One of the natives, however, seemed to understand something of the matter. “Let me see …” he said. “There were three men in all, but two were recalled to the capital. I used to see the one who was left behind wandering around here and there, but I don’t know where he is now.”
Concerned that Shunkan might have wandered into the mountains, Ariō started off in that direction, pushing deep into the area, climbing peaks, descending into valleys. But white mists hid the path he had come by and the trail ahead was uncertain; winds in the dense foliage woke him from his dreams before he could catch so much as a dream glimpse of his master.
Having found no trace of Shunkan in the mountains, he tried looking along the shore. But there, except for the gulls who left their footprints in the sand or the plovers flocking around the white sandbars in the offing, he could see no sign of life.
One morning Ariō spied someone approaching him from the shore in the distance, a lean, emaciated figure as thin as a dragonfly, tottering along alone. The person seemed at one time to have been a Buddhist priest, for his hair grew straight up as though the head had formerly been shaved. Various bits of seaweed clung to his head, looking like a veritable forest of growth. His joints stuck out, his skin hung in folds, and it was impossible to tell whether the garments he wore were made of silk or hemp. In one hand he held a piece of edible seaweed, in the other, a fish, and although he was trying to walk, he staggered from side to side and made little progress.
I have seen many beggars in the capital, Ariō thought, but never one that looked like this! The Buddha tells us that the asura5 demons live on the shores of the great sea and that beings in the Three Evil Paths6 and the Four Lower Realms of Existence7 dwell deep in the mountains or by the vast ocean. Perhaps I have somehow stumbled on the realm where the hungry ghosts8 live!
As he drew nearer to the figure, he began to wonder whether the person might know something about his master’s whereabouts. “Pardon me,” he said.
“What is it?”
“The Hosshō-ji administrator who was exiled from the capital—would you happen to know where he is?”
Ariō may have been unable to recognize his old master, but how could Shunkan make a similar mistake?
“That’s me!” he exclaimed, but the words were scarcely out of his mouth when he dropped the things he had in his hands and fell to the ground in a faint. Now at last Ariō knew what had become of his master.
Ariō gathered up Shunkan’s unconscious form, cradling it on his knees. “It’s Ariō! I’m here!” he said, his tears raining down. “Was it for nothing that I endured the many hardships of the sea voyage, coming all the way here to look for you, only to be confronted by a pitiful sight like this?”
After a while, Shunkan began to regain consciousness. As Ariō helped him sit up, he observed, “How amazing—that you should want to come all this way to look for me! Day and night I have thought of nothing but those in the capital. Sometimes the faces of my loved ones come to me in dreams; at other times I think I see them standing right before me. And since my body has become so weak and feeble, I can no longer tell dream from reality. Even your coming here now seems to be no more than a dream. And if it is a dream, what am I to do when I wake?”
“No—I am really here!” said Ariō. “And seeing you this way, I can only marvel that you’ve been able to keep alive until now!”
“Ah, the hopelessness and desolation in my heart since Naritsune and Yasuyori abandoned me—I wonder whether you can even imagine what it was like? I thought then of drowning myself. But, foolish as I was, I put my trust in those worthless promises that Naritsune made, trying to reassure me by saying, ‘Just wait till I send word from the capital!’ There’s nothing at all on this island for a person to eat. So while I still had my strength, I used to go to the mountains and gather sulfur, which I would trade to the merchants from Kyushu in exchange for food. But I’ve grown weaker day by day, and I can’t do that anymore. Now, when the weather is mild like this, I go down to the shore, get on my knees and press my palms together, begging fish from the men who are fishing or hauling in nets there. Or when the tide goes out, I gather shellfish or pick up bits of edible seaweed. I’ve depended on the very moss on the sea rocks to sustain this dewdrop life of mine until today. You can scarcely imagine the measures I’ve resorted to in order to keep alive in this uncertain world of ours. I want to tell you more about it, but now let’s go to my house.”
How could anyone who looked the way Shunkan did possibly have a house? Ariō wondered in bewilderment. But when they had walked a little while, they came to a grove of pines. There, using bamboo that had washed up on the shore for supports and bundles of reeds for beams and lintels, Shunkan had put together a hut of sorts. Although it was covered from top to bottom with layers of pine needles, it hardly looked as though it could withstand the wind and rain.
