Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [111]
“In other words,” said Musashi, “you take in people like me to act as your bodyguard, right?”
“Well,” she said, smiling, “as I said, there are no men in the household. Please feel free to stay as long as you like.”
“I understand perfectly. I hope you’ll feel safe as long as I’m here. There’s only one request I’d like to make. I’m expecting a visitor, so I wonder if you’d mind putting a marker with my name on it outside the gate.”
The widow, not at all unhappy to let it be known that she had a man in the house, obligingly wrote “Miyamoto Musashi” on a strip of paper and pasted it on the gatepost.
Jōtarō did not show up that day, but on the next, Musashi received a visit from a group of three samurai. Pushing their way past the protesting maid, they came straight upstairs to his room. Musashi saw immediately that they were among those who had been present at the Hōzōin when he had killed Agon. Sitting down around him as though they’d known him all their lives, they started pouring on the flattery.
“I never saw anything like it in my life,” said one. “I’m sure nothing of the kind ever happened at the Hōzōin before. Just think! An unknown visitor arrives and, just like that, downs one of the Seven Pillars. And not just anyone—the terrifying Agon himself. One grunt and he was spitting blood. You don’t often see sights like that!”
Another went on in the same vein. “Everyone we know is talking about it. All the rōnin are asking each other just who this Miyamoto Musashi is. That was a bad day for the Hōzōin’s reputation.”
“Why, you must be the greatest swordsman in the country!”
“And so young, too!”
“No doubt about it. And you’ll get even better with time.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how does it happen that with your ability you’re only a rōnin? It’s a waste of your talents not to be in the service of a daimyō!”
They paused only long enough to slurp some tea and devour the tea cakes with gusto, spilling crumbs all over their laps and on the floor.
Musashi, embarrassed by the extravagance of their praise, shifted his eyes from right to left and back again. For a time, he listened with an impassive face, thinking that sooner or later their momentum would run down. When they showed no signs of changing the subject, he took the initiative by asking their names.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Yamazoe Dampachi. I used to be in the service of Lord Gamō,” said the first.
The man next to him said, “I’m Otomo Banryū. I’ve mastered the Bokuden Style, and I have a lot of plans for the future.”
“I’m Yasukawa Yasubei,” said the third with a chuckle, “and I’ve never been anything but a rōnin, like my father before me.”
Musashi wondered why they were taking up their time and his with their small talk. It became apparent that he would not find out unless he asked, so the next time there was a break in the conversation, he said, “Presumably you came because you had some business with me.”
They feigned surprise at the very idea but soon admitted they had come on what they regarded as a very important mission. Moving quickly forward, Yasubei said, “As a matter of fact, we do have some business with you. You see, we’re planning to put on a public ‘entertainment’ at the foot of Mount Kasuga, and we wanted to talk to you about it. Not a play or anything like that. What we have in mind is a series of matches that would teach the people about the martial arts, and at the same time give them something to lay bets