brocade, first she shuddered and said, "I am cold." Then they would have
thrown over her a mantle broidered with plum blossom and pine, but she
would have none of it, saying, "No, no, I burn."
They painted her lips with _beni_, and when she saw it she murmured,
"Alack, there is blood upon my lips!" But they led her down and out on
to a balcony, where the men who were assembled might see her. She was
fairer than the children of men, and her beauty shone like the beauty of
an earthly deity. And all the warriors who were there looked upon her
and were silent, for already they were faint with love and longing. And
the maid stood with eyes cast down, and slowly the hot blush rose to her
cheek and she was lovelier than before.
Three or four score men of name sought her hand, being distraught for
love of her, and amongst them were two braver and nobler than the rest.
The one came from afar and was the champion of Chinu, and the other came
from near, the champion of Unai. They were young, strong, and
black-haired. They were equal in years, in strength, and in valour.
Both were girded with great swords, and full-charged quivers were upon
their backs, and six-foot bows of white wood were in their hands.
Together they stood beneath the balcony of the maiden of Unai, like twin
brothers in beauty and attainments. Together they cried aloud with
passionate voices, telling of their eternal love, and bidding the maiden
choose between them.
She lifted up her eyes and looked fixedly upon them, but spoke no word.
Then they drew their swords and made as if to fight the matter out there
and then; but the maid's father spoke: "Put up your swords, fair sirs; I
have devised a better way for the decision of this thing. If it please
you, enter my house."
Now part of the house of Unai was built out upon a platform over the
river that flowed past. It was the fifth month and the wistaria was in
blossom upon the trellis, and hung downwards nearly into the water. The
river was swift and deep. Here the master of the house brought the
champions, and the maiden was there also. But the mother and the wise
woman stood a little way apart, and hid their faces in their long
sleeves. Presently a white water-bird dropped from the blue sky, and
rocked to and fro upon the water of the river.
"Now, champions," cried the father of the maiden, "draw me your bows and
let fly each of you an arrow at yonder white bird that floats upon the
river. He that shall strike the bird and prove himself to be the better
marksman, he shall wed my daughter, the peerless Maiden of Unai."
Then immediately the two champions drew their bows of white wood and let
fly each of them an arrow. Each arrow sped swift; each arrow struck
true. The champion of Chinu struck the water-bird in the head, but the
champion of Unai struck her in the tail so that the white feathers were
scattered. Then the champions cried, "Enough of this trifling. There is
but one way." And again their bright swords leapt from their scabbards.
But the maid stood trembling, holding the gnarled stem of the wistaria
in her hands. She trembled and shook the branches so that the frail
flowers fell about her. "My lords, my lords," she cried, "oh, brave and
beautiful heroes of fame, it is not meet that one of you should die for
such as I am. I honour you; I love you both--therefore farewell." With
that, still holding to the wistaria, she swung herself clear of the
balcony and dropped into the deep and swift-flowing river. "Weep not,"
she cried, "for no woman dies to-day. It is but a child that is lost."
And so she sank.
Down sprang the champion of Chinu into the flood, and in the same
instant down sprang the champion of Unai. Alack, they were heavy with
the arms that they bore, and they sank and were entangled in the long
water weeds. And so the three of them were drowned.
But at night when the moon shone, the pale dead rose, floating to the
surface of the water. The champion of Unai held the maiden's right hand
in his own, but the champion of Chinu lay with his head against the
maiden's heart, bound close to her by a tress of her long hair; and as
he lay he smiled.
The three corpses they lifted from the water, and laid them together
upon a bier of fair white wood, and over them they strewed herbs and
sweet flowers, and laid a veil over their faces of fine white silk. And
they lighted fires and burned incense. Gallants and warriors and men of
note who loved the maiden, alive or dead, stood about her bier and made
a hedge with themselves and their bright swords. And there was sorrow
and mourning, loud and grievous, so that the sound of it reached High
Heaven and offended the peace of the gods.
A grave was dug wide and deep, and the three were buried therein. The
maid they laid in the middle, and the two champions upon either side.
Idzumo was the native place of the champion of Chinu, so they brought
earth from thence in a junk, and with this earth they covered him.
So the maid slept there in the grave, the champions faithfully guarding
her, for they had buried with them their bows of white wood and their
good armour and their spears and their bright swords. Nothing was
forgotten that is needful for adventure in the Land of Yomi.
