Part 8

The wind sank to quietness, the waves grew calm, the storm ceased, and his headman cried, “My lord, the sacrifice is accepted. We may now pass quickly in safety. Because she would wish it, rouse yourself to strife and conquest.”

When morning broke, the ships were safely moored by the farther shore. As Yamato stepped out upon the sand, the lapping waves cast at his feet the comb of the princess, his wife. He picked it up and commanded that at that spot a temple should be raised to her memory.

Then he made a great conquest for his lord the emperor, and his soldiers boasted of him and said, “He is the greatest warrior in the world, the Prince Yamato Take!”

But he was no longer proud. Instead, when men praised him, and honors were showered upon him, he bent his head and said only, “Azuma! azuma! wa ya!”[37]

FOOTNOTES:

[36] Every Samurai carried two swords, a long one to slay his enemies, a short one to kill himself if about to be taken prisoner.

[37] “My wife, alas, my wife!”

THE TWO BROTHERS

There were once two brothers who were as different as day and night. The oldest, Kurobei, cared only for himself and thought of nothing but of what might advance his own interests. Moreover, he was very proud and haughty. The younger brother’s name was Kazuma. He was gentle and of a kind heart, and all the people loved him.

When therefore the father died, and the two brothers were left alone in the world (their mother having been dead for many years), there were those among the servants who said, “It is a pity that O Kazuma is not the elder, to rule the house; for his rule would be one of kindness.”

Both Kurobei and Kazuma loved their father and had been dutiful sons. Both had obeyed the old man and both had grieved at his death. They had him buried with every token of respect and they wept at his loss.

“My father is no more,” cried Kurobei. “I must place offerings upon his grave that all men may see that I hold him in respectful remembrance.”

But the younger brother wept most bitterly. “Alas! alas!” he cried. “My father is gone from me! No longer may we go to him each day and ask his advice upon the many things which trouble us! How shall we live? Let us each day place upon his grave flowers of remembrance. Perhaps his spirit may some day speak with us.”

Kurobei agreed to this and each morning the two brothers could be seen bearing flowers to their father’s grave, and there they talked to their father, telling him of all the doings of their lives.

And all the people saw and said, “How good Kurobei is! Though he has much to do, in the affairs of his home, still each day he takes his brother with him and goes to his father’s grave, lest the younger forget his filial piety.”

Thus things went on for twelve months, and the matter coming to the emperor’s ears, he appointed Kurobei to a high place in his household, saying, “One who so well serves his father will be faithful in office.” And Kazuma was much pleased at the honor shown to his brother, whom he dearly loved.

Kurobei went much to the palace and much enjoyed his new life. He said to Kazuma, “You will see now that you must go alone to my father’s grave, good brother, for I am much occupied with affairs. For the honor of the family I must appear well at court, and my father would wish it. I have gone to his grave daily these twelve months and never omitted this respect; but now my duty to the emperor demands that the rest of my time be spent at the palace. Go you therefore to the grave, if you will, since you have no higher duty.”

“But my brother!” cried Kazuma in astonishment. “Will you neglect our father’s grave altogether?”

“Not at all,” replied the elder brother. “Be not so hasty in your judgments, for that is a sin. I shall place before his grave the day lily which shall bloom daily, and thus shall I continue to do him honor. I have chosen a handsome plant, and shall pay a gardener well to tend it for me. The flowers shall stand in my stead before the grave, and I shall have leisure to attend to my duties at the palace, coming to visit my father only upon the days of special fête.”

“Alas, my brother,” cried Kazuma. “Plant not the lily of forgetfulness!”

Kurobei only said, “Trouble me no further, I have spoken.”

Then Kazuma spoke no more, but he went even more carefully each day to his father’s grave and there he made offerings. He talked to the spirit of his beloved father, and told him all things which occurred to him each day.

The elder brother at first went upon the feast days, but as time passed he went less and less, and at last he went not even upon the Feast of the Dead, when every one should remember their dead with incense and a bower of bamboo and bright berries.

This made Kazuma very sad, and at last he spoke.

“O Kurobei,” he said, “honorable brother, have you quite forgotten our father? You never visit his grave.”

Kurobei was angry and spoke harshly. “Why do you bother me, troublesome fellow? Did I not tell you I had no time to attend to it? I planted the lily, and I pay the gardener to attend to it; I can not do more for my duty lies elsewhere. Does not the lily fare well?”

“It fares well, my brother,” said Kazuma sadly; and to himself he whispered, “the lily of forgetfulness.”

Then after his brother had gone to the palace he wept much and said, “My brother’s heart has grown like a stone. He has forgotten my father and all that he has for him is the lily of forgetfulness. I too shall plant a flower, but mine shall be the aster for memory; for I shall never, never, forget my honorable father. Each day I will tend the aster with my own hands; for it is a sacred flower, the flower of remembrance.”

