Musashi: Bushido Code (91 page)

"Well, I'm no expert in these matters, but as I watched him using all his strength to hold your sword off, it seemed to me he was missing an opportunity. He couldn't advance, couldn't retreat, and he was too excited. But I saw that if he simply dropped his hips, holding his hands the way they were, the end of the staff would naturally strike your chest. It all happened in an instant. At the time, I wasn't really conscious of what I said."

Musashi nodded, regarding himself fortunate to have received a useful lesson without having had to pay with his life. Gonnosuke, too, listened reverently; no doubt he had also gained a new insight. What he had just experienced was no ephemeral revelation but a journey to the boundary between life and death. His mother, perceiving him to be on the brink of disaster, had taught him a lesson in survival.

Years later, after Gonnosuke had established his own style and become known far and wide, he recorded the technique his mother had discovered on this occasion. Though he wrote at some length of his mother's devotion and of his match with Musashi, he refrained from saying that he had won. On the contrary, for the rest of his life he told people that he had lost, and that the defeat had been an invaluable lesson to him.

Musashi, having wished mother and son well, proceeded on from Inojigahara to Kamisuwa, unaware that he was being followed by a samurai who inquired of all the grooms at the horse stations, as well as of other travelers, whether they had seen Musashi on the road.

A One-Night Love Affair

Musashi's injury was painful, so instead of spending time in Kamisuwa to make inquiries about Otsū and Jōtarō, he went on to the hot springs at Shimosuwa. This town, on the banks of Lake Suwa, was quite a large one, with the houses of ordinary townsmen alone numbering over a thousand.

At the inn designated for use by daimyō, the bath was covered by a roof, but otherwise the pools situated along the roadside were open to the sky and available to anyone who wanted to use them.

Musashi hung his clothes and swords on a tree and eased himself into the steaming water. As he massaged the swelling on the right side of his abdomen, he rested his head against a rock on the edge of the pool, closed his eyes and savored a groggy, pleasurable sense of well-being. The sun was beginning to set, and a reddish mist rose from the surface of the lake, which he could see between the fishermen's houses along the shore.

A couple of small vegetable plots lay between the pool and the road, where people and horses were coming and going with the usual noise and bustle. At a shop selling lamp oil and sundries, a samurai was purchasing straw sandals. Having selected a suitable pair, he sat down on a stool, took off his old ones and tied the new ones on.

"You must have heard about it," he said to the shopkeeper. "It happened under the great spreading pine at Ichijōji near Kyoto. This rōnin took on the entire House of Yoshioka all by himself and fought with a spirit you rarely hear about anymore. I'm sure he passed this way. Are you certain you didn't see him?"

For all his eagerness, the samurai seemed to know little about the man he was looking for, neither his age nor how he might be dressed. Disappointed when he received a negative reply, he repeated, "I must find him somehow," two or three times while he finished tying his sandals.

The samurai, a man of about forty, was well dressed and sunburned from traveling. The hair at his temples stood out around the cords of his basket hat, and the toughness in his facial expression matched his manly build. Musashi suspected his body bore the marks and calluses that come from wearing armor. "I don't remember ever seeing him before," he thought. "But if he's going around talking about the Yoshioka School, maybe he's one of their students. The school's had so many students; a few must have some backbone. They may be hatching another plot for revenge."

When the man had completed his business and left, Musashi dried himself and put on his clothes, thinking the coast was clear. But when he walked out onto the highroad, he almost bumped into him.

The samurai bowed and, looking intently into his face, said, "Aren't you Miyamoto Musashi?"

Musashi nodded, and the samurai, ignoring the suspicion written on his face, said, "I knew it." After a short paean to his own perspicacity, he continued familiarly, "You can't know how happy I am to meet you at last. I've had the feeling I'd run into you somewhere along the way." Without pausing to give Musashi a chance to speak, he urged him to spend the night at the same inn with him. "Let me assure you," he added, "you don't have to worry about me. My status, if you'll forgive me for saying so, is such that I usually travel with a dozen attendants and a change of horses. I'm a retainer of Date Masamune, the lord of Aoba Castle in Mutsu. My name is Ishimoda Geki."

When Musashi passively accepted the invitation, Geki decided they would stay at the inn for daimyō and led him into the place.

"How about a bath?" he asked. "But of course, you've just had one. Well, make yourself comfortable while I take one. I'll be back shortly." He took off his traveling clothes, picked up a towel and left the room.

Though the man had a winning way about him, Musashi's head was full of questions. Why would this well-placed warrior be looking for him? Why was he being so friendly?

