Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [549]
“Well, it’s really Shinzō’s.”
Dismounting, Musashi asked, “You’ve been staying at his house, then?”
“Yes. Takuan took me there.”
“What about our new house?”
“It’s finished.”
“Good. We can go back there.”
“Sensei …”
“Yes.”
“You’re so thin. Why’s that?”
“I’ve spent quite a bit of time meditating.”
“How did you get out of prison?”
“You can hear about it from Gonnosuke later. For now, let’s say the gods were on my side.”
“You don’t have to worry anymore, Iori,” said Gonnosuke. “No one has any doubts about his innocence.”
Relieved, Iori became quite talkative, telling them about his meeting with Jōtarō and Jōtarō’s going to Edo. When he came to the “repulsive old woman” who had showed up at the Hōjō mansion, he remembered Kojirō’s letter.
“Oh, I forgot something important,” he exclaimed, and handed the letter to Musashi.
“A letter from Kojirō?” Surprised, he held it in his hand for a moment as though it were a missive from a long-lost friend. “Where did you see him?” he asked.
“At the village of Nobidome. That mean old woman was with him. He said he was going to Buzen.”
“Oh?”
“He was with a lot of Hosokawa samurai…. Sensei, you better be on your toes and not take any chances.”
Musashi stuffed the unopened letter into his kimono and nodded.
Not certain his meaning had got through, Iori said, “That Kojirō’s very strong, isn’t he? Has he got something against you?” He related to Musashi every detail of his encounter with the enemy.
When they reached the cabin, Iori went down to the bottom of the hill to get food, and Gonnosuke gathered wood and fetched water.
They sat down around the fire burning brightly in the hearth, and savored the pleasure of seeing each other safe and sound again. It was then that Iori noticed the fresh scars and bruises on Musashi’s arms and neck.
“How did you get all those marks?” he asked. “You’re covered with them.” “It’s nothing important. Did you feed the horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tomorrow you must return it.”
Early the next morning, Iori mounted the horse and galloped off for a short ride before breakfast. When the sun was above the horizon, he brought the horse to a halt and gaped in awe.
Racing back to the cabin, he yelled, “Sensei, get up. Quick! It’s like when we saw it from the mountain in Chichibu. The sun—it’s huge, and it looks like it’s going to roll over the plain. Get up, Gonnosuke.”
“Good morning,” said Musashi from the grove, where he was taking a stroll. Too excited to think about breakfast, Iori said, “I’m going now,” and rode off.
Musashi watched as boy and horse took on the semblance of a crow at the very center of the sun. The black spot grew smaller and smaller, until at last it was absorbed by the great flaming orb.
The Gateway to Glory
Before sitting down to breakfast, the gateman raked the garden, set fire to the leaves and opened the gate. Shinzō had been up for some time too. He started his day as he always did, by reading a selection from the Chinese classics. This was followed by sword practice.
From the well, where he’d gone to wash, he walked to the stable to have a look at the horses.
“Groom,” he called.
“Yes, sir.”
“Isn’t the chestnut roan back yet?”
“No, but it isn’t the horse I’m worried about so much as the boy.”
“Don’t worry about Iori. He grew up in the country. He can take care of himself.”
The elderly gateman came up to Shinzō and informed him that some men had come to see him and were waiting in the garden.
Walking toward the house, Shinzō waved, and as he came up to them, one man said, “It’s been a long time.”
“It’s good to see you all together again,” said Shinzō.
“How’s your health?”
“Splendid, as you can see.”
“We heard you’d been wounded.”
“It didn’t amount to much. What brings you here at this early hour?” “There’s a little matter we’d like to talk over with you.”
The five former students of Obata Kagenori, all handsome sons of banner guards or Confucian scholars, exchanged significant glances.
“Let’s go over there,” said Shinzō,