Pagoda, Skull & Samurai Read online

  In an upstairs room of Hōrai Restaurant, where customers could drink like fish and enjoy the poetic scenery of the pond, sat a man with an air of controlled elation, apparently waiting for someone. Although his speech and manners betrayed the gallant spirit of the artisan, his simple taffeta kimono and unobtrusive silver-plated pipe set him off as a man of refined taste without a touch of vulgarity about him. A woman called Den, who knew that this regular customer was a leader whom many men respectfully addressed as "Master," brought in a tray of appetizers.

  "You must be getting impatient waiting for your guest," she said.

  To relieve the tedium of waiting, the man played along. "Oh, I'm so impatient I can hardly bear it. What could be taking so long?"

  "Well, her make-up, for one thing. You can't very well blame her for that, now, can you?" Den responded with a teasing laugh. She was adept at this familiar game of words.

  "You're so right. When my guest shows up, take a very good look, will you? I don't think you've ever seen anyone like this guest of mine around here."

  "Well, well, what consolation prize would you give me for all the pleasure you're going to have tonight, Master? Is she a teacher of music or dance?"

  "No."

  "A young lady?"

  "No."

  "A widow?"

  "No."

  "An old lady."

  "Don't be silly. Have pity on me."

  "Then, a baby!"

  "You are joking!"

  As they were laughing, someone called Den from outside the door to announce the arrival of the expected companion. Just before pulling the door open, Den turned around for a second to shoot a knowing wink and a silent grin toward the man in the room, to add to his imminent pleasure. Unaware of Genta's mischievous amusement, she slid the door to one side. The guest who lumbered in, though, was a man, rugged and unromantic, a far cry from a charming woman. His smudged face was framed by unkempt hair and a shaggy beard, his clothes tattered and soiled. At this irksome sight, Den was too astounded to utter the customary greetings.

  "jūbei, please come right in," said Genta with a smile. "Don't stand on ceremony. Make yourself comfortable."

  He forced the hesitant jūbei to take a seat. When the table was set, Genta drained a cup of sake and refilled it for his silent guest.

  "I had Tomimatsu deliver my invitation to you in the hopes of reconciling our differences," said Genta. "I wanted us to drink together and open our hearts to each other. I hope you will forget the rash words I flung at you the other night. Please listen to me. That night I was indignant, blindly blaming you for being an obstinate fellow. To my shame, I was so infuriated that I lost my temper and even wanted to break open your head. Fortunately, however, my mind was not totally taken over by the devil. When Seikichi came to my house and happened to blubber out absurd things in his drunkenness, I was amused to note how a petty man can rationalize his silly remarks so perfectly. The next moment I realized that what I had said in your house earlier was not much different. I thought to myself, 'How wrong I was! Did I forget myself in a fit of anger? Shameful! How can I call myself a man? If anyone should find out, I won't be able to keep my honor. I'll suffer the Abbot's contempt. When jūbei has given up everything and declined, it would be a grave mistake for me to take advantage and persist in my own desire.' At the same time, I was still angry with you for being so unreasonable. I had taken every little detail into consideration, deliberating whether insistence on one point would bring about strained relations in another respect, or whether doing justice here would force a sacrifice somewhere else, and so on and so forth. I had worked my brains and discretion to the limit when I came up with the suggestion I made that night—and not solely for my own sake, either. I was painfully irked when you turned me down cold. However, when I made up my mind and reported my final decision to the Abbot, all my anguish was dispelled instantly by one word from him: 'Fine!' Now I feel as if my mind has been cleared by a cool breeze.

  "Yesterday I was summoned by the Abbot and received words of commendation. He also gave me specific advice: 'I have finally awarded the contract to Jūbei. I want you to help him from behind the scenes. It will also serve you as a meritorious cause and a seed of good fortune for your next life. I don't suppose jūbei has any helpers of his own. When he starts on this project, his crew will include some of your men. You had better admonish them not to bear him jealousy or grudges.' In awe of the compassionate Abbot, who sees through everything, I conceded with all my heart. Please forgive me for having said too much the other day, jūbei. If you understand my feelings, I trust you will want to restore our friendly relationship. Now that everything has been settled, all our differences seem just like a quarrel in a dream. Persisting on the past issue leads to nothing but more trouble. Let's throw our grudge into the water of Shinobazu Pond, whose name means 'bear not.'

