Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [535]
Takuan shooed Tanzaemon out the door, unceremoniously and without showing any sympathy, but Tanzaemon seemed to appreciate the unsentimental attitude. After numerous bows of gratitude, he picked up his reed hat and shakuhachi and left.
For fear of slipping, Tanzaemon chose to go through the woods, where the path sloped more gently. Presently his cane struck an obstacle. Feeling around with his hands, he was surprised to find two bodies lying motionless on the damp ground.
He hurried back to the cabin. “Takuan! Can you help me? I came across two unconscious boys in the woods.” Takuan roused himself and came outside. Tanzaemon continued: “I don’t have any medicine with me, and I can’t see well enough to get water for them.”
Takuan slipped on his sandals and shouted toward the bottom of the hill. His voice carried easily. A farmer answered, asking him what he wanted. Takuan told him to bring a torch, some men and some water. While he waited, he suggested to Tanzaemon that the road was the better way to go, described it in detail and sent him on his way. Halfway down the hill, Tanzaemon passed the men coming up.
When Takuan arrived with the farmers, Jōtarō had come to and was sitting underneath the tree, looking dazed. One hand resting on Iori’s arm, he was debating whether to revive him and find out what he wanted to know or to get away from there. He reacted to the torch like a nocturnal animal, tensing his muscles, ready to run.
“What’s going on here?” asked Takuan. As he looked more closely, inquisitive interest turned to surprise, a surprise matched by Jōtarō’s. The young man was much taller than the boy Takuan had known, and his face had changed quite a bit.
“You’re Jōtarō, aren’t you?”
The youth placed both hands on the ground and bowed. “Yes, I am,” he replied haltingly, almost fearfully. He’d recognized Takuan instantly.
“Well, I must say, you’ve grown up to be a fine young man.” Turning his attention to Iori, he put his arm around him and ascertained that he was still alive.
Iori revived, and after looking around curiously for a few seconds, burst into tears.
“What’s the matter?” Takuan asked soothingly. “Are you hurt?”
Iori shook his head and blubbered, “I’m not hurt. But they took my teacher away. He’s in the prison in Chichibu.” With Iori bawling the way he was, Takuan had trouble understanding him, but soon the basic facts of the story became clear. Takuan, realizing the seriousness of the situation, was nearly as grieved as Iori.
Jōtarō, too, was deeply agitated. In a shaky voice, he said abruptly, “Takuan, I have something to tell you. Could we go somewhere where we can talk?”
“He’s one of the thieves,” said Iori. “You can’t trust him. Anything he says will be a lie.” He pointed accusingly at Jōtarō, and they glared at each other.
“Shut up, both of you. Let me decide who’s right and who’s wrong.” Takuan led them back to the house and ordered them to build a fire outside.
Seating himself by the fire, Takuan commanded them to do likewise. Iori hesitated, his expression saying very plainly he had no intention of being friendly with a thief. But seeing Takuan and Jōtarō talking amiably over old times, he felt a pang of jealousy and grudgingly took a seat near them.
Jōtarō lowered his voice, and like a woman confessing her sins before the Buddha, became very earnest.
“For four years now, I’ve been receiving training from a man named Daizō. He comes from Narai in Kiso. I’ve learned about his aspirations and what he wants to do for the world. I’d be willing to die for him, if necessary. And that’s why I’ve tried to help him with his work…. Well, it does hurt to be called a thief. But I’m still Musashi’s disciple. Even though I’m separated from him, I’ve never been apart from him in spirit, not even for a day.”
He hurried on, not waiting to be asked questions. “Daizō and I have sworn by the gods of heaven and earth not to tell anyone what our aim in life is. I can’t even tell you. Still, I can’t stand by when Musashi’s been thrown in prison.