Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [383]
“Is that so? Are you sure?” His manner was as stern as a local magistrate’s. “Yes; I swear it is.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll let you off alive. Take those sacks off the horse’s back and tie the woman on it. Then you’ll stay with us until I’m through with you.” His fingers played menacingly with his sword hilt.
The farmer, too frightened to disobey, did as he was told, and the three of them started off.
Matahachi picked up a bamboo stick to use as a whip. “We’re going to Edo and we don’t want any company, so stay away from the main road,” he ordered. “Take a road where we won’t run into anybody.”
“That’s very difficult.”
“I don’t care how difficult it is! Take a back road. We’ll go to Ina and from there to Kōshū without using the main highway.”
“But that means climbing a very bad mountain path from Ubagami to Gombei Pass.”
“All right, start climbing! And don’t try any tricks, or I’ll split your skull open. I don’t particularly need you. All I want is the horse. You should be thankful I’m taking you along.”
The dark path seemed to get steeper with every step. By the time they reached Ubagami, about halfway up, both men and horse were ready to drop. Beneath their feet, clouds billowed like waves. A faint trace of light tinged the eastern sky.
Otsū had ridden all night without uttering a word, but when she saw the rays of the sun, she said quietly, “Matahachi, please let the man go. Give him back his horse. I promise not to run away.”
Matahachi was reluctant, but she repeated her plea a third and fourth time, and he gave in. As the farmer went away, Matahachi said to Otsū, “Now, you just come along quietly, and don’t try to escape.”
She placed her hand over the injured arm, and biting her lip, said, “I won’t. You don’t think I want anyone to see the marks of your venomous fangs on me, do you?”
A Maternal Warning
“Mother,” said Gonnosuke, “you’re going too far. Can’t you see I’m upset too?” He was weeping, and the words came in spurts.
“Shh! You’ll wake him.” His mother’s voice was soft but stern. She might have been scolding a three-year-old. “If you feel so bad, the only thing to do is get a firm grip on yourself and follow the Way with all your heart. Crying won’t do any good. Besides, it’s unbecoming. Wipe your face.”
“First promise you’ll forgive me for that shameful performance yesterday.”
“Well, I couldn’t help scolding you, but I suppose after all it’s a matter of skill. They say the longer a man goes without facing a challenge, the weaker he becomes. It’s only natural you lost.”
“Hearing that from you makes it all the worse. After all your encouragement, I still lost. I see now I don’t have the talent or spirit to be a real warrior. I’ll have to give up the martial arts and be content with being a farmer. I can do more for you with my hoe than I can with my staff.”
Musashi was already awake. He sat straight up, amazed that the young man and his mother had taken the skirmish so seriously. He himself had already brushed it off as a mistake on his part as well as Gonnosuke’s. “What a sense of honor,” he mumbled as he crept quietly into the next room. He went to the far side and put his eye to the crack between the shoji panels.
Faintly lit by the rising sun, Gonnosuke’s mother was seated with her back to the Buddhist altar. Gonnosuke was kneeling meekly before her, his eyes downcast and his face streaked with tears.
Grabbing the back of his collar, she said with vehemence, “What did you say? What’s this about spending your life as a farmer?” Pulling him closer, until his head rested on her knees, she continued in an outraged tone. “Only one thing’s kept me going all these years—the hope that I could make a samurai of you and restore our family’s good name. So I had you read all those books and learn the martial arts. And that’s why I’ve managed to live all these years on so little. And now … now you say you’re going