  "Such business as the purchasing of lumber and the negotiations with construction workers might give you trouble until you are well established in the field. I can help you there with my reputation and influence. The big wholesalers, such as Maruchō, Yamaroku, and Enshūya, are known to snub new customers; you should make full use of my name so that nothing will go wrong in dealing with them. You know that Eiji, the chief of the M crew, is quite short-tempered, but—as he always claims—his bones are made of iron and his spirit is a fireball. He is a reliable man who will accept a sincere request in earnest; he won't fall back on his promise. The groundwork is more important than anything else for a pagoda, which must withstand the forces of air, wind, fire, and water. I have no doubt that Eiji will pour all his heart into laying the foundation more solid and stable than even the deity Fudō's pedestal, for such is the force of Fireball Eiji's spirit. I will soon introduce you to him.

  "At this point, I have only one wish: that you accomplish the task superbly. There is nothing I would like to see more than a magnificent pagoda completed, one which will stand for hundreds of years to be seen by those who would be our disciples and junior colleagues. If it should turn out poorly, wouldn't it be our dying shame? Supposing they sneered, 'It's said that in the days of Genta and jūbei, carpenters cried and rejoiced over such a trivial structure.' Well, jūbei, our bones and souls would be rasped into powder by the humiliation, to scatter away in disgrace. There would be less shame in failing to attain fame for lack of talent. But to leave one's work behind to be ridiculed by our juniors—wouldn't it be as pathetic as a foolish father being admonished by his own son? How much more disgraceful than a son getting a scolding from his father! It may be bad enough to be crucified alive, but imagine how much worse if our corpses were salted and gibbeted for all eternity.

  "To tell you the truth, I was not all that serious about the pagoda until I felt the challenge of your earnest competition against me. 'Let me build the pagoda and I'll show you I'm your equal, Genta,' you were saying. And I said to myself, 'I'll build it and show Jūbei. How could I fall behind him?' I was seeing the future only in the light of fire flashing out of flint-sticks in my mind, but now I am rid of selfish desires. If only a splendid pagoda is built, it will be to your honor and my joy. This is all I wanted to say today.... Jūbei, you've been crying? I am glad, very glad." A born Edoite polished and sharpened to the core, Genta was no more sparing in his benevolence than he was in his rage.

  Jūbei, who had been listening immobile, fell to the floor speechless. "Master, forgive me," he said at last. "I can hardly speak. Only like this I thank you, Master." Incongruously, yet with heart and soul, he prostrated himself, weeping.

  <22>

  Though he was inarticulate, Jūbei's sincerity was more than evident. Genta was pleased. His countenance took on an air as genial as the spring breeze over the lake and the sun steaming the mist. His tone mellowed in easy amiability.

  "Now that we have made peace with each other, there remains no ill feeling between us. It will please the Abbot, and both our faces have been saved, too. I feel so relieved. Jūbei, let's just enjoy ourselves drinking
today."

  Getting to his feet, Genta retrieved a bundle that he had earlier placed on the alcove shelf. He untied the wrapping to disclose two piles of documents and set them before jūbei.

  "These are of no more use to me. One pile is the detailed cost estimates of lumber supplies and wages for laborers and porters and such, which took me several nights to prepare. The other pile consists of carefully drawn draft plans, covering each elaborate detail from corner to corner. Some of them show the distribution of lintels or lanterns for air and light. Some are designs for the lowest roof, double brackets, and triple and single brackets alone. You will also find relief patterns of clouds, waves, flowers, animals, and the like. The rest includes even the instructions on how to draw lines with the ink string and how to apply measuring sticks on everything. Not a single detail from the difficult center pillar to the lattice panels over the doorway, under the window, above the floor, or carved out—none has been omitted. There are also plans for open gallery boards and pillars, turtle-shaped supports, balustrades, rafters, cornice supports, and even ratio calculations of braces and hip rafters. Among them are plans which are not of my own making but which have been handed down from my ancestors strictly for the family use —such as copies of temples in Kyoto and Nara. I'll entrust all of these to you. I hope they might be of some help."

