"Do you know, villain, that your dirty football struck me in the
face? I ought, by rights, to kill you on the spot for this; but I will
spare your life this time, so take your football and be off." And with
that he went up to Tsunéhei and beat him, and kicked him in the head,
and spat in his face.
Then Tsunéhei, who up to that time had demeaned himself very humbly,
in his eagerness to get back the football, jumped up in a fury, and
said--
"I made ample apologies to you for my carelessness, and now you have
insulted and struck me. Ill-mannered ruffian! take back the
ball,--I'll none of it;" and he drew his dirk, and cutting the
football in two, threw it at Zempachi, and returned home.
But Zempachi, growing more and more angry, called one of his servants,
and said to him--
"That fellow, Tsunéhei, has been most insolent: go next door and find
out Shôzayémon, and tell him that I have ordered you to bring back
Tsunéhei, that I may kill him."
So the servant went to deliver the message.
In the meantime Tsunéhei went back to his master's house; and when
Shônosuké saw him, he said--
"Well, of course you have been ill treated; but did you get back the
football?"
"When I went in, I made many apologies; but I was beaten, and kicked
in the head, and treated with the greatest indignity. I would have
killed that wretch, Zempachi, at once, but that I knew that, if I did
so while I was yet a member of your household, I should bring trouble
upon your family. For your sake I bore this ill-treatment patiently;
but now I pray you let me take leave of you and become a Rônin, that I
may be revenged upon this man."
"Think well what you are doing," answered Shônosuké. "After all, we
have only lost a football; and my father will not care, nor upbraid
us."
But Tsiméhei would not listen to him, and was bent upon wiping out the
affront that he had received. As they were talking, the messenger
arrived from Zempachi, demanding the surrender of Tsunéhei, on the
ground that he had insulted him: to this Shônosuké replied that his
father was away from home, and that in his absence he could do
nothing.
At last Shôzayémon came home; and when he heard what had happened he
was much grieved, and at a loss what to do, when a second messenger
arrived from Zempachi, demanding that Tsunéhei should be given up
without delay. Then Shôzayémon, seeing that the matter was serious,
called the youth to him, and said--
"This Zempachi is heartless and cruel, and if you go to his house will
assuredly kill you; take, therefore, these fifty riyos, and fly to
Osaka or Kiôto, where you may safely set up in business."
"Sir," answered Tsunéhei, with tears of gratitude for his lord's
kindness, "from my heart I thank you for your great goodness; but I
have been insulted and trampled upon, and, if I lay down my life in
the attempt, I will repay Zempachi for what he has this day done."
"Well, then, since you needs must be revenged, go and fight, and may
success attend you! Still, as much depends upon the blade you carry,
and I fear yours is likely to be but a sorry weapon, I will give you a
sword;" and with this he offered Tsunéhei his own.
"Nay, my lord," replied Tsunéhei; "I have a famous sword, by Rai
Kunitoshi, which my father gave me. I have never shown it to your
lordship, but I have it safely stowed away in my room."
When Shôzayémon saw and examined the sword, he admired it greatly, and
said, "This is indeed a beautiful blade, and one on which you may
rely. Take it, then, and bear yourself nobly in the fight; only
remember that Zempachi is a cunning spearsman, and be sure to be very
cautious."
So Tsunéhei, after thanking his lord for his manifold kindnesses, took
an affectionate leave, and went to Zempachi's house, and said to the
servant--
"It seems that your master wants to speak to me. Be so good as to take
me to see him."
So the servant led him into the garden, where Zempachi, spear in hand,
was waiting to kill him. When Zempachi saw him, he cried out--
"Ha! so you have come back; and now for your insolence, this day I
mean to kill you with my own hand."
"Insolent yourself!" replied Tsunéhei. "Beast, and no Samurai! Come,
let us see which of us is the better man."
Furiously incensed, Zempachi thrust with his spear at Tsunéhei; but
he, trusting to his good sword, attacked Zempachi, who, cunning
warrior as he was, could gain no advantage. At last Zempachi, losing
his temper, began fighting less carefully, so that Tsunéhei found an
opportunity of cutting the shaft of his spear. Zempachi then drew his
sword, and two of his retainers came up to assist him; but Tsunéhei
killed one of them, and wounded Zempachi in the forehead. The second
retainer fled affrighted at the youth's valour, and Zempachi was
blinded by the blood which flowed from the wound on his forehead. Then
Tsunéhei said--
"To kill one who is as a blind man were unworthy a soldier. Wipe the
blood from your eyes, Sir Zempachi, and let us fight it out fairly."
So Zempachi, wiping away his blood, bound a kerchief round his head,
and fought again desperately. But at last the pain of his wound and
the loss of blood overcame him, and Tsunéhei cut him down with a wound
in the shoulder and easily dispatched him.
Then Tsunéhei went and reported the whole matter to the Governor of
Yedo, and was put in prison until an inquiry could be made. But the
Chief Priest of Bandzuin, who had heard of the affair, went and told
the governor all the bad deeds of Zempachi, and having procured
Tsunéhei's pardon, took him home and employed him as porter in the
temple. So Tsunéhei changed his name to Chôbei, and earned much
respect in the neighbourhood, both for his talents and for his many
good works. If any man were in distress, he would help him, heedless
of his own advantage or danger, until men came to look up to him as to
a father, and many youths joined him and became his apprentices. So he
built a house at Hanakawado, in Asakusa, and lived there with his
apprentices, whom he farmed out as spearsmen and footmen to the
Daimios and Hatamotos, taking for himself the tithe of their earnings.
