Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [7]
“Stop!” shouted Takezō. “I just want to ask you a question. Don’t go!”
But gone she was, like a flash of lightning in the night. The sound of a small bell receded eerily into the darkness.
“Could it have been a ghost?” Takezō mused aloud as he stared vacantly into the thin mist.
Matahachi shivered and forced a laugh. “If there were any ghosts around here, I think they’d be those of soldiers, don’t you?”
“I wish I hadn’t scared her away,” said Takezō. “There’s got to be a village around here somewhere. She could’ve given us directions.”
They went on and climbed the nearer of the two hills ahead of them. In the hollow on the other side was the marsh that stretched south from Mount Fuwa. And a light, only half a mile away.
When they approached the farmhouse, they got the impression that it wasn’t of the run-of-the-mill variety. For one thing, it was surrounded by a thick dirt wall. For another, its gate verged on being grandiose. Or at least the remains of the gate, for it was old and badly in need of repair.
Takezō went up to the door and rapped lightly. “Is anybody home?”
Getting no answer, he tried again. “Sorry to bother you at this hour, but my friend here is sick. We don’t want to cause any trouble—he just needs some rest.”
They heard whispering inside and, presently, the sound of someone coming to the door.
“You’re stragglers from Sekigahara, aren’t you?” The voice belonged to a young girl.
“That’s right,” said Takezō. “We were under Lord Shimmen of Iga.” “Go away! If you’re found around here, we’ll be in trouble.”
“Look, we’ve very sorry to bother you like this, but we’ve been walking a long time. My friend needs some rest, that’s all, and—”
“Please go away!”
“All right, if you really want us to, but couldn’t you give my friend some medicine? His stomach’s in such bad shape it’s hard for us to keep moving.” “Well, I don’t know. …”
After a moment or two, they heard footsteps and a little tinkling sound receding into the house, growing fainter and fainter.
Just then they noticed the face. It was in a side window, a woman’s face, and it had been watching them all along.
“Akemi,” she called out, “let them in. They’re foot soldiers. The Tokugawa patrols aren’t going to be wasting time on them. They’re nobodies.”
Akemi opened the door, and the woman, who introduced herself as Okō, came and listened to Takezō’s story.
It was agreed that they could have the woodshed to sleep in. To quiet his bowels, Matahachi was given magnolia charcoal powder and thin rice gruel with scallions in it. Over the next few days, he slept almost without interruption, while Takezō, sitting vigil by his side, used cheap spirits to treat the bullet wounds in his thigh.
One evening about a week later, Takezō and Matahachi sat chatting. “They must have a trade of some kind,” Takezō remarked.
“I couldn’t care less what they do. I’m just glad they took us in.”
But Takezō’s curiosity was aroused. “The mother’s not so old,” he went on.
“It’s strange, the two of them living alone here in the mountains.” “Umm. Don’t you think the girl looks a little like Otsū?”
“There is something about her that puts me in mind of Otsū, but I don’t think they really look alike. They’re both nice-looking, that’s about it. What do you suppose she was doing the first time we saw her, creeping around all those corpses in the middle of the night? It didn’t seem to bother her at all. Ha! I can still see it. Her face was as calm and serene as those dolls they make in Kyoto. What a picture!”
Matahachi motioned for him to be quiet.
“Shh! I hear her bell.”
Akemi’s light knock on the door sounded like the tapping of a woodpecker. “Matahachi, Takezō,” she called softly.
“Yes?”
“It’s me.”
Takezō got up and undid the lock. She came in carrying a tray of medicine and food and asked them how they were.
“Much better, thanks to you and your mother.”
“Mother said that even if you feel better, you shouldn’t talk too loud or go outside.”
Takezō spoke for the two of them. “We’re really sorry to put you to so much trouble.