street.
“Did you keep track of that komuso
we saw earlier?” the judge asked.
Seikei admitted that he had lost
sight of the man.
“There he is,” said the
judge.
Seikei saw the komuso standing in
front of one of the teahouses, playing a soft, haunting song on his
flute. It did look like the same man, Seikei thought, but it was
impossible to tell because of the basket on his head.
The judge walked past the komuso
without looking at him, and went into the teahouse. Seikei
followed, kicking off his sandals at the door. Inside, people sat
at a long table, drinking cups of tea. They looked curiously at the
fat samurai who had just walked in, but immediately a little man in
a brown kimono appeared, carrying a tray of teacups. When he saw
the judge, he put the tray down and beckoned for him to
follow.
The man silently led Seikei and
the judge down a narrow corridor. He slid open a door at the far
end, and they went inside. The room was small and bare of any
furniture except straw mats that covered the floor. The judge sat
down on a mat and sighed deeply. Seikei started to ask him a
question, but the judge put up his hand.
In a moment, the man returned with
bowls of soup and a pot of tea. The soup was surprisingly tasty,
with pieces of green onion and tuna in it. When they had finished,
the judge took his swords from his belt and laid them carefully on
the mat.
“Perhaps we should get some
sleep,” he said. “Tonight we are going to a kabuki
play.”
Seikei stared. “I thought samurai
were not allowed to go to kabuki theaters.”
“That is true,” said the judge,
“but I am forced to do so as a duty to the shogun. You may enjoy
it. I want you to pay close attention, so rest now.”
In a moment the judge was snoring,
but Seikei lay on his mat, his mind racing. He had too much to
think about.
10: The Forty-Seven
Ronin
Seikei and the judge walked up the hill that led
to the holy shrine of Ise. The judge had left his two swords behind
so that he would not be known as a samurai. But he told Seikei to
wear his wooden sword. “Sometimes,” the judge said, “the crowds are
rough, and there are pickpockets among them. I’m depending on your
keen eyes and courage.”
Secretly, Seikei hoped there would
be no trouble. He loved to feel the sword tucked under his belt,
but he had no confidence in his ability to use it.
The shrine contained many
buildings. One was a monastery, where Buddhist monks spent their
lives. Another building was open to travelers who could afford no
other place to stay. Beyond the monastery stood the two ancient
wooden shrines that were the heart of Ise. But the stream of
travelers that visited them by day did not come at night, for the
sun goddess slept then, and did not like to be awakened.
During the night hours, the
pilgrims crowded into one of the theaters just outside the
monastery grounds. Pretty paper lanterns of many colors decorated
the entrances, and just as at the inns of the town, women tried to
lure customers inside.
Walking from theater to theater,
the judge asked what type of entertainment was being offered. One
woman told him acrobats and tightrope walkers, and Seikei thought
this must be the place where the thief could be found. But the
judge shook his head and moved on.
At one of the
theaters, they learned that a kabuki troupe was presenting the play
called The Forty-Seven Ronin . The
judge nodded and paid the price of admission for them both. When
they went inside, they found that the hall was already crowded. The
best seats, on the floor in front of the stage, were already taken.
But there were a few places left near the two wooden runways that
actors used to go to and from the stage. Seikei and the judge sat
down there.
The bright lanterns hanging over
the stage cast a light over the audience. People talked loudly as
they waited for the fun to begin. For many of those in the
audience, the trip to Ise was the most exciting thing they would
ever do in their lives. People
“Did you keep track of that komuso
we saw earlier?” the judge asked.
Seikei admitted that he had lost
sight of the man.
“There he is,” said the
judge.
Seikei saw the komuso standing in
front of one of the teahouses, playing a soft, haunting song on his
flute. It did look like the same man, Seikei thought, but it was
impossible to tell because of the basket on his head.
The judge walked past the komuso
without looking at him, and went into the teahouse. Seikei
followed, kicking off his sandals at the door. Inside, people sat
at a long table, drinking cups of tea. They looked curiously at the
fat samurai who had just walked in, but immediately a little man in
a brown kimono appeared, carrying a tray of teacups. When he saw
the judge, he put the tray down and beckoned for him to
follow.
The man silently led Seikei and
the judge down a narrow corridor. He slid open a door at the far
end, and they went inside. The room was small and bare of any
furniture except straw mats that covered the floor. The judge sat
down on a mat and sighed deeply. Seikei started to ask him a
question, but the judge put up his hand.
In a moment, the man returned with
bowls of soup and a pot of tea. The soup was surprisingly tasty,
with pieces of green onion and tuna in it. When they had finished,
the judge took his swords from his belt and laid them carefully on
the mat.
“Perhaps we should get some
sleep,” he said. “Tonight we are going to a kabuki
play.”
Seikei stared. “I thought samurai
were not allowed to go to kabuki theaters.”
“That is true,” said the judge,
“but I am forced to do so as a duty to the shogun. You may enjoy
it. I want you to pay close attention, so rest now.”
In a moment the judge was snoring,
but Seikei lay on his mat, his mind racing. He had too much to
think about.
10: The Forty-Seven
Ronin
Seikei and the judge walked up the hill that led
to the holy shrine of Ise. The judge had left his two swords behind
so that he would not be known as a samurai. But he told Seikei to
wear his wooden sword. “Sometimes,” the judge said, “the crowds are
rough, and there are pickpockets among them. I’m depending on your
keen eyes and courage.”
Secretly, Seikei hoped there would
be no trouble. He loved to feel the sword tucked under his belt,
but he had no confidence in his ability to use it.
The shrine contained many
buildings. One was a monastery, where Buddhist monks spent their
lives. Another building was open to travelers who could afford no
other place to stay. Beyond the monastery stood the two ancient
wooden shrines that were the heart of Ise. But the stream of
travelers that visited them by day did not come at night, for the
sun goddess slept then, and did not like to be awakened.
During the night hours, the
pilgrims crowded into one of the theaters just outside the
monastery grounds. Pretty paper lanterns of many colors decorated
the entrances, and just as at the inns of the town, women tried to
lure customers inside.
Walking from theater to theater,
the judge asked what type of entertainment was being offered. One
woman told him acrobats and tightrope walkers, and Seikei thought
this must be the place where the thief could be found. But the
judge shook his head and moved on.
At one of the
theaters, they learned that a kabuki troupe was presenting the play
called The Forty-Seven Ronin . The
judge nodded and paid the price of admission for them both. When
they went inside, they found that the hall was already crowded. The
best seats, on the floor in front of the stage, were already taken.
But there were a few places left near the two wooden runways that
actors used to go to and from the stage. Seikei and the judge sat
down there.
The bright lanterns hanging over
the stage cast a light over the audience. People talked loudly as
they waited for the fun to begin. For many of those in the
audience, the trip to Ise was the most exciting thing they would
ever do in their lives. People
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