The Weird Part 13

'How "Come to me"? Where am I supposed to go?...What are you saying?...Where to? To h.e.l.l?...Come to the burning h.e.l.l? Whoever is this? Who could it be...? Ah!'

The apprentice forgot all about mixing colours to observe the fear on his master's face. He saw him gasping for breath, mouth open and spa.r.s.e teeth visible; he noticed the dry lips, the sweating face, pale and wrinkled. Something was moving inside the mouth as if pulled by a string. It was the master's tongue. Words came out disconnected.

'I thought...It's really you...I thought you'd come...What? You come to take me away? Yes. Come. Come to h.e.l.l. There your daughter is waiting for you.'

The scared apprentice glimpsed a dark figure looming from above and brushing against the open screen. He shook Yoshihide with all his strength, but the master continued speaking in his dream, refusing to awake. The apprentice found the courage to take the water set aside to wash the brushes, and he splashed it all onto the master's face.

The words Yoshihide was saying, 'I'll be waiting. Come with this carriage...with this carriage. Come to h.e.l.l...' became groans. Yoshihide sprung up as though he had been stung with a needle, although he seemed to be seeing someone, as if the evil spirits from his nightmares were still hanging upon his eyelids. For a moment he stared at nothing, eyes full of dread and mouth gaping. Then, returning to his senses, he ordered curtly, 'It's all right. Off with you now.'

Knowing very well he would be scolded if he tried to object, the apprentice ran out of his master's room and, when he saw the sunshine, he felt relieved as if he had awakened from his own nightmare.

That was not the worst of it. A month later, another apprentice was called into Yoshihide's study. The master, who was moistening a brush in his mouth, turned to him and said, 'Strip down, please.'

As the painter used to give that order from time to time, the boy immediately took off his clothes.

When the boy was completely naked, Yoshihide said with a strange scowl on his face and no compa.s.sion in his eyes, 'I'd like to see a man in chains. I'm sorry but you should let me do what I want to do for a while.'

This apprentice was a burly young man who could have wielded a sword better than a brush. Nevertheless, he must have been scared to death if even after years he kept repeating, 'I believed the master had gone mad and wanted to kill me.'

Yoshihide, seeing the apprentice hesitate, lost patience. He produced a thin iron chain out of nowhere, sprang onto the boy's back, and wrenched the chain around his body and finally he yanked at the chain with such merciless force that the apprentice fell, his body hitting the floor with a mighty noise.

IX.

The apprentice's figure resembled a wine keg rolled over on its side because the boy's limbs were so cruelly bent and twisted he could move nothing but his neck. Because of the arrested blood circulation, his thick body, face, chest and limbs had become red and then livid in no time. Yoshihide did not heed the boy's pain and, walking around that keg-shaped body, sketched him from various angles in a realistic fashion. No need to tell what torture the apprentice suffered while his master worked.

If nothing had happened, the apprentice would have had to bear the pain for a long time. Fortunately or unfortunately from an upturned jar flowed an undulating thin ribbon that elongated like black oil. At first, the liquid came out slowly, like a very thick, sticky fluid, but little by little the glistening thing glided up to the nose of the frightened boy, who stopped breathing for a second and then screamed, 'A snake! A snake!'

The boy told me that his blood had frozen, but this sensation was natural as the snake was about to touch his chained neck with the tip of its ice-cold tongue. Seeing his apprentice in such a plight, even the cruel Yoshihide became frightened. Upset, he cast away his brush and with a swift gesture, picked up the snake by the tail, letting its head dangle. The snake tried to coil around itself but could not reach Yoshihide's hand.

'My sketch is ruined and it's your fault, d.a.m.ned beast,' he said to the snake, and threw it back into its jar. Mumbling, he undid the chain and freed his apprentice, who got not a single word of sympathy or consolation from his master. A ruined sketch saddened Yoshihide more than having one of his apprentices bitten by a snake.

Later I was told that he kept the snake for the purpose of making sketches of it.

