Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [186]
“What a pair!” Uncle Con lamented to himself, trying to figure out a way to soothe the old woman’s pique and restore a measure of calmness to his nephew’s scowling face. Sensing yet another sermon in the making, he moved to head it off. “Oh,” he called cheerily. “I thought I smelled something good! They’re selling broiled clams at that teahouse over by the beach. Let’s stop in and have some.”
Neither mother nor son displayed much enthusiasm, but Uncle Gon managed to steer them to the seaside shop, which was sheltered with thin reed blinds. While the other two got comfortable on a bench outside, he went in and came back with some sake.
Offering a cup to Osugi, he said amiably, “This will cheer Matahachi up a little. Maybe you’re being a little hard on him.”
Osugi looked away and snapped, “I don’t want anything to drink.”
Uncle Gon, caught in his own web, offered the cup to Matahachi, who, though still grumpy, proceeded to empty three jars as fast as he could, knowing full well this would make his mother livid. When he asked Uncle Gon for a fourth, Osugi had had all she could take.
“You’ve had enough!” she scolded. “This isn’t a picnic, and we didn’t come here to get drunk! And you watch yourself too, Uncle Gon! You’re older than Matahachi, and should know better.”
Uncle Gon, as mortified as if only he had been drinking, tried to hide his face by rubbing his hands over it. “Yes, you’re quite right,” he said meekly. He got up and ambled off a few paces.
Then it began in earnest, for Matahachi had struck at the roots of Osugi’s violent though brittle sense of maternal love and anxiety, and it was out of the question for her to wait until they returned to the inn. She lashed out furiously at him, not caring whether other people were listening. Matahachi stared at her with a look of sullen disobedience until she finished.
“All right,” he said. “I take it you’ve made up your mind that I’m an ungrateful lout with no self-respect. Right?”
“Yes! What have you done up till now that shows any pride or self-respect?” “Well, I’m not as worthless as you seem to think, but then you wouldn’t have any way of knowing that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t, would I? Well, nobody knows a child better than his parents, and I think the day you were born was a bad day for the House of Hon’iden!”
“You just wait and see! I’m still young. One day when you’re dead and buried, you’ll be sorry you said that.”
“Ha! I wish that were so, but I doubt that would happen in a hundred years. It’s so sad, when you think of it.”
“Well, if it makes you so terribly sad to have a son like me, there’s not much use in my hanging around any longer. I’m leaving!” Steaming with rage, he stood up and walked away in long, determined strides.
Taken by surprise, the old woman tried in a pitifully trembling voice to call him back. Matahachi paid no heed. Uncle Gon, who could have run and tried to stop him, stood looking intently toward the sea, his mind apparently occupied with other thoughts.
Osugi got up, then sat back down again. “Don’t try to stop him,” she said needlessly to Uncle Gon. “It’s no use.”
Uncle Gon turned toward her, but instead of answering, said, “That girl out there is acting very funny. Wait here a minute!” Almost before the words were out, he had chucked his hat under the eaves of the shop and headed like an arrow toward the water.
“Idiot!” cried Osugi. “Where are you going? Matahachi’s—”
She chased after him, but about twenty yards from the shop, snagged her foot in a clump of seaweed and fell flat on her face. Mumbling angrily, she picked herself up, her face and shoulders covered with sand. When she caught sight of Uncle Gon again, her eyes opened like mirrors.
“You old fool! Where are you going? Have you lost your mind?” she screamed.
So excited that she looked as if she might be mad herself, she ran as fast as she could, following Uncle Gon’s footsteps. But she was too late. Uncle Gon was already in up to his knees