Musashi: Bushido Code (25 page)

"Mine is Otsū."

"Otsū?" Jōtarō repeated. He seemed satisfied for a moment, but then chattered on. "Why do you go around with a flute in your obi?"

"Oh, I need this to make my living."

"Are you a flute player by profession?"

"Well, I'm not sure there's any such thing as a professional flute player, but the money I get for playing makes it possible for me to take long trips like this one. I suppose you could call it my profession."

"Is the music you play like the music I've heard at Gion and the Kamo Shrine? The music for the sacred dances?"

"No."

"Is it like the music for other kinds of dancing—Kabuki maybe?" "No."

"Then what kind do you play?"

"Oh, just ordinary melodies."

The samurai had meanwhile been wondering about Jōtarō's long wooden sword. "What's that you've got stuck in your waist?" he asked.

"Don't you know a wooden sword when you see one? I thought you were a samurai."

"Yes, I am. I'm just surprised to see one on you. Why are you carrying it?" "I'm going to study swordsmanship."

"Oh, are you now? Do you have a teacher yet?"

"I do."

"And is he the person to whom the letter is addressed?"

"Yes."

"If he's your teacher, he must be a
real
expert."

"He's not all that good."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody says he's weak."

"Doesn't it bother you to have a weak man for a teacher?"

"No. I'm no good with the sword either, so it doesn't make any difference."

The samurai could hardly contain his amusement. His mouth quivered as if to break into a smile, but his eyes remained grave. "Have you learned any techniques?"

"Well, not exactly. I haven't learned anything at all yet."

The samurai's laughter finally burst forth. "Walking with you makes the road seem shorter! . . . And you, young lady, where are you going?"

"Nara, but exactly where in Nara I don't know. There's a rōnin I've been trying to locate for a year or so, and since I've heard that a lot of them have gathered in Nara recently, I'm planning to go there, though I admit the rumor's not much to go on."

The bridge at Uji came into view. Under the eaves of a teahouse, a very proper old man with a large teakettle was purveying his stock-in-trade to his customers, who were seated around him on stools. Catching sight of Shōda, he greeted him warmly. "How nice to see someone from the House of Yagyū!" he called. "Come in, come in!"

"We'd just like to take a short rest. Could you bring the boy here some sweet cakes?"

Jōtarō remained on his feet while his companions sat. To him, the idea of sitting down and resting was a bore; once the cakes arrived, he grabbed them and ran up the low hill behind the teahouse.

Otsū, sipping her tea, inquired of the old man, "Is it still a long way to Nara?"

"Yes. Even a fast walker'd probably get no farther than Kizu before sunset. A girl like you should plan to spend the night at Taga or Ide."

Shōda spoke up immediately. "This young lady has been searching for someone for months. But I wonder, do you think it's safe these days for a young woman to travel to Nara alone, with no place to stay in mind?"

The old man grew wide-eyed at the question. "She shouldn't even consider it!" he said decisively. Turning to Otsū, he waved his hand back and forth before his face and said, "Give the idea up entirely. If you were sure you had someone to stay with, it'd be a different matter. If you don't, Nara can be a very dangerous place."

The proprietor poured a cup of tea for himself and told them what he knew of the situation in Nara. Most people, it seemed, had the impression that the old capital was a quiet, peaceful place where there were lots of colorful temples and tame deer—a place undisturbed by war or famine—but in fact the town was no longer like that at all. After the Battle of Sekigahara, nobody knew how many rōnin from the losing side had come to hide there. Most of them were Osaka partisans from the Western Army, samurai who now had no income and little hope of finding another profession. With the Tokugawa shōgunate growing in power year by year, it was doubtful whether these fugitives would ever again be able to make a living out in the open with their swords.

According to most estimates, 120,000 to 130,000 samurai had lost their positions. Being the victors, the Tokugawas had confiscated estates representing an annual income of 33 million bushels of rice. Even if the feudal lords who had since been allowed to reestablish themselves on a more modest scale were taken into consideration, at least eighty daimyō, with incomes thought to total 20 million bushels, had been dispossessed. On the basis that for every 500 bushels, three samurai had been cut loose from their moorings and forced into hiding in various provinces—and including their families and retainers—the total number could not be less than 100,000.

