Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [89]
“Look at that now, will you! She’s lighting into the old man. Some of these old grannies really have guts, don’t they!”
A porter ran up with a dipper of water for Osugi. After drinking a mouthful she handed it to Uncle Gon and addressed him sternly. “Now see that you don’t get flustered, because there’s nothing to be flustered about. Takezō’s a man of straw. Oh, he may have learned a little about using a sword, but he couldn’t have learned all that much. Just stay calm!”
Taking the lead, she went straight to the front staircase of the Hongandō and sat down on the steps, not ten paces from Musashi. Paying no attention whatever either to him or to the crowd watching her, she took out her prayer beads, and closing her eyes, began moving her lips. Inspired by her religious fervor, Uncle Gon put his hands together and did likewise.
The sight proved to be a little too melodramatic, and one of the spectators started snickering. Immediately, one of the porters spun around and said challengingly, “Who thinks this is funny? This is no laughing matter, you imbecile! The old woman’s come all the way from Mimasaka to find the good-for-nothing who ran off with her son’s bride. She’s been praying at the temple here every day for almost two months and today he finally showed up.”
“These samurai are different from the rest of us,” was the opinion of another porter. “At that age, the old woman could be living comfortably at home, playing with her grandchildren, but no, here she is, in place of her son, seeking to avenge an insult to her family. If nothing else, she deserves our respect.”
A third one said, “We’re not supporting her just because she’s been giving us tips. She’s got spirit, she has! Old as she is, she’s not afraid to fight. I say we should give her all the help we can. It’s only right to help the underdog! If she should lose, let’s take care of the rōnin ourselves.”
“You’re right! But let’s do it now! We can’t stand here and let her get herself killed.”
As the crowd learned of the reasons for Osugi’s being there, the excitement mounted. Some of the spectators began goading the porters on.
Osugi put her prayer beads back into her kimono, and a hush fell over the temple grounds. “Takezō!” she called loudly, putting her left hand on the short sword at her waist.
Musashi had all the while been standing by in silence. Even when Osugi called out his name, he acted as if he hadn’t heard. Unnerved by this, Uncle Gon, at Osugi’s side, chose this moment to assume an attacking stance, and thrusting his head forward, uttered a cry of challenge.
Musashi again failed to respond. He couldn’t. He simply did not know how to. He recalled Takuan’s having warned him in Himeji that he might run into Osugi. He was prepared to ignore her completely, but he was very upset by the talk the porters had been spreading among the mob. Furthermore, it was difficult for him to restrain his resentment at the hatred the Hon’idens had harbored against him all this time. The whole affair amounted to nothing more than a petty matter of face and feelings in the little village of Miyamoto, a misunderstanding that could be easily cleared up if only Matahachi were present.
Nevertheless, he was at a loss as to what to do here and now. How was one to respond to a challenge from a doddering old woman and a shrunken-faced samurai? Musashi stared on in silence, his mind in a quandary.
“Look at the bastard! He’s afraid!” a porter shouted.
“Be a man! Let the old woman kill you!” taunted another.
There was not a soul who was not on Osugi’s side.
The old woman blinked her eyes and shook her head. Then she looked at the bearers and snapped angrily, “Shut up! I just want you as witnesses. If the two of us should happen to be killed, I want you to send our bodies back to Miyamoto. Otherwise I don’t need your talk, and I don’t want your help!” Pulling her short sword partway out of its scabbard, she took a couple of steps in Musashi’s direction.
“Takezō!” she said again. “Takezō was always your name in the village, so why don’t you answer to