The Ten Foot Square Hut and Tales of the Heike Read online

  Satsuma-no-kami, seeing that all was over and wishing to have a short space to say the death-prayer, flung Tadazumi from him so that he fell about a bow's length away. Then turning toward the west he repeated: "Kōmyō Henjō Jippō Sekai, Nembutsu Shujō Sesshu Fusha; O Amida Nyorai, who sheddest the light of Thy Presence through the ten quarters of the world, gather into Thy Radiant Heaven all who call upon Thy Name!" And just as his prayer was finished, Tadazumi from behind swept off his head.

  Not doubting that he had taken the head of a noble foe, but quite unaware who he might be, he was searching his armour when he came across a piece of paper fastened to his quiver, on which was written a verse with this title: "The Traveller's Host, a Flower."

  Now the daylight dies,

  And the shadow of a tree

  Serves me for an inn.

  For the host to welcome me

  There is but a wayside flower.

  Wherefore he knew that it could be none but Sat suma-no-kami.

  Then he lifted up the head on his sword's point and shouted with a loud voice: "Satsuma-no-kami Dono, the demon-warrior of Nippon, slain by Okabe-Roku-yata Tadazumi of Musashi!" And when they heard it, all, friends and foes alike, moistened the sleeves of their armour with their tears exclaiming: "Alas! what a great captain has passed away! Warrior and artist and poet; in all things he was pre-eminent."

  SHIGEHIRA IS TAKEN ALIVE

  Hon-sammi Chūjō Shigehira was second in command at Ikuta-no-mori, and he was attired that day in a hitatare of dark-blue cloth on which a pattern of rocks and sea-birds was embroidered in light yellow silk, and armour with purple lacing deepening in its hue toward the skirts. On his head was a helmet with tall golden horns, and his sword also was mounted in gold. His arrows were feathered with black and white falcon plumes, and in his hand he carried a "Shigeto" bow. He was mounted on a renowned war-horse called Dōji-kage, whose trappings were resplendent with ornaments of gold. With him was his foster-brother Gotō Hyōye Morinaga in a hitatare of dyed brocade and a suit of armour with scarlet lacing, and he too was mounted on a splendid cream-coloured charger named Yome-nashi.

  As they were riding along the shore to take ship and escape, Shō-no-Shirō Takaie and Kajiwara Genda Kagesue, thinking they looked a fine prize, spurred on their horses and bore down upon them. Now there were many ships ranged along the shore, but the enemy pressed on them so hard from behind that there was no opportunity to embark, so the two, crossing the Minatogawa and the Karumogawa, and leaving Hasu-no-ike on the right and Koma-no-hayashi on the left, rode hard through Itayado and Suma and endeavoured to make their escape to the west.

  As Shigehira was mounted on such a famous charger as Dōji-kage it seemed unlikely that any ordinary horse would overhaul him, and the pursuers mounts were already weakening, when Kajiwara drew his bow to the head and sent an arrow whizzing after them. Though a long venture the shaft flew true to its mark, and buried itself deeply in the hind-leg of the Chūjō's steed, just above the root of the tail. Seeing its pace slacken his foster-brother Morinaga, thinking that the Chūjō might demand his mount, whipped it up and made good his escape. "Ah!" exclaimed the Chūjō, "why do you desert me thus? Have you forgotten all your promises?" But he paid no heed, and tearing off the red badge from his armour, thought of nothing but saving himself by flight. Then the Chūjō, seeing that his horse could go no farther, plunged headlong into the sea to die by drowning, but the water was so shallow that there was no time, and as he started to cut himself open, Shō-no-Shirō Takaie rode up, and springing from his horse, called out to him: "Desist I pray you; allow me to take you with me." And placing him on his own horse, he bound him to the pommel of his saddle and escorted him back to the Genji camp.

  The Chūjō's foster-brother Morinaga, who had ridden away and deserted him, fled to seek refuge with Onaka Hōkyō, one of the priests of Kumano, but after his death returned again to the Capital with his widow, when she came up on account of a lawsuit that she had. There he was recognized by many of his associates who had known him in past times, and they pointed the finger of scorn at him saying: "How disgraceful! There is Gotō Hyōye Morinaga, who deserted the Chūjō in his need and refused to aid him. He has come back again with the widow of the Hōkyō." And Morinaga, when he heard it was so ashamed that he hid his face with his fan.