After what you have heard so far, you must have a fair idea of Yoshihide's madness when inspiration possessed him. But let me recount one more episode. This time, an apprentice of thirteen or fourteen almost lost his life because of the screen. One night, Yoshihide called this boy, who had the white complexion of a girl, to his study. In the light of the oil lamp, the apprentice saw the master feeding an exotic bird something that, placed on his palm, resembled raw meat. The bird, as big as a cat, had feathers sticking out of its ears and large round amber-coloured eyes that made it look like a cat indeed.

X.

Yoshihide by nature hated people prying in his business. He had told nothing to his apprentices about the snake because he never said anything about the material he kept in his study. Once the boys glimpsed a human skull on the master's desk. Another time they saw silver bowls and lacquered platters or other unusual items, depending on what he was painting, but no one knew where he kept these things. Whence originated the rumour of a benevolent deity bestowing favours on Yoshihide.

The apprentice who entered thought the strange bird was in the study to provide a model for the screen. He bowed and respectfully addressed the master. 'What do you wish, sir?'

Instead of answering, the master licked his red-stained lips and thrust his chin in the bird's direction. 'Look how tame it is.'

'What's this creature, sir? I've never seen anything like it.' The apprentice, curious and diffident, ogled the strange bird that had cat-like ears of feathers.

Yoshihide, in his customary disparaging tones, said, 'You've never seen it before? That's the problem with you town-bred folks. This bird is a horned owl a hunter from Kurama gave me yesterday. Mind you, not many owls are as tame as this one.' He slowly raised his hand and ruffled the owl's feathers. The bird, which had just finished eating, flew up from the desk with a threatening screech and threw itself into the boy's face, talons first. If the apprentice had not raised both arms to protect his face with the kimono sleeves, he would have collected a cut or two.

'Ah!' The apprentice screamed and waved his sleeves to drive the owl away but the bird swooped down on him and clicked its beak, taking advantage of the slightest unguarded movement to peck at him. The boy forgot all about being in his master's presence. He ran to and fro in the study, jumping up and throwing himself to the floor to escape the talons. The bird followed him and darted at his eyes. Each time the owl spread its wings, the boy smelt odours of rotting leaves, waterfalls, soured fruit or monkey-wine. Remembering the event, the apprentice said the oil lamp shone like moonlight and the master's study had become a narrow valley lost in the mystery of a ghastly mountain.

Although he was terrified by the owl, the master's conduct frightened him even more. Yoshihide, impa.s.sive, watched the smooth-faced boy being disfigured by the bird, and calmly sketched the scene on a leaf of paper he had unrolled for the occasion. When the apprentice saw Yoshihide in the process of painting, horror thickened his blood. The master had called him to see him die.

XI.

The apprentice might have been right in thinking the master had wanted to kill him. In truth, Yoshihide had planned to infuriate the owl and then set it on the boy to paint him running about in terror.

When the boy realised what his master had in mind, he collapsed by the door, hiding his face behind his kimono sleeves and screaming incoherent words. He heard his master rising. Right then, something fell with a loud noise and broke. The bird's wings flapped faster. The apprentice raised his head and saw that the room had turned pitch black. The master's irritated voice called the disciples. One of them replied from a distance and came running with some fire.

In the pale, sooty light of the torch, they saw the light-stand had been knocked down and the oil of the broken lamp formed a pool on the mats. The horned owl tossed about on the floor, flapping only one of its wings. Yoshihide, frightened despite what we know about him, mumbled from behind his desk.

A black snake had coiled itself around the owl, from the neck to the wing. It turned out the apprentice had upturned the jar, freeing the snake. The owl had pounced on it. For a while, the two apprentices watched the battle with gaping mouths, exchanging bemused glances, but soon they bowed to their master and left without a word. n.o.body knows what became of the owl and the snake.

I could recount several episodes of this kind. The High Lord had ordered the screen decorated with a picture from h.e.l.l at the beginning of autumn. During all winter, the disciples worried about their master. Toward the end of winter, Yoshihide seemed unable to continue his work and became gloomier than ever, while his language turned more aggressive. The sketch, complete at eighty percent, displayed no further progress. The master appeared so dissatisfied everyone thought he was about to erase what he had already sketched.