In earlier times, when Shunkan was administrator of the temple called Hosshō-ji, he was charged with managing more than eighty landed estates that belonged to the temple. He lived in a mansion adorned with grand and imposing gates and was surrounded by four or five hundred servants and retainers. How strange, then, that he should end his days in such a miserable condition!
Various kinds of karma or past actions affect a person’s life—the karma that calls forth retribution within one’s present lifetime, the karma whose effects are not seen until one’s next existence, and that whose effects appear only in future existences. All the funds and goods that Shunkan used in his lifetime were the property of the great temple with which he was affiliated, goods that belonged to the Buddha. Because he sinned by using such goods, the donations of the faithful, in an utterly shameless manner, he was suffering retribution while still in this life.
The Death of Shunkan (3:9)
By this time convinced that Ariō’s visit was a reality and not a dream, Shunkan announced, “Last year when the messenger came from the capital for Naritsune and Yasuyori, he brought me no letters at all. And now you say nothing about news from the capital—does this mean that you too have no messages for me?”
Ariō, choked with tears, for a while merely hung his head and made no answer. When some time had passed, he lifted his head and, brushing back the tears, replied, “After you went off to the Nishihachijō mansion, the officials came around at once to make arrests. They seized your retainers, grilled them about their connection with the plot against the Heike, and put them to death. Your wife, fearful that she would not be able to conceal your little son from them, went into hiding in the mountains beyond Kurama.9 I was the only one who knew their whereabouts and used to go from time to time to see if I could be of help. Your son in particular longed so for his father that whenever I would go there, he would tease and beg, saying, ‘Ariō, please take me with you to that island where my father is!’ In the Second Month of this year he died of smallpox. This sorrow, added to what she had already suffered on your account, seemed to be too much for your wife to bear. She grew weaker with each day that went by, and on the second day of the Third Month she died. So only your daughter is left, living with her aunt in Nara. I’ve brought you this letter from her.”
Taking the letter and opening it, Shunkan found that all that Ariō had told him was true. At the end, the letter said, “Why, when three men were exiled, have two been called back to the capital and you have yet to return? Whether she is highborn or low, a girl’s lot is a sorrowful thing! If only I were a boy, I could surely find some way to go to the island where you are, couldn’t I? Please come home with Ariō, come as soon as you can!”
Shunkan held the letter pressed against his face and for a while remained silent. Then at last he said, “See, Ariō—see what a foolish thing she writes! Poor thing—she says I am to hurry back to the capital with you. If I had been free to do any such thing, why would I have spent three springs and autumns on this island? My daughter must be twelve now. And with no one to look out for her, how can she find a husband or go into service in the
palace or get along in the world at all?”
With these words, he broke down in tears. Observing him, Ariō could well understand why people say that as clear as a father’s understanding may be in all other matters, love blinds him when it comes to his own child.10
“Since I was banished to this island,” Shunkan continued, “I have had no calendar and no way to keep track of the days and months. But when I see the spring blossoms scattering or the leaves falling in the autumn, I know that the seasons are passing. When the cicada’s cry signals the end of the wheat harvest, I know that summer has begun, and the piles of snow tell me it’s winter. I observe the waxing and waning of the moon and understand that thirty days have gone by. And now I learn that my son—I’ve counted on my fingers, he must be six by now—has gone before me! When I was called to the Nishi-hachijō mansion, he wanted to go along and begged me to take him. I tried to comfort him, telling him I would be right back. It seems only a moment ago I left him—if I’d thought that was the last time we’d be together, I’d have lingered a while longer to look at him!
“The bond between parent and child, the vows that join husband and wife together—all these are ties that transcend a single lifetime. And now my wife and little boy have preceded me in death—I am surprised that some dream or vague imagining did not bring me a hint of their passing! The reason I’ve continued to drag out my life, shameless in the eyes of others, was simply that I hoped I might see them once more. Now only my concern for my daughter remains to weigh on my heart, but sad as her lot may be, she will surely be able to manage somehow. And if I prolong my existence any further, I’ll merely be a burden to you, something that is too bitter to contemplate!”
