藪の中 English

The Testimony of a Woodcutter Questioned by the Kebiishi

Yes, that is so.

It was I who found the body, without a doubt.

This morning I went as usual to cut cedar in the mountain behind the village.

And there in the grove in the shadow of the mountain, I found the body.

The exact location, you ask?

It would be some four or five cho from the post road at Yamashina.

A deserted spot where thin cedars are scattered among the bamboo.

The body was lying face up, dressed in a pale blue suikan and wearing a court-style eboshi hat — still on his head.

Though it was a single sword thrust, the wound was in the chest, so the bamboo leaves around the body were soaked through, stained a deep crimson.

No, the blood was no longer flowing.

The wound appeared to have dried.

What is more, a horsefly had attached itself there — so intent on feeding that it did not even seem to hear my footsteps.

Was there a sword or anything of that sort to be seen?

No, there was nothing.

Only a length of rope lying at the foot of a nearby cedar.

And then — ah yes, besides the rope there was also a single comb.

Those two things were all that lay around the body.

But the grass and bamboo leaves had been trampled in every direction, so the man must certainly have put up a fierce struggle before he was killed.

What — was there no horse?

A horse could not have gotten into that place at all.

There is a whole grove of bamboo between it and the road where horses pass.

The Testimony of a Traveling Monk Questioned by the Kebiishi

I did indeed meet the man whose body was found — that was certainly yesterday.

Yesterday — it would have been around noon, I should think.

The place was on the road between Sekiyama and Yamashina, as I was making my way through.

The man was walking toward Sekiyama accompanied by a woman riding on horseback.

The woman had a veil hanging down from her hat, so I could not see her face.

All I could see was the color of her robes — they appeared to be layered in the hagi-gasane style.

The horse was a dun — a mane-trimmed horse, I believe.

His height, you ask?

Was it four shaku or so?

Being a monk, I cannot say precisely about such things.

The man — well, he was wearing a sword and carrying a bow and arrows.

In particular, he had more than twenty arrows thrust into a black lacquered quiver — that I remember clearly even now.

I had no thought that that man would come to such an end, but truly, human life is like dew and like lightning.

Dear me — what a dreadful thing. I am at a loss for words.

The Testimony of a Constable Questioned by the Kebiishi

The man I apprehended, you ask?

He is none other than the notorious bandit known as Tajomaru.

When I seized him, he had evidently fallen from his horse — he was groaning on the stone bridge at Awataguchi.

The time, you ask?

It was around the first watch of last night.

The last time I nearly caught him, he was also wearing this same dark blue suikan and carrying an ornate longsword.

And now, as you can see, he is carrying bow and arrows as well.

Is that so?

If those also belonged to the dead man — then the one who committed the murder must certainly be this Tajomaru.

A leather-wrapped bow, a black lacquered quiver, seventeen hawk-feathered arrows — those were all things that man carried, were they not?

Yes.

And the horse too, as you say, is a mane-trimmed dun.

To be thrown by that beast — it must be some kind of fate.

The horse was a short way beyond the bridge, still trailing its long lead rope, grazing on green pampas grass at the roadside.

This Tajomaru, among the bandits that roam the capital, is known as a man with a weakness for women.

Last autumn, at the mountain behind the Binzuru statue at Toribedera, a woman who had apparently come to worship — along with a young girl — was found murdered, and they say it was his doing.

As for the woman who was riding that dun horse — now that it appears this fellow killed her husband, there is no telling what has become of her.

I am being forward in suggesting this, but I would ask that you investigate that matter as well.

The Testimony of an Old Woman Questioned by the Kebiishi

Yes, the body is the man my daughter was married to.

But he is not from the capital.

He was a samurai from the provincial seat of Wakasa.

His name was Kanazawa no Takehiro, and he was twenty-six years old.

No, he was a gentle-natured man — there is no reason he should have had enemies.

My daughter, you ask?

My daughter's name is Masago, and she is nineteen years old.

She is as spirited as any man, but she has never known any man other than Takehiro.

Her face is dark-complexioned, with a mole at the corner of her left eye, and she has a small oval face.

Takehiro set off for Wakasa with my daughter yesterday — and now it has come to this. What terrible fate.

But I am left wondering what has become of my daughter — I can resign myself to my son-in-law's fate, but this I cannot stop worrying about.

This is the one wish of this old woman's life: I beg you, search through every wood and field until my daughter is found.

