"It's very strange, actually," the secretary hurriedly began. "On the trip back from Dewa, his head neither putrefied nor withered; it became fresher and livelier, like the head of a living person. I've been too frightened to inspect it for the past few days—it may well be even more lifelike now."
"Neither putrefied nor withered? Don't be stupid! Here, let me have a look at it." He undid the cloth and found the head was indeed fresher and more lifelike than it had been, according to the secretary, five or six days before. Not only that, its eyes were open and glaring balefully at the Steward. He was amazed and cried out in a slightly tremulous voice: "It resents me! But you were in the wrong—I showed you favor and then you went and stole the sword. You betrayed me! When the secretary came for you, you'd resigned yourself to die, hadn't you? Well, then, why these angry looks?"
At these words, the head seemed to display a faint smile and continued to stare at the Steward.
"Destroy this head!" cried the Steward to his followers. Yet strange to tell, the head could not be burned with fire nor cut with a sword, almost as if it were made of iron; and its eyes kept staring sadly at the Steward. "Destroy that head!" he screamed, forgetting himself in his rage and terror. Unable to bear the sight of his master in such a state, the secretary broke in: "This must be some sort of curse connected with the ancient iron. We must borrow the power of the spirit of the ancient iron to pacify the vengefulness of the swordsmith's head, now possessed by that spirit. Hard as it may be to do, we must melt down the two swords and the iron pillar he made, and throw the head into the molten iron. It will melt, become smoke, and leave this earth. So it is written in one of the ancient Indian classics."
The Steward did not believe that things like this were in fact written in one of the ancient Indian classics; but at least it was a method worth trying, so he fell in with the secretary's plan and decided to sacrifice the iron pillar and pair of swords. A large kettle was prepared and the three iron objects thrown in. They quickly liquefied in the heat of the blazing fire. When the molten iron was on the boil, they threw in the head.
However, contrary to their expectations, the head did not burn. In the midst of the seething liquid metal it remained unchanged, staring sadly and silently at the Steward, like a living person with a grievance. The gaze he now turned toward his secretary was itself full of accusation.
"What's the meaning of this, Enkō? It's not happening the way you said: the head's not melting and turning to smoke."
The secretary was upset at the Steward's rebuke and said something surprising even to himself. "I'm sorry, my lord. Apparently here in Japan things don't go just the way they do in the Indian classics. I really do apologize. But there is another method, a good method in cases of this kind, also found in the Indian classics. Cut off my head and toss it into the boiling metal. Then I will be able to talk to the swordsmith's head and clear away all this vengefulness. I am a monk as well as a scholar, after all, and I can certainly do that much. Please command me to do that service for you."
The Steward recalled how the secretary had first come to his family. He had been about seven years old when one day a child was found abandoned in front of the family mansion. The maids had taken him to look, and it had turned out to be a boy-child dressed in rags. After a while his father came along and ordered that the boy be taken in and raised. Even now he could hear the crying of the abandoned boy and the voice of his father ordering him to be taken in. His father had recognized the boy's cleverness and, thinking he would at some point be of help to his own son, had sent him to study at the "Five Mountains," centers of Buddhist and Chinese learning. There he acquired a reputation as a scholar-monk; but when the son was appointed Steward of Bizen, the father ordered the foundling-turned-priest to accompany him as his secretary.
Even in Bizen, though, the secretary was always reading books. Of course he did not marry, and he never gave rise to the least whisper of scandal. The Steward was not sure what his secretary thought or felt in his heart, nor did he particularly care. But this unexpected offer now made him think again about the other's life. Perhaps he felt under obligation at having been raised and educated, and had decided to sacrifice himself in repayment.
The Steward did not want to accept this extraordinary request, but the secretary was determined and showed no signs of allowing himself to be diverted. Then too, there was the intractable problem of the swordsmiths head still staring at the Steward from the midst of the molten iron as it seethed and bubbled. It was really too bad, but perhaps he ought to go along with the idea after all....
"Well then, shall we have your head tossed into the pot, as you suggest?"
The secretary was overjoyed: "Now, I'll stretch my neck out over the pot like so, and you chop off my head and drop it in." The Steward steeled himself against pity and cut off the secretary's head, which fell with a plop into the molten iron.
The two heads were now facing one another in the pot. For a time they just floated there, staring at each other.
How long did this situation last? Not very long—perhaps five or ten minutes. But to the Steward who was watching with bated breath to see what would happen, it seemed of infinite duration. The two heads continued to stare at one another, and then there was the sound of loud laughter, like the rumbling of heaven and earth. The two heads were laughing.
"Strange!" The Steward turned toward the secretary's head to administer a rebuke. "This is not at all what you suggested. You were to get into the pot of boiling metal and convince the swordsmith's head to rest in peace. What is the meaning of this raucous laughter from the pair of you?"
The two heads looked at the Steward with mocking smiles.
"What! You're making sport of me? You never dared look at me like that when you were alive. I'll have you cut into little pieces!" The Steward was so excited he leaned right out over the kettle. At that point something very strange happened. His head detached itself from his body and dropped into the kettle. It floated on the surface of the molten iron and glared angrily at the other two heads. The swordsmith's head, as before, stared back at the Stewards with a melancholy gaze, while the secretary's looked at him in a clearly mocking manner.