From this time on, Shunkan refused to eat even the meager fare on which he had subsisted until now. Instead, devoting himself solely to the invocation of Amida’s name, he prayed that he might die with his thoughts fixed on being reborn in the Pure Land.
On the twenty-third day following Ariō’s arrival in the island, Shunkan breathed his last in the little hut he had built. He was thirty-seven years of age.
Clinging to the body of his master, Ariō looked up to the heavens and threw himself on the ground, weeping bitter tears, useless as they were. And when he could weep no more, he said, “By rights I should go to serve you in the world beyond. But your daughter is still in this world, and she and I are the only ones who can offer proper prayers for your welfare in the next life. So for the time being I will remain alive and pray for your enlightenment!”
He left the deathbed as it was, dismantled the hut, gathered up the dried pine branches and bundles of dead reeds and, piling them on the corpse, cremated it, the smoke rising as from a salt maker’s fire of seaweed. Then he gathered up the whitened bones, placed them in a bag around his neck, and, once more borrowing passage on a merchant vessel, went with them to the Kyushu mainland.
Hastening back to the capital, he proceeded to where Shunkan’s daughter was living and gave her a detailed account of all that had happened.
“When your father read your letter, he was more deeply moved than ever,” said Ariō. “But on that island there was no such thing as an inkstone or paper, so he could not write an answer. It must have pained him to think he could not convey to you all that was in his heart. And now, no matter how many rebirths we may undergo, no matter how many kalpas may pass, we will never hear his voice or see him again!”
On hearing these words, Shunkan’s daughter fell prostrate, her voice lifted in unbridled weeping. Immediately, at the age of twelve, she became a nun, carrying out religious practice at the Hokke-ji nunnery in Nara, her sad life devoted to praying for the repose of her father and mother in the other world.
As for Ariō, he climbed Mount Kōya,11 still carrying Shunkan’s remains in the bag around his neck, and laid them to rest in the Oku-no-in cemetary.12 Then he became a Buddhist priest at the Rengedani settlement nearby. Thereafter, he traveled around the various provinces and outlying areas of the country, carrying out religious practices and praying for his master’s well-being in the afterlife.
And so the grief and sorrows piled up, a portent of the fearful end that awaited the Heike.
A typhoon strikes the capital, and an oracle says it presages a breakdown of Buddhist law and kingly law. While on a pilgrimage to Kumano, Kiyomori’s son Shigemori asks for a long life if the Taira’s prosperity is to last or a quick death should the Taira’s end be near. Almost immediately, Shigemori falls ill and dies. Kiyomori, no longer restrained by his exemplary son, settles his accounts with the imperial family and places Retired Emperor GoShirakawa under house arrest.
1. Yukitsuna is a minor character who was party to the Shishi-no-tani plot.
2. Chi You was a rebellious warrior of ancient China. Comets, particularly of this type, were regarded as evil portents.
3. According to Buddhist cosmology, the Devil of the Sixth Heaven is the lord of the highest of the Six Realms of Desire and, together with his followers, keeps people from adhering to Buddhism.
4. According to Buddhist mythology, Sōri and Sokuri were the sons of a powerful man in southern India. Abandoned by their stepmother to starve to death on an island when their father was absent, the two were later reborn as the bodhisattvas Kannon and Seishi.
5. Asura are godlike beings who are constantly fighting.
6. The lowest of the Ten Paths of Existence, the Three Evil Paths are the paths of beasts, hungry ghosts, and hell dwellers.
7. The Four Lower Realms of Existence are the worlds of the asura, beasts, hungry ghosts, and hell dwellers.
8. Hungry ghosts (J. gaki) are beings who suffer from insatiable hunger and thirst.
9. Kurama is an area north of Kyoto and east of Mount Hiei.
10. An almost direct quotation of a poem by Fujiwara no Kanesuke (877–933), in Gosenshū (no. 1102).
11. Mount Kōya is a mountain in the northeastern part of present-day Wakayama Prefecture where Kūkai (774–835), a noted Shingon priest, established the Kongōbu-ji temple in 816. It is a sacred site for the Shingon school of esoteric Buddhism.
