Now it was midnight. Suddenly the eastern sky began to brighten up as if the moon were sticking out her round face from behind the clouds. Then this strange brilliance came nearer and nearer toward their place, and several minutes later it came to find its way into the matted room in which the two were sitting. And lo! Up in the splendor there appeared the figure of Holy Buddha riding on the back of a white elephant. It was a very divine spectacle indeed! This resplendent figure, which had come close enough to the building, suddenly stopped its movement in the air.
As for the priest, he, from the beginning of these mysterious happenings, kept himself flat on the floor wrapped in the brilliant presence of Buddha, shedding tears of joy on the mat. The hunter kept watching every movement of the figure with curiosity until the prostrate priest, turning to him, whispered, "Well? Did you see him and bow to him, too?"
"Yes, sir," answered the hunter, hurriedly bending his forehead to the mat.
But he thought, "This is a little funny. It's quite natural that a well-trained priest like him should, with his virtue, be able to see Buddha. But how could I, who am not practiced in asceticism at all? Let me see, there must be something fishy about this Buddha. All right, I'll find it out."
With quick action, he raised himself up, fixed an arrow to the string of his bow, pulled it as round as the full moon and shot it out into the darkness. The arrow flew straight on toward the mysteriously illuminated figure as a piece of iron is attracted by a magnet, and hit it right in the heart.
All of a sudden the light faded and everything was covered with darkness. Silence prevailed for a few seconds. But soon the silence was broken by a succession of rattling noises. At the unexpected profane conduct of the hunter, the priest was so astonished that for a moment he could not utter a single word.
Regaining his senses after a while, he cried bitterly, "O you, what a thing you have done! Could there be greater impiety than this?"
The hunter felt so sorry for him. But as he had a definite thought in mind, he persuaded the miserable priest not to cry any more.
"I'm very sorry for you, my respected saint. When I set my eyes upon his figure, I got an impression that something was fishy about him. So I had to find it out by any means. Please don't cry any more and don't worry about damnation."
Thus he tried all possible ways and means to console the priest, who was now sunk in deep sorrow, but in vain. Meanwhile the veil of darkness began to fade away, and everything was awaking from its sleep, bit by bit. As soon as it grew light enough, the hunter stepped down on the ground and approached the spot where the monster had probably been standing on the preceding night.
To his great surprise, the ground there had in a single night turned into a sea of blood. And the marks of blood dotted the soil toward the valley beyond. He carefully traced these bloodstains one hundred yards, walking on the flat ground and climbing down the rocky slope, and found himself at the bottom of the deep valley at last.
There he saw a huge wild boar lying dead, its heart pierced with an arrow. At this horrible sight, the priest who had come after him was astonished, as he saw the true shape of the resplendent Buddha with his own eyes.
Now he did not feel sorrow any longer. He even felt ashamed of himself for believing he had acquired supernatural power through many years of learning.
It is told that there have not been any more mysterious events of that kind on the mountain since then.
16. A cat-hater
LONG, LONG AGO, there was in the capital a peculiar person named Fujiwara Kiyokado. He was an official of the department of finance and held the court rank of goi (fifth grade).
He was a great hater of cats and was so much afraid of these animals that he was nicknamed "Human Rat." Half for fun, some of his friends would scare him by putting cats beside him. Even in the office he would run away abandoning his work at the sight of a cat. The officials of the department therefore called him "Cat-hating Kiyokado."
Kiyokado was a rich man with large estates in Yamato, Yamashiro, and Iga provinces. But he would not pay taxes to the government of Yamato Province. In olden times people offered bags of rice as taxes to the provincial governments. The officials of the Yamato government requested many times that Kiyokado pay the taxes, but he would not pay them.
One day Governor Sukegimi and his men got together to study the best way to make the cat-hater pay taxes.
"If we leave this matter unsettled, he will never pay the taxes. We must do something."
"As he is a goi-holder, we cannot punish him merely for not paying. He will be crafty enough to make some excuse for his neglect of payment."
They were at a loss what to do with Kiyokado. All of a sudden the governor hit upon a good idea. Just then Kiyokado accidentally came to see the governor, who immediately had him shown into his office and the door locked. Then the 'governor began politely, "Dear Kiyokado, why don't you pay the taxes? I have been strictly instructed by the central government to collect them from you. I ask you to tell your estate managers to pay the taxes without delay."
"I am very sorry to trouble you, dear Sukegimi. I have been so busy that I was compelled to put off the payment. Since it is our duty to pay the taxes, I promise I will pay them in the near future."
Although cat-hating Kiyokado apparently apologized to the governor, he cried in his heart that he would never tender a single grain of rice to the government. Governor Sukegimi, however, was not deceived at all, for he was well aware of the cat-hater's tactics.
"My friend Kiyokado, you cannot fool me this time. You promised me many times that you would pay the taxes, but you never kept your word. I do wish to settle this problem today. If you will not accept my request, I will not let you out," said Sukegimi.
"Please don't get excited, Governor Sukegimi. Though I have said I would pay them in the near future, I promise you I will pay them by the end of this month. Is that satisfactory to you?"