  THE DEATH OF ATSUMORI

  Now when the Heike were routed at Ichi-no-tani, and their Nobles and Courtiers were fleeing to the shore to escape in their ships, Kumagai Jirō Naozane came riding along a narrow path on to the beach, with the intention of intercepting one of their great captains. Just then his eye fell on a single horseman who was attempting to reach one of the ships in the offing, and had swum his horse out some twenty yards from the water's edge.

  He was richly attired in a silk hitatare embroidered with storks, and the lacing of his armour was shaded green; his helmet was surmounted by lofty horns, and the sword he wore was gay with gold. His twenty-four arrows had black and white feathers, and he carried a black-lacquered bow bound with rattan. The horse he rode was dappled grey, and its saddle glittered with gold-mounting. Not doubting that he was one of the chief captains, Kumagai beckoned to him with his war-fan, crying out: "Shameful! to show an enemy your back. Return! Return!"

  Then the warrior turned his horse and rode him back to the beach, where Kumagai at once engaged him in mortal combat. Quickly hurling him to the ground, he sprang upon him and tore off his helmet to cut off his head, when he beheld the face of a youth of sixteen or seventeen, delicately powdered and with blackened teeth, just about the age of his own son, and with features of great beauty. "Who are you?" he inquired; "Tell me your name, for I would spare your life." "Nay, first say who you are;" replied the young man. "I am Kumagai Jirō Naozane of Musashi, a person of no particular importance." "Then you have made a good capture;" said the youth. Take my head and show it to some of my side and they will tell you who I am."

  "Though he is one of their leaders," mused Kumagai, "if I slay him it will not turn defeat into victory, and if I spare him, it will not turn victory into defeat. When my son Ko jirō was but slightly wounded at Ichi-no-tani, did it not make my heart bleed? How pitiful then to put this youth to death." And so he was about to set him free, when, looking behind him, he saw Doi and Kajiwara coming up with fifty horsemen. "Alas! look there," he exclaimed, the tears running down his face, "though I would spare your life, the whole countryside swarms with our men, and you cannot escape them. If you must die, let it be by my hand, and I will see that prayers are said for your rebirth in bliss." "Indeed it must be," said the young warrior, "so take off my head at once."

  Then Kumagai, weeping bitterly, and so overcome by his compassion for the fair youth that his eyes swam and his hand trembled so that he could scarcely wield his blade, hardly knowing what he did, at last cut off his head. "Alas!" he cried, "what life is so hard as that of a soldier? Only because I was born of a warrior family must I suffer this affliction! How lamentable it is to do such cruel deeds!" And he pressed his face to the sleeve of his armour and wept bitterly. Then, wrapping up the head, he was stripping off the young man's armour, when he discovered a flute in a brocade bag that he was carrying in his girdle.

  "Ah," he exclaimed, "it was this youth and his friends who were diverting themselves with music within the walls this morning. Among all our men of the Eastern Provinces I doubt if there is any who has brought a flute with him. What esthetes are these Courtiers of the Heike!" And when he brought them and showed them to the Commander, all who saw them were moved to tears; and he then discovered that the youth was Taiyū-Atsumōri, the youngest son of Shūri-no-taiyū Tsunemori, aged seventeen years. From this time the mind of Kumagai was turned toward the religious life and he eventually became a recluse.

  The flute of Atsumōri was one which his grandfather Tadanori, who was a famous player, had received as a present from the Emperor Toba, and had handed down to his father Tsunemori, who had given it to Atsumōri because of his skill on th
e instrument. It was called "Saeda."* Concerning this story of Kumagai we may quote the saying that "even in the most droll and flippant farce there is the germ of a Buddhist Psalm."†