No one knew what prevented Yoshihide from working, and no one tried to find out. The apprentices, wary after so many incidents, gave Yoshihide a wide berth, as anyone would do if forced to live in the same cage with a tiger or a wolf.

XII.

As a consequence, I do not have much to say about that period. If I had to add anything, I would say that the stubborn old man had become so maudlin he would sometimes be found weeping alone in his room.

Once, an apprentice went out into the garden and stumbled across his master. All teary, Yoshihide gazed at the sky, which brought the promise of spring. Embarra.s.sed, the disciple slipped away. It was such a strange spectacle, this man so merciless he could paint corpses in the street for the Goshuyoji scene, but now weeping like a child because he was unable to work on the screen.

While Yoshihide was absorbed in his work with the intensity of a madman, his daughter became more cheerless by the day and it was clear to us she was trying to hold back her tears. Her face, white and melancholic by nature, now displaying black circles under eyes shadowed by heavy eyelashes, gave her a tragic composure. Sad and lonesome, she appeared to have retreated into her inner self. Various guesses were made, such as 'She misses her father and her home,' or 'She's in love.' As soon as a rumour spread that the Lord wanted to submit her to his desire, the good people stopped talking about the painter's daughter, as if they had forgotten all about her.

Just about this time, as I happened to pa.s.s by the corridor in the dead of night, the monkey Yoshihide bounded toward me and persistently pulled at the hem of my hakama. It was a mild night bathed in moonlight and charged with the sweet scent of plum blossoms. In the dim light of the moon, I could see the monkey baring its teeth under a wrinkled nose. The beast screamed wildly. Feeling three parts of fear and seven of anger, as I was afraid the monkey would ruin my new hakama, I was tempted to kick the beast and go my way when I remembered the samurai who had mistreated the monkey and had received a reprimand from the Prince. Moreover, the monkey's behaviour indicated that something unusual might have happened. I let myself be pulled by the monkey for five ken or so.

I took a turn in the corridor, in the direction of a placid pond that glistened pale in the darkness behind a pine with finely shaped branches.

From a room nearby came the noise of an altercation that sounded both pa.s.sionate and strangely m.u.f.fled. All was stillness in a dim light that came half from the moon, half from the moonlight reflected by the haze. A great silence reigned, save for the splashing of fish in the pond. And those stifled sounds intruded on this calm, thus the quarrel stopped me. Intrigued, I tiptoed up to the sliding door, ready to deal blows if the arguing people turned out to be rascals.

XIII.

The monkey Yoshihide found my approach too slow. Shrieking as if someone had been strangling its neck, the monkey ran around me three times and finally leapt onto my shoulder. I turned my head quickly to the side to avoid the tiny claws, and the monkey gripped my sleeve to hold on. Losing balance, I staggered back and b.u.mped against the sliding door. Now I was forced to act. I threw the door open and was about to rush into the room, beyond the reach of the moonlight, when a young woman bolted out the doorway as if propelled by a spring. She almost b.u.mped into me, stumbled and fell. Kneeling there, she gazed up at me, dishevelled, out of breath and trembling all over as though still under the impression of a dreadful sight.

I need not tell you I was in the presence of Yoshihide's daughter. But that night she looked so different, so lively. Her eyes sparkled, large and bright; her cheeks glowed with a rosy blaze. In her untied nightgown, she was alluring, quite unlike her customary childish innocence. How could this attractive creature be the painter's daughter, who was so fragile and modest?

Steadying myself against the door, I observed the beautiful girl in the moonlight.

Hurrying footfalls came from a masculine figure receding into the dark.

I pointed in the man's direction and asked in a calm voice, 'Who is this?'

The girl bit her lip and shook her head. She appeared to be much chagrined.

I stooped down and whispered into her ear, 'Who was that man?'

She shook her head and pressed her lips together. Tears filled her long-lashed eyes.