XVII
THE ROBE OF FEATHERS
Mio Strand is in the Province of Suruga. Its sand is yellow and fine,
strewn with rose shells at the ebb tide. Its pine trees are ancient and
they lean all one way, which is the way that the wild wind wills. Before
Mio rolls the deep sea, and behind Mio rises Fugi, the most sacred, the
mountain of mountains. Small marvel that the Strange People should come
to Mio.
Of the Strange People not much is known, even at Mio, though it is sure
they come there. It seems they are shy indeed, more's the pity. They
come through the blue air, or across the mysterious paths of the sea.
Their footprints are never, never seen upon the wet beach, for they
tread too lightly. But sometimes in their dancing they sweep their robes
upon the sand and leave it ribbed and ruffled; so, often enough, it may
be seen at Mio.
This is not all. Once a fisherman of Mio set eyes upon a maiden of the
Strange People, and talked with her and made her do his bidding. This is
a true thing, and thus it came about.
The fisherman was out in his boat all night. He cast his net here and he
cast his net there, but he caught nothing at all for his pains. It may
be believed that he grew weary enough before the morning. In the cold of
the dawn he brought his boat to shore and set foot on Mio Strand,
shivering.
Then, so he says, a warm wind met him and blew through his garments and
his hair, so that he flushed and glowed. The very sand was full of
comfort to his chilly feet. Upon the warm wind a fragrance was borne,
cedar and vervain, and the scent of a hundred flowers.
Flowers dropped softly through the air like bright rain. The fisherman
stretched out his hands and caught them, lotus and jessamine and
pomegranate. And all the while sweet music sounded.
"This is never Mio Strand," cried the fisherman, bewildered, "where I
have pulled my boat ashore a thousand times or flown kites upon a
holiday. Alack, I fear me I have sailed to the Fortunate Isles unawares,
or come unwilling to the Sea King's garden; or very like I am dead and
never knew it, and this is Yomi. O Yomi, Land of Yomi, how like thou art
to Mio Strand, my dear home!"
After he had said this, the fisherman looked up the beach and down the
beach, and he turned and saw Fuji, the mountain of mountains, and then
he turned and saw the deep rolling sea and knew he was at Mio and no
other place, and gave a long sigh.
"Thanks be," he said, and lifting his eyes he saw a robe of feathers
hanging upon the branch of a pine tree. In the robe were feathers of
all the birds that fly, every one; the kingfisher and the golden
pheasant, the love bird, the swan, the crow, the cormorant, the dove,
the bullfinch, the falcon, the plover, and the heron.
"Ah, the pretty fluttering thing!" said the fisherman, and he took it
from the pine tree where it hung.
"Ah, the warm, sweet, fairy thing!" said the fisherman; "I'll take it
home for a treasure, sure no money could buy it, and I'll show it to all
the folk of the village." And off he set for home with the fairy
feathers over his arm.
Now the maiden of the Strange People had been playing all this time with
the White Children of the Foam that live in the salt sea. She looked up
through the cold clear water and marked that her robe hung no longer on
the pine-tree branch.
"Alas, alas!" she cried, "my robe, my feather robe!" Swifter than any
arrow she sprang from the water, and sped, fleet of foot, along the wet
sand. The White Children of the Foam followed at her flashing heels.
Clad in the cloak of her long hair, she came up with the fisherman.
"Give me my feather robe," she said, and held out her hand for it.
"Why?" said the fisherman.
"'Tis mine. I want it. I must have it."
"Oho," said the fisherman, "finding's keeping," and he didn't give her
the feather robe.
"I am a Fairy," she said.
"Farewell, Fairy," said the fisherman.
"A Moon Fairy," she said.
"Farewell, Moon Fairy," said the fisherman, and he made to take his way
along Mio Strand. At that she snatched at the feather robe, but the
fisherman held fast. The feathers fluttered out and dropped upon the
sand.
"I wouldn't do that," said the fisherman. "You'll have it all to
pieces."
"I am a Moon Fairy, and at dawn I came to play upon fair Mio Strand;
without my feathers I cannot go back to my place, my home in High
Heaven. Therefore give me my feathers."
"No," said the fisherman.
"Oh, fisherman, fisherman, give me my robe."
"I couldn't think of it," said the fisherman.
At this the maiden fell upon her knees and drooped like a lily in the
heat of the day. With her arms she held the fisherman about the knees,
and as she clung to him beseeching him, he felt her tears upon his bare
feet.