The area around Nara and Mount Kōya was full of temples and therefore difficult for the Tokugawa forces to patrol. By the same token, it was an ideal hiding place, and the fugitives moved there in droves.

"Why," said the old man, "the famous Sanada Yukimura is in hiding at Mount Kudo, and Sengoku Sōya is said to be in the vicinity of the Hōryūji, and Ban Dan'emon at the Kōfukuji. I could name many more." All these were marked men, who would be killed instantly if they showed themselves; their one hope for the future was for war to break out again.

The old man's opinion was that it wouldn't be so bad if it were only these famous rōnin hiding out, since they all had a degree of prestige and could make a living for themselves and their families. Complicating the picture, however, were the indigent samurai who prowled the city's back streets in such straits that they'd sell their swords if they could. Half of them had taken to picking fights, gambling and otherwise disturbing the peace, in the hope that the havoc they caused would make the Osaka forces rise up and take arms. The once tranquil city of Nara had turned into a nest of desperadoes. For a nice girl like Otsū to go there would be tantamount to her pouring oil on her kimono and jumping into a fire. The teahouse proprietor, stirred by his own recitation, concluded by strongly begging Otsū to change her mind.

Now doubtful, Otsū sat silently for a while. If she had had the slightest indication that Musashi might be in Nara, she would not have given danger a second thought. But she really had nothing to go on. She had merely wandered toward Nara—just as she had wandered around to various other places in the year since Musashi had left her stranded at the bridge in Himeji.

Shōda, seeing the perplexity on her face, said, "You said your name is Otsū, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, Otsū, I hesitate to say this, but why don't you give up the idea of going to Nara and come with me to the Koyagyū fief instead?" Feeling obliged to tell her more about himself and assure her that his intentions were honorable, he continued, "My full name is Shōda Kizaemon, and I'm in the service of the Yagyū family. It happens that my lord, who's now eighty, is no longer active. He suffers terribly from boredom. When you said you make your living by playing the flute, it occurred to me that it might be a great comfort to him if you were around to play for him from time to time. Do you think you'd like that?"

The old man immediately chimed in with enthusiastic approval. "You should definitely go with him," he urged. "As you probably know, the old lord of Koyagyū is the great Yagyū Muneyoshi. Now that he's retired, he's taken the name Sekishūsai. As soon as his heir, Munenori, lord of Tajima, returned from Sekigahara, he was summoned to Edo and appointed an instructor in the shōgun's household. Why, there's no greater family in Japan than the Yagyūs. To be invited to Koyagyū is an honor in itself. Please, by all means, accept!"

On hearing that Kizaemon was an official in the famous House of Yagyū, Otsū congratulated herself for having guessed that he was no ordinary samurai. Still, she found it difficult to reply to his proposal.

Faced with her silence, Kizaemon asked, "Don't you want to come?"

"It's not that. I couldn't wish for a better offer. I'm simply afraid my playing isn't good enough for a great man like Yagyū Muneyoshi."

"Oh, don't give it a second thought. The Yagyūs are very different from the other daimyō. Sekishūsai in particular has the simple, quiet tastes of a tea-master. He would be more upset, I think, by your diffidence than by what you fancy to be your lack of skill."

Otsū realized that going to Koyagyū, rather than wandering aimlessly to Nara, offered some hope, however slight. Since the death of Yoshioka Kemp& the Yagyūs had been considered by many to be the greatest exponents of the martial arts in the country. It was only to be expected that swordsmen from all over the country would call at their gate, and there might even be a registry of visitors. How happy she would be if on that list she found the name of Miyamoto Musashi!

With that possibility foremost in mind, she said brightly, "If you really think it's all right, I'll go."