"Wouldn't you like to change into something more comfortable?" asked the maid, proffering one of the cotton-stuffed kimonos furnished to guests.

"No, thank you. I'm not sure I'll be staying."

Musashi stepped out onto the veranda. Behind him he heard the maid quietly setting the dinner trays. As he watched the ripples on the lake change from deep indigo to black, the image of Otsū’s sad eyes formed in his mind. "I suppose I'm not looking in the right place," he thought. "Anyone evil enough to kidnap a woman certainly has the instinct to avoid towns." He seemed to hear Otsū calling for help. Was it really all right to take the philosophic view that all things happen as a result of heaven's will? Standing there doing nothing, he felt guilty.

Coming back from his bath, Ishimoda Geki apologized for having left him alone and sat down before his dinner tray. Noticing that Musashi still wore his own kimono, he asked, "Why don't you change?"

"I'm comfortable in what I have on. I wear this all the time—on the road, inside the house, when I sleep on the ground under the trees."

Geki was favorably impressed. "I might have known," he said. "You want to be ready for action at any time, no matter where you are. Lord Date would admire that." He stared with unconcealed fascination at Musashi's face, which was lit from the side by the lamp. Remembering himself after a moment, he said, "Come. Sit down and have some sake." He rinsed off a cup in a bowl of water and offered it to Musashi.

Musashi seated himself and bowed. Resting his hands on his knees, he asked, "Could you tell me, sir, why you're treating me in such a friendly manner? And if you don't mind, why you were inquiring about me out on the highroad."

"I suppose it's only natural for you to wonder, but there's really very little to explain. Perhaps the simplest way to put it is that I have a sort of crush on you." He paused for a moment, laughed and went on: "Yes, it's a matter of infatuation, a case of one man being attracted to another."

Geki seemed to feel this was sufficient explanation, but Musashi was more mystified than ever. While it did not seem impossible for one man to be enamored of another, he himself had never experienced such an attachment. Takuan was too severe to inspire strong affection. Kōetsu lived in an entirely different world. Sekishūsai occupied a plane so far above Musashi's that either liking or disliking was inconceivable. Though it could be Geki's way of flattering him, a man who made such statements opened himself to the charge of insincerity. Still, Musashi doubted that this samurai was a sycophant; he was too solid, too manly in appearance, for that.

"Precisely what do you mean," Musashi asked with a sober air, "when you say you are attracted to me?"

"Perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but ever since I heard of your feat at Ichijōji, I've been convinced that you're a man I would like, and like very much."

"Were you in Kyoto then?"

"Yes, I arrived during the first month of the year and was staying at Lord Date's residence on Sanjō Avenue. When I happened to drop in on Lord Karasumaru Mitsuhiro the day after the fight, I heard quite a bit about you. He said he'd met you and remarked on your youth and what you'd been doing in the past. Feeling this strong attraction, I resolved that I must make an effort to meet you. On my way from Kyoto, I saw the sign you put up at Shiojiri Pass."

"Oh, you saw that?" Ironic, thought Musashi, that instead of bringing him Jōtarō, the sign had brought him someone of whose existence he had never dreamed.

But the more he considered the matter, the less he felt he deserved the esteem in which Geki seemed to hold him. Painfully conscious of his own mistakes and failures, he found Geki's adulation embarrassing.

With perfect honesty, he said, "I think you're rating me too highly."

"There are a number of outstanding samurai serving under Lord Date—his fief has an income of five million bushels, you know—and in time I've met many a skilled swordsman. But from what I've heard, it would seem that few can be compared with you. What's more, you're still very young. You have your whole future before you. And that, I suppose, is why you appeal to me. Anyway, now that I've found you, let's be friends. Have a drink, and talk about anything that interests you."

Musashi accepted the sake cup in good humor and began matching his host drink for drink. Before long, his face was bright red.

Geki, still going strong, said, "We samurai from the north can drink a lot. We do it to stay warm. Lord Date can outdrink any of us. With a strong general in the lead, it wouldn't do for the troops to fall behind."

The maid kept bringing more sake. Even after she'd trimmed the lamp wick several times, Geki showed no inclination to stop. "Let's drink all night," he suggested. "That way, we can talk all night."

"Fine," agreed Musashi. Then, with a smile: "You said you'd talked to Lord Karasumaru. Do you know him well?"

"You couldn't say we're close friends, but over the years I've been to his house any number of times on errands. He's very friendly, you know."

"Yes, I met him on the introduction of Hon'ami Kōetsu. For a nobleman, he seemed remarkably full of life."