She wept and said:
"I am a bird, a frail bird,
A wounded bird with broken wings,
I must die far from home,
For the Five Woes are come upon me.
The red flowers in my hair are faded;
My robe is made unclean;
Faintness comes upon me;
I cannot see--farewell, dear sight of my eyes;
I have lost joy.
Oh, blessed flying clouds, and happy birds,
And golden dust in the wind,
And flying thoughts and flying prayers!
I have lost all joy."
"Oh, stop," said the fisherman, "you may have your robe."
"Give," she cried.
"Softly, softly," said the fisherman. "Not so fast. I will give you your
robe if you will dance for me here on Mio Strand."
"What must I dance?" she asked.
"You must dance the mystic dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn
round."
She said, "Give me my feathers and I will dance it. I cannot dance
without my feathers."
"What if you cheat me, what if you break your promise and fly
immediately to the moon and no dancing at all?"
"Ah, fisherman," she said, "the faith of a Fairy!"
Then he gave her the robe.
Now, when she had arrayed herself and flung back her hair, the Fairy
began to dance upon the yellow sand. In and out of the feather robe
crept her fairy feet. Slowly, softly, she went with folded wings and
sang:
"Oh, the gold and silver mountains of the Moon,
And the sweet Singing Birds of Heaven!
They sing in the branches of the cinnamon tree,
To entertain the thirty kings that are there.
Fifteen kings in white garments,
To reign for fifteen days.
Fifteen kings in black garments,
To reign for fifteen days.
I hear the music of Heaven;
Away, away, I fly to Fairy Places."
At this the Fairy spread her rainbow-coloured wings, and the wind that
they made fluttered the red flowers in her hair. Out streamed the robe
of feathers bright and gay.
The Fairy laughed. Her feet touched the waves of the sea; her feet
touched the grass and the flowers inshore. They touched the high
branches of the pines and then the white clouds.
"Farewell, fisherman!" the Fairy cried, and he saw her no more.
Long, long he stood gazing up into the sky. At length he stooped and
picked up a little feather from the shore, a grey dove's feather. He
smoothed it out with his finger and hid it in his girdle.
Then he went to his home.
XVIII
THE SINGING BIRD OF HEAVEN
[Illustration: The Singing Bird of Heaven.--_P. 148._]
Ama Terassu, the Glorious, the Light of High Heaven, commanded, saying,
"His Augustness, my August Child, who is called the Conqueror, shall
descend to the land. For it is a Land of Luxuriant Reed Plains, a Land
of Fresh Rice Ears, a Land of a Thousand Autumns. So of this land he
shall be king."
Now his Augustness, the August Child, the Conqueror, stood upon the
Floating Bridge of Heaven and looked down, and he saw that there was a
great unquietness upon the Land of the Reed Plains. For earthly deities
made strife, and blood ran, and fearful sounds of war arose, even to
High Heaven. So the August Child, the heavenly born, turned back across
the Floating Bridge, and swore he would not descend to rule the land
until it should be cleansed.
And Ama Terassu, the Light of High Heaven, who had the sun set fast
between her eyes, bound her head with jewels, and gathered the deities
together in a divine assembly, to hold council in the Tranquil River
Bed. And she spoke and said, "Who shall subdue the land that I have
given to the August Child?"
And all the deities cried, "O Thine Augustness, send down the Lord of
Spears." Therefore the Lord of Spears went lightly down by the Floating
Bridge; and there were bound upon his back eight hundred spears.
Howbeit, he made a truce with the Lord of the Reed Plains and tarried
there; and for three years there was no report.
Therefore, once more the Queen of Heaven called him whom the gods name
Wonderful, and she called the Lord of Deep Thoughts, and likewise she
called every deity of Heaven, and they came to council in the Tranquil
River Bed, so that upon the sand there was left the print of their
august feet. And Ama Terassu said, "Behold now the Lord of Spears is
faithless. Whom shall we send to rule the land?" And the Young Prince
answered, "O Mother of Heaven, Thine Augustness, send me." And all the
deities assented with one accord and cried, "Send him, send him," till
there was a sound like thunder in the River Bed.
So the Young Prince bound on his sandals, and they brought to him the
great bow that stands in the Hall of High Heaven, and bestowed it upon
him, and they gave him many heavenly-feathered arrows. So they made him
ready, and they brought him to the Floating Bridge. And the Young Prince
descended lightly, while his garments shone with the glory of Heaven.
