Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [122]
It’s nature’s way
To make everything new again.
So spring can rise from the ground,
We burn leaves,
We burn fields.
Sometimes we want snow to fall,
Sometimes we want a housecleaning.
Oh, you crows!
Feast away! What a spread!
Soup straight from the eye sockets,
And thick red sake.
But don’t have too much
Or you’ll surely get drunk.
“Come here, boy!” shouted Nikkan sharply.
“Yes, sir.” Jōtarō stood still and turned to face the abbot.
“Stop acting the fool. Fetch me some rocks.”
“This kind?” asked Jōtarō, snatching a stone that lay near his feet and holding it up.
“Yes, like that. Bring lots of them!”
“Yes, sir!”
As the boy gathered the stones, Nikkan sat down and wrote on each one “Namu Myōhō Rengekyō,” the sacred invocation of the Nichiren sect. Then he gave them back to the boy and ordered him to scatter them among the dead. While Jōtarō did this, Nikkan put his palms together and chanted a section of the Lotus Sutra.
When he had finished, he announced, “That should take care of them. Now you two can be on your way. I shall return to Nara.” As abruptly as he had come, he departed, walking at his customary breakneck speed, before Musashi had a chance to thank him or make arrangements to see him again.
For a moment, Musashi just stared at the retreating figure, then suddenly he darted off to catch up with it. “Reverend priest!” he called. “Haven’t you forgotten something?” He patted his sword as he said this.
“What?” asked Nikkan.
“You have given me no word of guidance, and since there is no way of knowing when we’ll meet again, I’d appreciate some small bit of advice.”
The abbot’s toothless mouth let out its familiar crackling laugh. “Don’t you understand yet?” he asked. “That you’re too strong is the only thing I have to teach you. If you continue to pride yourself on your strength, you won’t live to see thirty. Why, you might easily have been killed today. Think about that, and decide how to conduct yourself in the future.”
Musashi was silent.
“You accomplished something today, but it was not well done, not by a long shot. Since you’re still young, I can’t really blame you, but it’s a grave error to think the Way of the Samurai consists of nothing but a show of strength.
“But then, I tend to have the same fault, so I’m not really qualified to speak to you on the subject. You should study the way that Yagyū Sekishūsai and Lord Kōizumi of Ise have lived. Sekishūsai was my teacher, Lord Kōizumi was his. If you take them as your models and try to follow the path they have followed, you may come to know the truth.”
When Nikkan’s voice ceased, Musashi, who had been staring at the ground, deep in thought, looked up. The old priest had already vanished.
The Koyagyū Fief
Yagyū Valley lies at the foot of Mount Kasagi, northeast of Nara. In the early seventeenth century, it was the site of a prosperous little community, too large to be described as a mere village, yet not populous or bustling enough to be called a town. It might naturally have been called Kasagi Village, but instead its inhabitants referred to their home as the Kambe Demesne, a name inherited from the bygone age of the great privately owned manorial estates.
In the middle of the community stood the Main House, a castle that served as both a symbol of governmental stability and the cultural center of the region. Stone ramparts, reminiscent of ancient fortresses, surrounded the Main House. The people of the area, as well as their lord’s ancestors, had been comfortably settled there since the tenth century, and the present ruler was a country squire in the best tradition, who spread culture among his subjects and was at all times prepared to protect his territory with his life. At the same time, however, he carefully avoided any serious involvement in the wars and feuds of his fellow lords in other districts. In short, it was a peaceful fief, governed in an enlightened manner.
Here one saw no traces of the depravity or degeneracy associated with footloose samurai; it was quite unlike