On account of my inborn stupidity, I only understand what shines as clear as daylight under my nose. Not knowing what to say, I remained rooted to the spot as if I were trying to hear her thumping heart. For one thing, I did not wish to be harsh and prod her with more questions.

I do not know how long I remained stock still, saying nothing. Finally, I shut the door and turned to the girl, who seemed to have recovered a little. As gently as possible, I told her, 'Now go back to your room.'

Tormented by the sensation of having witnessed something I was not supposed to see, and ashamed of what, I do not know I strode back to the place I had left to follow the monkey. Hardly had I taken ten steps than someone tugged timidly at the hem of my hakama from behind. In surprise, I glanced over my shoulder. Can you guess who it was?

The monkey Yoshihide gave little bows with its head, hands placed on the ground to express grat.i.tude like a man. The gold bell at its neck tinkled.

XIV.

Two weeks had pa.s.sed when Yoshihide the painter showed himself at the palace without being requested and begged the Lord's personal audience. He believed his wish would be granted, given the consideration in which the Lord held him in spite of his humble origins.

The Lord, who did not admit people in his presence easily, made an exception. The painter, sporting his customary orange hunting garment and floppy cap, and looking more sullen than usual, prostrated himself, bowing his head repeatedly. Raising his chin he said in a hoa.r.s.e voice, 'Concerning the screen Your Lordship was pleased to command, I would like to tell Your Lordship I have applied myself to the task night and day and have very nearly finished the work.'

'Excellent. I am pleased to hear it.' Nevertheless, the Lord's voice lacked conviction.

'No, my Lord.' Yoshihide lowered his eyes, as though plagued with dissatisfaction. 'It is almost finished but there is one detail I am unable to paint.'

'What? Is there something in the world you cannot paint?'

'Yes, my Lord. I cannot paint anything if I don't see it with my own eyes. If I paint something I haven't seen I cannot convince myself my rendering is exact. Isn't it like being unable to paint?'

A scornful smile crept across the Lord's face. 'So, if you have to paint h.e.l.l, you mean you need to see it?'

'Precisely. A few years ago, when there was a big fire, I saw a burning h.e.l.l. That's why I was able to paint the scene of "Buddha unmoving among the flames." Your Lordship must know that painting.'

'What about the d.a.m.ned? Did you see them as well?' The Lord put question upon question, as if he did not wish to hear Yoshihide's answers.

'I've seen a man bound in iron chains. I have made detailed sketches of one beleaguered by an ominous bird. So it can't be said that I know nothing about the suffering of the d.a.m.ned subjected to various torments. As for the infernal torturers ' Here Yoshihide paused, an enigmatic grin on his face. 'Infernal torturers appeared to me in my dreams. Almost every day and night bull-headed, horse-headed, or three-faced, six-armed demons arrow and torment me, beckoning me to follow them and moving their silent lips. Those aren't the things I cannot paint.'

Astonished by Yoshihide's words, the Lord glared at Yoshihide for a moment and then, frowning, he cried, 'Then what is it that you can't paint?'

XV.

'In the central leaf of the screen, I would like to paint a n.o.bleman's carriage with a roof of palm leaves, falling from the sky,' said Yoshihide, looking the Lord intensely in the eyes.

I had heard that when he spoke about his work, the painter would speak insanely. And in that moment, his gaze displayed madness. 'In the vehicle, a splendid court lady writhes in the agony of death, her long black hair tossed by the wind. Her face, smothered by the smoke, should look upward to the carriage ceiling, her eyebrows furrowed. Trying to escape the sparks raining over her, she grips the mats with both hands. Around the carriage, a flock of ominous birds fly about, clicking their beaks...Oh, how can I ever paint a court lady in a burning carriage?'

'Mmm...and...?' The Lord urged Yoshihide to continue as if he found the painter's words amusing for some reason.

'I cannot paint it,' Yoshihide repeated, entranced, his red-stained lips trembling as if he had a fever. Then he became animated and said in biting tones, 'Please, my Lord, burn a n.o.bleman's carriage before my eyes. And, if possible...'

The Lord's face darkened for an instant, but a second later he burst into laughter. 'All your wishes shall be granted.' Half choking in his merriment, he added, 'Don't worry.'