In any case, what I detest is that bandit — whoever this Tajomaru is.

Not only my son-in-law, but even my daughter… (breaks off weeping, unable to continue)

×　　　　　　　　　　×　　　　　　　　　　×

Tajomaru's Confession

Yes, I killed that man.

But I did not kill the woman.

Then where has she gone?

That I do not know.

Now, please wait.

No matter how much you torture me, I cannot tell you what I do not know.

And besides, now that it has come to this, I have no intention of cowardly concealment.

Yesterday, a little after noon, I encountered that couple.

A gust of wind blew up just then and lifted the hanging veil from the woman's hat — I caught a brief glimpse of her face.

Just a glimpse — I thought I saw her face and then she was hidden again, yet in part because of that, the woman's face appeared to me like the face of a Bodhisattva.

In that instant I resolved that even if I had to kill the man, I would take the woman.

What — killing a man is not so great a matter as you seem to think.

When it comes to taking a woman, the man is bound to be killed regardless.

Only, when I kill, I use the sword at my hip — whereas you kill with power, or with money, or sometimes with nothing more than honeyed words.

No blood is shed, the man goes on living in fine health — yet you have killed him all the same.

When you weigh the depth of the sin, I cannot say whether you are worse or I am worse.

(a sardonic smile)

But if I could take the woman without killing the man, so much the better.

Indeed, at that moment my intention was to take the woman while sparing the man's life as much as possible.

But on the post road at Yamashina, such a thing was impossible.

So I devised a plan to lure the couple into the mountains.

It was not difficult.

I fell in with the couple on the road and told them: over in that mountain there is an old tomb; when I dug it open, I found a great many mirrors and swords; I have buried these things in the grove in the shadow of the mountain where no one will find them; if anyone wishes to buy them, I will sell them cheaply — that is the story I told.

The man was gradually drawn into my tale.

And then — how is that?

Is not greed a frightful thing?

Before half an hour had passed, the couple were riding with me up the mountain path.

When we reached the edge of the grove, I told them the treasure was buried inside — come and see.

The man was thirsting with greed, so of course he had no objection.

But the woman said she would stay behind without dismounting.

Looking at how thick the grove was, one cannot blame her for saying so.

As for me, this was exactly what I had hoped for; and so, leaving the woman behind, I entered the grove with the man.

For a while the grove was nothing but bamboo.

But some half-cho in, there was a somewhat open stand of cedars — there could be no better place for my purpose.

Pushing through the bamboo, I told him convincingly that the treasure was buried beneath the cedars.

Hearing that, the man pressed forward with all his might toward where the thin cedars showed through the growth.

As the bamboo thinned out and a line of cedars appeared, I was upon him in an instant and pinned him to the ground.

The man was wearing a sword and had some strength, but taken by surprise he could not resist.

In no time he was bound fast to the root of a cedar.

The rope, you ask?

As a bandit one never knows when one may have to scale a wall, so I always carried a rope at my hip.

To keep him from crying out, I stuffed bamboo leaves into his mouth — after that there was no trouble.

Once I had dealt with the man, I went back to the woman and told her that her husband seemed to have been taken suddenly ill — would she come and see.

That this too hit the mark exactly, I need not explain.

The woman took off her ichime-gasa hat and, letting me take her hand, came into the depths of the grove.

But when she arrived and saw the man bound to the cedar root — in that instant she had somehow drawn a gleaming dagger from inside her robe.

I have never to this day seen a woman of such fierce spirit.

Had I been careless even for a moment, she would have run me through the side.

Indeed, even as I dodged, with the ferocity of her slashing I could easily have been wounded.

But I am Tajomaru — somehow, without even drawing my sword, I finally struck the dagger from her hand.

No matter how fierce a woman may be, without her weapon she is helpless.

In the end I had my way — without taking the man's life, I had taken the woman.

Without taking the man's life — yes, that is right.

Even at that point, I had no intention of killing the man.

But just as I was leaving the grove, with the woman weeping behind me, she suddenly clung to my arm in a frenzy.

And crying out in broken gasps, she said: one of you must die — either you or my husband; to have my shame witnessed by two men is worse than death.

And moreover — whichever one survived, she wanted to go with him — she gasped this out between breaths.

At that moment a fierce desire rose in me to kill the man.

(gloomy excitement)

Hearing this, you will surely think me more cruel than you.

