Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [309]
Kōetsu opened his eyes of his own accord. He stared for a moment at the priest’s face, then at Musashi’s, not quite knowing what to make of it.
After they had explained the situation to him, Kōetsu said, “If it’s only you and Mitsuhiro in the other room, I have no objection to going there.”
They found that Mitsuhiro and Shōyū, having finally talked themselves out, had sunk into melancholy. They had reached the stage where the sake begins to taste bitter, the lips feel parched, and a sip of water evokes thoughts of home. Tonight the aftereffects were worse; Yoshino had deserted them.
“Why don’t we all go home?” someone suggested.
“We might as well,” agreed the others.
Though not really eager to leave, they were afraid that if they stayed longer, nothing would be left of the evening’s mellowness. But as they stood up to go, Rin’ya came running into the room with two younger girls. Clasping Lord Kangan’s hands, Rin’ya said, “We’re sorry to have kept you waiting. Please don’t leave. Yoshino Dayū is ready to receive you in her private quarters. I know it’s late, but it’s light outside—because of the snow—and in this cold you should at least warm yourselves properly before getting in your palanquins. Come with us.”
None of them felt like playing anymore. The spirit, once gone, was difficult to summon back.
Noting their hesitation, one of the attendants said, “Yoshino said she was sure you all thought her rude for leaving, but she saw nothing else to do. If she gave in to Lord Kangan, Mr. Funabashi would be hurt, and if she went away with Mr. Funabashi, Lord Kangan would be lonesome. She doesn’t want either of you to feel slighted, so she’s inviting you for a nightcap. Please understand how she feels, and stay a little longer.”
Sensing that a refusal would be ungallant—and more than a little curious to see the leading courtesan in her own living quarters—they allowed themselves to be persuaded. Guided by the girls, they found five pairs of rustic straw sandals at the top of the garden steps. Donning these, they made their way soundlessly across the soft snow. Musashi had no idea of what was going on, but the others assumed they were to take part in a tea ceremony, for Yoshino was known to be an ardent devotee of the tea cult. Since there was something to be said for a bowl of tea after all the drinking they had done, no one was upset until they were led on past the teahouse and into an overgrown field.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Lord Kangan in an accusing tone. “This is a mulberry patch!”
The girls giggled, and Rin’ya hastened to explain. “Oh, no! This is our peony garden. In the early summer, we put out stools, and everybody comes here to drink and admire the blossoms.”
“Mulberry patch or peony garden, it’s not very pleasant being out here in the snow. Is Yoshino trying to make us catch cold?”
“I’m sorry. It’s only a little farther.”
In the corner of the field was a little cottage with a thatched roof, which, from the looks of it, was probably a farmhouse that had been here since before the area was built up. There was a grove of trees behind it, and the yard was cut off from the well-cared-for garden of the Ōgiya.
“This way,” urged the girls, leading them into a dirt-floored room whose walls and posts were black with soot.
Rin’ya announced their arrival, and from the interior Yoshino Dayū answered, “Welcome! Please come in.”
The fire in the hearth cast a soft, red glow on the shoji paper. The atmosphere seemed utterly remote from the city. As the men looked around the kitchen and noticed straw rain capes hanging on one wall, they wondered what sort of entertainment Yoshino had planned for them. The shoji slid open, and one by one they stepped up into the hearth room.
Yoshino’s kimono was a pale solid yellow, her obi of black satin. She wore the minimum of makeup and had rearranged her hair into a simple housewifely style. Her guests stared at her with