Musashi: Bushido Code (97 page)

Having no fixed loyalties, they operated as mercenaries, and after peace was restored, were ostracized by both farmers and samurai alike. By the Edo era, those not content with being bandits or highwaymen often sought their fortunes in the new capital. More than a few succeeded, and this breed of leaders was once described as having "righteousness for bones, love of the people for flesh and gallantry for skin." In short, they were popular heroes par excellence.

Slaughter by the Riverside

Life under Yajibei's half-tiled roof agreed so much with Osugi that a year and a half later she was still there. After the first few weeks, during which she rested and recovered her health, hardly a day passed without her telling herself she should be on her way.

Whenever she broached the subject to Yajibei, whom she didn't see often, he urged her to stay on. "What's the hurry?" he would ask. "There's no reason for you to go anywhere. Bide your time until we find Musashi. Then we can serve as your seconds." Yajibei knew nothing of Osugi's enemy except what she herself had told him—that he was, in so many words, the blackest of blackguards—but since the day of her arrival, all of his men had been under instructions to report immediately anything they heard or saw of Musashi.

After initially detesting Edo, Osugi had mellowed in attitude to the point where she was willing to admit that the people were "friendly, carefree and really very kind at heart."

The Hangawara household was a particularly easygoing place and something of a haven for social misfits; country boys too lazy to farm, displaced rōnin, profligates who had run through their parents' money and tattooed ex-convicts made up a coarse and motley crew, whose unifying esprit de corps curiously resembled that of a well-run school for warriors. The ideal here, however, was blustering masculinity rather than spiritual manliness; it was really a "dōjō" for thugs.

As in the martial arts dōjō, there was a rigid class structure. Under the boss, who was the ultimate temporal and spiritual authority, came a group of seniors, usually referred to as the "elder brothers." Below them were the ordinary henchmen—the
kobun—whose
ranking was determined largely by length of service. There was also a special class of "guests"; their status depended on such factors as their ability with weapons. Bolstering the hierarchical organization was a code of etiquette, of uncertain origin but strictly adhered to.

At one point, Yajibei, thinking Osugi might be bored, suggested that she take care of the younger men. Since then, her days had been fully occupied with sewing, mending, washing and straightening up after the
kobun,
whose slovenliness gave her plenty of work.

For all their lack of breeding, the
kobun
recognized quality when they saw it. They admired both Osugi's spartan habits and the efficiency with which she went about her chores. "She's a real samurai lady," they were wont to say. "The House of Hon'iden must have very good blood in it."

Osugi's unlikely host treated her with consideration and had even built her separate living quarters on the vacant lot behind his house. And whenever he was at home, he went to pay his respects each morning and evening. When asked by one of his underlings why he displayed such deference toward a stranger, Yajibei confessed that he had acted very badly toward his own father and mother while they were still alive. "At my age," he said, "I feel I have a filial duty to all older people."

Spring came, and the wild plum blossoms fell, but the city itself had as yet almost no cherry blossoms. Apart from a few trees in the sparsely settled hills to the west, there were only the saplings that Buddhists had planted along the road leading to the Sensōji, in Asakusa. Rumor had it that this year they were sprouting buds and would blossom for the first time.

One day Yajibei came to Osugi's room and said, "I'm going to the Sensōji. Do you feel like coming along?"

"I'd love to. That temple's dedicated to Kanzeon, and I'm a great believer in her powers. She's the same bodhisattva as the Kannon I prayed to at Kiyomizudera in Kyoto."

With Yajibei and Osugi went two of the
kobun,
Jūrō and Koroku. Jūrō bore the nickname "Reed Mat," for reasons no one knew, but it was obvious why Koroku was called the "Acolyte." He was a small, compact man with a distinctly benign face, if one overlooked the three ugly scars on his forehead, evidence of a proclivity for street brawls.

They first made their way to the moat at Kyōbashi, where boats were available for hire. After Koroku had skillfully sculled them out of the moat and into the Sumida River, Yajibei ordered the box lunches opened.

