Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [552]
It was a large room, more than twenty mats in size, known as the “Orchid Room,” after the paintings of birds and spring orchids on the walls and door panels. Before long, a servant came with tea and cakes, but that was Musashi’s only contact with human beings for nearly half a day. The little birds in the pictures did not sing, the orchids gave off no fragrance. Musashi began to yawn.
He assumed that the ruddy-faced, white-haired man who eventually appeared was one of the ministers. Perhaps in his prime he had been a distinguished warrior.
“You’re Musashi, are you?” Lord Sakai Tadakatsu said lightly as he sat down. “Forgive us for making you wait so long.” Though Lord of Kawagoe and a well-known daimyō, in the shōgun’s castle he was merely another official, attended by only one samurai. His manner suggested he cared little about pomp or protocol.
Musashi bowed to the floor and remained in this position as he announced in stiffly formal language: “My name is Miyamoto Musashi. I am a rōnin from Mimasaka, the son of Munisai, who was descended from the Shimmen family. I have come to the castle gate in compliance with the shōgun’s will, as stated in the summons sent to me.”
Tadakatsu nodded several times, causing his double chin to shake. “Many thanks for your trouble,” he said, but then went on in an apologetic vein: “With regard to your appointment to official position, for which you were recommended by the priest Takuan and Lord Hōjō of Awa, there was, last evening, a sudden change in the shōgun’s plans. As a result, you will not be engaged. Since several of us were not satisfied with this decision, the Council of Elders reviewed this matter today. In fact, we have been discussing it until just now. We took the question to the shōgun again. I am sorry to say that we were unable to alter this latest decision.”
There was sympathy in his eyes, and he seemed for a moment to be searching for words of consolation. “In our fleeting world,” he went on, “this sort of thing happens all the time. You mustn’t let yourself be annoyed by what people say about you. In matters having to do with official appointments, it is often difficult to tell whether one has been fortunate or unfortunate.”
Musashi, still bowing, said, “Yes, sir.”
Tadakatsu’s words were music to his ears. Gratitude swelled from the bottom of his heart, filling his whole body.
“I understand the decision, sir. I am grateful to you.” The words came out naturally. Musashi was not concerned with face, nor was he being ironic. He felt that a being greater than the shōgun had just bestowed on him an appointment much higher than that of official tutor. The word of the gods had been vouchsafed to him.
“He took it well,” thought Tadakatsu, gazing rather pointedly at Musashi. Aloud he said, “Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but I’ve been told you have artistic interests unusual in a samurai. I would like to show an example of your work to the shōgun. Replying to the malicious gossip of ordinary people is unimportant. I think it would be more befitting a noble samurai to rise above the babble of the crowd and leave behind a wordless testimony to the purity of his heart. A work of art would be appropriate, don’t you think?”
While Musashi was still pondering the meaning of this, Tadakatsu said, “I hope I will see you again,” and left the room.
Musashi raised his head and sat up straight. It was a couple of minutes before he grasped the meaning of Tadakatsu’s words—that is, there was no need to answer malicious gossip, but he had to give evidence of his character. If he could do this, his honor would be unsullied, and the men who had recommended him would suffer no loss of face.
Musashi’s eye fell on a six-panel screen in one corner of the room. It was invitingly blank. Summoning a young samurai from the guard room, he explained that Lord Sakai had asked him