But that is because you have not seen the woman's face.

Above all, because you have not seen those burning eyes of hers in that one moment.

When I met the woman's gaze, I thought: even if I were struck dead by lightning, I would make this woman my wife.

To make her my wife — that was the sole thought in my mind.

This was not, as you may think, base carnal desire.

If at that moment nothing but lust had driven me, I would surely have kicked the woman aside and fled.

Then the man's life would not have come to stain my sword.

But in that dim grove, the moment I looked steadily at the woman's face, I resolved not to leave until I had killed the man.

Yet even in killing the man, I had no wish to do it in a cowardly manner.

I untied the man's rope and told him to draw his sword.

(The rope that was found at the cedar root was the one I had forgotten to take when I left.)

The man, his face gone pale with fury, drew his heavy sword.

And without a word, he leaped at me in a rage. —

What came of that duel, I need not tell you.

My sword pierced his chest on the twenty-third exchange.

On the twenty-third — please do not forget that.

Even now, that is the one thing I find admirable in myself.

In all the world, that man alone crossed swords with me for twenty exchanges.

(a cheerful smile)

When the man fell, I turned back toward the woman, sword still dripping with blood.

And then — what do you think? The woman was nowhere to be seen.

I searched among the cedars to see which way she had fled.

But there was no trace of her on the fallen bamboo leaves.

And when I strained to listen, all I could hear was the death rattle in the man's throat.

Perhaps the moment my duel began, she had crawled through the grove to call for help. —

When that thought occurred to me, it was now my own life at stake; so I seized the sword and bow and arrows and returned at once to the mountain road.

There the woman's horse was still quietly grazing.

What followed is more than needs telling.

Only — before I entered the capital, I had already let go of the sword. —

That is the whole of my confession.

I know that sooner or later my head will hang from the treetop of a chinaberry tree, so give me the severest punishment you have.

(a defiant bearing)

The Confession of a Woman Who Came to Kiyomizudera

— After the man in the dark blue suikan had violated me, he looked at my bound husband and laughed in mockery.

How wretched my husband must have felt.

But no matter how he writhed, the ropes binding his whole body only cut more deeply into him.

I ran to my husband's side as if I had stumbled — I ran without thinking.

No — I tried to run.

But in an instant the man kicked me down.

It was at that very moment.

I became aware of a light in my husband's eyes — a light I cannot put into words.

Indescribable — even now, whenever I recall those eyes, I cannot help but shudder.

My husband, unable to speak a single word, conveyed everything in those eyes in that one instant.

But what flashed there was neither anger nor grief — was it not merely a cold light of contempt for me?

Struck as if by those eyes rather than by the man's kick, I cried out something without knowing it and at last lost consciousness.

When I finally came to my senses, the man in the dark blue suikan had already gone somewhere.

All that remained was my husband, still bound to the cedar root.

I managed to lift myself from the bamboo leaves and gazed at my husband's face.

But the look in his eyes had not changed in the least from before.

Beneath that cold contempt, the color of hatred showed.

Shame, grief, fury — I cannot say what was in my heart at that moment.

I staggered to my feet and went to my husband's side.

"My dear. Now that it has come to this, I cannot go on living with you. I am resolved to die at once. But — but please die too. You have witnessed my shame. I cannot leave you here alone."

I said all this with every ounce of strength I had.

Yet my husband only kept staring at me with that loathing look.

Pressing my hand against my heaving chest, I searched for my husband's sword.

But it must have been taken by the bandit — neither the sword nor the bow and arrows could be found anywhere in the grove.

Yet fortunately the dagger lay fallen at my feet.

I raised the dagger and spoke to my husband once more.

"Then let me take your life. I will follow you at once."

At these words my husband's lips at last began to move.

Of course his mouth was stuffed full of bamboo leaves, so no sound came through.

But when I saw his lips, I instantly understood the word.

My husband, still full of contempt for me, said one word: "Kill me."

He said just that one word.

In what seemed like a dream, I plunged the dagger deep into the chest of my husband's pale blue suikan.

At that moment too I must have lost consciousness.

By the time I finally looked around, my husband was already dead, still bound as he had been.

Across his pale face, a single ray of the western sun fell through the stand of cedars mixed with bamboo.

Swallowing my sobs, I untied and cast away the ropes binding the body.

And then — and then, what became of me?

