Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
As the next market-day approached, Tomizo needed some money and started off to Mibu villa, where Tokiwa lived. At the servants' entrance he announced himself, saying: "I'm your mistress Tokiwa's uncle. I've come to see how she is. Tell her I'm here."
A servant took the message and went away. As Tomizo waited, Yomogi, carrying a bunch of flowers, walked into the courtyard; on seeing him, she was transfixed with horror.
"Oh, Yomogi, quite a beauty you're getting to be! I've just told them who I am. I also want you to tell your mistress I've come to see her. Hmm—a nice, quiet little place you have here."
"She's not in—she's away just now."
"What?"
"My lady isn't in."
"Think you can fool me, do you?"
"But it's true; she isn't here now!"
"You little hussy! What's this you're trying to tell me? I'm her uncle. Go tell your mistress I'm here!" Tomizo glared at the cringing girl.
The servant who had taken Tomizo's message reappeared just then, accompanied by an elderly woman. "The lady has been ill for some time," the latter said placatingly.
"Sick? All the more reason to see her. I can't leave now without seeing her," Tomizo insisted, seating himself at the entrance and showing no sign of going.
Yomogi in the meanwhile vanished. Her first thought had been to fetch Mongaku, but she could not think where to look for him. "Asatori!" had been her next thought, but she doubted that he would be a match physically for Tomizo. Then it flashed across her mind—Bamboku!
When she arrived at the shop on Fifth Avenue she found Red-Nose there.
"Upon my word, this is terrible! How frightened your mistress must be!" he exclaimed and, calling for his horse, Bamboku galloped off for the villa at Mibu.
At the sound of neighing at the gates, Tomizo came to his feet in alarm. But Bamboku, when he caught sight of Tomizo, stared at him woodenly.
"Here, you, whoever you are—come here a moment." He motioned to the ox-dealer; pressing some money into the quaking Tomizo's palm, Red-Nose slapped him resoundingly on the back. "Leave off this, man! Stop behaving like a fool. If it's money you want, you shall have it. If it's wine, that, too. Come straight to Bamboku's on Fifth Avenue. Yes, I'm very easy to talk to," he said, suddenly cackling with laughter.
Overcome by Bamboku's magnificent gesture, Tomizo stammered: "No harm intended—just came here to see my dear niece. . . . Wasn't going to tell her anything unpleasant, but the lord of Rokuhara is treating her badly, isn't he? Yes, he's doing very badly by her."
Mumbling incoherently, Tomizo carefully tucked away the money and then left. But a moment after he stepped outside the gate, a ghastly shriek went up. The Nose, who had been standing just inside the gate, ran out with a shout and looked up and down the road. Nothing was to be seen but the roofs of the near-by farms enveloped in blue mist under the evening stars.
"Bring torches—a lantern will do! Hurry!" Red-Nose shouted as he stooped to stare at Tomizo's headless corpse. By the light of several torches, he peered at the surrounding ground, where the stones and grass glistened moistly with blood.
Who murdered Tomizo? Very neat work! Bamboku shook his head, puzzled. The servants, however, nodded to one another significantly. A demon—only a demon could have done it.
"No ordinary swordsman could do that, and with no ordinary sword," Bamboku muttered. "What's more, the head's gone. ... A most unpleasant business, this," he reflected. Unperturbed, he stared fixedly at the light in the lampstand. Then, looking round at the servants gathered in the room, he said: "Yes, we'll keep this very quiet. Your mistress is not to hear about this, you understand?"
Just then Yomogi arrived back with a gruesome tale.
"Just as I got to the stream and was about to cross the bridge, I thought I heard a waterfowl splashing below and looked, and down on the bank I saw a man stooping to wash blood from his sword, and beside him on the ground was a man's head! I was rooted to the spot. Then he looked up and gave me a hideous glare. It may have been the moonlight that made him appear so, but I'm sure I've never seen such a frightful face in all my life. And I ran home as fast as I could. . . . But, oh, I can't forget that look!"
"What was the fellow wearing?"
"A hunting cloak and warrior's cap."
"A warrior? . . . How old did he appear to you?"
"He seemed quite young—barely in his twenties, I should say."
"That makes it even more difficult to guess," Bamboku mumbled, folding his arms.
When told that the youth she had seen was probably Tomizo's murderer, Yomogi's face grew blank with horror and amazement; then her eyes filled and a tear stole down her cheek. At this the other servants stared at her, puzzled. "What are you crying about, Yomogi? He's your mistress's uncle, to be sure, but good riddance. We're better off with that rascal dead. The mistress should be relieved to hear of this. There's no reason for you to cry about him."
But Yomogi shook her head, saying, "I wasn't crying about him. I've been going to the Kannon Chapel every day, and I'm sure the Kannon heard my prayers. It came to me suddenly that that young man was the Kannon in disguise, and for no reason at all that made me cry."
Bamboku, however, continued to sit with arms folded, shaking his head over the affair. To his way of thinking, it took something more than the Kannon's intervention to bring about what had happened. Other matters were also troubling him. For one: Kiyomori had not shown up since that time he inspected the villa; the Nose was responsible for Tokiwa. What caprice of Kiyomori's was this, anyway, Bamboku reflected, aggrieved. He was also vexed. Not only had Tokiko forbidden him to set foot in Rokuhara, but what did Kiyomori mean by keeping his distance, leaving Red-Nose marooned, so to speak?
