Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [333]
“It’s not that. I’ve got pine needles down my back.”
“Stand still and bear it. This will be a good experience for you. Watch closely when the actual fighting begins.”
Along the easternmost approach, a great shout went up. “Stop, you crazy fool!”
The bamboo rustled loud enough to let any but the deaf know men were hiding all along the roads.
Genjirō cried, “I’m scared!” and hugged his father around the waist. Jūrōzaemon immediately set off toward the commotion, though somehow sensing that this was a false alarm.
Sasaki Kojirō was bawling out one of the Yoshioka men. “Haven’t you got eyes? The idea of mistaking me for Musashi! I’ve come here to act as a witness, and you come running at me with a lance. What an ass!”
The Yoshioka men, too, were angry, some of them suspecting he might be spying on them. They held themselves back but continued to block his way.
As Jūrōzaemon broke through the circle, Kojirō lit into him. “I came here to stand as witness, but your men are treating me as an enemy. If they’re acting on instructions from you, I’ll be more than happy, clumsy swordsman that I am, to take you on. I have no reason to help Musashi, but I do have my honor to uphold. Besides, this would be a welcome opportunity for me to dampen my Drying Pole with some fresh blood, something I’ve neglected to do for some time now.” He was a tiger spitting fire. Those of the Yoshioka men who had been deceived by his foppish appearance were taken aback by his sheer nerve.
Jūrōzaemon, determined to show that he was not frightened by Kojirō’s tongue, laughed. “Ha, ha! You’re really riled, aren’t you? But tell me, just who asked you to be a witness? I don’t remember any such request. Did Musashi?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. When we posted the sign at Yanagimachi, I told both parties I would act as witness.”
“I see. You said that. In other words, Musashi didn’t ask you, nor did we. You took it upon yourself to be an observer. Well, the world is full of people who butt into affairs that don’t concern them.”
“That’s an insult!” snapped Kojirō.
Spit flying from his mouth, Jūrōzaemon cried, “Go away! We’re not here to put on a show.”
Kojirō, blue with rage, deftly detached himself from the group and ran a short distance back down the path. “Watch out, you bastards!” he shouted, preparing to attack.
Genzaemon, who had trailed after Jūrōzaemon, said, “Wait, young man!” “You wait!” shouted Kojirō. “I have no business with you. But I’ll show you what happens to people who insult me!”
The old man ran up to him. “Now, now, you’re taking this too seriously! Our men are keyed up. I’m Seijūrō’s uncle, and I heard from him that you’re an outstanding swordsman. I’m sure there’s been some mistake. I hope you’ll forgive me personally for our men’s conduct.”
“I’m grateful to you for greeting me in this fashion. I’ve been on good terms with Seijūrō, and I wish the House of Yoshioka well, though I do not feel I can act as a second. But that is no reason for your men to insult me.”
Kneeling in a formal bow, Genzaemon said, “You’re quite right. I hope you’ll forget what happened, for the sake of Seijūrō and Denshichirō.” The old man chose his words tactfully, worried that Kojirō, if offended, might advertise the cowardly strategy they had adopted.
Kojirō’s anger subsided. “Stand up, sir. I’m embarrassed to have an older man bow before me.” In a swift about-face, the wielder of the Drying Pole now put his eloquent tongue to work encouraging the Yoshioka men and vilifying Musashi. “I have for some time been friendly with Seijūrō, and as I said before, I have no connection with Musashi. It is only natural that I favor the House of Yoshioka.
“I have seen many conflicts among warriors, but never have I witnessed a tragedy such as has befallen you. It is incredible that the house that served the Ashikaga shōguns as instructors in the martial arts should be brought into disrepute by a mere country bumpkin.”
His words, spoken as though he were deliberately trying to make