But if any of them were sick or in trouble, Chôbei would nurse and
support them, and provide physicians and medicine. And the fame of his
goodness went abroad until his apprentices were more than two thousand
men, and were employed in every part of the city. But as for Chôbei,
the more he prospered, the more he gave in charity, and all men
praised his good and generous heart.
This was the time when the Hatamotos had formed themselves into bands
of Otokodaté,[21] of which Midzuno Jiurozayémon, Kondô Noborinosuké,
and Abé Shirogorô were the chiefs. And the leagues of the nobles
despised the leagues of the wardsmen, and treated them with scorn, and
tried to put to shame Chôbei and his brave men; but the nobles'
weapons recoiled upon themselves, and, whenever they tried to bring
contempt upon Chôbei, they themselves were brought to ridicule. So
there was great hatred on both sides.
[Footnote 21: See the story of Kazuma's Revenge.]
One day, that Chôbei went to divert himself in a tea-house in the
Yoshiwara, he saw a felt carpet spread in an upper room, which had
been adorned as for some special occasion; and he asked the master of
the house what guest of distinction was expected. The landlord replied
that my Lord Jiurozayémon, the chief of the Otokodaté of the
Hatamotos, was due there that afternoon. On hearing this, Chôbei
replied that as he much wished to meet my Lord Jiurozayémon, he would
lie down and await his coming. The landlord was put out at this, and
knew not what to say; but yet he dare not thwart Chôbei, the powerful
chief of the Otokodaté. So Chôbei took off his clothes and laid
himself down upon the carpet. After a while my Lord Jiurozayémon
arrived, and going upstairs found a man of large stature lying naked
upon the carpet which had been spread for him.
"What low ruffian is this?" shouted he angrily to the landlord.
"My lord, it is Chôbei, the chief of the Otokodaté," answered the man,
trembling.
Jiurozayémon at once suspected that Chôbei was doing this to insult
him; so he sat down by the side of the sleeping man, and lighting his
pipe began to smoke. When he had finished his pipe, he emptied the
burning ashes into Chôbei's navel; but Chôbei, patiently bearing the
pain, still feigned sleep. Ten times did Jiurozayémon fill his
pipe,[22] and ten times he shook out the burning ashes on to Chôbei's
navel; but he neither stirred nor spoke. Then Jiurozayémon, astonished
at his fortitude, shook him, and roused him, saying--
"Chôbei! Chôbei! wake up, man."
"What is the matter?" said Chôbei, rubbing his eyes as though he were
awaking from a deep sleep; then seeing Jiurozayémon, he pretended to
be startled, and said, "Oh, my lord, I know not who you are; but I
have been very rude to your lordship. I was overcome with wine, and
fell asleep: I pray your lordship to forgive me."
"Is your name Chôbei?"
"Yes, my lord, at your service. A poor wardsman, and ignorant of good
manners, I have been very rude; but I pray your lordship to excuse my
ill-breeding."
"Nay, nay; we have all heard the fame of Chôbei, of Bandzuin, and I
hold myself lucky to have met you this day. Let us be friends."
"It is a great honour for a humble wardsman to meet a nobleman face to
face."
[Footnote 22: The tiny Japanese pipe contains but two or three whiffs;
and as the tobacco is rolled up tightly in the fingers before it is
inserted, the ash, when shaken out, is a little fire-ball from which a
second pipe is lighted.]
As they were speaking, the waitresses brought in fish and wine, and
Jiurozayémon pressed Chôbei to feast with him; and thinking to annoy
Chôbei, offered him a large wine-cup,[23] which, however, he drank
without shrinking, and then returned to his entertainer, who was by no
means so well able to bear the fumes of the wine. Then Jiurozayémon
hit upon another device for annoying Chôbei, and, hoping to frighten
him, said--
"Here, Chôbei, let me offer you some fish;" and with those words he
drew his sword, and, picking up a cake of baked fish upon the point of
it, thrust it towards the wardsman's mouth. Any ordinary man would
have been afraid to accept the morsel so roughly offered; but Chôbei
simply opened his mouth, and taking the cake off the sword's point ate
it without wincing. Whilst Jiurozayémon was wondering in his heart
what manner of man this was, that nothing could daunt, Chôbei said to
him--
"This meeting with your lordship has been an auspicious occasion to
me, and I would fain ask leave to offer some humble gift to your
lordship in memory of it.[24] Is there anything which your lordship
would specially fancy?"
"I am very fond of cold macaroni."
[Footnote 23: It is an act of rudeness to offer a large wine-cup. As,
however, the same cup is returned to the person who has offered it,
the ill carries with it its own remedy. At a Japanese feast the same
cup is passed from hand to hand, each person rinsing it in a bowl of
water after using it, and before offering it to another.]
[Footnote 24: The giving of presents from inferiors to superiors is a
common custom.]
"Then I shall have the honour of ordering some for your lordship;" and
with this Chôbei went downstairs, and calling one of his apprentices,
named Tôken Gombei,[25] who was waiting for him, gave him a hundred
riyos (about £28), and bade him collect all the cold macaroni to be
found in the neighbouring cook-shops and pile it up in front of the
tea-house. So Gombei went home, and, collecting Chôbei's apprentices,
sent them out in all directions to buy the macaroni. Jiurozayémon all
this while was thinking of the pleasure he would have in laughing at
Chôbei for offering him a mean and paltry present; but when, by
degrees, the macaroni began to be piled mountain-high around the
tea-house, he saw that he could not make a fool of Chôbei, and went
home discomfited.
[Footnote 25: _Tôken_, a nickname given to Gombei, after a savage dog
that he killed. As a Chônin, or wardsman, he had no surname.]