  Genta then handed over the papers bearing his own cherished dreams.

  Jūbei did not fail to appreciate genuine maganimity, yet he was also a man of integrity, and as such he refused to benefit from another's resources. "I thank you deeply, Master, but I have already enjoyed your kindness to the full. Please take back these papers/' he said, answering more curtly than he had intended.

  "Do you mean to say that you don't need these?"

  "No use borrowing..." Nossori let slip the careless remark, unaware of the anger Genta was suppressing beneath his quiet surface.

  Genta was no longer able to contain himself. "Out of my utmost kindness, I am offering you the plans over which I have worked my brains to the limit. How rude of you to turn them down! How well endowed are you that you can snub the kind intentions of others? I was enraged when you first turned against me, but I tolerated you without squabbling. An average man would have been driven by rage to any length—'In spite of my past patronage, you've got the nerve to stick your hand into my work? Even beating would be too good for you!' he'd say. But I was genuinely fond of you, and that's why I never spoke a harsh word against you. Have you forgotten that already? After we were admonished by the Abbot, I racked my brains once again and took the trouble to come to you. When I made an offer of compromise purely for your sake, you refused to give up your own self-serving claim. It would have strained the patience of an exceptional man, but I tolerated you simply out of my truly kind regard. Can't you see that? Do you think that the Abbot awarded the work solely on the basis of your skill or integrity? Do you think it was pure luck? Are you afraid that I might demand your gratitude for these documents? Or are you already so conceited that you can dismiss my plans as altogether worthless? I wouldn't think of forcing them on you.

  "You are incredibly tactless! It would have been sensible for you to accept these with thanks, to make use of a few plans, and to acknowledge their merit afterward. But without so much as examining the bundle, you spurn them sight unseen as if their worthlessness were a matter of record. How dare you reject them outright! Do you presume that your trade skill is superior to mine? Or that I would fail to soar far beyond the bounds of your meager imagination? You may consider my plans beneath your glance, but I have already measured your competence. I can visualize your mediocre pagoda even before you build it, and I can certainly see flaws in it.... I've reached the end of my patience. I won't resort to ignoble means of revenge, but I won't forgo a severe reprisal when the opportunity presents itself. I've tried my utmost to persuade you, but now that I've given up on you, I no longer care to speak to you. Just beware of my watchful eye lurking somewhere, for if it takes three years, or even ten, I'll wait silently for the day when I can pay you back in full."

  The wills of these two men of such different temperament clashed once, twice, and finally for the third time beyond reconciliation.

  "Jūbei-dono," Genta lowered his voice, abruptly shifting to an overly polite address. "I had better withdraw the rejected plans. I am sure you will build a fine pagoda by yourself, but I hope it will not fall apart in the first earthquake or storm."

  The lightly delivered yet deeply scornful message irked jūbei into driving in his wedge of confidence: "Even Nossori has a sense of honor."

  "Well, that is quite a statement. I shall endeavor never to forget it." Genta hammered in his nail of warning, glowering fiercely. Presently he arose, saying, "Damn it! How could it have slipped my mind? Jūbei-dono, please take your time and enjoy yourself. I have just remembered something urgent I must attend to." Genta left the room like a gust of wind, paid his bill on rough estimate, and hurried out of the restaurant. Instead of going straight home, he immediately proceeded to another establishment in the same district. Upon crossing the threshold, he shouted as if spitting his words out, "Insufferable! Mortifying! Trivial, useless, and ridiculous! Bring sake, and be quick about it. What's the use of fumbling with a candle now? Do you think I can eat that? You silly thing! How can I enjoy my sake with nothing but appetizers? Go fetch some geisha—Kokane, Harukichi, Fusa, Chōko—by force if necessary. Send a swift-footed young man to my house to tell Sei, Sen, Tetsu, Masa, and anybody else to come join me in a spree."