For a while the three-cornered staring continued. Then the Steward's head bit into the swordsmith's and the swordsmith's head into his. The secretary's head entered in, trying to break the fight up, only to be bitten by both of the other two. It then launched a fierce counterattack against both of them. For the next two or three hours the interior of the kettle was transformed into a veritable hell of fighting demons. Eventually, though, the three heads became exhausted, and quiet returned to the kettle. The heads were so torn and bloodied that one could hardly tell which was which, yet each of them wore a faint smile of triumph. Then, still smiling, the three heads began to dissolve in the seething molten iron until they disappeared without a trace.
Haseo's Love
One day, as Ki no Haseo was returning alone from court, he noticed someone following him. Observant as always, Haseo had known for some time that he was being followed. Whether aware of that or not, the other continued to follow; and Haseo decided to wait for the fellow at a certain corner. He turned out to be a small, strangely thin man sporting a little mustache—an ordinary-looking sort, on the whole.
"You've been following me for some time now. Why?"
"Well, well, so I've been found out. You can't put anything over on Ki no Haseo, can you? I have some business to discuss with you," replied the man in a composed manner.
"Business with me? What business?"
"I have a small favor to ask of Lower Third Rank Middle Councilor Ki no Haseo, known to everyone in the capital as a man powerful enough to bring down a bird on the wing with a mere glance."
Haseo was bothered by this last expression. True, he was a Middle Councilor of the Lower Third Rank; but that did not imply the power to "bring down a bird on the wing." On the contrary, Haseo doubted he could manage to bring down even a perching bird. But the
man continued, "You are, after all, the foremost disciple of the late Sugawara no Michizane. What a pitiful way to have died! But now he's a god who can send down terrible curses upon men, isn't he? And you alone, they say, can actually communicate with this fearsome deity, Master Haseo!"
To be sure, Haseo was a disciple of Michizane. Like him, he was a brilliant graduate of the University. He had learned a good deal from Michizane, whose specialty was of course literature. But Haseo had pursued many other studies as well: the Chinese Way of Yin and Yang, the Book of Changes, mathematics, and other somewhat dubious fields. But his master Michizane had, some ten years before, been exiled to Dazaifu in northern Kyushu, shortly after achieving the high position of Minister of the Right, Lower Second Rank. This had been, of course, the work of his enemy Fujiwara no Tokihira, Minister of the Left, who feared an increase in Michizane's power. Michizane was partial to talented officials who, like himself, had risen through passing the government examinations. Such "scholars-turned-officials" were the recipients of his favor. Tokihira was not pleased with this, for what would become of the privileges of the well born? To him, intent on supporting the dictatorship of the northern branch of the Fujiwara clan under the guise of the regency system, Michizane's existence seemed a threat. That was why he fabricated a case against him and had him banished to Dazaifu. At the time, everyone supposed that Ki no Haseo would also be sent into exile as Michizane's chief disciple. Tokihira, however, punished only Michizane and his children in an effort to limit the effects of the incident as much as possible. And, contrary to the general expectation, Haseo rose in rank rather than losing his position. This was a clever political move on Tokihira's part: He knew that Haseo was not the type ever to oppose anyone in authority and so decided to make him his ally; by doing so, he would also gain a reputation as a wise and generous statesman. Of course, it placed Haseo in a delicate position as Michizane's favorite student. He had a good grasp of his situation, though, and managed outwardly to display appropriate sympathy for his master while inwardly giving his loyalty to Tokihira.
Then, after Michizane died an angry exile in Dazaifu, it was widely rumored that his vengeful ghost was cursing Tokihira and those around him. People trembled at the awful power of Michizane's spirit, particularly after a thunderbolt struck the palace, killing many of the courtiers who had been involved in the banishment. Tokihira himself declared his sturdy indifference to anything the spirit of a mere Minister of the Right might do against him, Minister of the Left; but the other members of his family were seized with the most abject terror. Through it all, Ki no Haseo's position at court grew stronger and stronger, for he was the only one who, it was thought, could console Michizane's outraged ghost and bring an end to the curse. Thus it was that he was made Middle Councilor of the Lower Third Rank.
He had attained a position higher than he had ever hoped for, but he was also lonely and bored. A man who communes closely with a god, especially an angry one, is generally avoided.
The man broke in on these thoughts of Haseo's with the remark, "Master Haseo, I have heard you are an expert in many fields, including gambling. They say there's nothing you don't know about the subject of gambling, ancient and modern, from east to west. And not only in theory but in practice as well, you are the greatest gambler of the age—is it not so?"
