TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN Read online

  "It's that kid up at the temple. He's rounded up the village boys and they're playing al war again."

  Three or four people climbed the hill and stood before the main hall of the temple The doors were wide open and the interior was covered with ashes. Both the transept and the sanctum were in a shambles. The incense burner had been broken. It looked as though the banners had been put to some questionable use, the gold brocade curtain had been ripped and tossed aside, and the drumhead was ripped.

  "Shobo!" "Yosaku!" called parents looking for the children. Hiyoshi was nowhere to be seen; the other youngsters, too, had suddenly disappeared.

  By the time the parents got back to the foot of the hill, there was some sort of tremor in the temple. The thickets rustled, stones flew, and the bell rang again. The sun went down, and the children, bruised and bloodied, limped down the hill.

  Every night when the priests came back from begging for alms, the villagers would go to the temple and complain. But when the priests returned that evening, they could only stare at each other in shock. The incense burner in front of the altar had been split per fectly in two. The donor of this precious vessel was a man by the name of Sutejiro, who was a pottery merchant from the village of Shinkawa and one of the temple's few remaining parishioners. At the time he had made the gift to the temple, three or four year; earlier, he had said, "This incense burner was fired by my master, the late Gorodayu. I have cherished it as a keepsake. He decorated it from memory, and he took particular care in applying the blue pigment. In offering it to this temple, I assume it will be treatec as a treasured article until the end of time."

  Ordinarily it was kept in a box, but just a week earlier Sutejiro's wife had visited the temple. The incense burner had been taken out and used, but had not been put away again.

  The color drained from the priests' faces. Added to their worries was the possibility that if they reported this to the old head priest, his illness would worsen.

  "It was probably Monkey," said one.

  "Right," another agreed. "None of those other little devils could do this kind of evil.

  "What can we do?"

  They dragged Hiyoshi in and thrust the pieces of the broken vessel in his face. Hiyoshi could not remember breaking the incense burner, but said, "I'm sorry."

  The apology made the priests even angrier, because the boy spoke calmly and seemed to be without a trace of remorse. "Heathen!" they called him, and tied his hands behind his back and bound him to one of the large pillars of the temple.

  "We're going to leave you here for a few days. Maybe you'll get eaten by rats," the priests said.

  This sort of thing happened to Hiyoshi all the time. When his friends came the next day, he thought bitterly, he would not be able to play with them. And when they did come, they saw he was being punished and ran off.

  “Untie me," he called out after them. "If you don't, I'm going to beat you up."

  Elderly pilgrims and the village women who made their way up to the temple made fun of him. "Say, isn't that a monkey?"

  At one point he was calm enough to mutter to himself, "I'll show you." His small body, pressed against the great temple pillar, was suddenly filled with a feeling of great power. He kept his lips shut about such things and, well aware of his predicament, put on a defiant face, cursing his fate.

  He fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by his own drooling. The day was frightfully long. Thoroughly bored, he gazed at the broken incense burner. The potter had written an inscription in small characters on the bottom of the vessel: "Made with good omen, Gorodayu."

  The nearby village of Seto and, in fact, the entire province was famous for pottery. This had never interested him before, but looking at the painted landscape on the incense burner, his imagination took off.

  Where is that, I wonder?

  Mountains and stone bridges, towers and people, clothing and boats, the like of which he had never seen before, were painted in indigo on the white porcelain. It all left him deeply puzzled.

  What country is that? he wondered.

  He could not guess. He had a young boy's cleverness and thirst for knowledge and, desperate for an answer, he strained his imagination for an answer that would fill this emtiness.

  Could there really be such a country?

  While he was thinking hard about this, something flashed in his head—something he had been taught or had heard, but had forgotten. He racked his brains.

  China! That's it! It's a picture of China!

  He was pleased with himself. As he looked at the glazed porcelain, he flew to China in his imagination.

  At long last the day came to an end. The priests returned from their begging. Instead of finding Hiyoshi in tears, as they had expected, they saw that he was grinning.

