Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [572]
Gonnosuke’s thoughts made his body feel warm all over. The peaks of Kawachi, the woods around the Kongōji, the howling storm, seemed to become living beings, calling to him in a dream.
Iori could not get the unknown priest out of his mind. He was still thinking of the ghostly white figure much later when the storm intensified. He pulled the covers over his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When they set out the next day, the clouds above the mountains were rainbow-colored. Just outside the village, a traveling merchant materialized from the morning mist and wished them a jovial good morning.
Gonnosuke replied perfunctorily. Iori, absorbed in the thoughts that had kept him awake the night before, was no more talkative.
The man tried to strike up a conversation. “You stayed at Tōroku’s house last night, didn’t you? I’ve known him for years. Fine people, him and his wife.”
This elicited only a mild grunt from Gonnosuke.
“I also call at Koyagyū Castle from time to time,” said the merchant. “Kimura Sukekurō had done me a lot of favors.”
This met with another grunt.
“I see you’ve been to the ‘Women’s Mount Kōya.’ I suppose now you’ll be going to Mount Kōya itself. It’s just the right time of the year. The snow’s gone, and all the roads have been repaired. You can take your time crossing Amami and Kiimi passes, spend the night at Hashimoto or Kamuro—”
The man’s probing about their itinerary made Gonnosuke suspicious. “What business are you in?” he asked.
“I sell braided cord,” said the man, pointing to the small bundle on his back. “The cord’s made of flat-braided cotton. It was only invented recently, but it’s getting popular fast.”
“I see,” said Gonnosuke.
“Tōroku’s helped me a lot, telling worshipers at the Kongōji about my cord. As a matter of fact, I was planning to stay at his house last night, but he said he already had two guests. That was sort of a disappointment. When I stay with him, he always fills me up with good sake.” He laughed.
Relaxing a bit, Gonnosuke began asking questions about places along the way, for the merchant was quite familiar with the local countryside. By the time they reached Amami plateau, the conversation had grown fairly friendly.
“Hey, Sugizō!”
A man came trotting along the road to catch up with them.
“Why did you go off and leave me? I was waiting at Amano Village. You said you’d stop by for me.”
“Sorry, Gensuke,” said Sugizō. “I fell in with these two and we got to talking. I forgot all about you.” He laughed and scratched his head.
Gensuke, who was dressed like Sugizō, turned out to be a cord salesman too. As they walked, the two merchants fell to discussing business.
Coming to a gully about twenty feet deep, Sugizō suddenly stopped talking and pointed.
“Oh, that’s dangerous,” he said.
Gonnosuke stopped and looked at the gully, which might have been a gap left by an earthquake, perhaps one that happened a very long time ago. “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked.
“Those logs, they’re not safe to cross. See, there—some of the rocks supporting them have been washed away. We’ll fix it so the logs are steady.” Then he added, “We should do that for the sake of other travelers.”
Gonnosuke watched as they squatted at the edge of the cliff and began packing rocks and dirt under the logs. While thinking that these two merchants traveled a great deal, and thus knew the difficulties of travel as well as anybody, he was a little surprised. It was unusual for men like them to care enough about others to go to the trouble