Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [603]
But somehow the feeling communicated itself. “Oh! There’s someone there. I know it…. Save me. Here! Save me!”
In the snatches of sound that reached her ears, Otsū heard the cry of desperation.
“Where are you?” she screamed hoarsely. “Granny, where are you?” She ran all the way around the shrine, stopped a moment, then ran around it again. Almost by accident, she noticed what looked like a bear’s cave, about twenty paces away, near the bottom of the steep path leading up to the inner shrine.
As she drew closer, she knew for certain the old woman’s voice was coming from within. Arriving at the entrance, she stopped and stared at the large rocks blocking it.
“Who is it? Who’s there? Are you a manifestation of Kannon? I worship her every day. Have pity on me. Save a poor old woman who’s been trapped by a fiend.” Osugi’s pleas took on a hysterical tone. Half crying, half begging, in the dark interval between life and death, she formed a vision of the compassionate Kannon and hurled toward it her fervent prayer for continued life.
“How happy I am!” she cried deliriously. “Kannon the all-merciful has seen the goodness of my heart and taken pity on me. She’s come to rescue me! Great compassion! Great mercy! Hail to the Bodhisattva Kannon, hail to the Bodhisattva Kannon, hail to—”
Her voice broke off abruptly. Perhaps she was thinking that was sufficient, for it was only natural that in her extremity Kannon would come in some form or other to her aid. She was the head of a fine family, a good mother, and believed herself to be an upright and flawless human being. And whatever she did was, of course, morally just.
But then, sensing that whoever was outside the cave was not an apparition but a real, living person, she relaxed, and when she relaxed, she passed out.
Not knowing what the sudden cessation of Osugi’s cries meant, Otsū was beside herself. Somehow, the opening to the cave had to be cleared. As she doubled her efforts, the band holding her basket hat came loose, and the hat and her black tresses tossed wildly in the wind.
Wondering how Jōtarō had been able to put the rocks in place by himself, she pushed and pulled with the strength of her whole body, but nothing budged. Exhausted by the effort, she felt a pang of hatred for Jōtarō, and the initial relief she had felt on locating Osugi turned to gnawing anxiety.
“Hold on, Granny. Just a little longer. I’ll get you out,” she shouted. Though she pressed her lips to a crack in the rocks, she failed to elicit a response.
By and by, she made out a low, feeble chant:
“Or if, meeting man-eating devils,
Venomous dragons, and demons,
He thinks of Kannon’s power,
At once none will dare harm him.
If, surrounded by vicious beasts,
With sharp tusks and frightening claws,
He thinks of Kannon’s power …”
Osugi was intoning the Sutra on Kannon. Only the voice of the bodhisattva was perceptible to her. With her hands clasped together, she was at ease now, tears flowing down her cheeks, lips quivering as the sacred words poured from them.
Struck by an odd feeling, Osugi left off her chanting and put her eye to a crack between the rocks. “Who’s there?” she shouted. “I ask you who’s there?” The wind had ripped off Otsū’s rain cape. Bewildered, exhausted, covered
with mud, she bent down and cried, “Are you all right, Granny? It’s Otsū.” “Who did you say?” came the suspicious question.
“I said it’s Otsū.”
“I see.” There was a long, dead pause before the next incredulous question. “What do you mean, you’re Otsū?”
It was at this point that the first shock wave hit Osugi, rudely scattering her religious thoughts. “Wh-why have you come here? Oh, I know. You’re looking for that devil Jōtarō!”
“No. I’ve come to rescue you, Granny. Please, forget the past. I remember how good you were to me when I was a little girl. Then you turned against me and tried to hurt me. I don’t hold it against you. I admit I was very willful.”
“Oh, so your eyes are open now