Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [529]
They checked the corpses. Seven had been killed with the staff, only five with the sword.
Musashi said, “I haven’t done anything except defend myself, but this area belongs to the shrine. I feel I should explain things to the government official in charge. Then he can ask his questions and get the incident cleared up.”
On their way down the mountain, they ran into a contingent of armed officials at the bridge at Kosaruzawa. Musashi told his story. The captain in charge listened, seemingly puzzled, but nevertheless ordered Musashi tied up.
Shocked, Musashi wanted to know why, since he was on his way to report to them in the first place.
“Get moving,” ordered the captain.
Angry as Musashi was about being treated as an ordinary criminal, there was still another surprise coming. There were more officials farther down the mountain. By the time they arrived in the town, his guard numbered no fewer than a hundred.
Brother Disciples
“Come now, no more tears.” Gonnosuke hugged Iori to his chest. “You’re a man, aren’t you?”
“It’s because I’m a man … that I’m crying.” He lifted his head, opened his mouth wide and bawled at the sky.
“They didn’t arrest Musashi. He gave himself up.” Gonnosuke’s mild words masked his own deep concern. “Come on, let’s go now.”
“No! Not until they bring him back.”
“They’ll let him go soon. They’ll have to. Do you want me to leave you here by yourself?” Gonnosuke walked a few paces away.
Iori didn’t move. Just then, Baiken’s dog came charging out of the woods, his muzzle a dull, bloody red.
“Help!” screamed Iori, running to Gonnosuke’s side.
“You’re worn out, aren’t you? Look, would you like me to carry you piggyback?”
Iori, pleased, mumbled his thanks, climbed on the proffered back and wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders.
With the festival over the night before, the visitors had departed. A gentle breeze wafted bits of bamboo wrapping and scraps of paper along the deserted streets.
Passing the Oinu Teahouse, Gonnosuke glanced inside, intending to go by unnoticed.
But Iori piped out, “There’s the woman who ran away!”
“I imagine that’s where she’d be.” He stopped and wondered aloud, “If the officials dragged in Musashi, why didn’t they arrest her too?”
When Okō saw Gonnosuke, her eyes blazed with anger.
Seeing she seemed to be hurriedly gathering her belongings together, Gonnosuke laughed. “Going on a trip?” he asked.
“None of your business. Don’t think I don’t know you, you meddling scoundrel. You killed my husband!”
“You brought it on yourselves.”
“I’ll get even one of these days.”
“She-demon!” Iori shouted over Gonnosuke’s head.
Retreating into the back room, Okō laughed scornfully. “You’re fine ones to be saying bad things about me when you’re the thieves who broke into the treasure house.”
“What’s this?” Gonnosuke let Iori slide to the ground and went into the teahouse. “Who are you calling thieves?”
“You can’t fool me.”
“Say that again, and—”
“Thieves!”
As Gonnosuke grabbed her arm, she turned and stabbed at him with a dagger. Not bothering with his staff, he wrested the dagger from her hand and sent her sprawling through the front door.
Okō jumped up and screamed, “Help! Thieves! I’m being attacked.” Gonnosuke took aim and hurled the dagger. It entered her back and the point came out in front. Okō pitched forward onto her face.
From nowhere, Kuro bounded forth and was at the body, first slurping blood hungrily, then lifting his head to howl at the sky.
“Look at those eyes!” exclaimed Iori in horror.
Okō’s cry of “Thieves!” had caught the ears of the excited villagers. Sometime before dawn, someone had broken into the temple treasure house. It was clearly the work of outsiders, for the religious treasures—old swords, mirrors and the like—had been left untouched, but a fortune in gold dust, bullion and cash, accumulated over a period of many years, was missing. The news had leaked