"No, no, I cannot trust you." The governor continued, "As we have been close friends for many years, I do not wish to have trouble with you. I will let bygones be bygones. Again I ask you to pay the taxes at once."
Kiyokado, however, held out persistently. "As I told you, I am in no position to pay them right now. I have to talk with my managers about how to pay."
The governor became excited by his indecisive attitude and cried, "Guards, bring them in!" Kiyokado, remaining calm, wondered what the governor's men would bring into the room. In a minute, there was heard a meowing in the doorway, and a big grey cat came in. She was followed by four others.
"Oh, cats! No, no. Take them out, please," cried Kiyokado, with a tremble. He earnestly asked the governor, with joined hands, to take out the animals right away.
The cats came near the stranger, meowing, and one of them got on his lap while another jumped on his shoulder. A third took a sniff of the sleeves of his kimono, and others ran about the room.
Kiyokado was quite helpless. He looked pale, trembling with fear. At this sight, the governor thought that his tactics had worked well.
"Guards, take them out," he ordered. The cats were immediately taken out and tied with strings to the door post. Unable to move freely, they began a meowing chorus which immensely tortured the cat-hater. He was in a cold sweat and felt more dead than alive.
"Well, dear Kiyokado. Do you still wish to put off the payment?"
"Oh, help me, Governor! I will do anything you want me to do. Please take them away!"
"All right. I will have them taken away. But before doing that, I must request you to write a letter to your estate managers. Tell them to pay the taxes today. If you fail to meet my request, I must tell my guards to bring in the cats again."
"Oh, no! I'll surely die of shock to death if I see them again. I will be very happy to write a letter."
Whereupon the governor had brush and ink brought in for Kiyokado's use. The cat-hater, thus pressed, had no other choice but to write a letter telling his managers to tender immediately five hundred
rice bags to the provincial government of Yamato.
This interesting story soon spread in the capital and people congratulated the witty governor on his splendid victory over the cat-hater.
17. The flying water jars
WITH THE COMING of autumn, many hundreds of thousands of Kyotoites turn out on each holiday and visit noted maple-viewing resorts in the suburbs of the city.
One of these resorts is Takao, which lies several miles up the clear stream of Kiyotaki River. The deep valley is entirely covered with red leaves of maple trees in this season, and presents a fantastic view. On both sides of the stream are many improvised resting booths in a row, and visitors may open their lunch boxes, or have a maple-viewing party, merrily laughing and talking, or singing with the accompaniment of strolling musicians.
At some distance from the stream stands a Buddhist temple called Jingo-ji, which was founded in 824 by Kobo Daishi, one of the most revered Buddhist priests and the founder of the Shingon sect of Buddhism.
Now here is an interesting tale about this stream.
Long, long ago, there lived near this stream a priest who had been studying Buddhism for a long time. Through his continued self-imposed penance, he acquired such wonderful magic power that he could make a jar fetch water from the river. He was proud of being so great a priest.
One day, he saw another jar come flying from the upper reaches of the river, fill itself with water, and fly back. Several days later, he again saw the jar do the same work and fly back. He could hardly believe that anyone capable of such magic lived up the river. So he promptly ran for several miles up along the river after the jar, and saw it finally go into the hut of a small cloister. Its roof and the garden were covered with moss, and presented a kind of holiness. When he noiselessly stepped up to a window and looked into the room, he saw a sacred book left open on the desk and even smelled incense burning.
He carefully took another look around the room, and found an old noble-looking priest dozing over an elbow rest. To test his magic power, the younger priest drew close to him with stealthy steps and chanted a spell of fire evil. The old priest, even in his sleep, took up a cane, soaked it in holy water, which he sprinkled all around himself. Some drops fell on the younger priest and set his robe on fire.
Frightened, he ran out to the garden and tried to beat out the fire. The holy priest, awakened from his sleep by the noise, saw the younger one in trouble, so he sprinkled more water on him. This mysterious shower put the fire out in a moment, so he was saved from being burned to death.
Stepping up to him, the holy priest asked, "Why have you come here to meet such trouble?" The younger priest answered:
"I am a priest living several miles down the river. I was confident that I was the only priest capable of using magic, until I saw another jar drawing water from the river and realized that there was someone else who could do the same. To find out who he was, I came here following the jar, and found you dozing in the room. I tried to do some mischief to you, but instead I found myself in trouble. You are far greater than I, and you have opened my eyes. I humbly apologize to you for my ill conduct. Please let me be your follower."
At this, the aged priest granted his request and made him his follower. This tale teaches us the lesson that we must not be conceited.
18. Grave of the chopstick
LONG, LONG AGO, there was a very beautiful princess in this country. Since she was the only daughter of the emperor and empress, she was raised with the deepest affection and utmost care which are usual with the Japanese.
One night, when she was in her bedroom, a handsome lad stole in and proposed to her. "How could a decent girl simply accept the proposal of a stranger without the consent of her parents?" The princess rebuffed him politely.
