Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [609]
She was crouching down in the position expected of peddlers and had in her arms a heavy-looking basket, from which she was selling clams, abalone and kelp. The things still left unsold suggested business was not very good.
Tied to her back with a soiled strip of cloth was a baby about a year old.
More than anything else, it was the child that made Matahachi’s heart beat faster. Pressing his palms against his cheeks, he counted up the months. If the baby was in its second year, it had been conceived while they were in Edo… and Akemi had been pregnant when they were publicly whipped.
The light of the evening sun, reflected from the river, danced on Matahachi’s face, making it seem bathed in tears. He was deaf to the bustle of traffic moving along the street. Akemi was walking slowly down by the river. He started after her, waving his arms and shouting. Kōetsu and Gonnosuke followed.
“Matahachi, where are you going?”
He had forgotten all about the two men. He stopped and waited for them to catch up. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “To tell the truth … ” Truth? How could he explain to them what he was going to do when he couldn’t explain it to himself? Sorting out his emotions was beyond him at the moment, but finally he blurted out, “I’ve decided not to be a priest—to return to ordinary life. I haven’t been ordained yet.”
“Returning to ordinary life?” exclaimed Kōetsu. “So suddenly? Hmm. You look strange.”
“I can’t explain it now. Even if I did, it’d probably sound crazy. I just saw the woman I used to live with. And she’s carrying a baby on her back. I think it must be mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, well … “
“Now calm down and think. Is it really your child?”
“Yes! I’m a father! … I’m sorry. I didn’t know … I’m ashamed. I can’t let her go through life like that—selling things out of a basket like a common tramp. I’ve got to go to work and help my child.”
Kōetsu and Gonnosuke looked at each other in dismay. Though not quite sure whether Matahachi was still in his right mind, Kōetsu said, “I suppose you know what you’re doing.”
Matahachi took off the priest’s robe covering his ordinary kimono and handed it to Kōetsu, together with his prayer beads. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but will you give these to Gudō at the Myōshinji? I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him I’m going to stay here in Osaka, get a job and be a good father.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? Give up the priesthood, just like that?”
“Yes. Anyway, the master told me I could go back to ordinary life anytime I wanted to.”
“Hmm.”
“He said you don’t have to be in a temple to practice religious discipline. It’s more difficult, but he said it’s more praiseworthy to be able to control yourself and keep your faith in the midst of lies and filth and conflict—all the ugly things in the outside world—than in the clean, pure surroundings of a temple.”
“I’m sure he’s right.”
“I’ve been with him more than a year now, but he hasn’t given me a priestly name. Always just calls me Matahachi. Maybe something’ll come up in the future I don’t understand. Then I’ll go to him immediately. Tell him that for me, won’t you?”
And with that, Matahachi was gone.
The Evening Boat
A single red cloud, looking like a great streamer, hung low over the horizon. Near the bottom of the glassy waveless sea was an octopus.
Around noon a small boat had tied up in the estuary of the Shikama River, discreetly out of sight. Now, as twilight deepened, a thin column of smoke rose from a clay brazier on the deck. An old woman was breaking sticks and feeding the fire.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
“No,” answered the girl lying in the bottom of the boat behind some red matting. She shook her head weakly, then lifted it and looked