Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [537]
Jōtarō realized that the shakuhachi he had heard the night before must have belonged to his father. Without being told, he could imagine how his father must look and feel as he wandered around from place to place.
“Takuan, wait! I’ll talk. I’ll tell everything to the Buddha, including my promise to Daizō.” He caught hold of the priest’s sleeve, and the two went into the grove.
Jōtarō confessed in a long monologue, omitting nothing. Takuan neither moved a muscle nor spoke.
“That’s all,” said Jōtarō.
“Everything?”
“Every single thing.”
“Good.”
Takuan remained silent for fully an hour. Dawn came. Crows began cawing; dew glistened everywhere. Takuan sat on the root of a cryptomeria. Jōtarō leaned against another tree, head bowed, waiting for the tongue-lashing he knew was coming.
When Takuan finally spoke, he appeared to have no more doubts. “I must say, you got mixed up with quite a crowd. Heaven help them. They don’t understand which way the world is turning. It’s a good thing you told me before matters got worse.” Reaching into his kimono, he produced, surprisingly enough, two gold coins and handed them to Jōtarō. “You’d better get away as fast as you can. The slightest delay may bring disaster not only to you but to your father and your teacher. Get as far away as possible but don’t go near the Kōshū highroad or the Nakasendō. By noon today, they’ll be carrying out a rigid check on all travelers.”
“What’ll happen to Sensei? I can’t go away and leave him where he is.”
“Leave that to me. After a year or two, when things have quieted down, you can go to see him and make your apologies. Then I’ll put in a good word for you.
“Good-bye.”
“Just a minute.”
“Yes?”
“Go to Edo first. In Azabu there’s a Zen temple called Shōjuan. Your father should be there by now. Take this seal I received from the Daitokuji. They’ll know it’s mine. Get them to give you and your father priests’ hats and robes, as well as the necessary credentials. Then you can travel in disguise.”
“Why do I have to pretend to be a priest?”
“Is there no end to your naiveté? You, my silly young friend, are an agent of a group planning to kill the shōgun, set fire to Ieyasu’s castle in Suruga, throw the whole Kantō district into confusion and take over the government. In short, you’re a traitor. If you’re caught, the mandatory punishment is death by hanging.”
Jōtarō’s mouth fell open.
“Now go.”
“May I ask one question? Why should men who want to overthrow the Tokugawas be considered traitors? Why aren’t the ones who overthrew the Toyotomis and seized control of the country traitors?”
“Don’t ask me,” Takuan answered with a cold stare.
The Pomegranate
Takuan and Iori arrived at Lord Hōjō Ujikatsu’s mansion in Ushigome later the same day. A young retainer stationed at the gate went to announce Takuan, and a few minutes later Shinzō came out.
“My father is at Edo Castle,” said Shinzō. “Won’t you come in and wait?” “At the castle?” said Takuan. “I’ll go on then, since that’s where I was headed anyway. Would you mind if I left Iori here with you?”
“Not at all,” replied Shinzō with a smile and a quick glance at Iori. “May I order a palanquin for you?”
“If you would.”
The lacquered palanquin was barely out of sight before Iori was at the stables, inspecting Lord Ujikatsu’s well-fed chestnut browns and dappled grays one by one. He particularly admired their faces, which he thought much more aristocratic than those of workhorses of his acquaintance. There was a mystery here, though: how could the warrior class afford to keep large numbers of horses standing idle, instead of having them out working the fields?
He was just beginning to imagine cavalrymen riding into battle when Shinzō’s loud voice distracted him. He looked toward the house, expecting a scolding, but saw that the object of Shinzō’s wrath was a thin old woman with a staff and a stubbornly set face.
“Pretending to be out!” shouted Shinzō. “Why would my father have to pretend to an old hag he doesn’t even know?”
“My, aren’t you angry?