Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [136]
“No, no, go on and bite! Bite harder!”
He did just that, tugging at her fingers like a puppy. Hay was falling over their heads, and soon they were hugging each other, just for the sake of hugging, when Kocha’s father came looking for her. Appalled at what he saw, his face took on the stern expression of a Confucian sage.
“You idiots, what are you up to? Both of you, still only children!” He dragged them out by the scruff of the neck and gave Kocha a couple of smart whacks on the behind.
The rest of that day, Musashi said very little to anyone. He sat with his arms folded and thought.
Once, in the middle of the night, Jōtarō woke up and, raising his head a little, stole a look at his master. Musashi was lying in bed with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling with intense concentration.
The next day, too, Musashi kept to himself. Jōtarō was frightened; his master might have heard about his playing with Kocha in the shed. Nothing was said, however. Late in the afternoon, Musashi sent the boy to ask for their bill and was making preparations to depart when the clerk brought it. Asked if he would need dinner, he said no.
Kocha, standing idly in a corner, asked, “Won’t you be coming back to sleep here tonight?”
“No. Thank you, Kocha, for taking such good care of us. I’m sure we’ve been a lot of trouble for you. Good-bye.”
“Take good care of yourself,” said Kocha. She was holding her hands over her face, hiding her tears.
At the gate, the manager of the inn and the other maids lined up to see them off. Their setting off just before sunset seemed very odd.
After walking a bit, Musashi looked around for Jōtarō. Not seeing him, he turned back toward the inn, where the boy was under the storehouse, saying farewell to Kocha. When they saw Musashi approaching, they drew hastily away from each other.
“Good-bye,” said Kocha.
“Bye,” called Jōtarō, as he ran to Musashi’s side. Though fearful of Musashi’s eyes, the boy could not resist stealing backward glances until the inn was out of sight.
Lights began to appear in the valley. Musashi, saying nothing and not once looking back, strode on ahead. Jōtarō followed along glumly.
After a time, Musashi asked, “Aren’t we there yet?”
“Where?”
“At the main gate of Koyagyū Castle.”
“Are we going to the castle?”
“Yes.”
“Will we stay there tonight?”
“I have no idea. That depends on how things turn out.”
“There it is. That’s the gate.”
Musashi stopped and stood before the gate, feet together. Above the moss-grown ramparts, the huge trees made a soughing sound. A single light streamed from a square window.
Musashi called out, and a guard appeared. Giving him the letter from Shōda Kizaemon, he said, “My name is Musashi, and I’ve come on Shōda’s invitation. Would you please tell him that I’m here?”
The guard had been expecting him. “They’re waiting for you,” he said, motioning for Musashi to follow him.
In addition to its other functions, the Shin’indō was the place where the young people in the castle studied Confucianism. It also served as the fief’s library. The rooms along the passageway to the rear of the building were all lined with bookshelves, and though the fame of the House of Yagyū stemmed from its military prowess, Musashi could see it also placed great emphasis on scholarship. Everything about the castle seemed to be steeped in history.
And everything seemed to be well run, to judge from the neatness of the road from the gate to the Shin’indō, the courteous demeanor of the guard, and the austere, peaceful lighting visible in the vicinity of the keep.
Sometimes, upon entering a house for the first time, a visitor has the feeling he’s already familiar with the place and its inhabitants. Musashi had that impression now, as he sat down on the wooden floor of the large room to which the guard brought him. After offering him a hard round cushion of woven straw, which he accepted with thanks, the guard left him alone. On the way, Jōtarō had been dropped off at the attendants’ waiting room.
The guard returned a few minutes later