  “Even punishment is useless. He's beyond our help. We'd better send him back to his parents.”

  That evening, one of the priests gave Hiyoshi some supper and took him down the hill to the house of Kato Danjo.

  Kato Danjo lay down next to the lamp. He was a samurai, used to being exposed to battle morning and night. On those rare days when he could relax, he found staying at home much too peaceful. Tranquillity and relaxation were things to be feared—he might become used to them.

  "Oetsu!"

  "Yes?" Her voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

  "Somebody's knocking at the gate."

  "It's not the squirrels again?"

  "No, somebody's out there."

  Wiping her hands, she went to the gate and came back right away, saying, "It's a priest from the Komyoji. He's brought Hiyoshi." A look of distress swept over her young face.

  "Aha!" Danjo, who had expected this, said, laughing, "It seems that Monkey has got­ten a leave of absence." Danjo listened to the priest's recital of recent events. Having spon­sored Hiyoshi's entrance into the temple, he now apologized to all concerned and took charge of Hiyoshi.

  "If he is unfit to be a priest, there's nothing to be done. We'll send him back home to Nakamura. You should no longer feel under any obligation to keep him. I'm sorry he's been nothing but trouble."

  "Please explain the matter to his parents," the priest said, and as he turned to go, his step became lighter, as if a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders. Hiyoshi cut a lonely figure. He looked around curiously, wondering whose house he had come to. He had not stopped here on his way to the temple, nor had he been told that relatives lived close by.

  "Well, little boy, have you had anything to eat?" Danjo asked with a smile. Hiyoshi shook his head.

  "Have some cakes, then."

  While he was munching on the cakes, Hiyoshi eyed the spear suspended over the door, and the crest on the armor chest, then looked hard at Danjo.

  Is there really something wrong with this boy? Danjo asked himself. He had his doubts. He stared back, but Hiyoshi neither turned his eyes away nor looked down. There was no trace of the imbecile in him. He smiled rather charmingly at Danjo.

  Danjo laughed as he gave in. "You've gotten quite big, haven't you? Hiyoshi, do you remember me?"

  This focused a hazy memory in Hiyoshi's mind of a man who had patted him on the head when he was six.

  As was the custom with samurai, Danjo almost always slept at the castle at Kiyosu, or on the battlefield. The days he was able to stay at home with his wife had been few. He had returned unexpectedly the day before, and would go back to Kiyosu the next day. Oetsu wondered how many months would pass before they spent another day together.

  A troublesome child! Oetsu thought. Hiyoshi's arrival was inopportune. She looked up, embarrassed. What would her in-laws think? Could this really be her sister's child?

  She could hear Hiyoshi's screechy voice from her husband's sitting room: "It was you with all those samurai on the riverbank that day, riding a horse."

  "You remember, do you?"

  "Sure." He went on in a familiar tone of voice, "If that's the case, you're a relative of mine. You and my mother's younge
r sister are engaged."

  Oetsu and the maid went to the living room to get out serving trays. Oetsu felt uncomfortably cold, listening to Hiyoshi's language and his loud country boy's voice, Opening the sliding door, she called to her husband.

  "Dinner's ready."

  She saw that her husband was arm-wrestling with Hiyoshi, whose face was bright red, buttocks raised like a hornet's tail. Danjo, too, was acting like a child.

  "Dinner?" he said absently.

  "The soup is going to get cold."

  "Go ahead and eat by yourself. This kid is playing for keeps. We're having a good time. Ha, ha! He's a strange one."

  Danjo, totally absorbed, seemed to be taken in completely by Hiyoshi's artlessness. The boy, always quick to make friends, was almost leading his uncle by the nose. From arm-wrestling they went to finger puppets, then mimicry, playing children's games until njo was holding his sides with laughter.

  The next day, as he was about to leave, Danjo said to his wife, who seemed depressed, “If his parents allow it, how about keeping him here? I doubt he'd be much use, but I suppose it'd be better than keeping a real monkey."

