Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [502]
What was wrong with him? Why was it that when Musashi stared at him, he couldn’t stare straight back? More vexed by his failure than an adult would have been, he was trying very hard to find the explanation when he became conscious of a pair of eyes. They were aimed at him from the branches of a wild grapevine, which twined around a tree in front of the cabin.
“What’s that?” he thought.
The brightly shining eyes reminded him strongly of Musashi’s eyes during practice sessions.
“Must be a possum.” He had seen one several times, eating the wild grapes. The eyes were like agate, the eyes of a fierce hobgoblin.
“Beast!” cried Iori. “You think I don’t have any courage, think even you can outstare me. Well, I’ll show you! I’m not about to lose to you.”
With grim determination, he tensed his elbows and glared back. The possum, whether out of stubbornness or curiosity, made no move to flee. Its eyes took on an even more lustrous brilliance.
The effort so absorbed Iori that he forgot to breathe. He swore again not to lose, not to this lowly beast. After what seemed like hours, he realized with a flash that he had triumphed. The leaves of the grapevine shook and the possum vanished.
“That’ll show you!” exulted Iori. He was drenched with sweat, but he felt relieved and refreshed. He only hoped he would be able to repeat the performance the next time he confronted Musashi.
Having lowered a reed blind on the window and snuffed out the lamp, he went to bed. A bluish-white light reflected from the grass outside. He dozed off, but inside his head he seemed to see a tiny spot, shining like a jewel. In time, the spot grew into the vague outline of the possum’s face.
Tossing and moaning, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the conviction that there were eyes at the foot of his pallet. He roused himself with difficulty. “Bastard,” he cried, reaching for his sword. He took a murderous swing but ended up doing a somersault. The shadow of the possum was a moving spot on the blind. He slashed at it wildly, then ran outside and hacked fiercely at the grapevine. His eyes rose skyward in search of the eyes.
There came into focus, slowly, two large, bluish stars.
Four Sages with a Single Light
“Here we are,” Shinzō said as they reached the foot of Akagi Hill.
From the flute music, which sounded like the accompaniment to a sacred shrine dance, and the bonfire visible through the woods, Musashi thought a night festival must be in progress. The trip to Ushigome had taken two hours.
On one side was the spacious compound of Akagi Shrine; across the sloping street stood the earthen wall of a large private residence and a gate of magnificent proportions. When they reached the gate, Musashi dismounted and handed the reins to Shinzō, thanking him as he did so.
Shinzō led the horse inside and handed the reins to one of a group of samurai waiting near the entrance with paper lanterns in their hands. They all came forward, welcomed him back and led the way through the trees to a clearing in front of the imposing entrance hall. Inside, servants holding lanterns were lined up on both sides of the hallway.
The chief steward greeted them, saying, “Come in. His lordship is expecting you. I’ll show you the way.”
“Thank you,” replied Musashi. He followed the steward up a stairway and into a waiting room.
The design of the house was unusual; one stairway after another led to a series of apartments, which gave the impression of being stacked one above another all the way up Akagi Hill. As he seated himself, Musashi noted that the room was well up the slope. Beyond a drop at the edge of the garden, he could just make out the northern part of the castle moat and the woods framing the escarpment. He found himself thinking that the view from the room in the daytime must be breathtaking.
Noiselessly, the door in an arched doorway slid open. A beautiful serving girl came gracefully in and placed a tray bearing cakes, tea and tobacco in front of him. Then she slipped out as quietly as she had entered. It seemed