Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [624]
“It wouldn’t have been difficult to forget how hard our lives were doing menial work. If we hadn’t stuck together, we wouldn’t have been alive for Lord Sansai to engage us. We mustn’t let ourselves forget that providence took care of us during those difficult years.”
Ending his recital, he held up a cup, saying, “Forgive me for talking so long about us. I just wanted you to know we’re men of goodwill, even if our sake’s not first class and the food not very plentiful. We want you to put up a brave fight the day after tomorrow. If you lose, we’ll bury your bones for you, don’t worry.”
Accepting the cup, Musashi replied, “I’m honored to be here among you. It’s better than drinking the very best sake in the finest mansion. I only hope I’ll be as lucky as you’ve been.”
“Don’t hope that! You’ll have to learn to weave horseshoes.”
The sound of sliding dirt cut short their laughter. Their eyes went to the dike, where they saw the crouching batlike figure of a man.
“Who’s there?” cried Kagashirō, on his feet at once. Another man rose, drawing his sword, and the two climbed the dike and peered through the mist.
Laughing, Kagashirō called down, “It seems to have been one of Kojirō’s followers. He probably thinks we’re Musashi’s seconds and we’re having a secret strategy session. He got away before we got a good look at him.”
“I can see Kojirō’s supporters doing that,” remarked one man.
The atmosphere remained lighthearted, but Musashi decided not to linger any longer. The last thing he wanted was to do anything that might bring harm to these men later. He thanked them profusely for their kindness and left them to their party, walking casually into the darkness.
At least, he seemed casual.
Nagaoka’s cold wrath for letting Musashi leave his house fell on several people, but he waited until the morning of the twelfth to dispatch men to look for him.
When the men reported they couldn’t find Musashi—had no idea where he was—Sado’s white eyebrows shot up anxiously. “What could have happened to him? Is it possible—” He did not want to finish the thought.
Also on the twelfth, Kojirō called at the castle and was warmly received by Lord Tadatoshi. They had some sake together, and Kojirō left in high spirits, riding his favorite pony.
By evening, the town was humming with rumors.
“Musashi probably got scared and ran away.”
“No doubt about it. He’s gone.”
That night was a sleepless one for Sado. He tried to convince himself that it simply wasn’t possible—Musashi wasn’t the type to run away…. Still, it was not unknown for a seemingly reliable person to break down under stress. Fearing the worst, Sado foresaw having to commit seppuku, the only honorable solution if Musashi, whom he had recommended, failed to show up.
The bright, clear dawn of the thirteenth found him walking in the garden with Iori, asking himself over and over: “Was I mistaken? Did I misjudge the man?”
“Good morning, sir.” Nuinosuke’s tired face appeared at the side gate. “Did you find him?”
“No, sir. None of the innkeepers have seen anyone even resembling him.” “Did you ask at the temples?”
“The temples, the dōjō, all the other places students of the martial arts go to. Magobeinojō and his group have been out all night and—”
“They haven’t come back yet.” Sado’s brow furrowed. Through the fresh leaves of the plum trees, he could see the blue sea; the waves seemed to be beating against his very chest. “I don’t understand it.”
“He’s nowhere to be found, sir.”
One by one the searchers returned, tired and disappointed. Assembling near the veranda, they talked the situation over in a mood of anger and desperation.
According to Kinami Kagashirō, who had passed by Sasaki Kojirō’s house, several hundred supporters