Looking somewhat dissatisfied, Geki asked, "Is that your only impression? If you'd talked with him at any length, I'd think you'd have been struck by his intelligence and sincerity."

"Well, we were in the licensed quarter at the time."

"In that case, I suppose he refrained from revealing his true self." "What's he really like?"

Geki settled himself in more formal fashion and in a rather grave tone said, "He's a troubled man. A man of sorrows, if you will. The shogunate's dictatorial ways disturb him greatly."

For a moment, Musashi was conscious of a lilting sound coming from the lake and the shadows cast by the white light of the lamp.

Abruptly Geki asked, "Musashi, my friend, for whose sake are you trying to perfect your swordsmanship?"

Never having considered the question, Musashi replied with guileless candor, "For my own."

"That's all right as far as it goes, but for whose sake are you trying to improve yourself? Surely your aim is not merely personal honor and glory. That's hardly sufficient for a man of your stature." By accident or design, Geki had come around to the subject he really wanted to talk about. "Now that the whole country's under Ieyasu's control," he declared, "we have a semblance of peace and prosperity. But is it real? Can the people actually live happily under the present system?

"Over the centuries, we've had the Hōjōs, the Ashikagas, Oda Nobunaga, Hideyoshi—a long string of military rulers consistently oppressing not only the people but the Emperor and the court as well. The imperial government has been taken advantage of, and the people mercilessly exploited. All the benefits have gone to the military class. This has been going on since Minamoto no Yoritomo, hasn't it? And the situation today is unchanged.

"Nobunaga seems to have had some idea of the injustice involved; at least he built a new palace for the Emperor. Hideyoshi not only honored the Emperor Go-Yōzei by requiring all the daimyō to pay obeisance to him, but even tried to provide a measure of welfare and happiness for the common people. But what of Ieyasu? To all intents and purposes, he has no interest beyond the fortunes of his own clan. So again, the happiness of the people and the wellbeing of the imperial family are being sacrificed to create wealth and power for a military dictatorship. We seem to be at the threshold of another age of tyranny. No one worries about this state of affairs more than Lord Date Masamune or, among the nobility, Lord Karasumaru."

Geki paused, waiting for a response, but none was forthcoming except for a barely articulate, "I see."

Like anyone else, Musashi was aware of the drastic political changes that had occurred since the Battle of Sekigahara. Yet he had never paid any attention to activities of the daimyō in the Osaka faction, or the ulterior motives of the Tokugawas, or the stands taken by powerful outside lords like Date and Shimazu. All he knew about Date was that his fief officially had an income of three million bushels per year but in fact probably yielded five million, as Geki had mentioned.

"Twice every year," Geki went on, "Lord Date sends produce from our fief to Lord Konoe in Kyoto for presentation to the Emperor. He's never failed to do this, even in times of war. That's why I was in Kyoto.

"Aoba Castle is the only one in the country to have a special room reserved for the Emperor. It's unlikely, of course, that it'll ever be used, but Lord Date set it aside for him anyway, built it out of wood taken from the old Imperial Palace when that was rebuilt. He had the wood brought from Kyoto to Sendai by boat.

"And let me tell you about the war in Korea. During the campaigns there, Katō, Konishi and other generals were competing for personal fame and triumph. Not Lord Date. Instead of his own family crest, he wore the crest of the rising sun and told everyone he'd never have led his men to Korea for the glory of his own clan or for that of Hideyoshi. He went out of love for Japan itself."

While Musashi listened attentively, Geki became absorbed in his monologue, describing his master in glowing terms and assuring Musashi that he was unexcelled in his single-minded devotion to the nation and the Emperor.

For a time he forgot about drinking but then suddenly looked down and said, "The sake's cold." Clapping his hands for the maid, he was about to order more.

Musashi hurriedly interrupted. "I've had more than enough. If you don't mind, I'd rather have some rice and tea now."

"Already?" mumbled Geki. He was obviously disappointed but, out of deference to his guest, told the girl to bring the rice.

Geki continued to talk as they ate. The impression Musashi formed of the spirit that seemed to prevail among the samurai of Lord Date's fief was that, as individuals and as a group, they were vitally concerned with the Way of the Samurai and with the problem of disciplining themselves in accordance with the Way.

This Way had existed since ancient times, when the warrior class had come into being, but its moral values and obligations were now little more than a vague memory. During the chaotic domestic strife of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the ethics of the military man had been distorted, if not totally ignored, and now almost anyone who could wield a sword or shoot an arrow from a bow was regarded as a samurai, regardless of the attention—or lack of it—given to the deeper meaning of the Way.