The eleventh month (December) was closing its first decade. The wine shop at Shiba Nihon Enoki was celebrating a first opening, a feast in progress for some hours, and to be maintained for the few ensuing days. The enthusiasm was at its height, and the wine flowed like water. Some few guests, who could, tottered home at midnight. Clerks and domestics—there is little difference in Nipponese practice—shut up the premises as well as their drunken state permitted. Those who had still some trace of sobriety proceeded to guzzle what was left in the opened casks. When the hour of the ox (1 a.m.) struck, not a man in the place knew front from rear. They lay sprawled out dead drunk—as were some of the women. This was the hour watched for and chosen by Jinnai. Such of the females as could give the alarm were bound and gagged by the masked invaders. Then they gutted place and store-houses. With bending backs they betook themselves over the hills the short distance to Harajuku. Here Jinnai, in the unwise benevolence of the bandit chieftain, gave rein to the licentiousness of these favourites of his mature age, to these lieutenants and agents in the great movement for which all this loot was gathered. The circuit was formed. The heads of wine barrels just stolen were broached. The grizzled, tousled member who officiated as cook, and as such had been left behind to his own offices, produced the feast of fish and delicacies in celebration of the great deed and accomplishment. "Now is the turn of this company," said Jinnai in pleasant reference to the victims of the raid. "A real banquet of extreme intoxication.[27] Alas! We have no tabo.... Too dangerous a loot," commented Jinnai amid the roar of laughter and approval. "Use and abuse go together; and the necessity to slit the throats of such chattering parrots. For this company the remains would give trouble, and might bring unexpected visitors about our ears. Be virtuous—and spare not the wine." The advice was followed to the letter. Soon the house of Jinnai was a match for that of the looted wine shop.
With the light of the December dawn a metal dealer (doguya) was trudging his way over the sifted cover of an early snow fall. He lived thereabouts; often had had small jobs of mending the weapons and implements of this sturdy establishment of Jinnai, hence had some good will to its owner, which was more than could be said of most of the neighbours. To his surprise he noted the wide open gate to Jinnai's entrance, the many tracks leading within. Strange sounds were heard. He would venture on a look. "Oya! Oya!" The man stood stock still, half in fright and half in a wondering concupiscence of curiosity, as he took in the riotous vision of the fencing hall. Some twenty men lay scattered in different postures—all dead drunk. The noise arose from their wide open snoring mouths and nostrils. A score of wine casks lay tumbled, the liquor spilled on the tatami. Mingled with the remains of food and vomit were stained cups and dirty plates. More suggestive to his frightened eyes was the heap of packages laid out at the side. Some of them had been opened, and displayed the varied assortment of the contents. Most conspicuous was Jinnai, who had gone to sleep with the bag of all the coin found in the wine shop as pillow. Ah! Ha! The scene needed no interpreter. This was a mere band of thieves, the house their den. The man stole to the kitchen. He knew his ground, and that in these bachelor quarters no women would be stirring. Jinnai was a misogynist—on business principles. Hearing a stir he would have fled at the rear, but the body of the drunken cook, the intermediary of their dealings, lay square across the exit. Fearful he made his return. As he passed out the front—"Alas! Alas! What is to be done? The Sensei, so just and prompt in his dealings, so kind in his patronage, is a mere thief. Report is to be made. As witness this Sentarō will send the Sensei to the execution ground. But the honoured mother—no trouble is to be brought on her. By other discovery ... and perchance someone has seen this entrance! What's to be done? What's to be done?" He did one thing in his perplexity. He shut the outside door, closed fast the big gate, and departed by the service gate. Thus no others should intrude on this rash man; and likewise Jinnai had no inkling of his visit. Then the doguya fled to his home, so blue in the face and overcome as to frighten the household. They gathered round the unhappy man with hot water to drink as restorative. "Had he seen a ghost?"
