Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [460]
The Fox
“Is this Kobikichō?”
In spite of repeated assurances that it was, Iori still had his doubts. The only lights visible on the broad expanse of land belonged to the makeshift huts of woodworkers and stonemasons, and these were few and far between. Beyond them, in the distance, he could just make out the foaming white waves of the bay.
Near the river were piles of rocks and stacks of lumber, and although Iori knew that buildings were going up at a furious pace all over Edo, it struck him as unlikely that Lord Yagyū would build his residence in an area like this.
“Where to next?” he thought dejectedly as he sat down on some lumber. His feet were tired and burning. To cool them he wiggled his toes in the dewy grass. Soon his tension ebbed away and the sweat dried, but his spirits remained decidedly damp.
“It’s all the fault of that old woman at the inn,” he muttered to himself. “She didn’t know what she was talking about.” The time he himself had spent gawking at the sights in the theater district at Sakaichō conveniently slipped his mind.
The hour was late, and there was no one around from whom he could ask directions. Yet the idea of spending the night in these unfamiliar surroundings made him uneasy. He had to complete his errand and return to the inn before daybreak, even if it meant waking up one of the workers.
As he approached the nearest shack where a light showed, he saw a woman with a strip of matting tied over her head like a shawl.
“Good evening, auntie,” he said innocently.
Mistaking him for the helper at a nearby sake shop, the woman glared and sniffed, “You, is it? You threw a rock at me and ran away, didn’t you, you little brat?”
“Not me,” protested Iori. “I’ve never seen you before!”
The woman came hesitantly toward him, then burst out laughing. “No,” she said, “you’re not the one. What’s a cute little boy like you doing wandering around here at this time of night?”
“I was sent on an errand, but I can’t find the house I’m looking for.” “Whose house is it?”
“Lord Yagyū of Tajima’s.”
“Are you joking?” She laughed. “Lord Yagyū is a daimyō, and a teacher to the shōgun. Do you think he’d open his gate to you?” She laughed again. “You know somebody in the servants’ quarters perhaps?”
“I’ve brought a letter.”
“Who to?”
“A samurai named Kimura Sukekurō.”
“Must be one of his retainers. But you, you’re so funny—throwing Lord Yagyū’s name around like you knew him.”
“I just want to deliver this letter. If you know where the house is, tell me.”
“It’s on the other side of the moat. If you cross that bridge over there, you’ll be in front of Lord Kii’s house. The next one is Lord Kyōgoku, then Lord Katō, then Lord Matsudaira of Suō.” Holding up her fingers, she counted off the sturdy storehouses on the opposite bank. “I’m sure the one after that is the one you want.”
“If I cross the moat, will I still be in Kobikichō?”
“Of course.”
“Of all the stupid—”
“Here now, that’s no way to talk. Hmm, you seem such a nice boy, I’ll come along and show you Lord Yagyū’s place.”
Walking in front of him with the matting on her head, she looked to Iori rather like a ghost.
They were in the middle of the bridge when a man coming toward them brushed against her sleeve and whistled. He reeked of sake. Before Iori knew what was going on, the woman turned and made for the drunk. “I know you,” she warbled. “Don’t just pass me by like that. It isn’t nice.” She grabbed his sleeve and started toward a place from which they could go below the bridge.
“Let go,” he said.
“Wouldn’t you like to go with me?”
“No money.”
“Oh, I don’t care.” Latching on to him like a leech, she looked back at Iori’s startled face and said, “Run along now. I’ve got business with this gentleman.”
Iori watched in bewilderment as the two of them tugged back and forth. After a few moments, the woman appeared to get the upper hand, and they disappeared below