  Oetsu was less than pleased with the idea. Going with her husband as far as the garden1 gate, she said, "No. He would annoy your mother. That would never do."

  "Whatever you say."

  Oetsu knew that whenever Danjo was away from home, his mind dwelt on his lord and on battles. Would he come back alive? she wondered. Was it such a big thing for a man to make a name for himself? Oetsu watched his retreating figure and thought of the many months of loneliness ahead. Then she finished her housework and set off with Hiyoshi for Nakamura.

  "Good morning, madam," said a man coming from the opposite direction. He seemed to be a merchant, probably the master of a large establishment. He wore a resplendent half coat, a short sword, and, on his feet, leather socks with a design of small cherry blossoms. He was about forty and genial-looking.

  "Aren't you Master Kato's wife? Where are you off to?"

  "To my sister's house in Nakamura, to take this child home." She held Hiyoshi's hand tde tighter.

  "Ah, this little gendeman. This is the lad expelled from the Komyoji."

  "You've heard already?"

  "Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, I've just come from the temple."

  Hiyoshi looked around restlessly. Never before had he been called a "little gentleman." Ashamed, he felt himself blush. Oh, my, you've been to the temple because of him?"

  "Yes, the priests came to my house to apologize. I was told that an incense burner I had donated to the temple was broken in two."

  "This little devil did that!" said Oetsu.

  "Come now, you shouldn't say such things. These things happen."

  "I heard it was a very rare, famous piece."

  "Most regrettably, it was the work of Gorodayu, whom I served during his travels to the country of the Ming."

  "Doesn't he also use the name Shonzui?"

  "Yes, but he fell ill and passed away some time ago. In recent years, many pieces of blue-and-white porcelain bearing the seal 'Made by Shonzui Gorodayu' have been made, but they are fakes. The only man who has ever been to the country of the Ming and brought back their pottery-making techniques is now in the next world."

  "I've heard that you've adopted Master Shonzui's son, Ofuku."

  "That's right. Children tease him by calling him 'the Chinese kid.' Lately he's been refusing to go outside at all." The merchant gazed down at Hiyoshi. The boy, unexpectedly hearing Ofuku's name, wondered about the man's business.

  "You know," the merchant continued, "it turns out that Hiyoshi here is the only one who ever defended Ofuku. So when Ofuku heard about this latest incident, he asked me to intercede. Many other things are supposed to have happened. The priests told me about his bad behavior, and I couldn't persuade them to take him back again." His chest puffed up with laughter.

  "His parents must have ideas about what to do with him," the man said, "but when he's to be placed somewhere else again, if his parents think an establishment like mine would be appropriate, I'd like to be of assistance. Somehow, he seems to hold promise."

  With a polite farewell, he took his leave. Holding on to Oetsu's sleeve, Hiyoshi looked back at him several times.

  "Tell me, Auntie, who was that man?"

  "His name is Sutejiro. He's a wholesaler who handles pottery from many countries."

  Hiyoshi was silent for a while as they trudged along.

  "The country of the Ming, where is that?" he asked suddenly, thinking of what he had just heard.

  "That means China."

  "Where is it? How big is it? Are there castles and samurai and battles there, too?"

  "Don't be such a nuisance. Be quiet, won't you?" Oetsu shook her sleeve irritably, but a scolding by his aunt had no more effect on Hiyoshi than a gentle breeze. He craned his neck upward and gazed fixedly at the blue sky. It was so wondrous he could hardly stand it. Why was it so incredibly blue? Why were human beings earthbound? If people were able to fly like birds, he himself could probably travel to the country of the Ming. Indeed, the birds depicted on the incense burner were the same as those in Owari. The people's clothes were different, he remembered, as were the shapes of the ships, but the birds were the same. It must be that birds had no countries; heaven and earth were all one country to them.

  I'd like to visit different countries, he mused.

  Hiyoshi had never noticed how small and poor a house he was returning to. But when he and Oetsu peered inside, he realized for the first time that even at midday it was as dark as a cellar. Chikuami was nowhere to be seen; maybe he was out attending to some business.