All day he pondered. Then he told his story to Aikawa Chūdayu. The officer was indebted to Sentarō; for many a hint in his operations. "Deign somehow, honoured yōnin, that the Sensei be allowed to escape. For this Sentarō to appear as witness will bring down the curse of one sure to be visited with execution. Condescend this favour." Chūdayu looked on him with approval, but shook his head in doubt—"Never mind the curse of one dead. The service to the suzerain is most opportune. Thus surely there will be reward, not punishment. For the present you cannot be allowed to leave, but the mother shall suffer no anxiety. There is much serious matter against this man; perchance no testimony will be called for.... Strange he should be caught thus; on both sides, and in accordance." He looked over the scroll he held in his hands, and with it took his way to his master's apartment. Thus it was he could spring on Shūzen the greater affair concerning the long missing man. Making his report of the tale of the doguya he passed over the scroll he held in his hand—"The fellow is caught in both quarters. There are three of these rōnin, most intimate. Of this Marubashi Chūya little favourable is known, but he has the support of Yui Sensei, the noted master of the Ushigomé Enoki fencing room, and favourite of all but Hida no Kami, whom he would rival in attainment. Shibata Saburōbei and this Katō Ichiémon seem honourable men, of clean lives and reputation beyond the fact of being rōnin. All experts at arms they live by teaching one form or other of the practice. Curiosity led Chūya to the encounter of this Osada at his fencing hall, to find him more than his match at everything but his favourite art of the spear. But here lies the point. Later he returned, in company with a one time shoké of the Zōjōji. As Dentatsu the priest had met with Jinnai, and nearly suffered at his hands. In what way he did not say, but told Chūya that the man's real name was Kosaka—of the stock of Kosaka Danshō no Chūden of Kai; of him your lordship already has had experience in early days. At last he comes into the net and under such fair terms."
Aoyama did know his man; even after all these years. He had ripened much. Why not Jinnai? He would have gone himself, and chafed at not doing so; but his satellites showed him the lack of dignity in such procedure. The magistrate in person to take a common thief! Darkness offered chance of escape; so with dawn a host of yakunin was sent under a yoriki[28] and several dōshin. Aikawa Chūdayu himself volunteered. Jinnai and his men were not yet up. On the previous day awaking amid the unseemly debris of the night's debauch, with no clear recollection of its progress and ending, the chief's first alarm had been dissipated by finding the outer gate locked. The unbarred wicket was attributed to an oversight which hardly would attract notice from the outside. Indeed he had not been the first to rise and take tale of his companions, to ascertain which one had occasion to open it and go without. With such a chief few would admit negligence. The day passed without notice. Confidence was restored. Now from the outside was heard a hum of voices. "On his lordship's business! On his lordship's business!" The cries came together with an irruption of yakunin into the entrance hall, Jinnai and his men promptly sprang to arms. A scattered fight began, with none too great stomach of the officers before the stout resistance offered. It was no great matter to reach a ladder to the loft. Jinnai was the last man up. The more daring to follow was laid low with an arrow shot from above, and the ladder disappeared heavenward. Panels now were thrust back, short bows brought into use, and almost before they had thought to fight or flee the constables had five of their men stretched out on the tatami.
