Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [296]
If Musashi was to become a habitué, he would certainly acquire a nickname soon, for in this never-never land, few used their real names. Hayashiya Yojibei was only the pseudonym of the proprietor of the house they were visiting, but more often than not he was called Ōgiya, the name of the establishment. Along with the Kikyōya, it was one of the two best-known houses in the district, the only two, in fact, with the reputation of being absolutely first class. The reigning beauty at the Ōgiya was Yoshino Dayū, and her counterpart at the Kikyōya, Murogimi Dayū. Both ladies enjoyed a degree of fame in the city rivaled only by that of the greatest daimyō.
Although Musashi studiously attempted not to gape, he was astonished by the elegance of his surroundings, which approached that of the most opulent palaces. The reticular ceilings, ornately carved openwork transoms, exquisite curved railings, fastidiously tended inner gardens—everything was a feast for the eye. Absorbed in a painting on a wooden door panel, he did not notice that his companions had gone on ahead until Kōetsu came back for him.
The silver-colored doors of the room they entered were transformed into a hazy liquid by the light of the lamps. One side opened onto a garden in the style of Kobori Enshū, well-raked sand and a rock arrangement suggestive of Chinese mountain scenery, such as one might see in a Sung painting.
Shōyū, complaining of the cold, sat down on a cushion and drew his shoulders together. Kōetsu also seated himself and bade Musashi to do likewise. Serving girls soon arrived with warm sake.
Seeing that the cup he had urged on Musashi had cooled off, Shōyū became insistent. “Drink up, young man,” he said, “and have a hot cup.”
After this refrain had been repeated two or three times, Shōyū’s manner began to border on rudeness. “Kobosatsu!” he said to one of the serving girls. “Make him drink! You, Musashi! What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you drinking?”
“I am,” protested Musashi.
The old man was already a little tipsy. “Well, you’re not doing very well. You don’t have any spirit!”
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
“What you mean is that you’re not a strong swordsman, isn’t it?”
“Maybe that’s true,” said Musashi mildly, laughing off the insult.
“If you’re worried about drinking interfering with your studies, or throwing you off balance, or weakening your willpower, or preventing you from making a name for yourself, then you haven’t got the pluck to be a fighter.” “Oh, it’s not that. There’s only one small problem.”
“What might that be?”
“It makes me sleepy.”
“Well, you can go to sleep here or anywhere else in the place. No one will mind.” Turning to the girls, he said, “The young man’s afraid he’ll get drowsy if he drinks. If he gets sleepy, put him to bed!”
“Oh, we’ll be glad to!” chorused the girls, smiling coyly.
“If he goes to bed, someone will have to keep him warm. Kōetsu, which one should it be?”
“Which one indeed?” said Kōetsu noncommittally.
“It can’t be Sumigiku Dayū; she’s my little wife. And you yourself wouldn’t want it to be Kobosatsu Dayū. There’s Karakoto Dayū. Um, she won’t do. She’s too hard to get along with.”
“Isn’t Yoshino Dayū going to put in an appearance?” asked Kōetsu.
“That’s it! She’s just the one! Even our reluctant guest should be happy with her. I wonder why she isn’t here now. Someone go call her. I want to show her to the young samurai here.”
Sumigiku objected. “Yoshino’s not like the rest of us. She has many clients, and she won’t come running at just anyone’s beck and call.”
“Oh, yes she will—for me! Tell her I’m here, and she’ll come, no matter who she happens to be with. Go and call her!” Shōyū reared up, looked around and called to the young girls who attended the courtesans and were now playing in the next room: “Is Rin’ya there?”
Rin’ya herself answered.
“Come here a minute. You wait on Yoshino Dayū, don’t you? Why isn’t she here? Tell her Funabashi is here, she should come right away. If you bring her back