It has already been told how Shirai Gompachi was befriended and helped
by Chôbei.[26] His name will occur again in this story.
[Footnote 26: See the story of Gompachi and Komurasaki.]
At this time there lived in the province of Yamato a certain Daimio,
called Honda Dainaiki, who one day, when surrounded by several of his
retainers, produced a sword, and bade them look at it and say from
what smith's workshop the blade had come.
"I think this must be a Masamuné blade," said one Fuwa Banzayémon.
"No," said Nagoya Sanza, after examining the weapon attentively, "this
certainly is a Muramasa."[27]
[Footnote 27: The swords of Muramasa, although so finely tempered that
they are said to cut hard iron as though it were a melon, have the
reputation of being unlucky: they are supposed by the superstitious to
hunger after taking men's lives, and to be unable to repose in their
scabbards. The principal duty of a sword is to preserve tranquillity
in the world, by punishing the wicked and protecting the good. But the
bloodthirsty swords of Muramasa rather have the effect of maddening
their owners, so that they either kill others indiscriminately or
commit suicide. At the end of the sixteenth century Prince Tokugawa
Iyéyasu was in the habit of carrying a spear made by Muramasa, with
which he often scratched or cut himself by mistake. Hence the Tokugawa
family avoid girding on Muramasa blades, which are supposed to be
specially unlucky to their race. The murders of Gompachi, who wore a
sword by this maker, also contributed to give his weapons a bad name.
The swords of one Tôshirô Yoshimitsu, on the other hand, are specially
auspicious to the Tokugawa family, for the following reason. After
Iyéyasu had been defeated by Takéta Katsuyori, at the battle of the
river Tenrin, he took refuge in the house of a village doctor,
intending to put an end to his existence by _hara-kiri,_ and drawing
his dirk, which was made by Yoshimitsu, tried to plunge it into his
belly, when, to his surprise, the blade turned. Thinking that the dirk
must be a bad one, he took up an iron mortar for grinding medicines
and tried it upon that, and the point entered and transfixed the
mortar. He was about to stab himself a second time, when his
followers, who had missed him, and had been searching for him
everywhere, came up, and seeing their master about to kill himself,
stayed his hand, and took away the dirk by force. Then they set him
upon his horse and compelled him to fly to his own province of Mikawa,
whilst they kept his pursuers at bay. After this, when, by the favour
of Heaven, Iyéyasu became Shogun, it was considered that of a surety
there must have been a good spirit in the blade that refused to drink
his blood; and ever since that time the blades of Yoshimitsu have been
considered lucky in his family.]
A third Samurai, named Takagi Umanojô, pronounced it to be the work
of Shidzu Kanenji; and as they could not agree, but each maintained
his opinion, their lord sent for a famous connoisseur to decide the
point; and the sword proved, as Sanza had said, to be a genuine
Muramasa. Sanza was delighted at the verdict; but the other two went
home rather crestfallen. Umanojô, although he had been worsted in the
argument, bore no malice nor ill-will in his heart; but Banzayémon,
who was a vainglorious personage, puffed up with the idea of his own
importance, conceived a spite against Sanza, and watched for an
opportunity to put him to shame. At last, one day Banzayémon, eager to
be revenged upon Sanza, went to the Prince, and said, "Your lordship
ought to see Sanza fence; his swordsmanship is beyond all praise. I
know that I am no match for him; still, if it will please your
lordship, I will try a bout with him;" and the Prince, who was a mere
stripling, and thought it would be rare sport, immediately sent for
Sanza and desired he would fence with Banzayémon. So the two went out
into the garden, and stood up facing each other, armed with wooden
swords. Now Banzayémon was proud of his skill, and thought he had no
equal in fencing; so he expected to gain an easy victory over Sanza,
and promised himself the luxury of giving his adversary a beating that
should fully make up for the mortification which he had felt in the
matter of the dispute about the sword. It happened, however, that he
had undervalued the skill of Sanza, who, when he saw that his
adversary was attacking him savagely and in good earnest, by a rapid
blow struck Banzayémon so sharply on the wrist that he dropped the
sword, and, before he could pick it up again, delivered a second cut
on the shoulder, which sent him rolling over in the dust. All the
officers present, seeing this, praised Sanza's skill, and Banzayémon,
utterly stricken with shame, ran away home and hid himself.
After this affair Sanza rose high in the favour of his lord; and
Banzayémon, who was more than ever jealous of him, feigned sickness,
and stayed at home devising schemes for Sanza's ruin.
Now it happened that the Prince, wishing to have the Muramasa blade
mounted, sent for Sanza and entrusted it to his care, ordering him to
employ the most cunning workmen in the manufacture of the
scabbard-hilt and ornaments; and Sanza, having received the blade,
took it home, and put it carefully away. When Banzayémon heard of
this, he was overjoyed; for he saw that his opportunity for revenge
had come. He determined, if possible, to kill Sanza, but at any rate
to steal the sword which had been committed to his care by the Prince,
knowing full well that if Sanza lost the sword he and his family would
be ruined. Being a single man, without wife or child, he sold his
furniture, and, turning all his available property into money, made
ready to fly the country. When his preparations were concluded, he
went in the middle of the night to Sanza's house and tried to get in
by stealth; but the doors and shutters were all carefully bolted from
the inside, and there was no hole by which he could effect an
entrance. All was still, however, and the people of the house were
evidently fast asleep; so he climbed up to the second storey, and,
having contrived to unfasten a window, made his way in. With soft,
cat-like footsteps he crept downstairs, and, looking into one of the
rooms, saw Sanza and his wife sleeping on the mats, with their little
son Kosanza, a boy of thirteen, curled up in his quilt between them.
