn't it?" The monk laughed. "I've been up here all morning, working. What are you doing there?"
“…”
"Never mind, you needn't tell me, but since we meet so unexpectedly, let me tell you a few things. You must think I'm only a disreputable monk whose advice means nothing to you, but you're young—so very young that I can't help pitying you. Take better care of your precious lives. Don't forget that the future is still before you."
"What do you take us for?"
"How can I tell? Why should I know?"
"You must have overheard us."
"Was it something that you didn't want me to hear? Very careless of you. A good thing it was I—I'm as harmless as that old crow."
"Here, come down. It was unfortunate that you overheard us. We're not going to let you get off alive."
The monk chuckled with merriment, neither mocking nor admonitory. The narrowed eyes turned down on the youths seemed fondly protective.
"I see him. I recognize him now—that reckless young warrior who pursued Kiyomori's son from the Taikenmon Gate to the canal. And the world has so changed that he hasn't even the spirit to capture the crow on this roof!"
"If you refuse to come down, I'll come up and get you myself."
"Try it—you'll only be wasting your time. I heard you talking, but your secrets are safe with me. I've no more intention of reporting you to Rokuhara than that crow. My sympathies, in fact, are with the defeated and that's why I want to talk to you, young man, who still have the world before you. Your father and brothers are dead and the Genji scattered, but why must you throw away your life? Out of you will come future generations. Guard that priceless life of yours! Forget those foolish plans for revenge. You can't change this world by killing one man. O fool, fool that you are! Can't you see that that helpless woman, submitting quietly to her agonies for love of her children, is far more courageous than you?" The three youths under the tree fell silent. The light sifting through the treetops showed that evening was near, and a red glow played over the seated figures.
"See, see how the sun has moved onward while we talked. Nothing can stop it in its course. Prayers cannot halt the revolving of nature. It is the same with human life. Victory and defeat are one in the vast stream of life. Victory is the beginning of defeat, and who can rest safely in victory? Impermanence is the nature of all things of this world. Even you will find that your ill fortunes too will change. It is easy to understand the impatience of the old, whose days are numbered, but why should you young ones fret when the future is yours? Why try to dispel your petty dejection by a rash act that can only hasten death?"
"There's the crow again. It's about time you young men went back. Better still, leave the capital far behind you. And it's time for me to get down from this roof," said the monk, coming to his feet.
The three youths stood up as though spellbound by what they had heard, and Yoshihira ran quickly up to the shrine. "Wait, wait, your words move me. I shall come tomorrow morning to listen to you once more. I shall think on what you just said. But, your reverence, tell me who you are."
"You must pardon me for refusing; my name will only disgrace me."
"You are someone out of the ordinary. What connections do you have with the Genji?"
"None. Nor with the Heike. I am what you see, only a traveling monk. Let us meet here tomorrow morning."
"But at least tell us who you are."
"No, all I have done is preach to you self-righteously, talked down to you for being so foolish when I at your age made such a fool of myself. I was an even more despicable fool than any of you. I was carried away by an infatuation for another man's wife and became the laughing-stock of the capital. Only death can wipe away my guilt, but I have spent years at the Nachi Falls, expiating my sin."
"You? Then, you're Mongaku!" Yoshihira exclaimed, craning to see better. But Mongaku had vanished, and he searched in vain. Only a crow stood perched on the gable end, preening his feathers and peering up from time to time at the evening stars.
The three walked away, silent and thoughtful, until Yoshihira shook himself impatiently in self-reproof. Why should the words of that monk cause him to waver? Why had he let himself be carried away for an instant by impractical suggestions? There was no denying, however, that the monk spoke the truth, for men and all earthly things changed from moment to moment.
"He's right—there's no denying it. Even as we walk, the stars keep appearing and the night grows darker. Konno-maru, what do you think? What have you decided?"
"Nothing has changed for me. I was rather taken by what Mongaku said, but those are the teachings of the Jodo Buddhists. I'm a warrior, after all, and a follower of Lord Yoshitomo. Why should the words of a monk change me in an instant?"
"You're right, we were born to the name and calling of the warrior class."
"We cannot deny what we are. Let Mongaku say what he will about the universe and the impermanence of all things. Life is short and the warrior's honor everything."
"Well said! The warrior has his own way of valuing his life," Yoshihira whispered half to himself as he turned his face up to the stars. He felt sure of himself once more. The wind blew on his brows as he remarked cheerfully:
"Well, Konno-maru, until we meet again!"
They stood at the crossroad of the settlement once more. Konno-maru started away and then turned back to ask: "What will you be doing tomorrow morning?"
