A parallel had often been drawn between the smith and Mutto. Both these men, renowned for strength and skill, living for themselves and seemingly desirous of avoiding company, always reserved and even gloomy, and never sharing in wine-parties or other festivities, offered a great contrast to the usual style of conduct of the cavaliers at the court; for the latter, acting with the spirit of the age, although ready at any time for hard work and harder blows, believed in taking pleasure and amusement whenever and wherever it could be found. But when the two men once stood side by side in the court, it was easy to perceive that however much unlike to others, there was very little real resemblance between them.
Mutto’s athletic but slight and supple figure was cast in quite a different mould from the smith’s heavy, awkward-looking frame; and in so far as other than physical attributes could be discerned, the difference became even more marked. The look of gloom on the face of the former seemed like a dark veil, obscuring its naturally pleasant and cheerful expression. The regular features could never have settled into such clearly-cut, bold, determined lines if their possessor had always been given to inactive brooding and sorrowing. They now spoke unmistakably of weary resignation; but it was a new-born resignation foreign to the man’s real nature, and implanted there by some unaccountable calamity. In demeanor he was quiet and dignified, and in the performance of his often monotonous duties as chamberlain he had been known to stand sometimes for hours like a statue, scarcely moving either limbs or features.
With the smith, body and face were cast in a heavy, coarse mould, and both gave evidence of the savage restlessness and discontent of the mind within. Very seldom were they characterized by anything like repose. In general the eyes rolled about in their sockets, glancing here and there with a preoccupied air, while the whole lower part of the face twitched convulsively; and this movement often extended even to the limbs and body. It was evident that no other influence but the thoughts within him induced this unquiet. When he found himself observed, he could by a strong effort resume outward composure; but he would at such times hurl back a look so vicious that few cared to encounter it twice.
The neighborhood where the smith’s house stood was very lonely. In former years it had been a small fishing-village called Senjuin, which in time, as the castle-town of Kuwana gradually extended, became one of the outskirts of the latter. This was many hundred years ago. With its loss of independence, in spite of the proximity of the great town, it lost also its well-to-do look, and became the resort of the very worst and the very poorest elements of the population. During the great Minamoto wars, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, it suddenly developed into prosperity. The streets became lined with stores, mechanics’ workshops, small manufactories of different articles of military equipment; and with these, not a few wine-shops, houses of bad repute, and gambling-dens. There was then continual marching and countermarching; regular and irregular bodies of troops, such as could be induced to take the field by threats or promises, through motives of partisan loyalty, from love of adventure, or through the more mercenary object of gain or booty to be reaped, were being continually formed, and Kuwana had become a noted resort for such bands to equip themselves, most of the new traffic concentrating itself in that part where Senjuin had formerly stood.
The town possessed abundant natural advantages. Its neighborhood abounded with many kinds of good woods, including a great variety of bamboos,—so necessary in the production of articles of every-day use. Inland products could easily and cheaply be brought down on the river which ran beside the town. Its situation by the sea-shore, and the never-failing supply of fish which was thereby secured, was also of great value at a time when fields were irregularly tilled and the cost of cereals often reached famine prices. The advantage of being able to go and come by sea or land was not slight, and was especially appreciated by those lawless characters who abounded at the time, and a goodly number of whom could always be found there. Whatever the disposition and tendency of these gentry might have been, however, they were kept in check by the proximity of the castle with its garrison, which prevented anything like excess of violence or ill-doing. Burglaries, robberies, and murders even were no rarity; but assistance was always at hand when a brawl assumed too great dimensions. No band of robbers could come and levy contributions or commit other outrages as they did sometimes in smaller towns and villages.
Thus this quarter of the town grew up and flourished as long as the war lasted. With the return of peace this prosperity waned, and soon departed altogether. The working part of the population moved away nearer the castle-walls and the old, established centre of business; and the disreputable part, finding their occupation gone, left for other regions. In the course of a few decades the place had become almost entirely deserted. Some of the houses at first had been taken down and removed, some had been destroyed by fire, and not a few had fallen down, rotting away in unshapely heaps. All those that yet stood were in a state of extreme decay. Passing beggars and ronins often used them as a temporary refuge, and a great deal of real danger to unarmed wayfarers lurked under the shadow of this apparently deserted solitude. It was also a favorite spot for duels and night-brawls, and many a manly form was often found there in the morning lifeless and covered with sword-cuts.
About nine years previous to the time when the first incidents related in this narrative took place, Muramasa the sword-smith, who had already acquired considerable reputation in his craft, arrived in Kuwana, and for a trifle bought a plot of land, where he erected his house in the manner already described. It was the worst-reputed part of the whole neighborhood, near the high road, which skirted one end of the deserted village, and opposite to a large open, level space, where once had stood houses which had been burned down, and in whose place a plentiful supply of weeds had sprung up. These were, however, kept well beaten down; for it was this particular spot which was generally chosen when the brawlers or duellists fought in greater numbers. Muramasa had been accompanied by a young wife, a son about fourteen years of age, the offspring of a former marriage, and an old married serving-couple. From the very beginning he had led a lonely and solitary life, as he did afterward. He repaired one of the old buildings on the land he had bought, so as to make it temporarily habitable while his new house was being constructed.
