“Sir, you are not mistaken. Though now living as you find me, I was
once a person of some distinction. My story is the story of a ruined
life—ruined by my own fault. I used to be in the service of a daimyō;
and my rank in that service was not inconsiderable. But I loved women
and wine too well; and under the influence of passion I acted wickedly.
My selfishness brought about the ruin of our house, and caused the
death of many persons. Retribution followed me; and I long remained a
fugitive in the land. Now I often pray that I may be able to make some
atonement for the evil which I did, and to reestablish the ancestral
home. But I fear that I shall never find any way of so doing.
Nevertheless, I try to overcome the karma of my errors by sincere
repentance, and by helping, as far as I can, those who are
unfortunate.”
Kwairyō was pleased by this announcement of good resolve; and he said
to the _aruji:_—
“My friend, I have had occasion to observe that men, prone to folly in
their youth, may in after years become very earnest in right living. In
the holy sûtras it is written that those strongest in wrong-doing can
become, by power of good resolve, the strongest in right-doing. I do
not doubt that you have a good heart; and I hope that better fortune
will come to you. To-night I shall recite the sûtras for your sake, and
pray that you may obtain the force to overcome the karma of any past
errors.”
With these assurances, Kwairyō bade the _aruji_ good-night; and his
host showed him to a very small side-room, where a bed had been made
ready. Then all went to sleep except the priest, who began to read the
sûtras by the light of a paper lantern. Until a late hour he continued
to read and pray: then he opened a little window in his little
sleeping-room, to take a last look at the landscape before lying down.
The night was beautiful: there was no cloud in the sky: there was no
wind; and the strong moonlight threw down sharp black shadows of
foliage, and glittered on the dews of the garden. Shrillings of
crickets and bell-insects (3) made a musical tumult; and the sound of
the neighboring cascade deepened with the night. Kwairyō felt thirsty
as he listened to the noise of the water; and, remembering the bamboo
aqueduct at the rear of the house, he thought that he could go there
and get a drink without disturbing the sleeping household. Very gently
he pushed apart the sliding-screens that separated his room from the
main apartment; and he saw, by the light of the lantern, five recumbent
bodies—without heads!
For one instant he stood bewildered,—imagining a crime. But in another
moment he perceived that there was no blood, and that the headless
necks did not look as if they had been cut. Then he thought to
himself:—“Either this is an illusion made by goblins, or I have been
lured into the dwelling of a Rokuro-Kubi... (4) In the book _Sōshinki_
(5) it is written that if one find the body of a Rokuro-Kubi without
its head, and remove the body to another place, the head will never be
able to join itself again to the neck. And the book further says that
when the head comes back and finds that its body has been moved, it
will strike itself upon the floor three times,—bounding like a
ball,—and will pant as in great fear, and presently die. Now, if these
be Rokuro-Kubi, they mean me no good;—so I shall be justified in
following the instructions of the book.”...
He seized the body of the aruji by the feet, pulled it to the window,
and pushed it out. Then he went to the back-door, which he found
barred; and he surmised that the heads had made their exit through the
smoke-hole in the roof, which had been left open. Gently unbarring the
door, he made his way to the garden, and proceeded with all possible
caution to the grove beyond it. He heard voices talking in the grove;
and he went in the direction of the voices,—stealing from shadow to
shadow, until he reached a good hiding-place. Then, from behind a
trunk, he caught sight of the heads,—all five of them,—flitting about,
and chatting as they flitted. They were eating worms and insects which
they found on the ground or among the trees. Presently the head of the
aruji stopped eating and said:—
“Ah, that traveling priest who came to-night!—how fat all his body is!
When we shall have eaten him, our bellies will be well filled... I was
foolish to talk to him as I did;—it only set him to reciting the sûtras
on behalf of my soul! To go near him while he is reciting would be
difficult; and we cannot touch him so long as he is praying. But as it
is now nearly morning, perhaps he has gone to sleep... Some one of you
go to the house and see what the fellow is doing.”
Another head—the head of a young woman—immediately rose up and flitted
to the house, lightly as a bat. After a few minutes it came back, and
cried out huskily, in a tone of great alarm:—
“That traveling priest is not in the house;—he is gone! But that is not
the worst of the matter. He has taken the body of our aruji; and I do
not know where he has put it.”
At this announcement the head of the aruji—distinctly visible in the
moonlight—assumed a frightful aspect: its eyes opened monstrously; its
hair stood up bristling; and its teeth gnashed. Then a cry burst from
its lips; and—weeping tears of rage—it exclaimed:—
“Since my body has been moved, to rejoin it is not possible! Then I
must die!... And all through the work of that priest! Before I die I
will get at that priest!—I will tear him!—I will devour him!... _And
there he is_—behind that tree!—hiding behind that tree! See him!—the
fat coward!”...
In the same moment the head of the aruji, followed by the other four
heads, sprang at Kwairyō. But the strong priest had already armed
himself by plucking up a young tree; and with that tree he struck the
heads as they came,—knocking them from him with tremendous blows. Four
of them fled away. But the head of the aruji, though battered again and
again, desperately continued to bound at the priest, and at last caught
him by the left sleeve of his robe. Kwairyō, however, as quickly
gripped the head by its topknot, and repeatedly struck it. It did not
release its hold; but it uttered a long moan, and thereafter ceased to
struggle. It was dead. But its teeth still held the sleeve; and, for
all his great strength, Kwairyō could not force open the jaws.
With the head still hanging to his sleeve he went back to the house,
and there caught sight of the other four Rokuro-Kubi squatting
together, with their bruised and bleeding heads reunited to their
bodies. But when they perceived him at the back-door all screamed, “The
priest! the priest!”—and fled, through the other doorway, out into the
woods.
Eastward the sky was brightening; day was about to dawn; and Kwairyō
knew that the power of the goblins was limited to the hours of
darkness. He looked at the head clinging to his sleeve,—its face all
fouled with blood and foam and clay; and he laughed aloud as he thought
to himself: “What a _miyagé!_[4]—the head of a goblin!” After which he
gathered together his few belongings, and leisurely descended the
mountain to continue his journey.
Right on he journeyed, until he came to Suwa in Shinano; (6) and into
the main street of Suwa he solemnly strode, with the head dangling at
his elbow. Then woman fainted, and children screamed and ran away; and
there was a great crowding and clamoring until the _torité_ (as the
police in those days were called) seized the priest, and took him to
jail. For they supposed the head to be the head of a murdered man who,
in the moment of being killed, had caught the murderer’s sleeve in his
teeth. As for Kwairyō, he only smiled and said nothing when they
questioned him. So, after having passed a night in prison, he was
brought before the magistrates of the district. Then he was ordered to
explain how he, a priest, had been found with the head of a man
fastened to his sleeve, and why he had dared thus shamelessly to parade
his crime in the sight of people.