TAMIYA YOÉMON: WITH NEWS OF KONDO[U] ROKURO[U]BEI AND MYO[U]ZEN THE
PRIEST
Tamiya Yoémon was stumbling home in all haste from the funeral of Ito[u]
Kwaiba. He was full of news for the wife, O'Kamé. 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 Natsumé
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. Natsumé 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]zaémon. 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 Yoémon 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 Yoémon 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 Yoémon'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'Kamé 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. Yoémon was angered beyond
measure at the sight of his ruined meal and expectations. "Kamé! Kamé!
What are you doing? Have you gone mad? Ma! Ma! The dinner is being
ruined. You are ill. Kamé's head whirls with head-ache. Yoémon 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_. Yoémon would
give freely to a beggar, rather than confer a 'cash' on Iwa. Yoémon
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!
Kamé 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 Kamé
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, Yoémon leaped from the house. O'Kamé seized
the burning brands in her bare hands, hurling them into this room and
into that. Outstripping the old Yoémon, 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]zaémon. Here she was tied hand and foot, and put in a
closet. The old man Yoémon 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
Samégabashi 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
cortége. "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 Natsumé Kyuzo[u], Imaizumi Jinzaémon, 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 Natsumé and Jinzaémon 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 Natsumé
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 cortége. 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 Natsumé 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 Samégabashi.
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 Iémon. 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, Iémon, Cho[u]zaémon--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'Baké, 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'Kamé of Tamiya! How comes O'Kamé here? It was said that
Yoémon 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
Kamé 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. Kamé 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'Kamé 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 Kamé. It was she who loosed
the bonds. 'O'Tama of Kondo[u]'s house is dead. O'Kamé 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 Kamé. 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 Kamé 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'Kamé 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'Baké. 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]zaémon 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'Kamé lying in their midst. The crowd parted, and Tamiya
Yoémon appeared. Kondo[u] Rokuro[u]bei and Akiyama Cho[u]zaémon 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. Yoémon 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.