But when he touched the tops of the high hills, his heart beat fast and
his blood ran warm. Therefore he cut the fastening of his sandals and
cast them behind him, and he ran upon his bare feet, like an earthly
deity, and came to the palace upon the Reed Plains.
Now, at the door of the palace the Princess Undershining stood, like a
growing flower. So the Young Prince beheld her and loved her, and he
built him a dwelling upon the Reed Plains, and took the Princess for his
bride. And, because he loved her and her earthly children, he brought no
report to High Heaven, and he forgot the waiting deities. For Heaven was
vague to him as a dream.
But the gods were weary.
And Ama Terassu said, "Long, long tarries our messenger, and brings no
word again. My Lord, the August Child, waxes impatient; whom now shall
we send?" Thereupon, all the deities, and the Lord of Deep Thoughts,
replied, "Send down the Singing Bird, the beloved of High Heaven."
So Ama Terassu took the golden Singing Bird, and said, "Sweet music of
the divine gods, spread thou thy bright wings, and fly to the Land of
Reed Plains, and there search out the Young Prince, the messenger of
Heaven, and, when thou hast found him, sing in his ear this song: 'Ama
Terassu, the Goddess of the Sun, has sent me saying, How fares the quest
of High Heaven, and how fares the message? Where is the report of the
gods?'"
So the bird departed, singing. And she came to the Land of the Reed
Plains, and perched upon the branch of a fair cassia tree which grew
hard by the Young Prince's dwelling. Day and night, she sang, and the
gods in Heaven thought long for their sweet Singing Bird. Howbeit she
returned not again, but sat upon the branch of the cassia tree.
But the Young Prince gave no heed.
And She that Speaketh Evil heard the words that the bird sang. And she
whispered in the Young Prince's ear, "See now, my lord, this is an evil
bird, and evil is its cry; therefore take thou thine arrows and go forth
and slay it." So she urged continually, and, by glamour, she prevailed
upon him. Then the Young Prince arose, and took his bow and his
heavenly-feathered arrows, and he let fly an arrow into the branches of
the cassia tree. And suddenly the sweet sound of singing ceased, and the
golden bird fell dead, for the aim was true.
But the heavenly-feathered arrow took wing and pierced the floor of
Heaven, and reached the high place, where sat the Sun Goddess, together
with her August Counsellors, in the Tranquil River Bed of Heaven. And
the god called Wonderful took up the arrow, and beheld the blood upon
its feathers. And the Lord of Deep Thoughts said, "This is the arrow
that was given to the Young Prince," and he showed it to all the
deities. And he said, "If the Young Prince has shot this arrow at the
evil deities, according to our command, let it do him no hurt. But, if
his heart be not pure, then let the Young Prince perish by this arrow."
And he hurled the arrow back to earth.
Now the Young Prince lay upon a couch, sleeping. And the arrow fell,
and pierced his heart that he died.
Yet the sweet Singing Bird of Heaven returned no more; and the gods were
sorrowful.
Howbeit, the Young Prince lay dead upon his bed; and the wailing of his
spouse, the Princess Undershining, re-echoed in the wind, and was heard
in Heaven. So the Young Prince's father descended with cries and
lamentations, and there was built a mourning house upon the Land of Reed
Plains, and the Young Prince was laid there.
And there came to mourn for him the wild goose of the river, and the
pheasant, and the kingfisher. And they mourned for him eight days and
eight nights.
XIX
THE COLD LADY
Once an old man and a young man left their village in company, in order
to make a journey into a distant province. Now, whether they went for
pleasure or for profit, for matters of money, of love or war, or because
of some small or great vow that they had laid upon their souls, it is no
longer known. All these things were very long since forgotten. It is
enough to say that it is likely they accomplished their desires, for
they turned their faces homewards about the setting-in of the winter
season, which is an evil time for wayfarers, Heaven knows.
Now as they journeyed, it happened that they missed their way, and,
being in a lonely part of the country, they wandered all the day long
and came upon no good soul to guide them. Near nightfall they found
themselves upon the brink of a broad and swift-flowing river. There was
no bridge, no ford, no ferry. Down came the night, with pitch-black
clouds and a little shrewd wind that blew the dry and scanty reeds.
Presently the snow came. The flakes fell upon the dark water of the
river.