The Lord's words struck me and a terrible premonition gripped my chest. The Lord seemed infected with Yoshihide's madness. White froth gathered at the corners of his mouth and his eyebrows twitched. As he paused, his throat still vibrated with laughter.

'Yes, I shall burn a carriage with a roof of palm leaves. A splendid girl dressed like a court lady of the highest station shall ride in the carriage. She shall perish in the carriage, tormented by the black smoke and consumed by the fire. Bravo. It is an excellent idea, worthy of the greatest painter in the whole country. I praise you. I praise you highly.'

Upon hearing these words, Yoshihide turned pale and tried to move his lips as if he were suffocating. But then he set his hands on the mat and bowed, saying, 'I am grateful, my Lord,' in a voice so low as to be hardly audible.

Perhaps the Lord's words had ill.u.s.trated the horror of the scheme Yoshihide himself had suggested, and the images must have flashed vividly in his mind. Only this once in my life did I take pity of the man.

XVI.

A few days later, as promised, the High Lord summoned Yoshihide to witness the burning of a n.o.bleman's carriage right before his eyes, although this event did not take place on the grounds of the Lord's mansion of Horikawa. The carriage was burnt in the mountain mansion of Yukige, the 'Limit of the Snow,' where the Lord's sister had once lived.

No one had inhabited the house for years and the vast garden was said to be in state of total neglect. In those days, many rumours concerned the fate of the High Lord's late sister. Some said that on moonless nights, her crimson hakama could be seen moving along the corridors without touching the floor.

These rumours of gloomy apparitions stemmed from the lonely and desolate nature of the neighbourhood even in the daylight. After dark, the murmur of a torrent added a note of melancholy while night herons fluttered about in the starlight, like winged monsters.

In the pitch-black, moonless night, torches shed light on the Lord who, dressed in a yellow-green kimono and a brocaded purple hakama, sat cross-legged near the veranda, on a round white cushion hemmed with bicoloured silk. Five or six samurai encircled him in respectful poses. One stood out among them, a man solidly built who had eaten human flesh out of starvation after the battle of Michinogu and was now so strong he could break apart the horns of a living deer. Wearing armour under his kimono and clad in full dignity, he kept by the veranda, the tip of his sheathed katana pointed upward. The scene turned bright or dark according to the movements of the torches that flickered in the night breeze, blurring the boundaries of dream and reality, with a ghastly effect.

A carriage roofed with palm leaves was stationed in the garden, within a patch of darkness, with no oxen, its shafts resting on their supports, its gilded fittings glittering like stars. When we saw it, a chill came over us even though it was spring. Blue-green ta.s.selled blinds trimmed with embroideries hid the interior. A few servants, serious-faced and stiff, stood near the carriage, carrying blazing torches, and worried about the smoke that drifted toward the veranda.

Yoshihide, the hero of this night, kneeled opposite the veranda, in his usual hunting attire and worn floppy cap. He looked even smaller and more miserable, as if the sky were weighing down on him. The man who squatted behind him, dressed in a similar fashion, was probably one of his disciples. As both of them knelt in the dark, the colours of their garments were not clearly discernible from my position inside the veranda.

XVII.

The time was near midnight. In a silence so deep we could hear our breathing, darkness seemed to spy on us while the nocturnal breeze carried the sooty smell of burning torches in our direction. For a moment, the Lord gazed at the scene in silence. Then he leant forward on his cushion and called harshly, 'Yoshihide!'

I am not sure Yoshihide answered because my ears caught only a moan.

'Yoshihide, tonight I will set fire to the carriage as you wished.' The Lord glanced sideways at his samurai. I had the impression he was exchanging a knowing smile with them, but perhaps it was only my imagination.

Yoshihide, very stiff, looked at the veranda in a reverent manner and said nothing.

