今は昔のこと、海辺の阿弥陀寺という寺に、芳一という目の見えぬ一人の琵琶法師が住んでいた。彼の弾く琵琶の腕前といったら見事なもので、とりわけ平家物語の弾き語りにかけては、並ぶ者がないとさえ言われていた。
Long ago, in a temple by the sea called Amidaji, there lived a blind biwa-priest named Hoichi. The skill with which he played the biwa was famous, and when it came to the recitation of the Tale of the Heike, it was said that no one in all the land could rival him.
その寺の周辺は、その昔、源平の戦いで滅び去った平家一門の墓が立ち並ぶ土地でもあった。村人たちの間では、夜な夜なこの辺りに亡霊が出るとの噂が絶えなかったが、芳一にはそのような怪異など縁のないことに思えていた。
The grounds around the temple were also the resting place of the Heike clan, who had been wiped out long ago in the Genpei war — row upon row of weathered tombstones stood among the pines. The villagers whispered that ghosts walked there on certain nights, but to Hoichi such tales had always seemed to belong to a world that did not touch him.
ある夏の蒸し暑い夜のことであった。和尚が法事のため留守にしており、芳一は一人縁側に腰かけて琵琶の調子を整えていた。すると、庭先で鎧のこすれるような足音が止まり、低くよく通る男の声が「芳一殿、芳一殿はおられるか」と呼びかけた。
One sultry summer night, the abbot was away conducting a memorial service, and Hoichi sat alone on the veranda tuning his instrument. Suddenly, in the garden, the sound of armor scraping armor came to a halt, and a low, carrying voice called out: "Master Hoichi — Master Hoichi, are you there?"
武士の口ぶりからすると相当に身分の高い者らしかった。「我が主君はかねてよりあなたの琵琶の評判を聞き及び、今宵ぜひお屋敷で一曲所望したいとの仰せである。お供願いたい」と告げられ、芳一はためらいながらも、断りきれず武士の手にすがって夜の闇の中へ出かけていった。
Judging from the man's manner of speech, he was clearly a samurai of high rank. "My lord has long heard tell of your skill upon the biwa, and tonight requests a performance at his residence. I am to escort you," the warrior said. Though Hoichi hesitated, he could not refuse, and so he laid his hand upon the warrior's and was led out into the dark of the night.
案内された屋敷の門は重々しく軋み、奥からは絹ずれの音や、女房たちの低い話し声が聞こえてきた。芳一が広間に通されると、目こそ見えぬものの、そこには数え切れぬほどの人々が集まっている気配が伝わってきた。
When he reached the residence, its gate creaked heavily open, and from within came the rustling of fine silks and the low voices of ladies-in-waiting. Once Hoichi was shown into the great hall, even his unseeing eyes could feel that the room was filled to overflowing with people.
「ぜひ壇ノ浦の戦いの段をお聴かせいただきたい」との所望に応じて、芳一は息を整えてから琵琶の絃を爪弾き始めた。やがて曲が安徳天皇の入水の場面に差し掛かるや、聴衆の中からあちこちですすり泣きが起こり、ついには激しい慟哭へと変わっていった。
"We beg you to play for us the chapter of the Battle of Dan-no-Ura," came the request. Hoichi steadied his breath and began to pluck the strings of his biwa. As the song approached the scene of the Emperor Antoku's plunge into the sea, sobs broke out in every corner of the audience, and by the close they had risen to a torrent of bitter weeping.
演奏が終わると、主君らしき者から「実に見事であった。ただし、この一件はくれぐれも他言無用に願いたい。また六日の間、毎夜お通いいただきたい」と固く口止めをされた。
When he had finished, a voice that seemed to belong to the lord himself spoke gravely. "Truly magnificent. But you must on no account speak of this to anyone. And for the next six nights, you must come to us each evening without fail."
芳一は不審に思いつつも、約束を破るどころではない剣幕に圧されて、毎晩一人で寺を抜け出すようになった。
Though Hoichi was uneasy, the tone of the warning was such that breaking the promise was unthinkable, and from that night on he slipped out of the temple alone every evening.
連日の外出に芳一はすっかり疲れ果て、顔色も見るからに悪くなっていった。和尚はその異変に気づき、「これはただごとではあるまい」と、芳一には知らせずに小僧たちに後をつけさせることにした。
Hoichi grew worn out from the constant outings, and his face turned visibly pale. The abbot noticed the change at once and, sensing that something was very wrong, sent his young attendants to follow Hoichi in secret, telling Hoichi nothing of it.
