Read Online After the Banquet by Yukio Mishima - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Yukio Mishima
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triangular collars stood on the other side of the bamboo grill blocking Kazu’s view. She tried to catch a glimpse between their shoulders of the arrival of the torches, but being by no means tall was unsuccessful. She whispered to Noguchi, “Lift me on your back, won’t you?” Noguchi, smiling ambiguously, shook his head buried in his muffler. At that moment a roar went up and Noguchi’s face was suddenly caught in the glare of flames.
Kazu hurriedly turned to see what had happened. The noise was caused by the ignition of the flames which now brilliantly illuminated the white walls of the temple, even to the cracks and scribblings, giving them a yellowish glow. A great sheet of flames suddenly blazed up before them, and the high-collared priests, shielding their faces from the fire with raised fans, turned into silhouettes. Exploding clusters of fire and the green cypress leaves atop the torches caught her eyes. The powerful arms of the youths bearing the enormous bamboo stakes glowed in the firelight. Kazu held her breath as she watched the mass of flames mount the stone steps.
The youths climbed the stairs, carrying on one shoulder the burning brands, which weighed close to 150 pounds. Cascades of sparks showered down, leaving crimson lotuses blossoming here and there on the steps. Sometimes the flames ignited a pillar of the roofed stairway and set it smoldering, only for a white-clad attendant following the youths up the steps to swab the flames with a broom soaked in water and extinguish the fire.
Kazu’s eyes grew moist with excitement at the wild solitary beauty of the fire caught in the intent stares of the crowd swarming under the hall. With an inarticulate throaty moan she gripped Noguchi’s hand in her sweaty hand. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” the words finally came out. “It was worth coming to Nara just for that.”
Even as she spoke the bearers of the great torches, having reached the top of the stairs, paused a moment, leaning against the balustrade to the left of the passageway around the platform. Another roar of flames startled Kazu: a second phalanx of torchbearers had arrived at the foot of the stairs. In the meanwhile the youths on the platform had started racing frenziedly about like lions in flames, and with each shake of their brands showers of sparks descended on the heads of the crowd below. The fire leapt out toward the balustrade to the right, throwing a scarlet glow over the heavy overhanging eaves. The torches to the right for a moment seemed to burn somewhat less fiercely, only to be brandished into roaring flames again; the deep green of the cedars, caught in the swirl of flying sparks, acquired new intensity.
The crowd now emerged from the darkness in which it had been immersed, and loud-voiced invocations of the name of Buddha mingled in the general tumult. Sparks rained down like gold dust on the heads of the spectators, and the somber architectural grandeur of the Nigatsu Hall loomed over them.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Kazu kept repeating. Noguchi noticed that she was weeping.
It was close to daybreak when they returned to the hotel. They were too tired to wait for the early morning Tartar rituals which follow the Omizutori ceremony. Once back inside their hotel rooms they heard distant cockcrows, but dawn had not yet begun to whiten the sky.
Noguchi suggested that they bathe and then go to bed. Kazu, her eyes still shining with excitement, answered that she couldn’t possibly sleep. She removed her cloak, started to fold it, then drew Noguchi’s attention to the lining. Noguchi went up to the cloak spread out on the bed under the bright ceiling lamps. The grape-colored lining had a quiet beauty. Inscribed on it in white was a hokku written in a fairly skillful hand.
Noguchi asked, untying his necktie, “What is it?”
“It’s a hokku by Sōgi. I had an artist write it especially for this trip. Spring’s already here, you know.” Kazu did not
Kazu hurriedly turned to see what had happened. The noise was caused by the ignition of the flames which now brilliantly illuminated the white walls of the temple, even to the cracks and scribblings, giving them a yellowish glow. A great sheet of flames suddenly blazed up before them, and the high-collared priests, shielding their faces from the fire with raised fans, turned into silhouettes. Exploding clusters of fire and the green cypress leaves atop the torches caught her eyes. The powerful arms of the youths bearing the enormous bamboo stakes glowed in the firelight. Kazu held her breath as she watched the mass of flames mount the stone steps.
The youths climbed the stairs, carrying on one shoulder the burning brands, which weighed close to 150 pounds. Cascades of sparks showered down, leaving crimson lotuses blossoming here and there on the steps. Sometimes the flames ignited a pillar of the roofed stairway and set it smoldering, only for a white-clad attendant following the youths up the steps to swab the flames with a broom soaked in water and extinguish the fire.
Kazu’s eyes grew moist with excitement at the wild solitary beauty of the fire caught in the intent stares of the crowd swarming under the hall. With an inarticulate throaty moan she gripped Noguchi’s hand in her sweaty hand. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” the words finally came out. “It was worth coming to Nara just for that.”
Even as she spoke the bearers of the great torches, having reached the top of the stairs, paused a moment, leaning against the balustrade to the left of the passageway around the platform. Another roar of flames startled Kazu: a second phalanx of torchbearers had arrived at the foot of the stairs. In the meanwhile the youths on the platform had started racing frenziedly about like lions in flames, and with each shake of their brands showers of sparks descended on the heads of the crowd below. The fire leapt out toward the balustrade to the right, throwing a scarlet glow over the heavy overhanging eaves. The torches to the right for a moment seemed to burn somewhat less fiercely, only to be brandished into roaring flames again; the deep green of the cedars, caught in the swirl of flying sparks, acquired new intensity.
The crowd now emerged from the darkness in which it had been immersed, and loud-voiced invocations of the name of Buddha mingled in the general tumult. Sparks rained down like gold dust on the heads of the spectators, and the somber architectural grandeur of the Nigatsu Hall loomed over them.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Kazu kept repeating. Noguchi noticed that she was weeping.
It was close to daybreak when they returned to the hotel. They were too tired to wait for the early morning Tartar rituals which follow the Omizutori ceremony. Once back inside their hotel rooms they heard distant cockcrows, but dawn had not yet begun to whiten the sky.
Noguchi suggested that they bathe and then go to bed. Kazu, her eyes still shining with excitement, answered that she couldn’t possibly sleep. She removed her cloak, started to fold it, then drew Noguchi’s attention to the lining. Noguchi went up to the cloak spread out on the bed under the bright ceiling lamps. The grape-colored lining had a quiet beauty. Inscribed on it in white was a hokku written in a fairly skillful hand.
Noguchi asked, untying his necktie, “What is it?”
“It’s a hokku by Sōgi. I had an artist write it especially for this trip. Spring’s already here, you know.” Kazu did not
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