Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [406]
That same day, at the Yakuōin in Takao, an older man, apparently free of the pressures of business, was about to resume his leisurely journey. He, his servant and a boy of about fifteen had arrived the previous evening and requested overnight accommodations. He and the boy had been touring the temple grounds since early morning. It was now about noon.
“Use this for roof repairs, or whatever is necessary,” he said, offering one of the priests three large gold coins.
The head priest, immediately apprised of the gift, was so overwhelmed by the donor’s generosity that he personally hastened out to exchange greetings. “Perhaps you would like to leave your name,” he said.
Another priest, saying this had already been done, showed him the entry in the temple registry, which read: “Daizō of Narai, dealer in herbs, resident at the foot of Mount Ontake in Kiso.”
The head priest apologized profusely for the poor quality of the fare served by the temple, for Daizō of Narai was known throughout the country as a lavish contributor to shrines and temples. His gifts always took the form of gold coins—in some cases, it was said, as many as several dozen. Only he himself knew whether he did this for amusement, to acquire a reputation, or out of piety.
The priest, eager to have him stay longer, begged him to inspect the temple’s treasures, a privilege accorded to few.
“I’ll be in Edo awhile,” said Daizō. “I’ll come see them another time.”
“By all means, but at least let me accompany you to the outer gate,” insisted the priest. “Are you planning to stop in Fuchū tonight?”
“No; Hachiōji.”
“In that case, it’ll be an easy trip.”
“Tell me, who’s the lord of Hachiōji now?”
“It’s recently been put under the administration of Ōkubo Nagayasu.” “He was magistrate of Nara, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, that’s the man. The gold mines on Sado Island are also under his control. He’s very rich.”
“A very able man, it would appear.”
It was still daylight when they came to the foot of the mountains and stood on the busy main street of Hachiōji, where reportedly there were no fewer than twenty-five inns.
“Well, Jōtarō, where shall we stay?”
Jōtarō, who had stuck to Daizō’s side like a shadow, let it be known in no uncertain terms that he preferred “anywhere—as long as it’s not a temple.”
Choosing the largest and most imposing inn, Daizō entered and requested a room. His distinguished appearance, together with the elegant lacquered traveling case his servant carried on his back, made a dazzling impression on the head clerk, who said fawningly, “You’re stopping quite early, aren’t you?” Inns along the highroads were accustomed to having hordes of travelers tumble in at dinnertime or even later.
Daizō was shown to a large room on the first floor, but shortly after sundown, both the innkeeper and the head clerk came to Daizō’s room.
“I’m sure it’s a great inconvenience,” the innkeeper began abjectly, “but a large party of guests has come in very suddenly. I’m afraid it’ll be terribly noisy here. If you wouldn’t mind moving to a room on the second floor …”
“Oh, that’s perfectly all right,” replied Daizō good-naturedly. “Glad to see your business is thriving.”
Signaling Sukeichi, his servant, to take care of the luggage, Daizō proceeded upstairs. He had no sooner left the room than it was overrun by women from the Sumiya.
The inn wasn’t just busy; it was frenetic. What with the hubbub downstairs, the servants did not come when called. Dinner was late, and when they had eaten, no one came to clear away the dishes. On top of that, there was the constant tramping of feet on both floors. Only Daizō’s sympathy for the hired help kept him from losing his temper. Ignoring the litter in the room, he stretched out to take a nap, using his arm for a pillow. After only a few minutes, a sudden thought came to him, and he called Sukeichi.
When Sukeichi failed to materialize, Daizō opened his eyes, sat up and shouted, “Jōtarō, come here!