Musashi: Bushido Code (10 page)

"I'll say it as often as I wish. By the way, I don't suppose it makes any difference to you soldiers how much time you squander looking for Takezō, but it's a terrible burden on the farmers. Do you realize what you're doing to them? They won't be able to eat soon if you keep this up. It probably hasn't even occurred to you that they have to neglect their field work completely to go out on your disorganized wild-goose chases. And with no wages, I might add. It's a disgrace!"

"Hold your tongue, traitor. That's outright slander against the Tokugawa government!"

"It isn't the Tokugawa government I'm criticizing; it's bureaucratic officials like you who stand between the daimyō and the common people, and who might as well be stealing their pay for all they do to earn it. For one thing, exactly why are you lounging around here tonight? What gives you the right to relax in your nice, comfortable kimono all snug and warm, take leisurely baths and have your bedtime sake poured for you by a pretty young girl? You call that serving your lord?"

The captain was speechless.

"Is it not the duty of a samurai to serve his lord faithfully and tirelessly? Isn't it your job to exercise benevolence toward the people who slave on the daimyō's behalf? Look at yourself! You just close your eyes to the fact that you're keeping the farmers from the work which gives them daily sustenance. You don't even have any consideration for your own men. You're supposed to be on an official mission, so what do you do? Every chance you get, you literally stuff yourself with other people's hard-earned food and drink and use your position to get the most comfortable quarters available. I should say you are a classic example of corruption, cloaking yourself with the authority of your superior to do nothing more than dissipate the energies of the common people for your own selfish ends."

The captain was by now too stunned to close his gaping mouth. Takuan pressed on.

"Now just try cutting off my head and sending it to Lord Ikeda Terumasa! That, I can tell you, would surprise him. He'd probably say, 'Why, Takuan! Has only your head come to visit me today? Where in the world is the rest of you?'

"No doubt you'd be interested to learn that Lord Terumasa and I used to partake of the tea ceremony together at the Myōshinji. We've also had several long and pleasant chats at the Daitokuji in Kyoto."

Scraggly Beard's virulence drained from him in an instant. His drunkenness had worn off a bit too, though he still appeared incapable of judging for himself whether Takuan was telling the truth or not. He seemed paralyzed, not knowing how to react.

"First, you'd better sit down," said the monk. "If you think I'm lying, I'll be happy to go with you to the castle and appear before the lord himself. As a gift, I could take him some of the delicious buckwheat flour they make here. He's particularly fond of it.

"However, there's nothing more tedious, nothing I like less, than calling on a daimyō. Moreover, if the subject of your activities in Miyamoto should happen to come up while we were chatting over tea, I couldn't very well lie. It would probably end up with your having to commit suicide for your incompetence. I told you from the beginning to stop threatening me, but you warriors are all the same. You never think about consequences. And that's your greatest failing.

"Now put your sword down and I'll tell you something else."

Deflated, the captain complied.

"Of course, you are familiar with General Sun-tzu's
Art of War—
you
know, the classic Chinese work on military strategy? I assume any warrior in your position would be intimately acquainted with such an important book. Anyway, the reason I mention it is that I'd like to give you a lesson illustrating one of the book's main principles. I'd like to show you how to capture Takezō without losing any more of your own men or causing the villagers any more trouble than you have already. Now, this has to do with your official work, so you really should listen carefully." He turned to the girl. "Otsū, pour the captain another cup of sake, will you?"

The captain was a man in his forties, ten years or so older than Takuan, but it was clear from their faces at this moment that strength of character is not a matter of age. Takuan's tongue-lashing had humbled the older man and his bluster had evaporated.

Meekly he said, "No, I don't want any more sake. I hope you'll forgive me. I had no idea you were a friend of Lord Terumasa. I'm afraid I've been very rude." He was abject to the point of being comical, but Takuan refrained from rubbing it in.

"Let's just forget about that. What I want to discuss is how to capture Takezō. That is what you have to do to carry out your orders and maintain your honor as a samurai, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I also know you don't care how long it takes to catch the man. After all, the longer it takes, the longer you can stay on at the temple, eating, drinking and ogling Otsū."

"Please, don't bring that up anymore. Particularly before his lordship." The soldier looked like a child ready to burst into tears.

"I'm prepared to consider the whole incident a secret. But if this running around in the mountains all day long keeps up, the farmers will be in serious trouble. Not only the farmers but all the rest of the people as well. Everyone in this village is too upset and frightened to settle down and get on with their
normal work. Now, as I see it, your trouble is that you have not employed the proper strategy. Actually, I don't think you've employed any strategy at all. I take it that you do not know
The Art of War?"

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but I don't."

"Well, you should be ashamed! And you shouldn't be surprised when I call you a dolt. You may be an official, but you are sadly uneducated and totally ineffectual. There's no use in my beating you over the head with the obvious, however. I'll simply make you a proposition. I personally offer to capture Takezō for you in three days."

"You
capture him?"

"Do you think I'm joking?"

"No, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But counting the reinforcements from Himeji and all the farmers and foot soldiers, we've had more than two hundred men combing the mountains for nearly three weeks."

"I'm well aware of that fact."

"And since it's spring, Takezō has the advantage. There's plenty to eat up there this time of year."

"Are you planning on waiting till it snows, then? Another eight months or so?"

"No, uh, I don't think we can afford to do that."

"You certainly can't. That's precisely why I'm offering to catch him for you. I don't need any help; I can do it alone. On second thoughts, though, maybe I should take Otsū along with me. Yes, the two of us would be enough."

"You aren't serious, are you?"

"Would you please be quiet! Are you implying that Takuan Sōhō spends all his time making up jokes?"

"Sorry."