The light in the night-lamp was at its last flicker, but, peering
through the gloom, he could just see the Prince's famous Muramasa
sword lying on a sword-rack in the raised part of the room: so he
crawled stealthily along until he could reach it, and stuck it in his
girdle. Then, drawing near to Sanza, he bestrode his sleeping body,
and, brandishing the sword made a thrust at his throat; but in his
excitement his hand shook, so that he missed his aim, and only
scratched Sanza, who, waking with a start and trying to jump up, felt
himself held down by a man standing over him. Stretching out his
hands, he would have wrestled with his enemy; when Banzayémon, leaping
back, kicked over the night-lamp, and throwing open the shutters,
dashed into the garden. Snatching up his sword, Sanza rushed out after
him; and his wife, having lit a lantern and armed herself with a
halberd,[28] went out, with her son Kosanza, who carried a drawn dirk,
to help her husband. Then Banzayémon, who was hiding in the shadow of
a large pine-tree, seeing the lantern and dreading detection, seized a
stone and hurled it at the light, and, chancing to strike it, put it
out, and then scrambling over the fence unseen, fled into the
darkness. When Sanza had searched all over the garden in vain, he
returned to his room and examined his wound, which proving very
slight, he began to look about to see whether the thief had carried
off anything; but when his eye fell upon the place where the Muramasa
sword had lain, he saw that it was gone. He hunted everywhere, but it
was not to be found. The precious blade with which his Prince had
entrusted him had been stolen, and the blame would fall heavily upon
him. Filled with grief and shame at the loss, Sanza and his wife and
child remained in great anxiety until the morning broke, when he
reported the matter to one of the Prince's councillors, and waited in
seclusion until he should receive his lord's commands.
[Footnote 28: The halberd is the special arm of the Japanese woman of
gentle blood. That which was used by Kasa Gozen, one of the ladies of
Yoshitsuné, the hero of the twelfth century, is still preserved at
Asakusa. In old-fashioned families young ladies are regularly
instructed in fencing with the halberds.]
It soon became known that Banzayémon, who had fled the province, was
the thief; and the councillors made their report accordingly to the
Prince, who, although he expressed his detestation of the mean action
of Banzayémon, could not absolve Sanza from blame, in that he had not
taken better precautions to insure the safety of the sword that had
been committed to his trust. It was decided, therefore, that Sanza
should be dismissed from his service, and that his goods should be
confiscated; with the proviso that should he be able to find
Banzayémon, and recover the lost Muramasa blade, he should be restored
to his former position. Sanza, who from the first had made up his mind
that his punishment would be severe, accepted the decree without a
murmur; and, having committed his wife and son to the care of his
relations, prepared to leave the country as a Rônin and search for
Banzayémon.
Before starting, however, he thought that he would go to his
brother-officer, Takagi Umanojô, and consult with him as to what
course he should pursue to gain his end. But this Umanojô, who was by
nature a churlish fellow, answered him unkindly, and said--
"It is true that Banzayémon is a mean thief; but still it was through
your carelessness that the sword was lost. It is of no avail your
coming to me for help: you must get it back as best you may."
"Ah!" replied Sanza, "I see that you too bear me a grudge because I
defeated you in the matter of the judgment of the sword. You are no
better than Banzayémon yourself."
And his heart was bitter against his fellow men, and he left the house
determined to kill Umanojô first and afterwards to track out
Banzayémon; so, pretending to start on his journey, he hid in an inn,
and waited for an opportunity to attack Umanojô.
One day Umanojô, who was very fond of fishing, had taken his son
Umanosuké, a lad of sixteen, down to the sea-shore with him; and as
the two were enjoying themselves, all of a sudden they perceived a
Samurai running towards them, and when he drew near they saw that it
was Sanza. Umanojô, thinking that Sanza had come back in order to talk
over some important matter, left his angling and went to meet him.
Then Sanza cried out--
"Now, Sir Umanojô, draw and defend yourself. What! were you in league
with Banzayémon to vent your spite upon me? Draw, sir, draw! You have
spirited away your accomplice; but, at any rate, you are here
yourself, and shall answer for your deed. It is no use playing the
innocent; your astonished face shall not save you. Defend yourself,
coward and traitor!" and with these words Sanza flourished his naked
sword.
"Nay, Sir Sanza," replied the other, anxious by a soft answer to turn
away his wrath; "I am innocent of this deed. Waste not your valour on
so poor a cause."
"Lying knave!" said Sanza; "think not that you can impose upon me. I
know your treacherous heart;" and, rushing upon Umanojô, he cut him on
the forehead so that he fell in agony upon the sand.
Umanosuké in the meanwhile, who had been fishing at some distance from
his father, rushed up when he saw him in this perilous situation and
threw a stone at Sanza, hoping to distract his attention; but, before
he could reach the spot, Sanza had delivered the death-blow, and
Umanojô lay a corpse upon the beach.
"Stop, Sir Sanza--murderer of my father!" cried Umanosuké, drawing
his sword, "stop and do battle with me, that I may avenge his death."
"That you should wish to slay your father's enemy," replied Sanza, "is
but right and proper; and although I had just cause of quarrel with
your father, and killed him, as a Samurai should, yet would I gladly
forfeit my life to you here; but my life is precious to me for one
purpose--that I may punish Banzayémon and get back the stolen sword.
When I shall have restored that sword to my lord, then will I give you
your revenge, and you may kill me. A soldier's word is truth; but, as
a pledge that I will fulfil my promise, I will give to you, as
hostages, my wife and boy. Stay your avenging hand, I pray you, until
my desire shall have been attained."
