Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [546]
“Brat!” said Osugi, then she whacked him across the shoulder with her cane. He went through the motions of taking a stance, though he knew he was hopelessly outnumbered. “Musashi has only the best of disciples. Ha! I hear you’re one of them.”
“I … I wouldn’t say things like that if I were you.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you now?”
“I … I don’t have any business with you.”
“Oh, yes you do. You’re going to tell us a few things. Who sent you to follow us?”
“Follow you?” Iori asked with a snort of disdain.
“How dare you talk that way!” the old woman screeched. “Hasn’t Musashi taught you any manners?”
“I don’t need any lessons from you. I’m leaving.”
“No you aren’t!” cried Osugi as she caught him on the shin with her cane. “O-w-w!” Iori collapsed to the ground.
Attendants grabbed the boy and marched him over to the miller’s shop by the village gate, where sat a samurai of obviously high rank. He had finished eating and was sipping hot water. Seeing Iori’s predicament, he broke into a grin.
“Dangerous,” thought the boy, as his eyes met Kojirō’s.
With a look of triumph, Osugi thrust out her chin and said, “See! Just as I thought—it was Iori. What’s Musashi got up his sleeve now? Who else could have sent him to follow us?”
“Umm,” mumbled Kojirō, nodding and dismissing his attendants, one of whom asked if he wanted the boy tied up.
Kojirō smiled and shook his head. Held by Kojirō’s eyes, Iori was unable to stand straight, let alone run away.
Kojirō said, “You heard what she said. Is it true?”
“No; I just came out for a ride. I wasn’t following you or anybody else.”
“Hmm, could be. If Musashi’s any kind of a samurai, he wouldn’t resort to cheap tricks.” Then he began thinking out loud. “On the other hand, if he heard we’d suddenly left on a trip with a contingent of Hosokawa samurai, he might get suspicious and send someone to check on our movements. It would only be natural.”
The change in Kojirō’s circumstances was striking. Instead of the forelock, his head was shaved in proper samurai fashion. And in place of the loud clothing he used to wear, he had on a solid black kimono, which together with his rustic hakama made a most conservative impression. The Drying Pole he now carried at his side. His hope of becoming a vassal in the House of Hosokawa had been realized—not for the five thousand bushels he had wanted but for a stipend about half that large.
The present entourage, under the command of Kakubei, was an advance party on the way to Buzen to make things ready for Hosokawa Tadatoshi’s return. With his father’s age foremost in his mind, he had submitted his request to the shogunate quite some time earlier. Permission had finally been granted, an indication that the shogunate had no qualms about the Hosokawas’ loyalty.
Osugi had asked to come along because she felt it imperative to return home. She had not relinquished her position as head of the family, yet she had been absent for nearly ten years. Uncle Gon might have looked after things for her if he were still alive. As it was, she suspected there were a number of family matters awaiting her attention.
They would be going through Osaka, where she had left Uncle Gon’s ashes. She would be able to carry them to Mimasaka and hold a memorial service. It had been a long time, too, since she’d held a service for her neglected ancestors. She could return to her quest after she had straightened out affairs at home.
Recently she’d felt pleased with herself, believing she had struck a strong blow against Musashi. On first hearing of his recommendation from Kojirō, she had fallen into a state of extreme depression. If Musashi were to receive the appointment, he would be that much farther from her reach.
She’d taken it upon herself to prevent this disaster to the shogunate and the nation from happening. She hadn’t seen Takuan, but she visited the .House of Yagyū as well