Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [47]
“Yes, it hurts,” the fugitive whined.
“Good. If it hurts, you may still have a little human blood coursing through your veins. Otsū, hand me that rope, please… . Well, what are you waiting for? Bring me the rope! Takezō already knows I’m going to tie him up. He’s prepared for it. It’s not the rope of authority, it’s the rope of compassion. There’s no reason for you to either fear or pity him. Quick, girl, the rope!”
Takezō lay still on his stomach, making no effort to move. Takuan easily straddled his back. If Takezō had wanted to resist, he could have kicked Takuan in the air like a little paper ball. They both knew that. Yet he lay passively, arms and legs outstretched, as though he’d finally surrendered to some invisible law of nature.
The Old Cryptomeria Tree
Although it was not the time of the morning when the temple bell was usually rung, its heavy, regular gouging resounded through the village and echoed far into the mountains. This was the day of reckoning, when Takuan’s time limit was up, and the villagers raced up the hill to find out whether he’d done the impossible. The news that he had spread like wildfire.
“Takezō’s been captured!”
“Really! Who got him?”
“Takuan!”
“I can’t believe it! Without a weapon?”
“It can’t be true!”
The crowd surged up to the Shippōji to gawk at the collared outlaw, who was tied like an animal to the stair railing in front of the main sanctuary. Some gulped and gasped at the sight, as though they were beholding the countenance of the dreaded demon of Mount Ō e. As if to deflate their exaggerated reaction, Takuan sat a bit farther up the stairs, leaning back on his elbows and grinning amiably.
“People of Miyamoto,” he shouted, “now you can go back to your fields in peace. The soldiers will be gone soon!”
To the intimidated villagers, Takuan had become a hero overnight, their savior and protector from evil. Some bowed deeply to him, their heads nearly touching the ground of the temple courtyard; others pushed their way forward to touch his hand or robe. Others knelt at his feet. Takuan, appalled at this display of idolatry, pulled away from the mob and held up his hand for silence.
“Listen, men and women of Miyamoto. I have something to say, something important.” The hue and cry died down. “It is not I who deserve the credit for capturing Takezō. It was not I who accomplished it, but the law of nature. Those who break it always lose in the end. It is the law that you should respect.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You caught him, not nature!”
“Don’t be so modest, monk!”
“We give credit where it’s due!”
“Forget the law. We have you to thank!”
“Well, then thank me,” continued Takuan. “I don’t mind that. But you should pay homage to the law. Anyway, what’s done is done, and right now there’s something very important I’d like to ask you about. I need your help.” “What is it?” came the question from the curious crowd.
“Just this: what shall we do with Takezō now that we’ve got him? My agreement with the House of Ikeda’s representative, who I’m sure you all know by sight, was that if I didn’t bring the fugitive back in three days’ time, I’d hang myself from that big cryptomeria. If I did succeed, I was promised, I could decide his fate.”
People started to murmur.
“We heard about that!”
He assumed a judicial pose. “Well, then, what shall we do with him? As you see, the dreaded monster is here in the flesh. Not very fearsome, really, is he? In fact, he came along without a fight, the weakling. Shall we kill him, or let him go?”
There was a rumble of objections at the idea of setting Takezō free. One man shouted, “We’ve got to kill him! He’s no good, he’s a criminal! If we let him live, he’ll be the curse of the village.”
While Takuan paused, seeming to consider the possibilities, angry, impatient voices from the rear shouted, “Kill him! Kill him!”
At that point, an old woman pushed her way to the front, shoving aside men twice her size with sharp jabs