Umanosuké, who was a brave and honest youth, as famous in the clan for
the goodness of his heart as for his skill in the use of arms, when he
heard Sanza's humble petition, relented, and said--
"I agree to wait, and will take your wife and boy as hostages for your
return."
"I humbly thank you," said Sanza. "When I shall have chastised
Banzayémon, I will return, and you shall claim your revenge."
So Sanza went his way to Yedo to seek for Banzayémon, and Umanosuké
mourned over his father's grave.
Now Banzayémon, when he arrived in Yedo, found himself friendless and
without the means of earning his living, when by accident he heard of
the fame of Chôbei of Bandzuin, the chief of the Otokodaté, to whom he
applied for assistance; and having entered the fraternity, supported
himself by giving fencing-lessons. He had been plying his trade for
some time, and had earned some little reputation, when Sanza reached
the city and began his search for him. But the days and months passed
away, and, after a year's fruitless seeking, Sanza, who had spent all
his money without obtaining a clue to the whereabouts of his enemy,
was sorely perplexed, and was driven to live by his wits as a
fortune-teller. Work as he would, it was a hard matter for him to gain
the price of his daily food, and, in spite of all his pains, his
revenge seemed as far off as ever, when he bethought him that the
Yoshiwara was one of the most bustling places in the city, and that if
he kept watch there, sooner or later he would be sure to fall in with
Banzayémon. So be bought a hat of plaited bamboo, that completely
covered his face, and lay in wait at the Yoshiwara.
One day Banzayémon and two of Chôbei's apprentices Tôken Gombei and
Shirobei, who, from his wild and indocile nature, was surnamed "the
Colt," were amusing themselves and drinking in an upper storey of a
tea-house in the Yoshiwara, when Tôken Gombei, happening to look down
upon the street below, saw a Samurai pass by, poorly clad in worn-out
old clothes, but whose poverty-stricken appearance contrasted with
his proud and haughty bearing.
"Look there!" said Gombei, calling the attention of the others; "look
at that Samurai. Dirty and ragged as his coat is, how easy it is to
see that he is of noble birth! Let us wardsmen dress ourselves up in
never so fine clothes, we could not look as he does."
"Ay," said Shirobei, "I wish we could make friends with him, and ask
him up here to drink a cup of wine with us. However, it would not be
seemly for us wardsmen to go and invite a person of his condition."
"We can easily get over that difficulty," said Banzayémon. "As I am a
Samurai myself, there will be no impropriety in my going and saying a
few civil words to him, and bringing him in."
The other two having joyfully accepted the offer, Banzayémon ran
downstairs, and went up to the strange Samurai and saluted him,
saying--
"I pray you to wait a moment, Sir Samurai. My name is Fuwa Banzayémon
at your service. I am a Rônin, as I judge from your appearance that
you are yourself. I hope you will not think me rude if I venture to
ask you to honour me with your friendship, and to come into this
tea-house to drink a cup of wine with me and two of my friends."
The strange Samurai, who was no other than Sanza, looking at the
speaker through the interstices of his deep bamboo hat, and
recognizing his enemy Banzayémon, gave a start of surprise, and,
uncovering his head, said sternly--
"Have you forgotten my face, Banzayémon?"
For a moment Banzayémon was taken aback, but quickly recovering
himself, he replied, "Ah! Sir Sanza, you may well be angry with me;
but since I stole the Muramasa sword and fled to Yedo I have known no
peace: I have been haunted by remorse for my crime. I shall not resist
your vengeance: do with me as it shall seem best to you; or rather
take my life, and let there be an end of this quarrel."
"Nay," answered Sanza, "to kill a man who repents him of his sins is a
base and ignoble action. When you stole from me the Muramasa blade
which had been confided to my care by my lord, I became a disgraced
and ruined man. Give me back that sword, that I may lay it before my
lord, and I will spare your life. I seek to slay no man needlessly."
"Sir Sanza, I thank you for your mercy. At this moment I have not the
sword by me, but if you will go into yonder tea-house and wait awhile,
I will fetch it and deliver it into your hands."
Sanza having consented to this, the two men entered the tea-house,
where Banzayémon's two companions were waiting for them. But
Banzayémon, ashamed of his own evil deed, still pretended that Sanza
was a stranger, and introduced him as such, saying--
"Come Sir Samurai, since we have the honour of your company, let me
offer you a wine-cup."
Banzayémon and the two men pressed the wine-cup upon Sanza so often
that the fumes gradually got into his head and he fell asleep; the two
wardsmen, seeing this, went out for a walk, and Banzayémon, left alone
with the sleeping man, began to revolve fresh plots against him in his
mind. On a sudden, a thought struck him. Noiselessly seizing Sanza's
sword, which he had laid aside on entering the room, he stole softly
downstairs with it, and, carrying it into the back yard, pounded and
blunted its edge with a stone, and having made it useless as a weapon,
he replaced it in its scabbard, and running upstairs again laid it in
its place without disturbing Sanza, who, little suspecting treachery,
lay sleeping off the effects of the wine. At last, however, he awoke,
and, ashamed at having been overcome by drink, he said to Banzayémon--
"Come, Banzayémon, we have dallied too long; give me the Muramasa
sword, and let me go."
"Of course," replied the other, sneeringly, "I am longing to give it
back to you; but unfortunately, in my poverty, I have been obliged to
pawn it for fifty ounces of silver. If you have so much money about
you, give it to me and I will return the sword to you."
