Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [211]
“I am. And who are you?”
“My name is Miyamoto Musashi. I’m a student warrior. Not long ago I went to your house in Ujii and met your wife. It looks to me as though fate brought us together here.”
“Is that so?” Baiken said. With a look of sudden comprehension on his face, he asked, “Are you the man who was staying at the inn in Yamada, the one who wanted to have a bout with me?”
“How did you hear about that?”
“You sent someone to the Arakida house to find me, didn’t you?” “Yes.”
“I was doing some work for Arakida, but I didn’t stay at the house. I borrowed a work place in the village. It was a job nobody could do but me.”
“I see. I hear you’re an expert with the chain-ball-sickle.”
“Ha, ha! But you said you met my wife?”
“Yes. She demonstrated one of the Yaegaki stances for me.”
“Well, that should be enough for you. There’s no reason to be following along after me. Oh, of course I could show you a great deal more than she did, but the minute you saw it, you’d be on your way to a different world.”
Musashi’s impression of the wife had been that she was pretty overbearing, but here was real arrogance. He was fairly sure from what he had seen already that he could take the measure of this man, but he cautioned himself not to be hasty. Takuan had taught him life’s first lesson, namely that there are a lot of people in the world who may very well be one’s betters. The lesson had been reinforced by his experiences at the Hōzōin and at Koyagyū Castle. Before letting his pride and confidence betray him into underestimating an adversary, he wanted to size him up from every possible angle. While laying his groundwork, he would remain sociable, even if at times this might strike his opponent as being cowardly or subservient.
In reply to Baiken’s contemptuous remark, he said, with an air of respect befitting his youth, “I see. I did indeed learn a good deal from your wife, but since I’ve had the good fortune to meet you, I’d be grateful if you’d tell me more about the weapon you use.”
“If all you want to do is talk, fine. Are you planning to stay overnight at the inn by the barrier?”
“That’s what I had in mind, unless you’d be kind enough to put me up for another night.”
“You’re welcome to stay, if you’re willing to sleep in the smithy with Iwa. But I don’t run an inn and we don’t have extra bedding.”
At sunset they reached the foot of Mount Suzuka; the little village, under red clouds, looked as placid as a lake. Iwa ran on ahead to announce their arrival, and when they got to the house, Baiken’s wife was waiting under the eaves, holding the baby and the pinwheel.
“Look, look, look!” she cooed. “Daddy’s been away, Daddy’s come back. See, there he is.”
In a twinkling, Daddy ceased to be the epitome of arrogance and broke into a fatherly smile. “Here, boy, here’s Daddy,” he babbled, holding up his hand and making his fingers dance.
Husband and wife disappeared inside and sat down, talking only about the baby and household matters, paying no attention to Musashi.
Finally, when dinner was ready, Baiken remembered his guest. “Oh, yes, give that fellow something to eat,” he told his wife.
Musashi was sitting in the dirt-floored smithy, warming himself by the forge. He hadn’t even removed his sandals.
“He was just here the other day. He spent the night,” the woman replied sullenly. She put some sake to warm in the hearth in front of her husband. “Young man,” Baiken called. “Do you drink sake?”
“I don’t dislike it.”
“Have a cup.”
“Thanks.” Moving to the threshold of the hearth room, Musashi accepted a cup of the local brew and put it to his lips. It tasted sour. After downing it, he offered the cup to Baiken, saying, “Let me pour you a cup.”
“Never mind, I have one.” He looked at Musashi for an instant, then asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Mimasaka.”
Baiken’s eyes, which had wandered off in another direction, swung back to Musashi, reexamining him from head to toe.
“Let’s see, you mentioned it a while ago. Your name