"Tomorrow morning? What do you mean?"
"Didn't you say you were coming to meet Mongaku?"
"Not that. What is the use of listening to him when we've made up our minds? We'd better be on the lookout for Kiyomori."
"And more reason for me to remember that Tokiwa must not be allowed to live much longer. I'll take care of that. Another time, then," Konno-maru said, and made his way back to the saddler's shop.
Yoshihira and Rokuro also went home, prepared their evening meal by the light of a candle, and when they were through eating, settled down—one to a book, the other to clearing up the remains of their meal. A little later they locked up and soon were asleep.
Toward dawn, when the eaves softly dripped with dew, dark shadows crept up to the house and surrounded it. Warned by Red-Nose, Kiyomori had dispatched three hundred soldiers from Rokuhara. Bamboku was not among them, but his clerk Shika accompanied the captain, guiding the soldiers to this spot. A commotion broke out as the soldiers attacked Rokuro's house and battered down the door. The entire neighborhood awoke with cries of "Earthquake!" "Fire!" There were shouts: "We've got him!" But the soldiers soon discovered that they had the wrong man, for Yoshihira crept out through a privy, cleared a hedge, and made his way to the roof of an adjoining house.
"There he is—my bow!" the captain shouted. "Look, there he goes, there!"
Yoshihira fled, scrambling from roof to roof, and escaped in the ensuing confusion.
Not until ten days later was Yoshihira captured; he was found asleep near a shrine outside the capital and caught only after fighting off his pursuers. Dragged to Rokuhara, he was brought before Kiyomori, whom he refused to acknowledge by more than a nod and a defiant: "Had I been allowed to go out to meet you with three thousand men as I proposed, when you were on your way back from Kumano, I am certain you would have changed positions with my dead father." Then he added with scorn: "Furthermore, had my father been the victor, he would never have done what you have—taken possession of the woman that another loved!"
Kiyomori's attendants and soldiers held their breath, waiting for an angry outburst from Kiyomori, who merely continued to gaze at the youth quietly. Kiyomori could not find it in his heart to hate this boy. Chance only, he reflected, had given him the victory on that day of snow. He also had a son and he could not help comparing Yoshihira with Shigemori.
That night, before Yoshihira was led to the execution ground, Kiyomori ordered wine to be served with the youth's last meal. The story was later repeated that Yoshihira had refused to touch either food or drink given him by his captors, and later when his body was examined, they found that the stomach had shriveled to a small sac, showing that Yoshihira had not eaten for many days before his capture.
THE STREET OF THE OX-DEALERS
“
Yomogi, Yomogi, where are you?"
The road near the gate to Sixth Avenue, known as the Street of the Ox-Dealers, was a thoroughfare lined with the huts of the poor and already buzzing with early summer flies. It was warm enough to cause people to perspire lightly, and the stench of human waste and animal droppings was wafted along on the wind.
"Is it you, good Mongaku?"
Yomogi's sharp eyes picked out a shape moving through the crowds. Mongaku made his way through the throng in his worn sandals. He had neither his hat nor his pilgrim's staff.
"Here we meet again!"
"Yes, a third time."
"Yes, I first met you, crying, on the road from Yamato, as you searched for your mistress, Tokiwa."
"Then again early this month at Kiyomizu Temple on the Kannon's holy day."
"Yes, by the grace of Buddha! And have you been at the chapel again in your mistress's stead?"
"A special prayer to the Kannon, for which I must visit the chapel for one hundred days, and I've only begun."
"Why do you always go in her place? What keeps your mistress from going herself?"
"Because—" Yomogi began, giving Mongaku a reproachful look, "how can you expect me to answer such a question?"
"How?—"
"Of course, she's afraid to stir out of the house, even into her garden. She doesn't want to see people, nor to have people see her."
"She'll make herself ill if she goes on like that. Something is worrying her to death. That poem I once sent her by you—did she see it?"
"Yes, I gave it to her when she was still at Itogo's. Let me see, it went like this—" Yomogi said, repeating the verse.
"That's it. How well you've remembered it!"
"She has it on her writing-table all the time, you see."
"Here, this won't do. There comes a whole string of oxen."
Mongaku swept Yomogi up under one arm and drew to the side of the road. Behind the houses lining the road were fenced-in commons where oxen and horses were left to graze. Dealers were bringing their livestock to market today. Another herd went past, when Yomogi suddenly clutched at Mongaku and tried to hide behind him. A rough-looking man, driving oxen before him, gave Yomogi a hard, searching look as he passed and then turned to stare at her once more.