"Wretch!" cried Sanza, seeing that Banzayémon was trying to fool him,
"have I not had enough of your vile tricks? At any rate, if I cannot
get back the sword, your head shall be laid before my lord in its
place. Come," added he, stamping his foot impatiently, "defend
yourself."
"With all my heart. But not here in this tea-house. Let us go to the
Mound, and fight it out."
"Agreed! There is no need for us to bring trouble on the landlord.
Come to the Mound of the Yoshiwara."
So they went to the Mound, and drawing their swords, began to fight
furiously. As the news soon spread abroad through the Yoshiwara that a
duel was being fought upon the Mound, the people flocked out to see
the sight; and among them came Tôken Gombei and Shirobei, Banzayémon's
companions, who, when they saw that the combatants were their own
friend and the strange Samurai, tried to interfere and stop the fight,
but, being hindered by the thickness of the crowd, remained as
spectators. The two men fought desperately, each driven by fierce rage
against the other; but Sanza, who was by far the better fencer of the
two, once, twice, and again dealt blows which should have cut
Banzayémon down, and yet no blood came forth. Sanza, astonished at
this, put forth all his strength, and fought so skilfully, that all
the bystanders applauded him, and Banzayémon, though he knew his
adversary's sword to be blunted, was so terrified that he stumbled and
fell. Sanza, brave soldier that he was, scorned to strike a fallen
foe, and bade him rise and fight again. So they engaged again, and
Sanza, who from the beginning had had the advantage, slipped and fell
in his turn; Banzayémon, forgetting the mercy which had been shown to
him, rushed up, with bloodthirsty joy glaring in his eyes, and stabbed
Sanza in the side as he lay on the ground. Faint as he was, he could
not lift his hand to save himself; and his craven foe was about to
strike him again, when the bystanders all cried shame upon his
baseness. Then Gombei and Shirobei lifted up their voices and said--
"Hold, coward! Have you forgotten how your own life was spared but a
moment since? Beast of a Samurai, we have been your friends hitherto,
but now behold in us the avengers of this brave man."
With these words the two men drew their dirks, and the spectators fell
back as they rushed in upon Banzayémon, who, terror-stricken by their
fierce looks and words, fled without having dealt the death-blow to
Sanza. They tried to pursue him, but he made good his escape, so the
two men returned to help the wounded man. When he came to himself by
dint of their kind treatment, they spoke to him and comforted him, and
asked him what province he came from, that they might write to his
friends and tell them what had befallen him. Sanza, in a voice faint
from pain and loss of blood, told them his name and the story of the
stolen sword, and of his enmity against Banzayémon. "But," said he,
"just now, when I was fighting, I struck Banzayémon more than once,
and without effect. How could that have been?" Then they looked at his
sword, which had fallen by his side, and saw that the edge was all
broken away. More than ever they felt indignant at the baseness of
Banzayémon's heart, and redoubled their kindness to Sanza; but, in.
spite of all their efforts, he grew weaker and weaker, until at last
his breathing ceased altogether. So they buried the corpse honourably
in an adjoining temple, and wrote to Sanza's wife and son, describing
to them the manner of his death.
Now when Sanza's wife, who had long been anxiously expecting her
husband's return, opened the letter and learned the cruel
circumstances of his death, she and her son Kosanza mourned bitterly
over his loss. Then Kosanza, who was now fourteen years old, said to
his mother--
"Take comfort, mother; for I will go to Yedo and seek out this
Banzayémon, my father's murderer, and I will surely avenge his death.
Now, therefore, make ready all that I need for this journey."
And as they were consulting over the manner of their revenge,
Umanosuké, the son of Umanojô, whom Sanza had slain, having heard of
the death of his father's enemy, came to the house. But he came with
no hostile intent. True, Sanza had killed his father, but the widow
and the orphan were guiltless, and he bore them no ill-will; on the
contrary, he felt that Banzayémon was their common enemy. It was he
who by his evil deeds had been the cause of all the mischief that had
arisen, and now again, by murdering Sanza, he had robbed Umanosuké of
his revenge. In this spirit he said to Kosanza--
"Sir Kosanza, I hear that your father has been cruelly murdered by
Banzayémon at Yedo. I know that you will avenge the death of your
father, as the son of a soldier should: if, therefore, you will accept
my poor services, I will be your second, and will help you to the best
of my ability. Banzayémon shall be my enemy, as he is yours."
"Nay, Sir Umanosuké, although I thank you from my heart, I cannot
accept this favour at your hands. My father Sanza slew your noble
father: that you should requite this misfortune thus is more than
kind, but I cannot think of suffering you to risk your life on my
behalf."
"Listen to me," replied Umanosuké, smiling, "and you will think it
less strange that I should offer to help you. Last year, when my
father lay a bleeding corpse on the sea-shore, your father made a
covenant with me that he would return to give me my revenge, so soon
as he should have regained the stolen sword. Banzayémon, by murdering
him on the Mound of the Yoshiwara, has thwarted me in this; and now
upon whom can I avenge my father's death but upon him whose baseness
was indeed its cause? Now, therefore, I am determined to go with you
to Yedo, and not before the murders of our two fathers shall have been
fully atoned for will we return to our own country."
When Kosanza heard this generous speech, he could not conceal his
admiration; and the widow, prostrating herself at Umanosuké's feet,
shed tears of gratitude.
