Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [356]
“It must be the voice of heaven,” said another priest.
The next instant they were all around Musashi, cursing, taunting, even spitting at him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to restrain himself. Despite the power the warrior-priests had lost, these latter-day embodiments had lost none of their arrogance.
“Look at him!” sneered one of the priests. “From what the villagers said, I thought he was a self-respecting samurai. Now I see he’s only a brainless oaf! He doesn’t get angry; he doesn’t even know how to speak on his own behalf.”
The longer Musashi remained silent, the more viciously the tongues wagged. Finally, his face reddening slightly, he said, “Didn’t you say something about the voice of heaven speaking through a man?”
“Yes; what of it?”
“Are you suggesting heaven has spoken out against me?”
“You’ve heard our decision. Don’t you understand yet?”
“No.”
“I guess you wouldn’t. Having no more sense than you do, you deserve to
be pitied. But I daresay in the next life you’ll come to your senses!”
When Musashi said nothing, the priest continued, “You’d better be careful
after you leave the mountain. Your reputation is nothing to be proud of.” “What does it matter what people say?”
“Listen to him! He still thinks he’s right.”
“What I did was right! I did nothing base or cowardly in my fight with the Yoshiokas.”
“You’re talking nonsense!”
“Did I do anything to be ashamed of? Name one thing!”
“You have the gall to say that?”
“I’m warning you. I’ll overlook other things, but I won’t permit anyone to belittle my sword!”
“Very well, see if you can answer one question. We know you put up a brave fight against overwhelming odds. We admire your brute strength. We praise your courage in holding out against so many men. But why did you murder a boy only thirteen years old? How could you be so inhuman as to slaughter a mere child?”
Musashi’s face turned pale; his body suddenly felt weak.
The priest went on. “After he lost his arm, Seijūrō became a priest. Denshichirō you killed outright. Genjirō was the only person left to succeed them. By murdering him, you put an end to the House of Yoshioka. Even if it was done in the name of the Way of the Samurai, it was cruel, dastardly. You’re not good enough to be described as a monster or a demon. Do you consider yourself human? Do you imagine you should be ranked as a samurai? Do you even belong in this great land of the cherry blossoms?
“No! And this is why the priesthood is expelling you. Whatever the circumstances, slaying the child is unforgivable. A real samurai would commit no crime like that. The stronger a samurai is, the gentler and more considerate he is to the weak. A samurai understands and practices compassion.
“Now go away from here, Miyamoto Musashi! As fast as you can! Mount Hiei rejects you!”
Their anger spent, the priests marched off in a body.
Though he’d borne this last torrent of abuse silently, it wasn’t because he had no answer to their charges. “Whatever they say, I was right,” he thought. “I did the only thing I could to protect my convictions, which are not mistaken.”
He honestly believed in the validity of his principles and in the necessity of upholding them. Once the Yoshiokas had set Genjirō up as their standard-bearer, there had been no alternative to killing him. He was their general. So long as he lived, the Yoshioka School would remain undefeated. Musashi could have killed ten, twenty or thirty men, but unless Genjirō died, the survivors would always claim victory. Killing the boy first made Musashi the victor, even if he’d later been killed in the fighting.
By the laws of swordsmanship, there was no flaw in this logic. And to Musashi those laws were absolute.
Nevertheless, the memory of Genjirō disturbed him profoundly, giving rise to doubt, grief and pain. The cruelty of his act was repellent, even to himself.
“Should I throw away my sword and live like an ordinary man?” he asked himself, not