Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
"Oh, your reverence, there go your pictures—the wind!"
"Those scraps of paper? Never mind them. And now, have you come up here to see the maples and to compose a poem or two?"
"No, your reverence, I am on my way to Ninna-ji Temple on matters that have to do with the imperial pilgrimage."
"Yes? It's amazing how his majesty doesn't tire of all this horseracing. I shouldn't be surprised if the human race turns into a horde of evils running neck and neck, and the Guards become a herd of wild horses, runaway colts, and vicious stallions. A frightening thought indeed!"
Toba Sojo turned abruptly to call in the direction of a room at the rear of the villa: "Boy, are the persimmons I asked for ready? Bring some fruit to our guest."
There was no reply, but a faint murmur of voices could be heard at the back of the house. Then a youth who appeared from round the corner of the house approached the veranda. Some stonecutters who lived in the vicinity, he said, had come in terror to report that since morning they had seen a strange, wild-looking man wandering barefooted in the near-by hills; a sleeve of his robe was missing. They had stealthily observed his movements, followed him, and seen him disappear into the dense growth among the hills where he buried some large object that he apparently cherished. At the approach of the stonecutters, the creature had vanished like a bird into the depth of the forest on Takao.
"And what of it?" the Abbot exclaimed. "Why trouble yourself with such a trifle? Are you thinking of pursuing the man?"
"Nno—not exactly, but the stonecutters are talking excitedly about capturing him. They think he's a brigand."
"Let him be, let him be. These are hard times and even a brigand must live. He will be fed when they get him to jail, but what of his wife and children? Isn't that so, Yoshikiyo?"
Yoshikiyo appeared to be struck by a thought and was gazing at the clouded crest of Takao with an abstracted look. He was about to reply, seemed to think better of it, and apologized instead for his long stay and quickly left the villa.
A persimmon that the birds had left uneaten hung golden red under the autumn sky, and the sound of stonecutters' chisels echoed icily among the clouds of the peak.
THE BOY WITH A GAMECOCK
Frost had already fallen, and the screeching of shrike could be heard. Yellow and white chrysanthemums that flourished like weeds by the wayside were beginning to shrivel. A certain bleakness already hung in the air.
". . . Let me see. Is it likely for a nobleman to be living on the fringe of the city in surroundings sprawling with the huts of the common people?"
It was a sunny October day, warm as spring, when Kiyomori wandered about Seventh Avenue with a letter from his father to a government official, Fujiwara Tokinobu. His father had sent him to the Central Granary, where Tokinobu was employed. On arriving there, Kiyomori had been told by a clerk that the gentleman had left a short while ago for the Education Department to look up some old records. Advised to seek him in the library, Kiyomori, once more on foot, set out for the Education Department, a few steps from both the Imperial Academy and the Central Granary. There, however, he was told that Tokinobu had left, but the cleric ventured the information that the gentleman had gone home and gave him Tokinobu's address, on Seventh Avenue, so Kiyomori had turned his steps thither.
Kiyomori was appalled by the muddy roads and the squalor of the surroundings in which he found himself. He saw nothing that resembled a mansion. There were no imposing gates or stately buildings, that harmonious blending of T'ang and native architecture which one saw in the central part of the capital, occupied for centuries by government offices, the palaces of the nobility, and the mansions of the great families. This district on the fringe of the capital and the quarters behind the broad avenues were little more than open fields with scattered settlements, where clogmakers, armorers, papermakers, tanners, and dyers pursued their calling. The last autumn rains had flooded the streets into shallows and rivulets in which street urchins set snares for snipe, or fished for carp that fattened on the excrement thrown out on the roads.
Kiyomori stopped to look about him, wondering whether he should make some inquiries, when he saw a knot of people crowding excitedly around something.
There was a noisy cackling—a cockfight! Before he knew it, Kiyomori found himself one of the crowd. From the veranda of a near-by house, apparently that of a trainer of gamecocks, the trainer's wife, an old woman, and some children craned to see what was going on. Some passers-by were being pressed to stand as witnesses by the hard-faced trainer, whose assistant stood behind with a basket containing his prize fighting-cock. A young lad had challenged the trainer, who was haggling loudly over the amount of the wager.
"Coins—nothing less than coins! No small stake's going to make up for injuries to my bird! I'll fight you for money. Boy, did you bring some money?"
"Ah-eee—money suits me," replied the lad, who seemed to be only fourteen or fifteen years old. He was small, but the bold look he gave the trainer matched the defiant look of the gamecock he held under his arm; he gave the trainer a dimpled smile of scorn. "How much? How much will you bet?"
"Good! How's this?" the trainer offered, counting some money into a small basket, in which the boy placed an equal number of coins.
"Ready?" Still holding his struggling bird tight under his arm, the lad squatted, measuring off the distance between himself and his opponent's bird.
"Wait, wait! Some people still want to bet. Now, don't be so impatient, boy." The trainer turned to the spectators and eyed each one, taunting in half-jocular tones: "Come now, there's not much sport in merely looking on. What about a little betting— just a little?"
A rapid chinking of coins followed. Just then the referee and his stakeholder appeared. There were enough people now to bet on the trainer's bird, but few willing to risk anything on the lad's.
"Here, I'll make up the rest for the boy!" Kiyomori cried, startled by the sound of his own voice. He drew out some money. There was just enough.
"Ready?" signaled the referee. The eyes of the crowd were instantly riveted in grim silence to a spot on the ground.
"Boy, what's the name of your bird?"
"Lion, trainer. What's yours?"
"You don't know? Black Diamond—off we go!"