"As I said, you don't know
The Art of
War, and as I see it, that is the most important reason for your abominable failure. I, on the other hand, may be a simple priest, but I believe I understand Sun-tzu. There's only one stipulation, and if you won't agree to it, I'll just have to sit back and watch you bumble about until the snow falls, and maybe your head as well."

"What's the condition?" said the captain warily.

"If I bring back the fugitive, you'll let me decide his fate."

"What do you mean by that?" The captain pulled at his mustache, a string of thoughts racing through his mind. How could he be sure that this strange monk wasn't deceiving him completely? Although he spoke eloquently, it could be that he was completely insane. Could he be a friend of Takezō's, an accomplice? Might he know where the man was hiding? Even if he didn't, which was likely at this stage, there was no harm in leading him on, just to see whether he'd go through with this crazy scheme. He'd probably worm out of it at the last minute anyway. With this in mind, the captain nodded his assent. "All right, then. If you catch him, you can decide what to do with him. Now, what happens if you
don't
find him in three days?"

"I'll hang myself from the big cryptomeria tree in the garden."

Early the next day, the temple's manservant, looking extremely worried, came rushing into the kitchen, out of breath and half shouting: "Has Takuan lost his mind? I heard he promised to find Takezō himself!"

Eyes rounded.

"No!"

"Not really!"

"Just how does he plan to do it?"

Wisecracks and mocking laughter followed, but there was also an undercurrent of worried whispering.

When word reached the temple priest, he nodded sagely and remarked that the human mouth is the gateway to catastrophe.

But the person most genuinely disturbed was Otsū. Only the day before, the farewell note from Matahachi had hurt her more than news of his death could ever have. She had trusted her fiancé and had even been willing to suffer the formidable Osugi as a slave-driving mother-in-law for his sake. Who was there to turn to now?

For Otsū, plunged into darkness and despair, Takuan was life's one bright spot, her last ray of hope. The day before, weeping alone in the loom shed, she'd seized a sharp knife and cut to shreds the kimono cloth into which she'd literally woven her soul. She'd also considered plunging the fine blade into her own throat. Though she was sorely tempted to do so, Takuan's appearance had finally driven that thought from her mind. After soothing her and getting her to agree to pour the captain's sake, he'd patted her on the back. She could still feel the warmth of his strong hand as he led her out of the loom shed.

And now he'd made this insane agreement.

Otsū wasn't nearly as concerned over her own safety as she was over the possibility that her only friend in the world might be lost to her because of his silly proposal. She felt lost and utterly depressed. Her common sense alone told her it was ridiculous to think that she and Takuan could locate Takezō in so short a time.

Takuan even had the audacity to exchange vows with Scraggly Beard before the shrine of Hachiman, the god of war. After he returned, she took him severely to task for his rashness, but he insisted there was nothing to worry about. His intention, he said, was to relieve the village of its burden, to make travel on the highways safe once more and to prevent any further waste of human life. In view of the number of lives that could be saved by quickly apprehending Takezō, his own seemed unimportant, she must see that. He also told her to get as much rest as she could before the evening of the following day, when they would depart. She was to come along without complaint, trusting in his judgment completely. Otsū was too distraught to resist, and the alternative of staying behind and worrying was even worse than the thought of going.

Late the following afternoon, Takuan was still napping with the cat in the corner of the main temple building. Otsū's face was hollow. The priest, the manservant, the acolyte—everybody had tried to persuade her not to go. "Go and hide" was their practical advice, but Otsū, for reasons she herself could hardly fathom, didn't feel the least inclined to do so.

The sun was sinking fast, and the dense shadows of evening had begun to envelop the crevices in the mountain range that marked the course of the Aida River. The cat sprang down from the temple porch, and presently Takuan himself stepped onto the veranda. Like the cat before him, he stretched his limbs, with a great yawn.

"Otsū," he called, "we'd better get going."

"I've already packed everything—straw sandals, walking sticks, leggings, medicine, paulownia-oil paper."

"You forgot something."

"What? A weapon? Should we take a sword or a lance or something?" "Certainly not! I want to take along a supply of food."

"Oh, you mean some box lunches?"

"No, good food. I want some rice, some salty bean paste and—oh, yes—a little sake. Anything tasty will do. I also need a pot. Go to the kitchen and make up a big bundle. And get a pole to carry it with."

The nearby mountains were now blacker than the best black lacquer, those in the distance paler than mica. It was late spring, and the breeze was perfumed and warm. Striped bamboo and wisteria vines entrapped the mist, and the farther Takuan and Otsū went from the village, the more the mountains, where every leaf shone faintly in the dim light, seemed to have been bathed by an evening shower. They walked through the darkness in single file, each shouldering an end of the bamboo pole from which swung their well-packed bundle.

"It's a nice evening for a walk, isn't it, Otsū?" Takuan said, glancing over his shoulder.

"I don't think it's so wonderful," she muttered. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"I'm not quite sure yet," he replied with a slightly pensive air, "but let's go on a bit farther."

"Well, I don't mind walking."

"Aren't you tired?"

"No," replied the girl, but the pole obviously hurt her, for every once in a while she shifted it from one shoulder to the other.

"Where is everyone? We haven't seen a soul."

"The captain didn't show his face at the temple all day today. I bet he called the searchers back to the village so we can have three days all to ourselves. Takuan, just how do you propose to catch Takezō?"

"Oh, don't worry. He'll turn up sooner or later."

"Well, he hasn't turned up for anyone else. But even if he does, what are we going to do? With all those men pursuing him for so long, he must be desperate by now. He'll be fighting for his life, and he's very strong to begin with. My legs start shaking just thinking about it."

"Careful! Watch your step!" Takuan shouted suddenly.

"Oh!" Otsū cried in terror, stopping dead in her tracks. "What's the matter? Why did you scare me like that?"