The two youths, having agreed to stand by one another, made all ready
for their journey, and obtained leave from their prince to go in
search of the traitor Banzayémon. They reached Yedo without meeting
with any adventures, and, taking up their abode at a cheap inn, began
to make their inquiries; but, although they sought far and wide, they
could learn no tidings of their enemy. When three months had passed
thus, Kosanza began to grow faint-hearted at their repeated failures;
but Umanosuké supported and comforted him, urging him to fresh
efforts. But soon a great misfortune befell them: Kosanza fell sick
with ophthalmia, and neither the tender nursing of his friend, nor the
drugs and doctors upon whom Umanosuké spent all their money, had any
effect on the suffering boy, who soon became stone blind. Friendless
and penniless, the one deprived of his eyesight and only a clog upon
the other, the two youths were thrown upon their own resources. Then
Umanosuké, reduced to the last extremity of distress, was forced to
lead out Kosanza to Asakusa to beg sitting by the roadside, whilst he
himself, wandering hither and thither, picked up what he could from
the charity of those who saw his wretched plight. But all this while
he never lost sight of his revenge, and almost thanked the chance
which had made him a beggar, for the opportunity which it gave him of
hunting out strange and hidden haunts of vagabond life into which in
his more prosperous condition he could not have penetrated. So he
walked to and fro through the city, leaning on a stout staff, in which
he had hidden his sword, waiting patiently for fortune to bring him
face to face with Banzayémon.
[Illustration: TRICKS OF SWORDSMANSHIP AT ASAKUSA.]
Now Banzayémon, after he had killed Sanza on the Mound of the
Yoshiwara, did not dare to show his face again in the house of Chôbei,
the Father of the Otokodaté; for he knew that the two men, Tôken
Gombei and Shirobei "the loose Colt," would not only bear an evil
report of him, but would even kill him if he fell into their hands, so
great had been their indignation at his cowardly Conduct; so he
entered a company of mountebanks, and earned his living by showing
tricks of swordsmanship, and selling tooth-powder at the Okuyama, at
Asakusa.[29] One day, as he was going towards Asakusa to ply his
trade, he caught sight of a blind beggar, in whom, in spite of his
poverty-stricken and altered appearance, he recognized the son of his
enemy. Rightly he judged that, in spite of the boy's apparently
helpless condition, the discovery boded no weal for him; so mounting
to the upper storey of a tea-house hard by, he watched to see who
should come to Kosanza's assistance. Nor had he to wait long, for
presently he saw a second beggar come up and speak words of
encouragement and kindness to the blind youth; and looking
attentively, he saw that the new-comer was Umanosuké. Having thus
discovered who was on his track, he went home and sought means of
killing the two beggars; so he lay in wait and traced them to the poor
hut where they dwelt, and one night, when he knew Umanosuké to be
absent, he crept in. Kosanza, being blind, thought that the footsteps
were those of Umanosuké, and jumped up to welcome him; but he, in his
heartless cruelty, which not even the boy's piteous state could move,
slew Kosanza as he helplessly stretched out his hands to feel for his
friend. The deed was yet unfinished when Umanosuké returned, and,
hearing a scuffle inside the hut, drew the sword which was hidden in
his staff and rushed in; but Banzayémon, profiting by the darkness,
eluded him and fled from the hut. Umanosuké followed swiftly after
him; but just as he was on the point of catching him, Banzayémon,
making a sweep backwards with his drawn sword, wounded Umanosuké in
the thigh, so that he stumbled and fell, and the murderer, swift of
foot, made good his escape. The wounded youth tried to pursue him
again, but being compelled by the pain of his wound to desist,
returned home and found his blind companion lying dead, weltering in
his own blood. Cursing his unhappy fate, he called in the beggars of
the fraternity to which he belonged, and between them they buried
Kosanza, and he himself being too poor to procure a surgeon's aid, or
to buy healing medicaments for his wound, became a cripple.
[Footnote 29: See Note at end of story.]
It was at this time that Shirai Gompachi, who was living under the
protection of Chôbei, the Father of the Otokodaté, was in love with
Komurasaki, the beautiful courtesan who lived at the sign of the Three
Sea-shores, in the Yoshiwara. He had long exhausted the scanty
supplies which he possessed, and was now in the habit of feeding his
purse by murder and robbery, that he might have means to pursue his
wild and extravagant life. One night, when he was out on his cutthroat
business, his fellows, who had long suspected that he was after no
good, sent one of their number, named Seibei, to watch him. Gompachi,
little dreaming that any one was following him, swaggered along the
street until he fell in with a wardsman, whom he cut down and robbed;
but the booty proving small, he waited for a second chance, and,
seeing a light moving in the distance, hid himself in the shadow of a
large tub for catching rain-water till the bearer of the lantern
should come up. When the man drew near, Gompachi saw that he was
dressed as a traveller, and wore a long dirk; so he sprung out from
his lurking-place and made to kill him; but the traveller nimbly
jumped on one side, and proved no mean adversary, for he drew his dirk
and fought stoutly for his life. However, he was no match for so
skilful a swordsman as Gompachi, who, after a sharp struggle,
dispatched him, and carried off his purse, which contained two hundred
riyos. Overjoyed at having found so rich a prize, Gompachi was making
off for the Yoshiwara, when Seibei, who, horror-stricken, had seen
both murders, came up and began to upbraid him for his wickedness. But
Gompachi was so smooth-spoken and so well liked by his comrades, that
he easily persuaded Seibei to hush the matter up, and accompany him to
the Yoshiwara for a little diversion. As they were talking by the way,
Seibei said to Gompachi--
"I bought a new dirk the other day, but I have not had an opportunity
to try it yet. You have had so much experience in swords that you
ought to be a good judge. Pray look at this dirk, and tell me whether
you think it good for anything."
"We'll soon see what sort of metal it is made of," answered Gompachi.
