Musashi: Bushido Code (136 page)

Shikama Blue

"Is Otsū here?"

"Yes, here I am."

A face appeared above the top of the hedge.

"You're the hemp dealer Mambei, aren't you?" said Otsū.

"That's right. Sorry to bother you when you're busy, but I heard some news that might interest you."

"Come in." She gestured toward the wooden door in the fence.

As was evident from the cloth hanging from branches and poles, the house belonged to one of the dyers who made the sturdy fabric known throughout the country as "Shikama Blue." This involved immersing the cloth in indigo dye several times and pounding it in a large mortar after each immersion. The thread became so saturated with dye that it wore out long before it faded.

Otsū was not yet used to handling the mallet, but she worked hard and her fingers were stained blue. In Edo, after learning Musashi was gone, she had called at the Hōjō and Yagyū residences, then immediately set out on her search again. In Sakai the previous summer, she boarded one of Kobayashi Tarōzaemon's ships and came to Shikama, a fishing village situated on the triangular estuary where the Shikama River flows into the Inland Sea.

Remembering that her wet nurse was married to a dyer from Shikama, Otsū had looked her up and was living with her. Since the family was poor, Otsū felt obliged to help with the dyeing, which was the work of the young unmarried women. They often sang as they worked, and villagers said they could tell from the sound of a girl's voice whether she was in love with one of the young fishermen.

Having washed her hands and wiped the sweat from her forehead, Otsū invited Mambei to sit down and rest on the veranda.

He declined with a wave of his hand and said, "You came from the village of Miyamoto, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"I go up that way on business, to buy hemp, and the other day I heard a rumor...."

"Yes?"

"About you."

"Me?"

"I also heard something about a man named Musashi."

"Musashi?" Otsū’s heart was in her throat and her cheeks flushed.

Mambei gave a little laugh. Though it was autumn, the sun was still fairly strong. He folded a hand towel, put it on his head and squatted on his heels. "Do you know a woman named Ogin?" he asked.

"You mean Musashi's sister?"

Mambei nodded vigorously. "I ran into her at Mikazuki Village in Sayo. I happened to mention your name. She looked very surprised."

"Did you tell her where I was?"

"Yes. I didn't see any harm in that."

"Where's she living now?"

"She's staying with a samurai named Hirata—a relative of hers, I think. She said she'd like very much to see you. She said several times how much she missed you, how much she had to tell you. Some of it was secret, she said. I thought she was going to start crying."

Otsū's eyes reddened.

"There in the middle of the road was no place to write a letter, of course, so she asked me to tell you to come to Mikazuki. She said she'd like to come here, but couldn't just now." Mambei paused. "She didn't go into details, but she said she'd had word from Musashi." He added that he was going to Mikazuki the next day and suggested she go with him.

Though Otsū’s mind was made up right then, she felt she should talk it over with the dyer's wife. "I'll let you know this evening," she said.

"Fine. If you decide to go, we should get an early start." With the sea murmuring in the background, his voice sounded particularly loud, and even Otsū's soft reply seemed rather shrill.

As Mambei went out the gate, a young samurai who had been sitting on the beach rubbing a handful of sand stood up and watched him with piercing eyes, as if to verify his thoughts about the man. Handsomely attired and wearing a straw basket hat shaped like a ginkgo leaf, he appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old. When the hemp dealer was out of sight, he turned and stared at the dyer's house.

Despite the excitement caused by Mambei's news, Otsū picked up her mallet and resumed her work. The sounds of other mallets, accompanied by singing, floated through the air. No sound came from Otsū’s lips when she worked, but in her heart was a song of her love for Musashi. Now she silently whispered a poem from an ancient collection:

Since our first meeting,

My love has been more profound

Than that of others,

Though it matches not the hues

Of the cloth from Shikama.

She felt sure that if she visited Ogin, she would learn where Musashi was. And Ogin was a woman too. It would be easy to tell her her feelings.

The beats of her mallet slowed to an almost languid pace. Otsū was happier than she had been for a long time. She understood the feelings of the poet. Often the sea seemed melancholy and alien; today it was dazzling, and the waves, though gentle, appeared to be bursting with hope.

She hung the cloth on a high drying pole and, heart still singing, wandered out through the open gate. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of the young samurai strolling unhurriedly along the water's edge. She had no idea who he was, but somehow he held her attention, and she noticed nothing else, not so much as a bird riding the salty breeze.

Their destination was not very far; even a woman could walk the distance with little difficulty, stopping over once on the way. It was nearly noon now. "I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble," said Otsū.

"No trouble. You seem to have good walking legs," said Mambei. "I'm used to traveling."

"I heard you've been to Edo. That's quite a journey for a woman traveling alone."

"Did the dyer's wife tell you that?"

"Yes. I've heard everything. The people in Miyamoto talk about it too." "Oh, they would," said Otsū with a little frown. "It's so embarrassing." "You shouldn't feel embarrassed. If you love a person that much, who's to say whether you're to be pitied or congratulated. But it seems to me this Musashi is a little coldhearted."

"Oh, he's not—not at all."

"You don't resent the way he's acted?"

"I'm the one to blame. His training and discipline are his only interest in life, and I can't resign myself to that."

"I don't see anything wrong with the way you feel."

"But it seems to me I've caused him a lot of trouble."

"Hmph. My wife should hear that. That's the way women ought to be." "Is Ogin married?" asked Otsū.

"Ogin? Oh, I'm not quite sure," said Mambei, and changed the subject. "There's a teahouse. Let's rest awhile."

They went inside and ordered tea to go with their box lunches. As they were finishing, some passing grooms and porters called out in familiar tones to Mambei.