"I'm going to the temple today," he explained, "because it's the anniversary of my mother's death. I really should go back home and visit her grave, but it's too far, so I compromise by going to the Sensōji and making a donation. But that's neither here nor there; just think of it as a picnic." He reached over the side of the boat, rinsed off a sake cup and offered it to Osugi.

"It's very fine of you to remember your mother," she said as she accepted the cup, all the while wondering fretfully if Matahachi would do the same when she was gone. "I wonder, though, is drinking sake on the anniversary of your poor mother's passing the thing to do?"

"Well, I'd rather do that than hold some pompous ceremony. Anyway, I believe in the Buddha; that's all that counts for ignorant louts like me. You know the saying, don't you? 'He who has faith need have no knowledge.' "

Osugi, letting it go at that, proceeded to have several refills. After a time she remarked, "I haven't drunk like this for ages. I feel like I'm floating on air."

"Drink up," urged Yajibei. "It's good sake, isn't it? Don't worry about being out on the water. We're here to take care of you."

The river, flowing south from the town of Sumida, was broad and placid. On the Shimōsa side, the east bank opposite Edo, stood a luxuriant forest. Tree roots jutting into the water formed nests holding limpid pools, which shone like sapphires in the sunlight.

"Oh," said Osugi. "Listen to the nightingales!"

"When the rainy season comes, you can hear cuckoos all day long."

"Let me pour for you. I hope you don't mind my joining in your celebration."

"I like to see you having a good time."

From the stern, Koroku called out lustily, "Say, boss, how about passing the sake around?"

"Just pay attention to your work. If you start now, we'll all drown. On the way back you can have all you want."

"If you say so. But I just want you to know the whole river's beginning to look like sake."

"Stop thinking about it. Here, pull over to that boat next to the bank so we can buy some fresh fish."

Koroku did as he was told. After a bit of haggling, the fisherman, flashing a happy smile, lifted the cover off a tank built into the deck and told them to take anything they wanted. Osugi had never seen anything like it. The tank was full to the brim with wriggling, flapping fish, some from the sea, some from the river. Carp, prawns, catfish, black porgies, gobies. Even trout and sea bass.

Yajibei sprinkled soy sauce on some whitebait and began eating it raw. He offered some to Osugi, but she declined, with a look of dread on her face.

When they drew up on the west side of the river and disembarked, Osugi seemed a little wobbly on her feet.

"Be careful," warned Yajibei. "Here, take my hand."

"No, thank you. I don't need any help." She waved her own hand before her face indignantly.

After Jūrō and Koroku had moored the boat, the four of them crossed a

broad expanse of stones and puddles to get to the riverbank proper.

A group of small children were busily turning over stones, but seeing the

unusual foursome, they stopped and flocked around, chattering excitedly. "Buy some, sir. Please."

"Won't you buy some, Granny?"

Yajibei seemed to like children; at least, he showed no signs of annoyance. "What have you got there—crabs?"

"Not crabs; arrowheads," they cried, producing handfuls of them from their kimonos.

"Arrowheads?"

"That's right. A lot of men and horses are buried in a mound by the temple. People coming here buy arrowheads to offer to the dead. You should too."

"I don't think I want any arrowheads, but I'll give you some money. How'll that do?"

That, it appeared, would do admirably, and as soon as Yajibei had passed out a few coins, the children ran off to resume their digging. But even as he watched, a man emerged from a thatched-roof house nearby, took the coins away from them and went back inside. Yajibei clicked his tongue and turned away in disgust.

Osugi was gazing out over the river, fascination in her eyes. "If there are a lot of arrowheads lying around," she observed, "there must have been a big battle."

"I don't really know, but it seems there were quite a few battles here in the days when Edo was only a provincial estate. That was four or five hundred years ago. I've heard that Minamoto no Yoritomo came up here from Izu to organize troops in the twelfth century. When the Imperial Court was divided—when was that, fourteenth century?—Lord Nitta of Musashi was defeated by the Ashikagas somewhere in the neighborhood. Just in the last couple of centuries, Ōta Dōkan and other local generals are said to have fought many battles not far up the river."