'Look at the carriage. It's mine. You surely recognise it. I will set fire to the carriage and create a blazing h.e.l.l before your eyes but...' The Lord exchanged another glance with his samurai and then resumed speaking in bitter tones. 'In the carriage lies a sinful woman, bound in chains. As soon as the carriage will take fire, she will die in terrible agony. It is the perfect model to finish your painting. Watch closely as her snow-white skin burns and sparks braid her black hair.'

The Lord paused again, shaking his shoulders in silent laughter, and then he said, 'A spectacle worthy of entering the chronicles. I will appreciate it as well. There, raise the blind and let Yoshihide see the woman inside the carriage.'

At his command, one of the attendants, holding his torch high, yanked the blind up. The red blazing light from his torch illuminated a woman cruelly bound in chains, reclining on the seat. Golden ornaments glittered in her black hair, which hung loose about her shoulders over a gorgeous Chinese gown of a cherry-blossom colour.

I very nearly cried out. Who could have mistaken her? The trim maidenly figure and the lovely melancholy profile belonged to Yoshihide's daughter.

The samurai sitting opposite me rose and gave Yoshihide a sharp glance, his hand on the hilt of his katana. Mouth gaping, I pivoted to see Yoshihide, who had sprung to his feet like a madman and attempted to rush toward the carriage, arms extended in front of him.

As I already said, he was in the darkness, and I could not see the expression on his face. But soon he was running into the light as though pulled by an invisible string. At the same time, the Lord cried, 'Set fire!' The attendants threw their torches at the carriage with the girl inside. The carriage was engulfed in a pillar of raging flames.

XVIII.

The flames enveloped the carriage in no time. As soon as the purple ta.s.sels hanging from the roof waved in the sudden wind, a vortex of smoke spiralled up against the black sky, and sparks exploded like sprays of water. Bamboo blinds, hangings and metal fittings burst into so many b.a.l.l.s of fire, soaring into the night like celestial orbs spurting out of a fallen sun. A moment before I had nearly cried out. Now I was so dumbfounded I could do nothing but gape at this terrifying spectacle. But as for the father, Yoshihide...

The expression painted on Yoshihide's face is still alive in my memory. The man, who on impulse had attempted to rush at the carriage, stopped before the roaring fire and, with his arms outstretched, fastened his gaze on the flames and the heavy smoke that enveloped the burning shape. Sparks fell around him, bathing his features in a lurid light so that his ugly wrinkled face was visible down to the tip of his beard.

His wide-open eyes, twisted lips and twitching cheeks, showed the terror, despair and astonishment that alternated in his heart. Neither the robbers about to be beheaded nor the most odious of sinners of 'Ten Crimes and Five Faults' dragged before the Ten Judge-Kings could have worn a more mournful expression. Even the herculean samurai paled and shot a furtive glance at his Lord.

The Lord, however, lips pressed together and wearing an enigmatic grin, kept his gaze fixed on the carriage. And inside the carriage...I lack the courage to convey a detailed description of the girl I saw in it: the paleness of her face tilted back and choked by the smoke, the length of her black hair intertwined with flames as she tried to shake off the spreading fire, the beauty of the cherry-blossom-coloured Chinese dress, which the flames were devouring by the minute what a terrible and cruel scene. At one moment, the breeze blew the smoke to the other side, and among the red flames sprinkled with golden dust appeared the girl, biting on her gag and writhing to the point of breaking the chain that bounded her.

This atrocious torture resembled a genuine scene from h.e.l.l brought before our very eyes. Facing the spectacle, we all even that samurai with supernatural strength shuddered.

Then once again we thought that a gust of wind had blasted through the trees. Following the noise, something dark, hardly visible, shot across the black sky like a ball, without either touching the ground or flying through the air. From the roof of the mansion, the thing dived straight into the burning carriage. And through the crimson-lacquered cha.s.sis that was crumbling in pieces, among whirls of fire we saw something clasp the shoulders of the girl, who arched her body backwards. The thing gave a long and piercing screech out of the soaring smoke, a shriek like the tearing of silk. One more screech. And another. We could not help letting out a scream of surprise in unison. Against a red curtain of flames, the creature that was holding fast to the dying girl was the monkey nicknamed Yoshihide at the palace of Horikawa.