"You will? Wonderful! I'm very grateful. . . . Hmm, I doubt that a woman could walk all the way there before nightfall. Can you ride a horse?"

"Yes."

Kizaemon ducked under the eaves of the shop and raised his hand toward the bridge. The groom waiting there came running forward with a horse, which Kizaemon let Otsū ride, while he himself walked along beside her.

Jōtarō spotted them from the hill behind the teahouse and called, "Are you leaving already?"

"Yes, we're off."

"Wait for me!"

They were halfway across Uji Bridge when Jōtarō caught up with them. Kizaemon asked him what he had been up to, and he answered that a lot of men in a grove on the hill were playing some kind of game. He didn't know what game it was, but it looked interesting.

The groom laughed. "That would be the rōnin riffraff having a gambling session. They don't have enough money to eat, so they lure travelers into their games and take them for everything they're worth. It's disgraceful!"

"Oh, so they gamble for a living?" asked Kizaemon.

"The gamblers are among the better ones," replied the groom. "Many others have become kidnappers and blackmailers. They're such a rough lot nobody can do anything to stop them."

"Why doesn't the lord of the district arrest them or drive them away?"

"There are too many of them—far more than he can cope with. If all the rōnin from Kawachi, Yamato and Kii joined together, they'd be stronger than his own troops."

"I hear Kōga's swarming with them too."

"Yes. The ones from Tsutsui fled there. They're determined to hang on until the next war."

"You keep talking that way about the rōnin," Jōtarō broke in, "but some of them must be good men."

"That's true," agreed Kizaemon.

Faced with her silence, Kizaemon asked, "Don't you want to come?"

"It's not that. I couldn't wish for a better offer. I'm simply afraid my playing isn't good enough for a great man like Yagyū Muneyoshi."

"Oh, don't give it a second thought. The Yagyūs are very different from the other daimyō. Sekishūsai in particular has the simple, quiet tastes of a tea-master. He would be more upset, I think, by your diffidence than by what you fancy to be your lack of skill."

Otsū realized that going to Koyagyū, rather than wandering aimlessly to Nara, offered some hope, however slight. Since the death of Yoshioka Kempō the Yagyūs had been considered by many to be the greatest exponents of the martial arts in the country. It was only to be expected that swordsmen from all over the country would call at their gate, and there might even be a registry of visitors. How happy she would be if on that list she found the name of Miyamoto Musashi!

With that possibility foremost in mind, she said brightly, "If you really think it's all right, I'll go."

"You will? Wonderful! I'm very grateful. . . . Hmm, I doubt that a woman could walk all the way there before nightfall. Can you ride a horse?"

"Yes."

Kizaemon ducked under the eaves of the shop and raised his hand toward the bridge. The groom waiting there came running forward with a horse, which Kizaemon let Otsū ride, while he himself walked along beside her.

Jōtarō spotted them from the hill behind the teahouse and called, "Are you leaving already?"

"Yes, we're off."

"Wait for me!"

They were halfway across Uji Bridge when Jōtarō caught up with them. Kizaemon asked him what he had been up to, and he answered that a lot of men in a grove on the hill were playing some kind of game. He didn't know what game it was, but it looked interesting.

The groom laughed. "That would be the rōnin riffraff having a gambling session. They don't have enough money to eat, so they lure travelers into their games and take them for everything they're worth. It's disgraceful!"

"Oh, so they gamble for a living?" asked Kizaemon.

"The gamblers are among the better ones," replied the groom. "Many others have become kidnappers and blackmailers. They're such a rough lot nobody can do anything to stop them."

"Why doesn't the lord of the district arrest them or drive them away?"

"There are too many of them—far more than he can cope with. If all the rōnin from Kawachi, Yamato and Kii joined together, they'd be stronger than his own troops."

"I hear Kōga's swarming with them too."

"Yes. The ones from Tsutsui fled there. They're determined to hang on until the next war."

"You keep talking that way about the rōnin," Jōtarō broke in, "but some of them must be good men."

"That's true," agreed Kizaemon.

"My teacher's a rōnin!"