  Thus as the day wore on both Genji and Heike fell in great numbers at the eastern and western barriers, and before the towers and beneath the barricades the bodies of men and horses lay in heaps, while the green grass of Ichi-no-tani and Osasahara was turned to crimson. Countless were those who fell by arrow and sword at Ichi-no-tani and Ikuta-no-mori, by the hillside and by the strand of the sea. Two thousand heads did the Genji take in this battle, and of the Courtiers of the Heike, Echizen-no-Sammi Michimori, his younger brother Kurando-no-taiyō Narimori, Satsuma-no-kami Tadanori, Musashi-no-kami Tomoakira, Bitchū-no-kami Moromori, Owari-no-kami Kiyosada, Awaji-no-kami Kiyofusa, Kōgō-gū-no-suke Tsunemasa the eldest son of Tsunemori, his younger brother Wakasa-no-kami Tsunetoshi, and his younger brother Taiyō Atsumōri, beside ten others, all fell at Ichi-no-tani.

  When their stronghold was thus captured, the Heike were compelled to put to sea once more, taking the child Emperor with them. Some of their vessels were driven by wind and tide toward the province of Kii, while others rowed and tossed about, buffeted by the waves, in the offing of Ashiya. Some rocked on the billows off Suma and Akashi, steering aimlessly hither and thither, their crews weary and dispirited as they turned on their hard plank couches, and viewed the moon of spring mistily through their tear-dimmed eyes.

  Some crossed the straits of Awaji and drifted along by Ejima-ga-Iso, likening their lot to the sad sea-birds that fly there seeking by twilight the mate they have lost, while others still lay off Ichi-no-tani uncertain where to steer. Yesterday, with a host of a hundred thousand, feared and obeyed by fourteen provinces, they lay with high hopes but one day's journey from the Capital, and now, after the defeat of Ichi-no-tani, they were scattered and dispersed along the coast, each unaware of the fate of his friend.

  MICHIMORI'S WIFE DROWNS HERSELF

  Now Kenda Takiguchi Tokikazu, a retainer of Echizen-no-Sammi Michimori, fled in haste to the ship in which was the wife of Michimori, and said to her: "This morning my lord was surrounded by seven horsemen at the Minatogawa and fell fighting, and among them were Sasaki-no-Kimura Saburō Narit-suna of Ōmi, and Tamai-no-Shirō Sukekage of Musashi. I too would have stayed with him to the end and died, but he had strictly charged me before, saying that if anything should happen to him I must at all costs escape to look after my mistress; and so it is that I have saved my worthless life and come to you."

  On hearing these tidings his mistress uttered no word, but covered her face and fell prostrate. Though she had already heard that he was dead, she had not at first believed it, but for two or three days had waited as for one who had gone out for a short time and would soon come back. However, when four or five days had passed, her confidence was shaken, and she fell into deep melancholy. Her feelings were shared by her foster-mother who alone accompanied her and shared the same pillow.

  From the seventh day, on which the news was brought to her, until the evening of the thirteenth she did not rise from her bed. At dawn on the fourteenth day the Heike were starting to cross again to Yashima, and until the evening before she still lay on her couch. Then as night drew on and all was quiet in the ship, she turned to her foster-mother and said: "Though I had been told it, until this morning I did not realize that my husband was dead, but now, this evening, I know it is true. Every one says he was killed at the Minatogawa, and after that there is none who says he has seen him alive. And what grieves me most is that when I saw him for a short while on the night before the battle he was sad and said to me: 'I am certain to be slain in to-morrow's battle, and I wonder what will become of you after I am gone.' As there have been so many battles I did not pay any special heed to it, but if I had thought that it was the last time indeed, I would have promised to follow him to the after world.

  "Then, fearing that he might think me too reserved, I told him what I had up till that time concealed, that I was 'not alone.' He was extremely pleased to hear it and said: 'Ah, I have reached thirty years of age without having any children; I hope you will make it a boy if you can, for that will be a good memento of myself to leave behind in this fleeting world.' Then he went on to ask me how many months it was, and how I felt, and bade me keep as quiet as was possible in this ever-rolling ship that the birth might be easy.