  "Nothing but trouble," Onaka said, after hearing of Hiyoshi's latest escapades. She let out a deep sigh. His expression was nonchalant. As she looked at him, there was no blame in her eyes. Rather, she was impressed by how much he had grown in two years, Suspiciously, Hiyoshi eyed the infant sucking at his mother's breast. At some point his family had increased by one member. Without warning, he took the child's head, wresting rom the nipple, and peered at it.

  "When was this baby born?" he asked.

  Instead of answering, his mother said, "You've become a big brother. You'll have to behave."

  "What's his name?"

  "Kochiku."

  "That's a strange name," he said excitedly, at the same time experiencing a feeling of power over the small child: the will of an older brother could be imposed on a younger brother.

  "Starting tomorrow, I'll carry you on my back, Kochiku," he promised. But he was hadling the baby clumsily, and Kochiku began to cry.

  His stepfather appeared just as Oetsu was leaving. Onaka had told her sister that Chikuami had grown tired of trying to wipe out their poverty. He sat around drinking sake, and his face was flushed now as he entered the house. Spying Hiyoshi, he let out a yel1.

  "You scoundrel! You were expelled from the temple and you come back here?"

  Tenzo the Bandit

  Hiyoshi had been back home for more than a year. He was eleven. Whenever Chikuami lost sight of him, even for a moment, he'd charge around looking for him and roar at the top of his voice, "Monkey? Have you chopped the firewood yet? Why not? Why did you leave the pail in the field?" If Hiyoshi so much as started to talk back, the rough, hard hol­low of his stepfather's hand would quickly ring against the side of the boy's head. At such times his mother, the baby strapped to her back while she trod barley or cooked, would force herself to look away and remain silent. Still, her face looked pained, as if she herself had been slapped.

  "It's natural for any eleven-year-old brat to help with the work. If you think you can slip away and play all the time, I'll break your ass!"

  The foulmouthed Chikuami drove Hiyoshi hard. But after being sent home from the temple, he worked hard, as if he had come back a different person. On those occasions when his mother unwisely tried to shield him, Chikuami's rough hands and voice lashed out with severity. It was better, she decided
, to pretend to ignore her son. Now Chikuami rarely went into the fields, but he was often away from the house. He would go into town, return drunk, and yell at his wife and children.

  "No matter how much I work, the poverty of this house won't ever be eased," he complained. "There are too many parasites, and the land tax keeps going up. If it weren't for these kids, I'd become a masterless samurai—a ronin! And I'd drink delicious sake. Ah, these chains on my hands and feet!"

  After one of these fits of abusiveness, he would make his wife count out what little money they had, then send Otsumi or Hiyoshi out to buy sake, even in the middle of the night.

  If his stepfather wasn't around, Hiyoshi would sometimes give vent to his feelings.

  Onaka hugged him close and comforted him.

  "Mother, I want to go out and work again," he said one day.

  "Please stay here. If it weren't for your being around…" The rest of what she said was unintelligible through her tears. As each tear appeared, she turned her head to the side and wiped her eyes. Seeing his mother's tears, Hiyoshi couldn't say anything. He wanted o run away, but he knew he would have to stay where he was and bear the unhappiness and bitterness. When he felt sorry for his mother, the natural desires of youth—to play, to eat, to learn, to run away—would grow within him like so many weeds. All these were fitted against the angry words Chikuami hurled at his mother and the fists that rained iown on his own head.

  "Eat shit!" he muttered, his defiant soul a flame within his small body. Finally he pushed himself to the point of confronting his fearsome stepfather.

  "Send me out to work again," he said. "I'd rather be in service than stay in this house."

  Chikuami didn't argue. "Fine," he said. "Go wherever you like, and eat someone else's rice. But the next time you get driven away, don't come back to this house." He meant what he said, and although he realized Hiyoshi was only an eleven-year-old boy, he found limself arguing with him as an equal, which made him even madder.

  Hiyoshi's next job was at the village dyer's shop.