12. Oku-no-in is the name of the famous cemetery on Mount Kōya where Kūkai supposedly waits in deep meditation for the coming of Miroku, the next Buddha of this world.
MOCHIHITO, PRINCE: second son of Retired Emperor GoShirakawa; also called Prince Takakura.
YORIMASA (Minamoto): elderly warrior.
The Taira reach the height of their glory. Having driven Emperor Takakura from the throne, Kiyomori installs his own grandson (Antoku) as emperor. Another attempt is made to overthrow the Taira. Prince Mochihito, as the son of Retired Emperor GoShirakawa, has a strong claim to the imperial succession and is persuaded by Minamoto no Yorimasa to lead a revolt against the Taira. The plot is discovered, and Mochihito is forced to flee the capital and take refuge at Mii-dera temple in Ōmi Province. Mii-dera temple thereupon forms an alliance with the Kōfuku-ji temple in Nara. The monks of Mii-dera prepare for a surprise attack on the Taira headquarters at Rokuhara, but they are delayed by an ally of the Taira. Abandoning the plan for an offensive battle, Yorimasa and the Mii-dera monks try to hold the Taira forces at the Uji River in order to give Prince Mochihito time to flee south to Kōfuku-ji.
The Battle at the Bridge (4:11)
While riding from Mii-dera1 to Uji, Prince Mochihito fell off his horse six times. “It’s because he got no sleep last night!” his men said. After ripping the planks off three sections of the Uji Bridge, they took him into the nearby Byōdō-in2 so he could get a short rest.
Meanwhile, those back in Rokuhara exclaimed, “What’s that? The prince is trying to escape to the southern capital at Nara! Go after him and strike him down!”
The Taira forces were headed by Commander of the Military Guards of the Left Tomomori, Middle Captain Shigehira, Director of the Stables of the Left Yukimori, and Satsuma Governor Tadanori, as well as by the samurai commanders, Kazusa Governor Tadakiyo, his son Tadatsuna, Hida Governor Kageie, his son K
agetaka, Takahashi no Hangan Nagatsuna, Kawachi no Hangan Hidekuni, Musashi no Saburōzaemon Arikuni, Etchū no Jirō Moritsugi, Kazusa no Gorōbyōe Tadamitsu, and Akushichibyōe Kagekiyo. The entire force, numbering more than twenty-eight thousand riders, crossed Mount Kohata and raced to the foot of the Uji Bridge.
When they saw that their adversaries were holed up in the Byōdō-in, they challenged them three times, and the prince’s forces responded with battle cries of their own.
The riders in the Taira vanguard shouted, “Watch out—the bridge planks have been torn off! Watch out—the bridge planks have been torn off!” But those in the rear, unable to hear the warning, pressed forward, each eager to take the lead. As a result, more than two hundred mounted men in the vanguard were pushed into the water, where they drowned and were washed downstream.
Drawn up at opposite ends of the bridge, the two forces exchanged the volley of arrows that marked the start of hostilities. On the prince’s side, Shunchō, Tajima, Habuku, Sazuku, and Tsuzuku no Genta let fly a rain of arrows that pierced the shields and helmets of their opponents.
Yorimasa, wearing a heavy silk battle robe and indigo-laced armor with a white fern-leaf design, had dispensed with a helmet, as though anticipating that this day would be his last. His son and heir Nakatsuna wore a red brocade battle robe and armor laced in black. So that he could handle his bow more effectively, he did not wear a helmet either.
Drawing his great spear, Tajima strode forward alone over the bridge. Catching sight of him, the Taira forces shouted, “Now, men, shoot him down!” Using their strongest bows and their most skilled archers, they aligned their arrowheads and sent volley after volley flying; one arrow no sooner sped on its way than another was fitted into place. But Tajima, wholly unperturbed, nimbly dodged the high-flying ones, leaped over the low ones, and, with his spear, struck down those that came straight at him while friend and foe looked on in wonder. From that day on, he became known as Tajima the Arrow-Downer.
The Tales of the Heike Page 6