But the lad came night after night and earnestly proposed to her, saying, "Even though your father and mother came to know our secret connection, I am sure they would never oppose it." Despite his persistent proposal, the princess would not give him her consent.
As time went by, however, the princess gradually found it difficult to resist. She therefore talked over the matter with her father and mother, who then thought that the lad could not be an ordinary person to steal into the heavily guarded palace every night and propose to her. They imagined that this mysterious intruder must be a deity incarnate. A deity incarnate! At that, the princess felt obliged to give herself to the stranger. From that night, the two became inseparable. But, strange to say, the princess still knew nothing about the man, even his name and rank.
One night, when he came, she said, "My dear, I am sorry I have not yet been told anything about you. I think we should open our hearts. Don't you think so?"
The young man replied, "I am one who is always near you. If you are so eager to know something about me, I suggest you to look into your small oil bottle tomorrow morning. Then, you will find out who I am. But I give you a warning: Don't be startled at what is in the bottle. If you do, I should be obliged to part from you forever. Please remember that."
The girl wondered about the strange remark, but made a promise that she wouldn't be startled by anything in the bottle. When day broke, the man faded away.
Time came when the princess was to open the bottle. When she took off the lid and looked in, she found a very small white snake coiling its body at the bottom! At that, the princess became frightened. With a shriek, she dropped the bottle on the floor and ran out of the room. That her lover should be a small snake!
That night, the lad came as usual. But he was in ill humor. He would not even come near the princess. She wondered what was the matter with him. Coldly he said, "My dear girl, you have broken your promise. I am disappointed in you. As I told you before, I am obliged to part from you."
With that, he was ready to go. The princess was surprised and, clinging to his sleeve, implored, "I am very sorry. Please forgive me. I swear that I never will do that again. So, please do not go away."
For a moment, the princess struggled with the lad to keep him from going, but in vain. The lad, forcibly thrusting her away, vanished. How sad she was! The princess now lost what she lived for. In despair, she took a sharp chopstick, struck it into her heart, and died.
The emperor and empress grieved deeply over her death and buried her body somewhere on the outskirts of Nara. It is told that at the site where her body was buried, there was erected a tombstone which people later called "Hashi no Haka" (Grave of the Chopstick).
19. The bell thieves
LONG, LONG AGO, in the province of Settsu (now Hyogo Prefecture), there was an old Buddhist temple called Koya-dera.
One day an old priest about eighty years of age visited this temple. He had a cane in one hand and a big straw hat in the other. It was near sunset.
"Otanomi mosu (Hello there)," he cried at the doorway. But no response came from within the house. The priest therefore went round to the side door and called out again. Then a voice called, "Who is it?" and a priest came out. He seemed to be the chief priest of the temple.
"I am from a western province and on my way to the capital. A long journey has made me so tired that I cannot walk farther today. As I am too old to sleep under the open sky, please give me shelter for the night," the itinerant priest implored.
"I am very sorry for you, but we have no vacant rooms tonight. How about seeking a lodging at other places?" the temple priest suggested. Then, the old priest asked permission to stay in the belfry and offered bell-ringing service in return. The chief priest was pleased to accept his offer and conducted hiM to the bell tower.
For two days from that night, the bell was rung by the aged priest. On the third day, however, for unknown reasons there was no toll of the bell. So one of the temple priests visited the tower to see what was the matter with the lodger. As he opened the door, he was surprised to see the old priest lying on the floor. He was dead.
"The lodger is dead!" he cried.
The abbot, much surprised, immediately came with his follower
s to the belfry. They consulted about how to dispose of his body. After a long discussion they decided to ask the villagers to bury the body in the village cemetery. But the villagers declined their request because they said they could not profane their tutelary deity by touching the dead body before celebrating the coming feast. Their refusal greatly embarrassed the priests.
The next day there was a loud voice "Tanomo!" at the entrance of the temple. The chief priest came out and found a couple of young samurai in traveling outfits standing at the doorway. They asked if he had seen an old priest who had traveled near the temple. The chief priest therefore gave them a full account of the dead priest and said that the whole temple was at a loss how to dispose of his body.
"Dead!"
The young samurai were greatly surprised at the account and collapsed on the spot. So the chief priest asked who they were.
"The dead priest is our father. He was disposed to ramble and frequently disappeared from our home. Recently he left home again and so we were looking for him. As he is now dead, we wish to hold a funeral for him."
When the young men saw their father's body, they wept bitterly over it. They said they would come again at night to carry the body to the cemetery. So the chief priest was very pleased to have them claim the body.
About eight o'clock in the evening, the stillness of the temple compound was suddenly broken by a noisy crowd of men who came to carry the body from the belfry. As the priests had nothing to do with the body, they remained in the house and listened to the noises outdoors. Before long, the crowd seemed to have carried the body into the pine forest behind the temple, for the priests heard their prayers accompanied by drum and bell coming from there. They conducted the noisy ceremony all the night through.
As day broke, the noises were no longer heard and the crowd seemed to have gone away. In those days it was the custom for people to stay away for a month from the house where a person had died, so the temple priests would not visit the belfry during the mourning period.
Legends of Japan Page 5