Then he did as he said, and every day he tended the plants and prayed beside his father’s grave. And every day he loved his father more and more.

[Illustration: “EVERY DAY HE TENDED THE PLANTS”]

One day when he was tending the flower he heard a strange sound. He listened and there seemed to come from the grave a whispering voice. It said to him, “O Kazuma, I am sent to guard the spirit of your honorable father. Long have you remembered your parent when your brother had forgotten him. You have planted for him the sacred asters of remembrance, and here they have bloomed in purple beauty. All these things I have noticed and I am well pleased with your filial piety. So, fear me not, faithful son. To you I shall be a spirit of kindness so long as you live. I can read the future, and ever I shall whisper to you in dreams of the night, and I shall direct you in the paths which you should follow to meet success. Farewell!”

The voice ceased and Kazuma stood amazed before the asters and the day lilies of his brother. He returned home greatly wondering, and told his wife all that had happened.

That night, in sleep, the spirit came to him and told him all that he should do to meet success; and when day came he obeyed the voice, and all was well with him. And so it continued, for success waited upon him at every turn, and his wife bore him many sons and all his life he was happy and fortunate.

THE PRINCESS AND THE FOX BABY

A little princess sat beneath the cherry blooms in the royal garden. It was spring and the whole garden was a mass of radiant pink bloom, as soft as the sunset glow on the snows of Fuji San.

The little princess was as fair as the cherry blooms, and the petals had drifted lovingly upon her. They had powdered the ground about her like snowflakes, and rested upon her soft black hair like a coronet of pearl.

As she sat and dreamed in the sunshine, the little princess was very happy, and she said to herself, “What a beautiful world this is! I wish every one was as happy as I am!” This she said because her heart was as kind as her face was fair.

Then she heard a sudden rush and the patter of tiny feet, and a little baby fox sprang over the garden wall and ran right under the princess’s robe. She stooped and took it in her arms.

“Poor little frightened foxling,” she said. “What is the matter?”

But the little fox only tucked his sharp nose under her arm and trembled all over.

Then the princess heard a shout and looking up, she saw some boys on the wall.

“That is our fox,” they cried roughly, for they did not know she was a princess. “Give it to us!”

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

“Kill it and eat the flesh for supper,” cried the biggest boy. “Then we will sell the skin, and the liver can be sold to the magician doctor who cures fever with it. We shall get many _bu_[38] for the fox, and we can buy rice cakes and other things.”

The little fox seemed to understand, for he cowered closer to the princess. He poked his nose into the palm of her hand and kissed it gently.

“You may have the price of the foxling, but you may not have his life, poor baby,” said the little princess. “Here,” she pulled her purse from her kimono sleeve--“here is a gold piece for the flesh, and one for the liver, one for the fur, and still another for the life of this poor little bundle of fur. And pray the gods to give you kinder hearts in your breasts, for neither the gods nor men like cruel souls.”

The boys quickly took the gold which she offered them, lest she should change her mind and take back the coins, but she had no thought of doing that. Gold was nothing to her, because of it she had plenty; but the life of the fox baby seemed very precious.

“Fox Baby,” she said as she untied a string from his neck. “Where are your father and mother?” The fox gave a sad little whine, and its eyes seemed full of tears. From a bamboo thicket nearby came some short, sharp barks. The fox baby barked in return, and the princess saw peering from between the bamboo branches two old foxes who looked anxiously at the baby.

“Really I believe these are your parents, foxling,” she said. “I shall let you go to them. I would like to keep you for my playmate, you are so soft and pretty; but you would be lonely, no matter how much I loved you, and I never could be as your father and mother. So run along and be happy.”

She stroked him gently and set him down, and with great leaps he was off to the bamboo thicket. Then the princess watched with pleasure, for the old foxes received him with joy; they licked him over and over, and then, one on either side the baby fox, they trotted happily away. The princess smiled ’neath the cherry blooms and was glad.

Summer bloomed and the lotus lay golden hearted on the waters’ brim. It passed and the maples were scarlet and gold upon the hillsides. The sun was a glory of burnished gold in the heavens, but within the palace all was dark.

The little princess walked no more in the garden. She lay parched with fever upon her slumber mat and her mother and father watched beside her day and night. All the wise doctors in the land had been called to her side.

“She can not live,” they said, “since sleep does not visit her eyelids.” They tried by every means to make her sleep, but though her eyelids were heavy and she longed for slumber, it came not, and every day she grew weaker.

At last came the emperor’s magician and he gazed upon her long and carefully. At last he said, “She is cast under a spell. Unless the spell is broken she must die. One must sit beside her from the going down of the sun until it rises again in golden splendor from behind the mountains. That one will break the charm.”

“That is easy,” cried the princess’s maids. “We will watch to-night and save her;” for the little princess was so sweet and good that every one loved her. But lo! when the midnight came, the maidens felt a strange charm steal over them, and a strange scent was wafted to them, and strange music filled their ears, and they slept.