While they were talking, Jūrō and Koroku went on ahead to make a place for them to sit on the veranda of the temple.

The Sensōji turned out to be a terrible disappointment to Osugi. In her eyes it was nothing more than a large, run-down house, the priest's residence a mere shack. "Is this it?" she wanted to know, with more than a hint of deprecation. "After all I've heard about the Sensōji . . ."

The setting was a splendidly primeval forest of large, ancient trees, but not only did the Kanzeon hall look shabby; when the river flooded, the water came through the woods right up to the veranda. Even at other times, small tributaries washed over the grounds.

"Welcome. Good to see you again."

Glancing up in surprise, Osugi saw a priest kneeling on the roof. "Working on the roof?" asked Yajibei amiably.

"Have to, because of the birds. The oftener I mend it, the oftener they steal the thatch to make nests with. There's always a leak somewhere. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be down shortly."

Yajibei and Osugi picked up votive candles and went into the dim interior. "No wonder it leaks," she thought, looking at the starlike holes above her.

Kneeling beside Yajibei, she took out her prayer beads and with a dreamy look in her eye chanted the Vow of Kanzeon from the Lotus Sutra.

You will reside in the air like the sun.

And if you are pursued by evil men

And pushed off the Diamond Mountain,

Reflect on the power of Kanzeon

And you will not lose a hair from your head.

And if bandits surround you

And threaten you with swords,

If you reflect on the power of Kanzeon,

The bandits will take pity on you.

And if the king sentences you to death

And the sword is about to behead you,

Reflect on the power of Kanzeon.

The sword will break into pieces.

She recited softly at first, but as she became oblivious to the presence of Yajibei, Jūrō and Koroku, her voice rose and grew resonant; a rapt expression came to her face.

The eighty-four thousand sentient beings

Began to aspire in their hearts

For anuttara-samyak-sambodhi,

The unsurpassed Wisdom of the Buddhas.

Prayer beads trembling in her fingers, Osugi went without a break from the recitation into a personal supplication of her own.

Hail to Kanzeon, World-Honored One!

Hail to the Bodhisattva of Infinite Mercy and Infinite Compassion!

Look favorably on this old woman's one wish.

Let me strike Musashi down, and very soon!

Let me strike him down!

Let me strike him down!

Abruptly lowering her voice, she bowed to the floor. "And make Matahachi a good boy! Cause the House of Hon'iden to prosper!"

After the long prayer ended, there was a moment's silence before the priest invited them outside to have some tea. Yajibei and the two younger men, who had knelt in proper fashion throughout the invocation, got up rubbing their tingly legs and went out on the veranda.

"I can have some sake now, can't I?" Jūrō asked eagerly. Permission having been granted, he hastened to the priest's house and arranged their lunch on the porch. By the time the others joined him, he was sipping sake with one hand and broiling the fish they had bought with the other. "Who cares if there aren't any cherry blossoms?" he remarked. "Feels just like a flower-viewing picnic anyway."

Yajibei handed the priest an offering, delicately wrapped in paper, and told him to use it for the roof repairs. As he did so, he happened to notice a row of wooden plaques on which were written donors' names, together with the amounts they had contributed. Nearly all were about the same as Yajibei's, some less, but one stood out conspicuously. "Ten gold coins, Daizō of Narai, Province of Shinano."

Turning to the priest, Yajibei remarked, somewhat diffidently, "Perhaps it's crass of me to say so, but ten gold coins is a considerable sum. Is this Daizō of Narai as rich as all that?"

"I really couldn't say. He appeared out of the blue one day toward the end of last year and said it was a disgrace that the most famous temple in the Kanto district was in such had shape. He told me the money should be added to our fund for buying lumber."

"Sounds like an admirable sort of man."

"He also donated three gold coins to Yushima Shrine and no fewer than twenty to Kanda Myōjin Shrine. He wanted the latter to be kept in good condition because it enshrines the spirit of Taira no Masakado. Daizō insists that Masakado was not a rebel. He thinks he should be revered as the pioneer who opened up the eastern part of the country. You'll find there are some very unusual donors in this world."