Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [498]
Over sixty years old, with a shaggy, hemplike mane of white hair, Umpei was a man who enjoyed the respect of his neighbors and the admiration of the young people, whom he bigheartedly treated as his own children. Each morning he could be heard chanting Namu Myōhō Rengekyō, the sacred invocation of the Nichiren sect.
A native of Itō in Izu Province, he had a sign in front of his house saying: “Idohori no Umpei, Well Digger for the Shōgun’s Castle.” To build the many wells necessary for the castle involved technical skills beyond those of ordinary laborers. Umpei had been hired as a consultant and recruiter of workers because of his long experience in the gold mines of Izu Peninsula. He enjoyed nothing more than sitting under his beloved gourd trellis, spinning yarns and drinking his nightly cup of cheap but potent shōchū, the poor man’s sake.
After Matahachi emerged from the bath, Akemi surrounded the washtub with rain shutters and had hers. Later, the matter of Umpei’s proposal came up once again. Besides having to stay on the castle grounds, the workers were watched very closely, and their families were virtually hostages of the bosses of the areas where they lived. On the other hand, the work was easier than on the outside and paid at least twice as much.
Leaning over a tray on which there was a dish of cold bean curd, garnished with fresh, fragrant basil leaf, Matahachi said, “I don’t want to become a prisoner just to earn a little money. I’m not going to sell melons all my life, but bear with me a little longer, Akemi.”
“Umm,” she replied between mouthfuls of tea-and-rice gruel. “I’d rather you tried just once to do something really worthwhile, something that would make people take notice.”
Though nothing was ever said or done to discourage the idea that she was Matahachi’s legal wife, she wasn’t about to marry anyone who shilly-shallied the way he did. Fleeing the world of play at Sakaimachi with Matahachi had been only an expedient; he was the perch from which she intended, at the first opportunity, to fly once more into the open sky. But it did not suit her purposes for Matahachi to go off to the castle to work. She felt being left alone would be dangerous; specifically, she was afraid Hamada might find her and force her to live with him.
“Oh, I forgot,” said Matahachi, as they finished their frugal meal. He then told her about his experiences that day, adjusting the details in a fashion calculated to please her. By the time he had finished, her face was ashen.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “You saw Kojirō? Did you tell him I was here? You didn’t, did you?”
Matahachi took her hand and placed it on his knee. “Of course not. Do you think I’d let that bastard know where you are? He’s the kind that never gives up. He’d be after you—”
He broke off with an inarticulate shout and pressed his hand to the side of his face. The green persimmon that smashed against his cheek broke and spattered its whitish meat in Akemi’s face.
Outside, in the shadows of a moonlit bamboo grove, a form not unlike that of Kojirō could be seen walking nonchalantly away in the direction of town.
Eyes
“Sensei!” called Iori, who was not yet tall enough to see over the tall grass. They were on Musashino Plain, which was said to cover ten counties.
“I’m right here,” replied Musashi. “What’s taking you so long?”
“I guess there’s a path, but I keep losing it. How much farther do we have to go?”
“Till we find a good place to live.”
“Live? We’re going to stay around here?”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
Iori gazed up at the sky, thought of its vastness and the emptiness of the land around him and said, “I wonder.”
“Think what it’ll be like in the fall. Clear, beautiful skies, fresh dew on the grass. Doesn’t it make you feel cleaner just thinking about it?”
“Well, maybe, but I’m not against living in the city, like you.”
“I’m not, really. In a way, it’s nice to be among people, but even with my thick skin I couldn’t stand being there when those signs were put up. You saw what they said.”
Iori grimaced.