That, I no longer have the strength to tell.

In any case, I simply could not find the strength to die.

I pressed the dagger to my throat, I threw myself into the pond at the foot of the mountain — I tried all manner of things, but since I am here still unable to die, I suppose that is nothing to be proud of.

(a forlorn smile) A wretched creature like me — perhaps even the great compassionate Kannon Bodhisattva has abandoned me.

But I, who killed my husband — I, who was violated by a bandit — what am I to do?

What on earth am I to — I am — I am — (a sudden burst of violent sobbing)

The Story of the Dead Man's Spirit, Told Through the Mouth of a Medium

— After the bandit violated my wife, he sat down beside her and began to console her with various words.

I could of course say nothing.

My body was bound to the cedar root.

But all the while I kept signaling to my wife with my eyes.

Do not believe what this man says — whatever he tells you, take it for a lie — that is what I wanted to convey.

But my wife sat dejectedly on the bamboo leaves, her gaze fixed upon her knees.

And it seemed — it truly seemed as though she was listening to the bandit's words.

I writhed with jealousy.

Yet the bandit moved from one thing to the next, weaving his talk with skill.

Once you have been defiled, you and your husband can no longer get along.

Rather than stay with such a husband, would you not care to become my wife?

I did what I did because I love you — that is what the bandit had the boldness to say in the end.

When the bandit said this, my wife slowly raised her face.

I had never before seen my wife look so beautiful.

But what did that beautiful wife say in answer to the bandit — there before me, her husband bound and looking on?

Even now as I wander in this limbo, every time I recall my wife's reply I am consumed in a fire of rage.

My wife said clearly — "Then take me wherever you will."

(a long silence)

But my wife's sin does not end there.

If it ended there, I would not suffer so greatly even in this darkness now.

But as my wife was going toward the grove's edge — as if in a dream, hand in hand with the bandit — she suddenly went pale and pointed at me, bound at the cedar root.

"Kill that man. I cannot be with you while he still lives."

— My wife cried this out again and again, as if out of her mind.

"Kill that man."

— Those words, like a storm, even now try to hurl me headlong down into the far darkness below.

Have words so hateful as these ever once passed a human mouth?

Have words so accursed as these ever once fallen upon a human ear?

Have words so — (a sudden burst of derisive laughter) — even the bandit went pale when he heard those words.

"Kill that man."

— My wife kept crying this out, clinging to the bandit's arm.

The bandit stood staring at my wife in silence, giving no answer as to whether he would kill me or not. —

Almost before he had time to think, my wife was sent sprawling onto the bamboo leaves with a single kick — (again a burst of derisive laughter) — and the bandit folded his arms calmly and turned his eyes toward me.

"What shall we do with this woman? Kill her, or let her go? Just nod to answer. Kill her?"

— For those words alone, I am willing to forgive the bandit his crime.

(again, a long silence)

While I hesitated, my wife let out some kind of cry and instantly bolted into the depths of the grove.

The bandit leaped after her at once, but he did not seem to have caught even her sleeve.

I watched it all pass before me like a phantom.

After my wife had fled, the bandit picked up the sword and bow and arrows and cut through the rope binding me at one point.

"Now it's my own neck to worry about."

— I remember him muttering that as he disappeared from the grove.

After that, everything was quiet.

No — there was still the sound of someone weeping.

As I loosened the rope, I listened closely.

But when I became aware of it, was it not my own weeping that I heard?

(a third long silence)

At last I raised my exhausted body from the cedar root.

Before me lay a single dagger, glinting — the one my wife had dropped.

I took it up and plunged it once into my own chest.

Something raw and bloody welled up into my mouth.

Yet there was no pain at all.

Only as my chest grew cold did the world around me fall even more deeply still.

Ah, what a silence.

In the sky above this shadowed grove in the mountain, not a single bird has come to sing.

Only a forlorn shaft of sunlight drifts among the tops of the cedars and bamboo.

The sunlight — it too gradually grew faint. —

The cedars and bamboo are no longer visible.

I lay fallen there, wrapped in a deep silence.

Then someone came stealing silently to my side.

I tried to look in that direction.

But around me the dim twilight had already gathered.

Someone — that someone, with an unseen hand, gently drew the dagger from my chest.

At the same time, once more blood flooded into my mouth.

With that, I sank forever into the darkness of the limbo between worlds………

(December, Taisho 10)