"Hey, you, why don't you drop in on the game in Handa today? Everybody's complaining—you left with all our money the other day."

In some confusion, he shouted back, as though he hadn't understood them, "I don't have any use for your horses today." Then quickly, to Otsū, "Shall we be going?"

As they hurried out of the shop, one of the grooms said, "No wonder he's giving us the brush-off. Take a look at the girl!"

"I'm going to tell your old woman on you, Mambei."

They heard more comments of this sort as they walked quickly on ahead. Asaya Mambei's shop in Shikama was certainly not among the more prominent business establishments there. He bought hemp in the nearby villages and parceled it out to the fishermen's wives and daughters to make into sails, nets and other things. But he was the proprietor of his own enterprise, and his being on such friendly terms with common porters struck Otsū as strange.

As if to dispel her unspoken doubts, Mambei said, "What can you do with riffraff like that? Just because I do them the favor of asking them to carry stuff from the mountains, that's no reason for them to get familiar!"

They spent the night in Tatsuno, and when they left the next morning, Mambei was as kind and solicitous as ever. By the time they reached Mikazuki, it was getting dark in the foothills.

"Mambei," asked Otsū anxiously, "isn't this Mikazuki? If we cross the mountain we'll be in Miyamoto." She had heard that Osugi was in Miyamoto again.

Mambei halted. "Why, yes, it's just on the other side. Does it make you homesick?"

Otsū lifted her eyes to the black, wavy crest of the mountains and the evening sky. The area seemed very desolate, as if somehow the people who should be there were missing.

"It's only a little farther," said Mambei, walking on ahead. "Are you tired?" "Oh, no. Are you?"

"No. I'm used to this road. I come this way all the time."

"Just where is Ogin's house?"

"Over that way," he replied, pointing. "She's sure to be waiting for us."

They walked a little faster. When they reached the place where the slope became steeper, there was a scattering of houses. This was a stopover on the Tatsuno highroad. It was hardly large enough to be described as a town, but it boasted a cheap "one-tray" eating place, where grooms hung out, and a few low-priced inns strung out on both sides of the road.

Once they were past the village, Mambei declared, "We have to climb a little now." Turning off the road, he started up a steep flight of stone stairs leading to the local shrine.

Like a small bird chirping because of a sudden drop in the temperature, Otsū sensed something out of the ordinary. "Are you sure we haven't come the wrong way? There're no houses around here," she said.

"Don't worry. It's a lonely place, but you just sit down and rest on the shrine porch. I'll go and fetch Ogin."

"Why should you do that?"

"Have you forgotten? I'm sure I mentioned it. Ogin said there might be guests it would be inconvenient for you to run into. Her house is on the other side of this grove. I'll be back very soon." He hurried off along a narrow path through the dark cryptomerias.

As the evening sky grew darker, Otsū began to feel distinctly ill at ease. Dead leaves stirred by the wind came to rest in her lap. Idly she picked one up and turned it around in her fingers. Foolishness or purity—something made her the perfect picture of virginity.

A loud cackling came suddenly from behind the shrine. Otsū jumped to the ground.

"Don't move, Otsū!" commanded a hoarse, scary voice.

Otsū gasped and put her hands over her ears.

Several shadowy shapes came from behind the shrine and surrounded her quaking form. Though her eyes were shut, she could clearly see one of them, more frightening and seemingly larger than the others, the white-haired hag she had so often seen in nightmares.

"Thank you, Mambei," said Osugi. "Now gag her before she starts screaming and take her to Shimonoshō. Be quick about it!" She spoke with the fearsome authority of the King of Hell condemning a sinner to the inferno.

The four or five men were apparently village toughs having some connection with Osugi's clan. Shouting their assent, they went at Otsū like wolves fighting over prey and tied her up so that only her legs were free.

"Take the shortcut."

"Move!"

Osugi remained behind to settle with Mambei. As she fished the money from her obi, she said, "Good of you to bring her. I was afraid you might not be able to manage it." Then she added, "Don't say a word to anybody."

With a satisfied look, Mambei tucked the money into his sleeve. "Oh, it wasn't so hard," he said. "Your plan worked just fine."

"Ah, that was something to see. Frightened, wasn't she?"

"She couldn't even run. Just stood there. Ha, ha. But maybe ... it was rather wicked of us."

"What's wicked about it? If you only knew what I've been through." "Yes, yes; you told me all about it."

"Well, I can't be wasting time here. I'll see you again one of these days. Come visit us in Shimonoshō."

"Be careful. That path's not easy walking," he called over his shoulder as he started back down the long, dark steps.

Hearing a gasp, Osugi whirled and shouted, "Mambei! Was that you? What's wrong?"

There was no answer.

Osugi ran to the top of the steps. She let out a little cry, then swallowed her breath as she squinted at the shadow standing beside the fallen body and the sword, dripping blood, slanting downward from the shadow's hand.

"Wh-who's there?"

There was no reply.

"Who are you?" Her voice was dry and strained, but the years had not diminished her blustering bravado.

The man's shoulders shook slightly with laughter. "It's me, you old hag." "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

"I never heard your voice before. A robber, I suppose."

"No robber'd bother with an old woman as poor as you."

"But you've been keeping an eye on me, haven't you?"

"I have."

"On me?"

"Why ask twice? I wouldn't come all the way to Mikazuki to kill Mambei. I come to teach you a lesson."

"Ech?" It sounded as though Osugi's windpipe had burst. "You've got the wrong person. Who are you anyway? My name is Osugi. I'm the dowager of the Hon'iden family."

"Oh, how good to hear you say that! It brings back all my hatred. Witch! Have you forgotten Jōtarō?"

"Jō-jō-tarō?"