  Impatiently tossing down one cup of sake after another, Genta hurled his vexation at the women as they entered the room. "Good evening? That's putting it mildly! Drink up. Keep fresh bottles coming and circulate the cup in a whirl. Fusa, don't play coy. And don't you put on airs, Haru, old girl. Well, Choko, don't you have blood running in your veins at all? Look alive or I'll set off a firecracker right on your head. Now, sing up a storm! Hey, you sound pretty good, Kokane. Kick your leg up higher, Kaguri. Oh, Seikichi, you've come! Tetsu, you too? Good, wonderful, excellent! Make a racket by all means. I've got something to celebrate. To hell with formality!"

  With the boss in such roaring spirits, the merry mood engulfed Sen and Masa, who arrived shortly, to plunge them into bacchanalian revelry. Should the ceiling blow open or the floor collapse, repairing was their very trade anyway, so they danced about freely and vociferated. Not quite so tenderly they sang "Itako Dejima," raised battle cries to a rustic jig, and tripped over their own feet dancing. As Tetsu tapped drumbeats on the water bowl, Seikichi sprawled alongside Fusa to play percussion for "You Are Drinking Nothing but Vinegar" with her hair ornament. In the midst of this uproar, a solemn-looking Masa was groaning out the quaint tune of "Toward the North Lie Rugged Mountains" only a shade softer than a chanting lumberjack. Toward the end of all this turmoil, even betting games became so wicked that the losing women were stripped down to impromptu paper skirts. At that point Genta issued the order, "Now let's move on." Thereupon they pulled out together, who knows whither.

  <23>

  When a falcon is in flight, it never lets his eyes wander. If it is after a crane, for instance, it pursues nothing but the crane through the clouds and against the wind, not once resting until it sinks his sharp claws into the throat of its prey. Ever since jūbei received the order, he dedicated his entire being to the pagoda project; at breakfast he ruminated on the pagoda, and in his dreams at night his soul circled the top of its nine-ringed spire. Once at work he completely forgot his wife and child, never remembered what he was the day before, nor wondered about tomorrow. He charged his axe with all his strength to cut wood, and he poured his heart into drawing each plan. His mortal body existed in the mundane world where dogs bark, birds sing, and Gombei's family celebrates while Mokuemon's mourns. Yet, his heart unfettered by trivial ties, he strove and endeavored as if his life depended on it. It was not that he was undisturbed about having incurred Genta's displeasure, but being Nossori, he soon dismiss
ed the matter lightly, almost as if it concerned someone else entirely, until it slipped totally out of his mind. His concentration on the work at hand resembled the insensibility of an asinine old bull who would run in but a single straight path.

  The five treasures consisted of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, pearl, and crystal. The five kinds of incense were cloves, aloeswood, ambergris, frankincense, and sandalwood. With the additional offerings of the five medicines and the five grains, the ground-breaking ceremony was held in honor of all the guardian gods, including the Great Earth God, the Mountain God, and the Mountain Goddess. The staking and the first digging proceeded without a hitch. The foundation stones enshrining the five planets were laid one after another, counterclockwise from the auspicious direction of the month. The Adze Initiation paid homage to seven gods: Amanoma Hitotsu, the original blacksmith; Teoki Ho'oi and Hikosachi, inaugurators of carpentry; Omoikane, Amatsukoyane, and Futodama, in charge of rituals; and Kukunochi, the god of trees. The Rite of the Immaculate Plane was duly performed next.

  Finally, in the pillar-raising ceremony, the four corner pillars were planted with prayers for their eternal stability. Each symbolized one of the Four Guardian Kings: Jikoku-ten in the east, Kōmokuten in the west, Zōchōten in the south, and Bishamonten in the north. Everlasting protection was sought from the three star gods—Tensei, Shikisei, Tagan—as well as from the seven stars of the Great Dipper. Jūbei drove three temporary wedges into each pillar and had his assistant tighten them. Now that he had accomplished this much with painstaking care, he was so elated that even his soiled face glowed with joy. "The thick pillar as immutable as the rock of Shimotsu"—the words of the old poem recited at the ceremony somehow sounded profoundly joyful to his ears, and jūbei broke into a smile as he sang the last refrain—"is a model by which man should establish himself in the world." He then offered his prayer at the altar and concluded the final purification ritual with the clear sounds of handclapping in supplication for the success of the project.