"We'll just try it on the first beggar we come across."
At first Seibei was horrified by this cruel proposal, but by degrees
he yielded to his companion's persuasions; and so they went on their
way until Seibei spied out a crippled beggar lying asleep on the bank
outside the Yoshiwara. The sound of their footsteps aroused the
beggar, who seeing a Samurai and a wardsman pointing at him, and
evidently speaking about him, thought that their consultation could
bode him no good. So he pretended to be still asleep, watching them
carefully all the while; and when Seibei went up to him, brandishing
his dirk, the beggar, avoiding the blow, seized Seibei's arm, and
twisting it round, flung him into the ditch below. Gompachi, seeing
his companion's discomfiture, attacked the beggar, who, drawing a
sword from his staff, made such lightning-swift passes that, crippled
though he was, and unable to move his legs freely, Gompachi could not
overpower him; and although Seibei crawled out of the ditch and came
to his assistance, the beggar, nothing daunted, dealt his blows about
him to such good purpose that he wounded Seibei in the temple and arm.
Then Gompachi, reflecting that after all he had no quarrel with the
beggar, and that he had better attend to Seibei's wounds than go on
fighting to no purpose, drew Seibei away, leaving the beggar, who was
too lame to follow them, in peace. When he examined Seibei's wounds,
he found that they were so severe that they must give up their night's
frolic and go home. So they went back to the house of Chôbei, the
Father of the Otokodaté, and Seibei, afraid to show himself with his
sword-cuts, feigned sickness, and went to bed. On the following
morning Chôbei, happening to need his apprentice Seibei's services,
sent for him, and was told that he was sick; so he went to the room,
where he lay abed, and, to his astonishment, saw the cut upon his
temple. At first the wounded man refused to answer any questions as to
how he had been hurt; but at last, on being pressed by Chôbei, he told
the whole story of what had taken place the night before. When Chôbei
heard the tale, be guessed that the valiant beggar must be some noble
Samurai in disguise, who, having a wrong to avenge, was biding his
time to meet with his enemy; and wishing to help so brave a man, he
went in the evening, with his two faithful apprentices, Tôken Gombei
and Shirobei "the loose Colt," to the bank outside the Yoshiwara to
seek out the beggar. The latter, not one whit frightened by the
adventure of the previous night, had taken his place as usual, and was
lying on the bank, when Chôbei came up to him, and said--
"Sir, I am Chôbei, the chief of the Otokodaté, at your service. I have
learnt with deep regret that two of my men insulted and attacked you
last night. However, happily, even Gompachi, famous swordsman though
he be, was no match for you, and had to beat a retreat before you. I
know, therefore, that you must be a noble Samurai, who by some ill
chance have become a cripple and a beggar. Now, therefore, I pray you
tell me all your story; for, humble wardsman as I am, I may be able to
assist you, if you will condescend to allow me."
The cripple at first tried to shun Chôbei's questions; but at last,
touched by the honesty and kindness of his speech, he replied--
"Sir, my name is Takagi Umanosuké, and I am a native of Yamato;" and
then he went on to narrate all the misfortunes which the wickedness of
Banzayémon had brought about.
"This is indeed a strange story," said Chôbei who had listened with
indignation. "This Banzayémon, before I knew the blackness of his
heart, was once under my protection. But after he murdered Sanza, hard
by here, he was pursued by these two apprentices of mine, and since
that day he has been no more to my house."
When he had introduced the two apprentices to Umanosuké, Chôbei pulled
forth a suit of silk clothes befitting a gentleman, and having made
the crippled youth lay aside his beggar's raiment, led him to a bath,
and had his hair dressed. Then he bade Tôken Gombei lodge him and take
charge of him, and, having sent for a famous physician, caused
Umanosuké to undergo careful treatment for the wound in his thigh. In
the course of two months the pain had almost disappeared, so that he
could stand easily; and when, after another month, he could walk about
a little, Chôbei removed him to his own house, pretending to his wife
and apprentices that he was one of his own relations who had come on a
visit to him.
After a while, when Umanosuké had become quite cured, he went one day
to worship at a famous temple, and on his way home after dark he was
overtaken by a shower of rain, and took shelter under the eaves of a
house, in a part of the city called Yanagiwara, waiting for the sky to
clear. Now it happened that this same night Gompachi had gone out on
one of his bloody expeditions, to which his poverty and his love for
Komurasaki drove him in spite of himself, and, seeing a Samurai
standing in the gloom, he sprang upon him before he had recognized
Umanosuké, whom he knew as a friend of his patron Chôbei. Umanosuké
drew and defended himself, and soon contrived to slash Gompachi on the
forehead; so that the latter, seeing himself overmatched, fled under
the cover of the night. Umanosuké, fearing to hurt his recently healed
wound, did not give chase, and went quietly back to Chôbei's house.
When Gompachi returned home, he hatched a story to deceive Chôbei as
to the cause of the wound on his forehead. Chôbei, however, having
overheard Umanosuké reproving Gompachi for his wickedness, soon became
aware of the truth; and not caring to keep a robber and murderer near
him, gave Gompachi a present of money, and bade him return to his
house no more.
And now Chôbei, seeing that Umanosuké had recovered his strength,
divided his apprentices into bands, to hunt out Banzayémon, in order
that the vendetta might be accomplished. It soon was reported to him
that Banzayémon was earning his living among the mountebanks of
Asakusa; so Chôbei communicated this intelligence to Umanosuké, who
made his preparations accordingly; and on the following morning the
two went to Asakusa, where Banzayémon was astonishing a crowd of
country boors by exhibiting tricks with his sword.