Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [334]
The reaction was not lost on Kojirō. He picked up momentum. “In the future, I plan to establish a school of my own. It is therefore not out of curiosity that I make a practice of observing bouts and studying the tactics of other fighters. This is part of my education. I do not believe, however, that I’ve ever witnessed or heard of a bout that irritated me more than your two encounters with Musashi. Why, when so many of you were at the Rengeōin, and before that at the Rendaiji, did you allow Musashi to escape, so that he could swagger about the streets of Kyoto? This I cannot comprehend.”
Licking his dry lips, he went on: “There’s no doubt Musashi is a surprisingly tenacious fighter, as vagabond swordsmen go. I know that myself just from having seen him a couple of times. But at the risk of seeming meddlesome, I want to tell you what I’ve found out about Musashi.” Without mentioning Akemi’s name, he elaborated. “The first information came to me when I happened to meet a woman who had known him since he was seventeen. Filling out what she told me with other bits of information picked up here and there, I can give you a fairly complete outline of his life.
“He was born the son of a provincial samurai in Mimasaka Province. He ran away to the Battle of Sekigahara, and after returning home, committed so many atrocities that he was driven out of the village. Since then, he’s been roaming about the countryside.
“Though he’s a man of worthless character, he possesses a certain talent for the sword. And physically he’s extremely strong. Moreover, he fights with no regard for his own life. Because of this, orthodox methods of swordsmanship are ineffective against him, just as reason is ineffective against insanity. You must trap him as you would a vicious animal, or you will fail. Now consider what your enemy is like and make your plans accordingly!”
Genzaemon, with great formality, thanked Kojirō and proceeded to describe the precautions that had been taken.
Kojirō nodded his approval. “If you’ve been that thorough, he probably hasn’t a chance of getting away alive. Still, it seems to me you could devise a more effective trick.”
“Trick?” repeated Genzaemon, taking a fresh and somewhat less admiring look at Kojirō’s cocky face. “Thank you, but I think we’ve done enough already.”
“No, my friend, you haven’t. If Musashi comes walking up the path in an honest, straightforward manner, there’s probably no way he can escape. But what if he should find out about your strategy in advance and not show up at all? Then all your planning will have been in vain, won’t it?”
“If he does that, we only have to put up signs all over the city to make him the laughingstock of Kyoto.”
“That would no doubt restore your face to some degree, but don’t forget he’d still be free to go around saying your tactics were dirty. In that case, you wouldn’t have cleared your master’s name completely. Your preparations are meaningless unless you kill Musashi here today. To be sure of doing that, you must take steps to ensure that he actually comes here and falls into the death trap you have set.”
“Is there any way of doing that?”
“Certainly. In fact, I can think of several ways.” Kojirō’s voice was full of confidence. He bent forward and, with a look of friendliness not often observed on his proud face, whispered a few words in Genzaemon’s ear. “How about that?” he asked out loud.
“Hmm. I see what you mean.” The old man nodded several times, then turned to Jūrōzaemon and whispered the scheme to him.
A Meeting in the Moonlight
It was already past midnight when Musashi arrived at the small inn north of Kitano where he had first met Jōtarō. The astonished innkeeper welcomed him cordially and quickly prepared a place for him to sleep.
Musashi went out early in the morning and returned late in the evening, presenting the old man with a sack of Kurama sweet potatoes.