"Wait! The referee gives the signal."
"Impudence, you sound like a professional!"
Both birds craned at each other with outstretched necks. The judge gave the sign, and the cocks flew at each other. Pebbles rattled and bloodstained feathers began to fly. The fight was on.
An old man gazed round at the circle of faces with evident enjoyment, ignoring the cockfight. He wore the robes of a priest and straw sandals; a young manservant attended the priest, who stood resting his chin on the head of his cane.
". . . Ah, the Abbot of Toba!" Kiyomori was dismayed, cockfights were illegal and the Abbot also disapproved of street gambling; it would never do to be seen by him; he often came to the Palace. But Kiyomori, anxious about his money, was reluctant to leave and attempted to conceal himself behind a man next to him.
A shout went up. The fight was over. Sweeping up his winnings and hugging his bird to him, the young lad brushed past Kiyomori on winged feet and vanished.
Kiyomori was about to leave with an innocent air when he was stopped short by someone calling him: "Young man—Kiyomori of the Heike—where are you off to?"
"Ah—your reverence!"
The Abbot's voice held no reproof. "Wasn't this most enjoyable? I also was sure that lad's bird would win, and he did."
Greatly relieved and emboldened, Kiyomori said: "Your reverence, did you bet on the fight?"
The Abbot laughed heartily. "No, I'm a poor one for such things."
"But you guessed right, didn't you?"
"No, I'm hardly a judge of gamecocks. That trainer's bird is old like me; that lad's young like you. There was no question as to which would win, but you've been cheated of your winnings by that—stakeholder, as they seem to call him."
"Your reverence is the reason for that. Had you not been here, I would have picked a quarrel with that fellow."
"No, no, that would have been a mistake. You would have lost after all; don't you see that that fellow is the trainer's accomplice? No, maybe it's just as well that you don't understand. And by the way, how is your father? I hear he has resigned and gone into seclusion."
"Yes, your reverence. He is well. He dislikes getting involved in those Palace affairs."
"I quite understand how he feels. Tell him from me to take care of his health."
"Thank you," said Kiyomori as he started to leave. "Oh, your reverence, do you know whether Tokinobu of the Central Granary lives in this neighborhood?"
"You mean Tokinobu formerly of the Military Department? Boy," said the Abbot, turning to his servant, "do you know?" The servant replied that he did, and directed Kiyomori to follow the canal along Seventh Avenue to an old shrine to the Medicine God. The mansion was on the other side of a bamboo grove in the shrine compound, he said, adding in gratuitous detail—that Tokinobu, because of his close connections with the Heike, not only was considered odd, but was poor into the bargain; something of a scholar, and therefore queer—certainly ill-suited for the Military Department, and even now considered rather eccentric at the Central Granary. The mansion, he concluded, would very likely prove to be something of a surprise.
"Hmm—" mused the Abbot, "something like your father, I should say. So there are aristocrats who resemble your father. Young man, tell your father that it's getting too cold for me in the hills at Togano-o, and that I shall soon be wintering at my hermitage in Toba, where I shall continue to paint. Ask him to visit me once in a while." And so saying, the Abbot turned and went on his way.
Kiyomori walked on past the bamboo grove near the shrine until he found himself outside a wattled wall running, it appeared, the entire length of a block. The decrepit gate took Kiyomori by surprise, for it compared very poorly even with the one at home. He almost feared to call out lest the tottering structure collapse, but there was no need to hallo for he spied a crack in it wide enough to crawl through. He decided, however, to make his presence known in the usual manner by calling out loudly several times. Soon he heard footsteps. The gate creaked and groaned on its hinges as though someone was opening it with great difficulty, and the face of a young boy suddenly peered through.
"Oh? . . ." The lad stared at Kiyomori round-eyed.
Kiyomori's face broke into a friendly smile of recognition. They had met a short while ago. But the boy abruptly left Kiyomori where he was standing, clattered off in great agitation, and disappeared.
A spring that bubbled up in the compound of the shrine to the Medicine God flowed along an artificial bed beneath the enclosing wall of the estate and through the courtyard. Like a length of silk, it looped and wound its way through the garden, past the east wing of Tokinobu's mansion, round a grove of trees and through a bamboo thicket, until it disappeared under the wall on the other side of the grounds. The mansion appeared to have been a former imperial villa and lacked nothing in the beauty of its surroundings; the main house and the wings, however, were in a state of disrepair rare even outside the capital. But the garden had been carefully preserved in all its former elegance and seemed to reflect the gracious spirit of its present owner. Every inch of the garden was neat and swept clean.
Not even an under-servant appeared, so Kiyomori peered in and spied two young girls at the lower end of the garden washing clothes in the stream. Their long sleeves were looped back out of the way, and the hems of their outer tunics were tucked up, revealing their white ankles. He was certain that they were the daughters of the house and suddenly felt pleased at the errand that had brought him here.
If they were sisters, then the boy was undoubtedly their brother. The younger of the two still wore her hair knotted on her head in child-fashion; Kiyomori was curious how old the other might be.
They were dyeing thread for weaving. Near by was a dyeing vat and long skeins of silk were strung to dry between the balustrades of the house and a crimson maple tree. He was uncertain how he should address them, and afraid he might startle them, but then the younger of the two girls suddenly looked up and saw him. She whispered something in the other's ear; the two sprang up, dropped what they were doing, and fled toward one of the wings of the house.
Though left quite alone now with the waterfowl floating in the stream, Kiyomori was not annoyed. He decided that this was an opportune moment for washing his hands in the stream and straightening the cap on his head.