Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [124]
Musashi realized this lecture probably meant little to Jōtarō, but he felt it necessary to be honest with the child and not give him halfway answers. He showed no impatience at the boy’s many questions, and as they walked along, he continued to give thoughtful and serious replies.
After they had seen what there was to see of the exterior of Koyagyū Castle, as the Main House was properly known, and taken a good look all around the valley, they started back to the inn.
There was only one inn, but it was a large one. The road was a section of the Iga highroad, and many people making pilgrimages to the Jōruriji or Kasagidera stayed the night here. In the evening, ten or twelve packhorses were always to be found tied to the trees near the entrance or under the front eaves.
The maid who followed them to their room asked, “Have you been out for a walk?” In her mountain-climbing trousers, she might have been mistaken for a boy, were it not for her girl’s red obi. Without waiting for an answer, she said, “You can take your bath now, if you like.”
Musashi started for the bathroom, while Jōtarō, sensing that here was a new friend of his own age, asked, “What’s your name?”
“I don’t know,” answered the girl.
“You must be crazy if you don’t know your own name.”
“It’s Kocha.”
“That’s a funny name.” Jōtarō laughed.
“What’s funny about it?” demanded Kocha, striking him with her fist.
“She hit me!” yelled Jōtarō.
From the folded clothing on the floor of the anteroom, Musashi knew there were other people in the bath. He took off his own clothes and opened the door into the steamy bathroom. There were three men, talking jovially, but catching sight of his brawny body, they stopped as though a foreign element had been introduced into their midst.
Musashi slipped into the communal bath with a contented sigh, his six-foot frame causing the hot water to overflow. For some reason, this startled the three men, and one of them looked straight at Musashi, who had leaned his head against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.
Gradually they took up their conversation where they had left off. They were washing themselves outside the pool; the skin on their backs was white and their muscles pliant. They were apparently city people, for their manner of speech was polished and urbane.
“What was his name—the samurai from the House of Yagyū?”
“I think he said it was Shōda Kizaemon.”
“If Lord Yagyū sends a retainer to convey a refusal to a match, he can’t be as good as he’s said to be.”
“According to Shōda, Sekishūsai’s retired and never fights anyone anymore. Do you suppose that’s the truth, or was he just making it up?”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s true. It’s much more likely that when he heard the second son of the House of Yoshioka was challenging him, he decided to play it safe.”
“Well, he was tactful at least, sending fruit and saying he hoped we’d enjoy our stopover.”
Yoshioka? Musashi lifted his head and opened his eyes. Having overheard someone mention Denshichirō’s trip to Ise while he was at the Yoshioka School, Musashi assumed that the three men were on their way back to Kyoto. One of them must be Denshichirō. Which one?
“I don’t have much luck with baths,” thought Musashi ruefully. “First Osugi tricked me into taking a bath, and now, again with no clothes on, I run into one of the Yoshiokas. He’s bound to have heard of what happened at the school. If he knew my name was Miyamoto, he’d be out that door and back with his sword in no time.”
But the three paid him no attention. To judge from their talk, as soon as they had arrived they had sent a letter to the House of Yagyū. Apparently Sekishūsai had had some connection with Yoshioka Kempō back in the days when Kempō was tutor to the shōguns. No doubt because