Before the shower of missiles they could but retreat. At the request for aid Aoyama Shūzen was in a rage. There was now no preventing his departure. Mounting his horse off he rode from Kanda-mura toward Harajuku-mura. But it had taken some little time for the messenger to come; and more for Aoyama with his staff to go. Meanwhile much had taken place. The ward constables had joined the yakunin of Shūzen. The place completely surrounded, tatami were taken from the neighbouring houses for use as shields against the arrows. Then on signal a concerted rush of the hardiest was made. Pouring in, with ladders raised aloft; tumbling each other into the ditches, in the confusion pummelling each other with mighty blows, and in consequence securing stout whacks from the enraged recipients; the unlucky constables were soon indistinguishable in their coating of mud and blood. The outrageous ruffians, however, were soon tumbled from the posts of vantage and precise aim by well directed thrusts. A dozen men poured up the ladders and through broken panels into the loft above. Here in the uncertain light they hesitated. The figures of the foe could be seen, armed and ready for an arrow flight. Then a shout was raised from below. Stifling smoke poured up from every quarter. The scene was illuminated by the blazing figures of the archers, for these were old armour and weapons, lay figures stuffed with straw and meant but to gain precious moments of respite. The yakunin now had themselves to save. The retreat was as disorderly as at their first advent, but their rear was not galled by aught but flying sparks and burning timbers. Discomfited they watched the blazing mass of Jinnai's once establishment; watched it until it was a mere mass of ashes and charred beams.
Jinnai had been long prepared for such an adventure. The yakunin at first driven back he followed his company through the tunnel[29] leading to beneath a subsidiary shrine in the grounds of the neighbouring temple of the Zenkwōji. Here he dismissed them, with hasty division of the raided coin, and instructions to their chiefs to meet him at the festival of the Owari no Tsushima in the fifth month (June). Himself he would go north, to give notice and gather his recruits. Thus exposed at Edo, the great uprising now must centre in Ōsaka. They scattered to their different courses; and thus Jinnai failed to meet the enraged Aoyama Shūzen, now present on the scene. But even the harsh discipline of their master had to yield to the piteous appearance of his men in their discomfiture. Aikawa Chūdayu bent low in most humble apology. They had underestimated the man, had virtually allowed him to escape—"Naruhodo! The figures were of straw, and no wonder yielded so readily to the spear. Only the sight of the flames rising amid the armour betrayed the deceit in the gloom of the loft. Deign to excuse the negligence this once." A dōshin, an old and experienced officer, spoke almost with tears. Aoyama gave a "humph!" Then looking over this mud stained, blear eyed, bloody nosed, ash dusted band of his confederates he began to chuckle at the battered and ludicrous composition. All breathed again. But when he had re-entered his yashiki, and was left to himself, without concubine for service, or Jinnai for prospective amusement, then indeed he stamped his feet, his belly greatly risen. Alas! Alas! How could Yokubei Sama find a substitute for the one; and secure the real presence of the other?
CHAPTER XXII
The Shrine of the Jinnai-bashi
It was one of those small Fudō temples, tucked away on a shelf of the hillside just above the roadway, embowered in trees, with its tiny fall and rock basin for the enthusiastic sinner bathing in the waters of this bitterly cold day. The whole construction of shrine, steep stone steps, and priestly box for residence, so compactly arranged with the surrounding Nature as to be capable of very decent stowage into a case—much like those of the dolls of the third or fifth month. The nearest neighbour was the Shichimen-shi—the seven faced Miya—in this district so dotted even to day with ecclesiastical remnants, from Takénotsuka to Hanabatakémura on the north edge of Edo—Tōkyō. However it was not one of their resident priests who stood at the rōka of the incumbent cleric seeking a night's lodging. The kindly oldish dōmori (temple guardian) looked him over. Nearly fifty years of age, two teeth lacking in the front, his head shaved bald as one of the stones from the bed of the Tonégawa, a tired hard eye, thin cruel and compressed lips added nothing to the recommendation of the rosary (juzu) and pilgrim's staff (shakujō) grasped in hand; and indeed the whole air of the man savoured of the weariness of debauch, and of strife with things of this world rather than of battles against its temptations. Yet the wayfarer was greeted with kindness, his tale of woe heard. His own quarters—a flourishing tribute to the mercies of the eleven-faced Kwannon, with a side glance at Amida—had gone up in smoke the day before. Naught remained but the store-house, with its treasure of sutra scrolls and hastily removed ihai of deceased parishioners. The disaster was not irreparable. His enthusiastic followers already sought to make good the damage. Himself he would find aid from the cult in Edo.