Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [99]
He glanced at her face, which was partially hidden by a broad-brimmed hat, nodded and resumed his search.
“Was it money?”
Jōtarō, thoroughly absorbed, paid little attention to the question, but managed a negative grunt.
“Well, was it a bamboo tube about a foot long with a cord attached?” Jōtarō jumped up. “Yes! How did you know?”
“So it was you the drivers near the Mampukuji were yelling at for teasing their horse!”
“Ah-h-h … well … “
“When you got scared and ran, the cord must’ve broken. The tube fell on the road, and the samurai who’d been talking to the drivers picked it up. Why don’t you go back and ask him about it?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thanks.”
Just as he started to run off, the young woman called after him. “Wait! There’s no need to go back. I can see the samurai coming this way. The one in the field hakarna.” She pointed toward the man.
Jōtarō stopped and waited, eyes wide.
The samurai was an impressive man of about forty. Everything about him was a little bigger than life—his height, his jet-black beard, his broad shoulders, his massive chest. He wore leather socks and straw sandals, and when he walked, his firm footsteps seemed to compact the earth. Jōtarō, certain at a glance that this was a great warrior in the service of one of the more prominent daimyō, felt too frightened to address him.
Fortunately, the samurai spoke first, summoning the boy. “Weren’t you the imp who dropped this bamboo tube in front of the Mampukuji?” he asked. “Oh, that’s it! You found it!”
“Don’t you know how to say thank you?”
“I’m sorry. Thank you, sir.”
“I daresay there’s an important letter inside. When your master sends you on a mission, you shouldn’t be stopping along the way to tease horses, hitching rides on wagons, or loafing by the wayside.”
“Yes, sir. Did you look inside, sir?”
“It’s only natural when you’ve found something to examine it and return it to its owner, but I did not break the seal on the letter. Now that you have it back, you should check and see that it’s in good order.”
Jōtarō took the cap from the tube and peered inside. Satisfied that the letter was still there, he hung the tube from his neck and swore not to lose it a second time.
The young woman looked as pleased as Jōtarō. “It was very kind of you, sir,” she said to the samurai, in an attempt to make up for Jōtarō’s inability to express himself properly.
The bearded samurai started walking along with the two of them. “Is the boy with you?” he asked her.
“Oh, no. I’ve never seen him before.”
The samurai laughed. “I thought you made a rather strange pair. He’s a funny-looking little devil, isn’t he—’Lodgings’ written on his hat and all?”
“Perhaps it’s his youthful innocence that’s so appealing. I like him too.” Turning to Jōtarō, she asked, “Where are you going?”
Walking along between them, Jōtarō was once again in high spirits. “Me? I’m going to Nara, to the Hōzōin.” A long, narrow object wrapped in gold brocade and nestled in the girl’s obi caught his eye. Staring at it, he said, “I see you have a letter tube too. Be careful you don’t lose it.”
“Letter tube? What do you mean?”
“There, in your obi.”
She laughed. “This isn’t a letter tube, silly! It’s a flute.”
“A flute?” Eyes burning with curiosity, Jōtarō unabashedly moved his head close to her waist to inspect the object. Suddenly, a strange feeling came over him. He pulled back and seemed to be examining the girl.
Even children have a sense of feminine beauty, or at least they understand instinctively whether a woman is pure or not. Jōtarō was impressed with the girl’s loveliness and respected it. It seemed to him an unimaginable stroke of good luck that he should be walking along with one so pretty. His heart throbbed and he felt giddy.
“I see. A flute … Do you play the flute, Auntie?” he asked. Then, obviously remembering Akemi’s reaction to the word, he abruptly changed his question. “What’s your name?”
The girl laughed and