Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [419]
“Not crabs; arrowheads,” they cried, producing handfuls of them from their kimonos.
“Arrowheads?”
“That’s right. A lot of men and horses are buried in a mound by the temple. People coming here buy arrowheads to offer to the dead. You should too.”
“I don’t think I want any arrowheads, but I’ll give you some money. How’ll that do?”
That, it appeared, would do admirably, and as soon as Yajibei had passed out a few coins, the children ran off to resume their digging. But even as he watched, a man emerged from a thatched-roof house nearby, took the coins away from them and went back inside. Yajibei clicked his tongue and turned away in disgust.
Osugi was gazing out over the river, fascination in her eyes. “If there are a lot of arrowheads lying around,” she observed, “there must have been a big battle.”
“I don’t really know, but it seems there were quite a few battles here in the days when Edo was only a provincial estate. That was four or five hundred years ago. I’ve heard that Minamoto no Yoritomo came up here from Izu to organize troops in the twelfth century. When the Imperial Court was divided—when was that, fourteenth century?—Lord Nitta of Musashi was defeated by the Ashikagas somewhere in the neighborhood. Just in the last couple of centuries, Ōta Dōkan and other local generals are said to have fought many battles not far up the river.”
While they were talking, Jūrō and Koroku went on ahead to make a place for them to sit on the veranda of the temple.
The Sensōji turned out to be a terrible disappointment to Osugi. In her eyes it was nothing more than a large, rundown house, the priest’s residence a mere shack. “Is this it?” she wanted to know, with more than a hint of deprecation. “After all I’ve heard about the Sensōji …”
The setting was a splendidly primeval forest of large, ancient trees, but not only did the Kanzeon hall look shabby; when the river flooded, the water came through the woods right up to the veranda. Even at other times, small tributaries washed over the grounds.
“Welcome. Good to see you again.”
Glancing up in surprise, Osugi saw a priest kneeling on the roof. “Working on the roof?” asked Yajibei amiably.
“Have to, because of the birds. The oftener I mend it, the oftener they steal the thatch to make nests with. There’s always a leak somewhere. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be down shortly.”
Yajibei and Osugi picked up votive candles and went into the dim interior. “No wonder it leaks,” she thought, looking at the starlike holes above her.
Kneeling beside Yajibei, she took out her prayer beads and with a dreamy look in her eye chanted the Vow of Kanzeon from the Lotus Sutra.
You will reside in the air like the sun.
And if you are pursued by evil men
And pushed off the Diamond Mountain,
Reflect on the power of Kanzeon
And you will not lose a hair from your head.
And if bandits surround you
And threaten you with swords,
If you reflect on the power of Kanzeon,
The bandits will take pity on you.
And if the king sentences you to death
And the sword is about to behead you,
Reflect on the power of Kanzeon.
The sword will break into pieces.
She recited softly at first, but as she became oblivious to the presence of Yajibei, Jūrō and Koroku, her voice rose and grew resonant; a rapt expression came to her face.
The eighty-four thousand sentient beings
Began to aspire in their hearts
For anuttara-samyak-sambodhi,
The unsurpassed Wisdom of the Buddhas.
Prayer beads trembling in her fingers, Osugi went without a break from the recitation into a personal supplication of her own.
Hail to Kanzeon, World-Honored One!
Hail to the Bodhisattva of Infinite Mercy and Infinite Compassion!
Look favorably on this old woman’s one wish.
Let me strike Musashi down, and very soon!
Let me strike him down!
Let me strike him down!
Abruptly lowering her voice, she bowed to the floor. “And make Matahachi a good boy! Cause the House of Hon’iden to prosper!”
After the long prayer ended, there was a moment’s silence before the priest invited them