Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [103]
With that possibility foremost in mind, she said brightly, “If you really think it’s all right, I’ll go.”
“You will? Wonderful! I’m very grateful… . Hmm, I doubt that a woman could walk all the way there before nightfall. Can you ride a horse?”
“Yes.”
Kizaemon ducked under the eaves of the shop and raised his hand toward the bridge. The groom waiting there came running forward with a horse, which Kizaemon let Otsū ride, while he himself walked along beside her.
Jōtarō spotted them from the hill behind the teahouse and called, “Are you leaving already?”
“Yes, we’re off.”
“Wait for me!”
They were halfway across Uji Bridge when Jōtarō caught up with them. Kizaemon asked him what he had been up to, and he answered that a lot of men in a grove on the hill were playing some kind of game. He didn’t know what game it was, but it looked interesting.
The groom laughed. “That would be the rōnin riffraff having a gambling session. They don’t have enough money to eat, so they lure travelers into their games and take them for everything they’re worth. It’s disgraceful!”
“Oh, so they gamble for a living?” asked Kizaemon.
“The gamblers are among the better ones,” replied the groom. “Many others have become kidnappers and blackmailers. They’re such a rough lot nobody can do anything to stop them.”
“Why doesn’t the lord of the district arrest them or drive them away?”
“There are too many of them—far more than he can cope with. If all the rōnin from Kawachi, Yamato and Kii joined together, they’d be stronger than his own troops.”
“I hear Kōga’s swarming with them too.”
“Yes. The ones from Tsutsui fled there. They’re determined to hang on until the next war.”
“You keep talking that way about the rōnin,” Jōtarō broke in, “but some of them must be good men.”
“That’s true,” agreed Kizaemon.
“My teacher’s a rōnin!”
Kizaemon laughed and said, “So that’s why you spoke up in their defense. You’re loyal enough… . You did say you were on your way to the Hōzōin, didn’t you? Is that where your teacher is?”
“I don’t know for sure, but he said if I went there, they’d tell me where he is.”
“What style does he use?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re his disciple, and you don’t know his style?”
“Sir,” the groom put in, “swordsmanship is a fad these days; everybody and his brother’s going around studying it. You can meet five or ten wandering on this road alone any day of the week. It’s all because there are so many more rōnin around to give lessons than there used to be.”
“I suppose that’s part of it.”
“They’re attracted to it because they hear somewhere that if a fellow’s good with a sword, the daimyō will fall all over each other trying to hire him for four or five thousand bushels a year.”
“A quick way to get rich, uh?”
“Exactly. When you think about it, it’s frightening. Why, even this boy here has a wooden sword. He probably thinks he just has to learn how to hit people with it to become a real man. We get a lot like that, and the sad part is, in the end, most of them will go hungry.”
Jōtarō’s anger rose in a flash. “What’s that? I dare you to say that again!” “Listen to him! He looks like a flea carrying a toothpick, but he already fancies himself a great warrior.”
Kizaemon laughed. “Now, Jōtarō, don’t get mad, or you’ll lose your bamboo tube again.”
“No I won’t! Don’t worry about me!”
They walked on, Jōtarō sulking silently, the others looking at the sun as it slowly set. Presently they arrived at the Kizu River ferry landing.
“This is where we leave you, my boy. It’ll be dark soon, so you’d better hurry. And don’t waste time along the way.”
“Otsū?” said Jōtarō, thinking she would come with him.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said. “I’ve decided to go along with this gentleman to the castle at Koyagyū.” Jōtarō looked crushed. “Take good care of yourself,” Otsū said, smiling.
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