"How white, how white they are!" cried the young man.
But the old man shivered. In truth it was bitter cold, and they were in
a bad case. Tired out, the old man sat him down upon the ground; he drew
his cloak round him and clasped his hands about his knees. The young man
blew upon his fingers to warm them. He went up the bank a little, and at
last he found a small poor hut, deserted by a charcoal-burner or
ferryman.
"Bad it is at the best," said the young man, "yet the gods be praised
for any shelter on such a night." So he carried his companion to the
hut. They had no food and no fire, but there was a bundle of dried
leaves in the corner. Here they lay down and covered themselves with
their straw rain-coats; and in spite of the cold, they soon fell asleep.
About midnight the young man was awakened by an icy air upon his cheek.
The door of the hut stood wide open, and he could see the whirling
snow-storm without. It was not very dark. "A pest upon the wind!" said
the young man. "It has blown open the door, and the snow has drifted in
and covered my feet," and he raised himself upon his elbow. Then he saw
that there was a woman in the hut.
She knelt by the side of the old man, his companion, and bent low over
him till their faces almost met. White was her face and beautiful; white
were her trailing garments; her hair was white with the snow that had
fallen upon it. Her hands were stretched forth over the man that slept,
and bright icicles hung from her finger-tips. Her breath was quite
plainly to be seen as it came from her parted lips. It was like a fair
white smoke. Presently she made an end of leaning over the old man, and
rose up very tall and slender. Snow fell from her in a shower as she
moved.
"That was easy," she murmured, and came to the young man, and sinking
down beside him took his hand in hers. If the young man was cold before,
he was colder now. He grew numb from head to heel. It seemed to him as
if his very blood froze, and his heart was a lump of ice that stood
still in his bosom. A deathly sleep stole over him.
"This is my death," he thought. "Can this be all? Thank the gods there
is no pain." But the Cold Lady spoke.
"It is only a boy," she said. "A pretty boy," she said, stroking his
hair; "I cannot kill him."
"Listen," she said. The young man moaned.
"You must never speak of me, nor of this night," she said. "Not to
father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother, nor to betrothed maid, nor
to wedded wife, nor to boy child, nor to girl child, nor to sun, nor
moon, nor water, fire, wind, rain, snow. Now swear it."
He swore it. "Fire--wind--rain--snow ..." he murmured, and fell into a
deep swoon.
When he came to himself it was high noon, the warm sun shone. A kind
countryman held him in his arms and made him drink from a steaming cup.
"Now, boy," said the countryman, "you should do. By the mercy of the
gods I came in time, though what brought me to this hut, a good three
_ri_ out of my way, the August Gods alone know. So you may thank them
and your wondrous youth. As for the good old man, your companion, it is
a different matter. He is past help. Already his feet have come to the
Parting of the Three Ways."
"Alack!" cried the young man. "Alack, for the snow and the storm, and
the bitter, bitter night! My friend is dead."
But he said no more then, nor did he when a day's journey brought him
home to his own village. For he remembered his oath. And the Cold Lady's
words were in his ear.
"You must never speak of me, nor of this night, not to father, nor
mother, nor sister, nor brother, nor to betrothed maid, nor to wedded
wife, nor to boy child, nor to girl child, nor to sun, nor moon, nor
water, fire, wind, rain, snow...."
Some years after this, in the leafy summer time, it chanced that the
young man took his walks abroad alone, and as he was returning
homewards, about sundown, he was aware of a girl walking in the path a
little way before him. It seemed as though she had come some distance,
for her robe was kilted up, she wore sandals tied to her feet, and she
carried a bundle. Moreover, she drooped and went wearily. It was not
strange that the young man should presently come up with her, nor that
he should pass the time of day. He saw at once that the girl was very
young, fair, and slender.
"Young maiden," he said, "whither are you bound?"
She answered, "Sir, I am bound for Yedo, where I intend to take service.
I have a sister there who will find me a place."
"What is your name?" he asked.
"My name is O'Yuki."
"O'Yuki," said the young man, "you look very pale."
"Alas! sir," she murmured, "I faint with the heat of this summer day."
And as she stood in the path her slender body swayed, and she slid to
his feet in a swoon.
The young man lifted her gently, and carried her in his arms to his
mother's house. Her head lay upon his breast, and as he looked upon her
face, he shivered slightly.
"All the same," he said to himself, "these summer days turn chilly about
sundown, or so it seems to me."