Haseo was amazed to hear the terms "theory" and "practice" from the mouth of this fellow, for it was precisely in the unity of theory and practice that both his scholarship and that of his master Michizane had discovered their ideal goal. Michizane is often considered a master primarily of literature, but this is a mistake. If it were only a matter of literature, there were, and probably are, greater figures than he. His true greatness lay in his ability to use all branches of learning, including literature, for political ends. Without that, how could someone from the scholarly Sugawara clan have succeeded in becoming Minister of the Right, one of the most powerful men in the land? He not only used his learning for political purposes, but was able at the same time to maintain a useful distinction between the scholar and the politician. When there was a political confrontation he wished to avoid, he would say he was, after all, a scholar, and stand aside. Not, of course, that he stood completely aside. Rather, he gave the appearance of standing apart as a scholar while reading the signs of the times so as to be able to end up on the winning side. This was the secret of his success and the way he became Minister of the Right. But this success was ultimately his downfall. Even the ever-prudent Michizane could not resist the temptation of a rank higher than he could ever have dreamt of. At any rate, it was by linking theory and practice that Michizane had been able to succeed; and Haseo, as his student, had thoroughly mastered this lesson in getting on in the world. If, unlike Michizane, he had devoted himself to the study of Yin-Yang, the Book of Changes, mathematics, and gambling, it was because he wished to learn things of practical benefit.
"Yes, well, I have made a little study of gambling, as you suggest."
"Hardly 'a little study,' sir. They say you're the most skillful gambler at court, do they not?"
It was as the man said: Haseo was the best hand at gambling in the palace. He had made a thorough study of the subject, reading every book he could lay his hands on, whether old or new, from east or west. He had paid careful attention to backgammon, just then very popular among the nobility. (This was different from contemporary backgammon, with a far greater element of risk.) From a very young age, he became a skilled player, with Fujiwara no Nagatoshi, Captain of the Guards of the Right, Kiyowara no Sadasuke, head of the Household Secretariat, and Tachibana no Shigeie, of the Secretariat of State, as companions. As leader of the group, Haseo would invite his friends over to his house to play backgammon till dawn. It would have looked bad to have all-night gambling sessions at the house of a scholar, however, so they told their families they had organized a study-circle. After all, no one would expect them to be playing backgammon at the house of Ki no Haseo, the most distinguished scholar then at court. Some of the wives may have suspected an assignation with a secret mistress, but they diplomatically chose to say nothing. And so the all-night sessions went unnoticed by the other courtiers.
Except for Michizane. "They say you've organized a study-circle lately. What're you studying, if I may ask? Word has it that it's something to do with numbers. . . . What could it be? At any rate, you'd do well to be careful of gossip."
Startled at Michizane's insightfulness, Haseo answered lamely, "Oh no, I'm not the sort who'd do anything on the sly." Michizane smiled faintly as if to say, "I know exactly what you and your friends are up to." He was warning Haseo to be careful of gossip, but the disciple for his part was worried about certain rumors regarding the master. Michizane was a skilled painter as well as litterateur, and there was said to be a very unseemly painting by him of a certain woman, almost totally nude. The woman in the painting looked exactly like one of the Retired Emperor Uda's consorts, even to the appearance of a mole on a portion of the inner thigh. Now Michizane was almost as great a womanizer as he was a writer. He had many wives and concubines, and children from them; and in addition there were rumors linking him with numerous other women. The new rumor about the woman in the painting was perhaps credible given Michizane's nature, but it seemed to Haseo likely to have been made up and put about by his master's enemies, and to be highly dangerous. He had been meaning to tell Michizane about the rumor and warn him to exercise care, but it was hard to broach the subject. So he had remained silent until now, when he was being warned to guard his reputation. How odd it felt!
"You're the one who should be careful!" The words had risen to his lips but he was able to choke them back. Shortly afterwards, Michizane was banished. "I probably should have said something at the time," reflected Haseo, as the entire series of events flashed through his consciousness in a kind of panorama.
"Middle Councilor, I would very much appreciate the favor of a game with you." The words brought Haseo back to the here and now. "I've
just got hold of a splendid backgammon set that belonged to the late Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal. I'd like to play one game with you using that set. Of course, I know I can't win, but won't you help me inaugurate my new set with a game? It would be a supreme honor for me."
Haseo was intrigued by this sudden, unexpected proposition, in part because he was bored. Day after day, he found himself with time on his hands, so it might be entertaining to have a game with this fellow using the Lord Privy Seal's personal set.
"All right, I'll accept your invitation for a game. Now, what day shall we make it?"
"Why, today, of course. 'Hasten to do a good thing,' as the proverb says! We could start right now."
"Right now? That's a little too soon. What about tomorrow?"
"By tomorrow, you may not feel like doing it."
Haseo was beginning to feel his old passion for gambling rising within, for the first time in a long while. The longdead excitement of his youthful days came back to life, and he could not bring himself to refuse. "Well, since I'm free until evening today, I'll accept."
"Thank you, sir! You've fulfilled my greatest wish. The backgammon set itself should rejoice," said the man, already starting to walk. "My house is just nearby. Please follow me."Haseo followed along after the man, who kept a swift pace as he moved steadily southward. They passed Third Avenue, then Fourth, then Fifth and Sixth, until at last they came to Ninth Avenue.
"Your house is a good distance, not 'just nearby' as you said. Why, this is Ninth Avenue, at the southern edge of the capital, near the Rashomon gate!"
Lotus & Other Tales of Medieval Japan Page 3
