Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [581]
Iori was sweeping the walk between the office and the storehouse. He looked up and asked, “Were you calling me?”
“Were you calling me, sir!”
“I see.”
“I see, sir!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you have ears? Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I heard you say ‘Io.’ That couldn’t be me. My name’s Iori … sir.”
“Io’s enough. And another thing. I told you the other day to stop wearing that sword.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give it to me.”
Iori hesitated a moment, then said, “It’s a keepsake from my father. I couldn’t let go of it.”
“Impudent brat! Give it to me.”
“I don’t want to be a merchant anyway.”
“If it weren’t for merchants, people couldn’t live,” Sahei said forcefully. “Who’d bring in goods from foreign countries? Nobunaga and Hideyoshi are great men, but they couldn’t have built all those castles—Azuchi, Jurakudai, Fushimi—without the help of merchants. Just look at the men here in Sakai—Namban, Ruzon, Fukien, Amoi. They’re all carrying on trade on a large scale.”
“I know that.”
“How would you know?”
“Anybody can see the big weaving houses at Ayamachi, Kinumachi and Nishikimachi, and up on the hill Ruzon’ya’s establishment looks like a castle. There are rows and rows of warehouses and mansions belonging to rich merchants. This place—well, I know madam and Otsuru are proud of it, but it doesn’t amount to anything by comparison.”
“Why, you little son of a bitch!”
Sahei was barely out the door before Iori had dropped his broom and fled. Sahei summoned some dock workers and ordered them to catch him.
When Iori was dragged back, Sahei was fuming. “What can you do with a boy like that? He talks back and makes fun of all of us. Punish him good today.” Going back into the office, he added, “Take that sword away from him.”
They removed the offending weapon and tied Iori’s hands behind him. When they fastened the rope to a large crate of cargo, Iori looked like a monkey on a leash.
“Stay there awhile,” said one of the men, smirking. “Let people make fun of you.” The others guffawed and went back to their work.
There was nothing Iori hated more than this. How often Musashi and Gonnosuke had admonished him not to do things he might be ashamed of.
First he tried pleading, then promised to mend his ways. When this proved ineffective, he switched to invective.
“The manager’s a fool—crazy old fart! Let me loose and give me back my sword! I won’t stay in a house like this.”
Sahei came out and shouted, “Quiet!” He then tried to gag Iori, but the boy bit his finger, so he gave up and had the dock workers do it.
Iori tugged at his bonds, pulling this way and that. Already under a terrible strain from being exposed to public view, he burst into tears when a horse urinated and the foamy liquid trickled toward his feet.
As he was quieting down, he saw something that almost made him faint. On the other side of a horse was a young woman, her head protected from the sweltering sun by a broad-brimmed lacquered hat. Her hemp kimono was tied up for traveling, and she carried a thin bamboo pole.
In vain, he tried to cry out her name. Stretching his neck out, he almost choked with the effort. His eyes were dry, but his shoulders shook with his sobbing. It was maddening, Otsū was so near. Where was she going? Why had she left Edo?
Later in the day, when a ship tied up at the pier, the neighborhood became even busier.
“Sahei, what’s this boy doing out here, looking like a trained bear on exhibit? It’s cruel to leave him like that. It’s also bad for business.” The man calling into the office was a cousin of Tarōzaemon. He was usually called Namban’ya, the name of the shop where he worked. Black pockmarks added a certain sinisterness to the anger in his face. Despite his appearance, he was a friendly man and often gave sweets to Iori. “I don’t care if you are punishing him,” he continued. “It’s not right to do it out on the street. It’s bad for the Kobayashi name. Untie him.”
“Yes, sir.” Sahei complied immediately, all the while regaling Namban’ya with a detailed account of how useless Iori was.
“If you don’t know what to