Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [418]
“I’d love to. That temple’s dedicated to Kanzeon, and I’m a great believer in her powers. She’s the same bodhisattva as the Kannon I prayed to at Kiyomizudera in Kyoto.”
With Yajibei and Osugi went two of the kobun, Jūrō and Koroku. Jūrō bore the nickname “Reed Mat,” for reasons no one knew, but it was obvious why Koroku was called the “Acolyte.” He was a small, compact man with a distinctly benign face, if one overlooked the three ugly scars on his forehead, evidence of a proclivity for street brawls.
They first made their way to the moat at Kyōbashi, where boats were available for hire. After Koroku had skillfully sculled them out of the moat and into the Sumida River, Yajibei ordered the box lunches opened.
“I’m going to the temple today,” he explained, “because it’s the anniversary of my mother’s death. I really should go back home and visit her grave, but it’s too far, so I compromise by going to the Sensōji and making a donation. But that’s neither here nor there; just think of it as a picnic.” He reached over the side of the boat, rinsed off a sake cup and offered it to Osugi.
“It’s very fine of you to remember your mother,” she said as she accepted the cup, all the while wondering fretfully if Matahachi would do the same when she was gone. “I wonder, though, is drinking sake on the anniversary of your poor mother’s passing the thing to do?”
“Well, I’d rather do that than hold some pompous ceremony. Anyway, I believe in the Buddha; that’s all that counts for ignorant louts like me. You know the saying, don’t you? ‘He who has faith need have no knowledge.’ “
Osugi, letting it go at that, proceeded to have several refills. After a time she remarked, “I haven’t drunk like this for ages. I feel like I’m floating on air.”
“Drink up,” urged Yajibei. “It’s good sake, isn’t it? Don’t worry about being out on the water. We’re here to take care of you.”
The river, flowing south from the town of Sumida, was broad and placid. On the Shimōsa side, the east bank opposite Edo, stood a luxuriant forest. Tree roots jutting into the water formed nests holding limpid pools, which shone like sapphires in the sunlight.
“Oh,” said Osugi. “Listen to the nightingales!”
“When the rainy season comes, you can hear cuckoos all day long.”
“Let me pour for you. I hope you don’t mind my joining in your celebration.”
“I like to see you having a good time.”
From the stern, Koroku called out lustily, “Say, boss, how about passing the sake around?”
“Just pay attention to your work. If you start now, we’ll all drown. On the way back you can have all you want.”
“If you say so. But I just want you to know the whole river’s beginning to look like sake.”
“Stop thinking about it. Here, pull over to that boat next to the bank so we can buy some fresh fish.”
Koroku did as he was told. After a bit of haggling, the fisherman, flashing a happy smile, lifted the cover off a tank built into the deck and told them to take anything they wanted. Osugi had never seen anything like it. The tank was full to the brim with wriggling, flapping fish, some from the sea, some from the river. Carp, prawns, catfish, black porgies, gobies. Even trout and sea bass.
Yajibei sprinkled soy sauce on some whitebait and began eating it raw. He offered some to Osugi, but she declined, with a look of dread on her face.
When they drew up on the west side of the river and disembarked, Osugi seemed a little wobbly on her feet.
“Be careful,” warned Yajibei. “Here, take my hand.”
“No, thank you. I don’t need any help.” She waved her own hand before her face indignantly.
After Jūrō and Koroku had moored the boat, the four of them crossed a
broad expanse of stones and puddles to get to the riverbank proper.
A group of small children were busily turning over stones, but seeing the
unusual foursome, they stopped and flocked around, chattering excitedly. “Buy some, sir. Please.”
“Won’t you buy some, Granny?”
Yajibei seemed to like children; at least, he showed no signs of annoyance. “What have you got