  "Ah, how sad it all is! If women die at that time it is a most shameful and melancholy end that they suffer, and yet, if I bear this child and bring it up so that it may recall to me the features of him who is gone, every time I look on it it will bring back the memory of my former love, and that will cause me grief without end. Death is the road that none may avoid. Even if I should by good luck pass scatheless through these dangerous times, can I trust myself to escape the common fate of being entangled in some other passion? That too is a melancholy prospect. To behold him in my dreams when I sleep, and to awake only to look on his features! Better to drown in the depths of the sea than to live on thus bereft of my love. My heart is full of sorrow at leaving you thus alone, but I pray you send to Miyako this letter which I have written, and take my robes to some priest, that his prayers may hasten the enlightenment of my husband, and may assist me too in the after world."

  When she had made an end of speaking, the older woman, repressing her tears, replied: "How can you thus resolve to forsake your little one and leave your mother alone in her old age? Is your loss any greater than that of the other wives of the nobles of our house who have fallen at Ichi-no-tani? Though you may think you will sit on the same lotus as your husband, yet after rebirth you must both pass through the Six Ways and the Four Births, and in which of these can you be sure of meeting? And if you fail to meet, of what use is it to cast away your life? So be brave and calm your mind until your child is born, and strive to bring it up, whatever hardships may threaten. Then you may become a nun and spend your days in prayer for the happy rebirth of your departed husband. Moreover, as for Miyako, who is there who can carry such a letter?"

  Then the lady, wishing to comfort and reassure her weeping parent, replied: "If I seem strange, you must remember that under the stress of misfortune or the pain of parting to think of ending one's life is a natural thing, though really to nerve oneself to do so is not so easy; and if I should indeed resolve to carry out this intention I will be sure to let you know. But now it is late and I would sleep."

  Now her foster-mother, seeing that the lady had not even taken a bath for the last four or five days, concluded that her mind was indeed made up, and had herself determined that if she did so she would follow her even to the bottom of the sea, for she did not wish to live a day longer if her daughter was dead, so for some time she remained awake watching by her side, but at last she fell asleep, whereupon the lady, who had been awaiting this opportunity, slipped out quietly and ran to the bulwarks of the ship.

  Gazing out over the wide expanse of waters, she was uncertain in which direction lay the western quarter, but turning toward the setting moon as it was sinking behind the mountains, calmly she repeated the Nembutsu. The melancholy cry of the sea-birds on the distant sand-spits and the harsh creaking of the rudder mingled with her voice as she repeated it a hundred times. "Namu Amida Nyorai, Saviour who leadest us to the Western Paradise, according to Thy True Vow unite on the same lotus flower an inseparable husband and wife!" And with the last invocation still on her lips she cast herself into the waves.

  It was about midnight of the day on which they were to start for Yashima, and all aboard the ship were sleeping soundly, so no one perceived her. But as she plunged into the waves she attracted the attention of the helmsman, who alone of the crew was not asleep, and he cried out loudly that a woman had gone overboard from the ship, whereon the foster-mother, suddenly awakening, felt by her side, and finding nothing, was overcome by sorrow and amazement. Then, though all did their utmost to get her out of the water and save her life, as usual in spring, the
sky was cloudy and the moon obscured so that they could not see where she was, and when at last they did discover her and pull her out of the water, her life was already departing.

  Thus they laid her on the deck with the salt water streaming from her white hakama and the thick double layers of her Court costume, and dripping from her long black hair, and her foster-mother, taking her hands in hers and pressing her face to her cold features, exclaimed: "Why did you not let me know your resolve, and let me follow you to the bottom of the sea? Woe is me, now I am left here all alone! At least will you not speak to me once more?" But though she thus addressed her daughter in tones of agonized entreaty, she was already destined for that other world, and her breath, which until now had just barely fluttered in her body, at last departed for ever.

  SENSHU

  Now Sammi Chūjō Shigehira was brought into the presence of Yoritomo who thus addressed him: "To appease the Imperial displeasure, and to wipe away the stain from my father's memory I have undertaken to overthrow the Heike family, and it will not be difficult to accomplish; but verily I did not at all expect to see you here under these circumstances. As it is, perchance I may have the honour of receiving Munemori as well. But concerning the burning of the temples of Nara, whether it was done by the command of the late Chancellor Kiyomori, or whether it was ordered by you on the spur of the moment, I know not; but anyhow it was an exceeding heinous crime."