When morning came they wept and felt very sad; for the princess was weaker and they had not broken the charm.

The princess’s old nurse was very angry.

“Foolish ones,” she cried. “You have idled and slept and my darling is not yet well. I will watch to-night, for she grows weaker each day.”

But alas! the old nurse was no more fortunate than the maidens, for the spell was woven about her also and she slept; and when she awoke, she, too, wept bitterly.

Then all manner of people tried to withstand the charm and watch with the sick maiden, and even the little princess’s father and mother, but to no avail. And daily she grew weaker and weaker.

At last there came to the palace a young warrior, Ito San, who begged to be allowed to watch one night.

“I love the princess,” he said. “Rather than sleep I shall die.” Then he took his sword, keen and sharp, and placing the point beneath his chin, rested the handle upon the floor. Each time his head drooped in sleep, the point would bite and sting, and, struggling with the drowsiness which overtook him, he would sit upright again. In this way he conquered sleep.

When the princess opened her eyes she seemed less weak, and Ito gazed upon her with love in his eyes. Then sleepily, she smiled upon him, and at last she slept.

He sat beside her until morning not daring to move.

As the sunrise swept over the land, turning all to glowing beauty, he heard a strange, weird chant; and the words of it were stranger still, for the voice sang,

“Serve to the little princess Broth of the finest rice; Grate into it fox’s liver For magical, healing spice. For a wildwood fox, search far and near, And the princess’s ills will disappear.”

“A fox’s liver,” cried the young warrior joyously. “My beloved, now shall you be saved!” He repeated the song of the sunrise to the mother of the princess and she told the emperor. Then he sent far and wide to all the great hunters of the hills.

“Bring us the liver of a fox,” he commanded, “a clean and healthy fox. Do this as quickly as possible, for my daughter is sick unto death.”

The hunters sought on every hill and in every valley, through every tangled wildwood and over every moor, but they found no fox.

“There are no foxes!” they cried to the emperor. “We have searched far and near, and not one is to be found.”

[Illustration: “HE SAT BESIDE HER, NOT DARING TO MOVE”]

Then the young warrior said, “I will find one. There must be a fox somewhere in the wildwood for this gentle little heart who loved all animals.”

Then Ito San hunted far and wide, but he found no foxes; for the cunning animals had heard the proclamation of the emperor and had hidden themselves. So Ito San returned to the palace with grief in his heart, ready to slay himself in his despair.

At that moment he felt a hand touch his sleeve, and turning quickly he saw a little old woman, with a queer little pointed face, and a mantle of red fur wrapped about her. In her hand she bore a jar, and she said, “Take this quickly and the princess will be well.”

“What is the price?” he asked.

“Alas!” she burst into tears. “The price is more than you could ever pay, but the princess paid it long ago. Hasten to her!”

Then Ito saw that the jar contained fox’s liver and his heart bounded for joy. He hurried to the palace, the words of the song in his ears.

“Serve to the little princess Broth of the finest rice; Grate into it fox’s liver For magical, healing spice. For a wildwood fox, search far and near, And the princess’s ills will disappear.”

They gave her the broth of rice with the liver grated into it, and lo! she was well. And as she lay dreaming happily of Ito San and his great love for her, there came to her in her dream, a fox cub who said, “Dear Princess, I am that little fox you saved long ago from the cruel boys. My father and mother were not ungrateful. So my father gave you his liver to make you well, and my mother, who would not live without him, sends her red fur to keep you warm. And this is because you were kind to the little foxling who was their baby.”

Then the princess awoke, and upon the sleeping mat there lay, soft and warm and light, the skin of a red fox.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] A Japanese coin.

Transcriber’s Notes

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Small capitals are changed to all capitals.

Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up the paragraphs. Footnotes have been moved to the end of the chapter.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

The following corrections have been applied to the text (before/after):

(p. 10) ... the road to Yakima was ... ... the road to Yakami was ...

(p. 27) ... a young samurai. ... ... a young Samurai. ...

(p. 61) ... return to Itsuka and ... ... return to Itsuku and ...

(p. 72) ... kokoro wa nishike (coat ... ... kokoro wa nishiki (coat ...

(p. 79) ... a treasure,” he said, ... ... a treasure,” he said. ...

(p. 94) ... long purple racimes swaying ... ... long purple racemes swaying ...

(p. 104) ... the O-botaro (great firefly) ... ... the O-botaru (great firefly) ...

(p. 110) ... of all Yeddo, to be ... ... of all Yedo, to be ...

(p. 118) ... bit of advice, When ... ... bit of advice. When ...

(p. 150) “OKI KURUMI WAS A MIGHTY FISHERMAN” “OKIKURUMI WAS A MIGHTY FISHERMAN”