Bamboku's calculations had somehow gone amiss. During the last uprising he had staked all his worldly possessions, his reputation, and even his life on Kiyomori's winning. All his efforts now seemed to have been wasted. It was about time he got something in return for all he had risked, yet all his plans seemed to have foundered on this affair with Tokiwa, and with every swift-flying spring day that went by, Red-Nose was increasingly tortured with anxiety. There was no telling when Kiyomori would pay him a visit, and if he, Bamboku, went to call on him—but he had been forbidden Rokuhara, so how was he to see Kiyomori? This posed another question. The Nose looked up suddenly from his contemplation of the lampstand and turned to Yomogi and the servants to ask: "What is your mistress doing this evening?"
"She is probably copying the sutras, as is her custom."
"Well, then, I'll go without disturbing her. See that none of you give her any inkling of what's happened."
Bamboku stepped down from the veranda and shuffled into his sandals, stopping long enough to peer through a screening hedge at the light burning in Tokiwa's room. He could see her through the blinds, sitting at her writing-table. Like a white peony, the Nose mused, wasted on the spring night. He sighed. A pity that such a priceless blossom should thus go to waste. ... If Kiyomori no longer dared to come because of his wife, then there was no reason why Red-Nose shouldn't have Tokiwa for himself, he thought voluptuously. That at least would be some compensation for all his trouble. . . .
Several days later Red-Nose started out for Rokuhara. At the gate facing on the river he slipped a small bribe to the guard, whom he knew, and waited among the trees in the rose court for Kiyomori's return.
"My lord, a word with you," Bamboku called at last, quaking inwardly.
Kiyomori stopped and looked round. "You, Nose?—I thought you were a huge toad out there. So it's you! What kept you from showing that nose of yours around here lately? You ill-mannered wretch," he grumbled.
"This is more than I ever hoped for. I hardly expected to find you in this frame of mind," Bamboku replied.
Kiyomori began to laugh. "What do you mean by that?"
"This is no laughing matter, sir," Bamboku protested. "You surely know that the mistress ordered me from the house?"
"And what of it?"
"How am I to come here, then? And who was the reason for that, I ask you, sir."
"Imbecile! Her orders have nothing to do with me. If Tokiko forbids you to come here, stop coming by the women's gate, man!"
"But she told me most emphatically that you'd ordered it."
"I give such an order? Women always say whatever they please. Only take care that she doesn't see you. Here, you haven't come for over a month, and not a word to me about Tokiwa in the meantime. You good-for-nothing! You lazy, weak-livered scoundrel!"
"Ah, a great oversight on my part. You are more lenient than I deserve, sir!"
"Unusual, too, for one so habitually brazen as you. Tell me, is Tokiwa all right? She hasn't been ill since and is getting on comfortably?"
In spite of his bantering, Kiyomori's inquiries after Tokiwa held more feeling than his words displayed. "There's something else I want to say, but we'd better go in," he said, leading the way to his room. Arrived there, he began questioning the Nose at greater length about Tokiwa, deriving, it seemed, some secret comfort from Bamboku's replies. Bamboku sensed, however, that it was not Tokiko's prohibitions, but something of a highly engrossing nature that kept Kiyomori from visiting Tokiwa, though it was obvious that Kiyomori's duties at Court left him little time for a life of his own. And to illustrate what it was that kept him so occupied, Kiyomori related how one of his captains had recently returned from a successful expedition against some privateers and brought the pirate chief with them. Kiyomori had questioned the pirate at length and had been impressed by his wide knowledge of the outer world, and from him heard tales of the glorious Sung civilization.
Kiyomori was now captured by a dream, no airy fancying, but a scheme for trade. He was convinced of its practicability— a plan for enhancing the arts and literature of the people through commerce with China. The vision had grown, taken hold of him to the exclusion of Tokiko; and even Tokiwa very nearly was put out of mind. The scheme now absorbed him with a consuming fervor, and the sensual passion of a moment shriveled and crumbled away before it.
In his father Tadamori's time, the Heike had had large feudal holdings in western Japan—Harima, Bingo, Aki, and Higo among them—and Tadamori had traded in secret with ships from China; but such commerce as existed was only on a scale that fitted with Tadamori's plans for insuring the fortunes of his house. Kiyomori now dreamed of the resumption of trade with China on a far more ambitious scale.
"... As you can see for yourself, Bamboku, the capture of those pirates was priceless to me. Look here, Red-Nose, turn your eyes across the seas and consider the vast prospects of trade there."
"This talk is taking a most unexpected turn. Think what wealth this will mean for the country if we bring in goods from China. As for me—I shall indeed become a merchant prince! No, I don't see how I can go on plodding like this any more," Bamboku ruminated.
"But the point is this—" Kiyomori continued, "we must find a way to bring ships from China directly to the capital. There's not much use in having them put in 'way down there in Kyushu."
"Quite right. If it's known that they're loaded with merchandise, the pirates will lie in wait for them. That's why it hasn't been possible to trade with them from here. With a good port and the Inland Sea cleared of pirates, we should be able to get the ships through to here."
"Well, Bamboku, I'm having the matter looked into and you might in the meantime think it over."
"That I shall. I can see how this is going to be the work of a lifetime. You might, sir, in your leisure also pay some attention to a few manly diversions. This flower you picked by the wayside —a pity to neglect it. You've left me holding it, completely puzzled as to what I'm to do next. What, sir, do you wish me to do?"
"I'll see you about that sometime."
"Not yet?—Eventually, did you say?"
"Yes, this matter that I brought up about the trade—that's been going round in my mind; there's the Court, too—some difficulties, you know. I don't see how I can manage right away."
"Well, then, tonight I might casually mention what you said, mightn't I?"
"You've seen to it that she wants nothing?"
"I am seeing to all that myself."
"I might even send her a poem if I had my father's knack for turning out verse. . . . There's not a scrap of the poet in me."
"Ah, no, if I may say so, sir, the lady once showed me a poem of yours. Let me see—how did it go? . . ."