その夜、雨の中を提灯を頼りに芳一を追っていった小僧たちは、信じがたい光景を目にした。芳一は、よりにもよって平家一門の墓石の只中に座り込み、ただ一人でひたすら琵琶を奏でていたのである。
That night, the boys followed the rain-soaked path by the light of a paper lantern, and what they saw could scarcely be believed. There in the middle of the Heike graveyard, of all places, Hoichi sat alone, playing on and on in front of the tombstones.
知らせを受けた和尚は、芳一が平家の怨霊に取り憑かれていることを察し、青ざめた。「このままでは、お前は遠からず命を奪われかねない」と諭しつつも、和尚は何としても芳一の命だけは救おうと決意した。
When the abbot heard the report, he turned pale with the realization that Hoichi had been bewitched by the vengeful spirits of the Heike. "If this goes on, you will surely be killed before long," he warned, yet he was determined, at any cost, to save the young man's life.
和尚はその場で小僧と二人がかりで、芳一の頭から手足の指先に至るまで、般若心経の経文を一字残らず墨書きしていった。
At once, working together with the boys, the abbot painted the entire Heart Sutra over Hoichi's body — from the crown of his head down to the very tips of his fingers and toes — letter by letter, until not a fingernail's worth of skin was left bare.
「これで霊の目にはお前の姿は映らぬはずだ。今夜、武士の声がしようとも、決して返事をしてはならぬ。万が一声を出そうものなら、その場で命を奪われるであろう」と、和尚は厳しく念を押した。
"Now the spirit's eyes will no longer be able to see you. Tonight, even if the warrior's voice calls out, you must not answer. If you should so much as make a sound, you will be killed on the spot," the abbot said, pressing the warning home as sternly as he could.
その夜、はたして武士の霊は再び寺へとやってきた。「芳一、芳一はおらぬか」と低く呼びかける声が縁側に響き、芳一は身じろぎひとつせず、息を殺してその場に座り続けた。
Sure enough, the spirit of the warrior came once again to the temple that night. "Hoichi! Where is Hoichi?" — the low voice called along the veranda — and Hoichi sat without so much as the twitch of a muscle, holding his breath where he was.
経文の力によって、芳一の身体は霊の目には全く映らなかった。しかし、肝心な両耳にだけは、和尚も小僧も経文を書き入れるのを忘れていたのである。霊にはその二つの耳だけが、宙に浮かぶ白い肉片のように見えていた。
By the power of the sutra, Hoichi's body was wholly invisible to the spirit. But unhappily, both the abbot and the boys had forgotten to write upon his two ears. To the spirit, those two ears alone hovered in the empty air like pale scraps of flesh.
「返事がない以上、せめてこの耳だけでも証として持ち帰るほかあるまい」と、霊はそう呟くなり、芳一の両耳を力任せに引きちぎってしまった。芳一は焼けつくような激痛に襲われたが、和尚の言いつけを守って、最後まで一言も声を漏らさなかった。
"Since there is no answer, I shall at least carry back these ears as proof," the spirit muttered, and tore them from Hoichi's head with one ferocious wrench. The pain that struck Hoichi was like burning iron, but obedient to the abbot's command he did not let slip a single cry, all the way to the end.
翌朝、血まみれになって倒れている芳一を見つけた和尚は、自分の手落ちを深く悔やんで詫びた。「両耳を失わせるとは、和尚としてあるまじき過ちであった。許してくれ」と、涙ながらに繰り返した。
At dawn the abbot found Hoichi covered in blood and broke down in grief at his own oversight. "To let you lose both your ears — a monk should never be guilty of so foul a mistake. Forgive me," he repeated through tears.
それからほどなく、武士の霊が寺に姿を現すこともなくなり、芳一は晴れて怨霊の呪縛から解き放たれた。この出来事は瞬く間に語り伝えられ、芳一は「耳なし芳一」の名で日本中に知れ渡るようになった。
Soon afterward, the warrior's spirit no longer came to the temple, and Hoichi was at last set free from the curse of the vengeful dead. The tale spread like fire, and Hoichi came to be known throughout the land as Hoichi the Earless.
彼の琵琶を一度でも聴きたいという者が後を絶たず、身分の高い人々までもがはるばる訪ねてくるようになったという。両耳を失ったかわりに名を得たとは、まさに数奇な巡り合わせにほかならなかった。
From that day on, an endless stream of visitors longing for even one hearing of his biwa made the journey to the temple, and even great lords of high rank came from afar. To have lost both ears and gained a name in their place was, one might say, nothing other than the strangest of turns of fate.