Musashi: Bushido Code (16 page)

"What about you? You okay?"

"Yes . . . I'm . . . I'm okay. I'm . . . " He paused a second or two, then blurted out, "I'm alive! I'm really alive!"

"Of course you are!"

"It's not 'of course."'

"Let's get out of here fast. If anybody finds us here, we'll be in real trouble." Otsū started limping away and Takezō followed . . . slowly, silently, like two frail wounded insects walking on the autumn frost.

They proceeded as best they could, hobbling along in silence, a silence broken only much later, when Otsū cried, "Look! It's getting light over toward Harima."

"Where are we?"

"At the top of Nakayama Pass."

"Have we really come that far?"

"Yes." Otsū smiled weakly. "Surprising what you can do when you're determined. But, Takezō ." Otsū looked alarmed. "You must be famished. You haven't eaten anything for days."

At the mention of food, Takezō suddenly realized his shrunken stomach was cramped with pain. Now that he was aware of it, it was excruciating, and it seemed like hours before Otsū managed to undo her bag and take out the food. Her gift of life took the form of rice cakes, stuffed generously with sweet bean paste. As their sweetness slid smoothly down his throat, Takezō grew giddy. The fingers holding the cake shook. "I'm alive," he thought over and over, vowing that from that moment on he'd live a very different sort of life.

The reddish clouds of morning turned their cheeks rosy. As he began to see Otsū's face more clearly and hunger gave way to a sated calm, it seemed like a dream that he was sitting here safe and sound with her.

"When it gets light, we'll have to be very careful. We're almost at the provincial border," said Otsū.

Takezō's eyes widened. "The border! That's right, I forgot. I have to go to Hinagura."

"Hinagura? Why?"

"That's where they've got my sister locked up. I have to get her out of there. Guess I'll have to say good-bye."

Otsū peered into his face in stunned silence. "If that's the way you feel about it, go! But if I'd thought you were going to desert me, I wouldn't have left Miyamoto."

"What else can I do? Just leave her there in the stockade?"

With a look that pressed in on him, she took his hand in hers. Her face, her whole body, was aflame with passion. "Takezō," she pleaded, "I'll tell you how I feel about this later, when there's time, but please, don't leave me alone here! Take me with you, wherever you go!"

"But I can't!"

"Remember"—she gripped his hand tight—"whether you like it or not, I'm staying with you. If you think I'll be in the way when you're trying to rescue Ogin, then I'll go to Himeji and wait."

"All right, do that," he agreed instantly.

"You'll definitely come, won't you?"

"Of course."

"I'll be waiting at Hanada Bridge, just outside Himeji. I'll wait for you there, whether it takes a hundred days or a thousand."

Answering with a slight nod, Takezō was off without further ado, racing along the ridge leading from the pass into the far-distant mountains. Otsū raised her head to watch him till his body melted into the scenery.

Back in the village, Osugi's grandson came charging up to the Hon'iden manor house, shouting, "Grandma! Grandma!"

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he peered into the kitchen and said excitedly, "Grandma, have you heard? Something awful's happened!"

Osugi, who was standing before the stove, coaxing a fire with a bamboo fan, barely looked his way. "What's all the fuss about?",

"Grandma, don't you know? Takezō's escaped!"

"Escaped!" She dropped the fan in the flames. "What are you talking about?"

"This morning he wasn't in the tree. The rope was cut."

"Heita, you know what I said about telling tales!"

"It's the truth, Grandma, honest. Everybody's talking about it." "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, ma'am. And up at the temple, they're searching for Otsū. She's gone too. Everybody's running around shouting."

The visible effect of the news was colorful. Osugi's face whitened shade by shade as the flames of her burning fan turned from red to blue to violet. Her face soon seemed drained of all blood, so much so that Heita shrank in fear.

"Heita!"

"Yes?"

"Run as fast as your legs can carry you. Fetch your daddy right away. Then go down to the riverbank and get Uncle Gon! And hurry!" Osugi's voice quivered.

Before Heita even reached the gate, a crowd of muttering villagers had arrived. Among them were Osugi's son-in-law, Uncle Gon, other relatives and a number of tenants.

"That girl Otsū's run away too, hasn't she?"

"And Takuan's not around either!"

"Looks pretty funny if you ask me!"

"They were in it together, that's for sure."

"Wonder what the old woman'll do? Her family honor's at stake!"

The son-in-law and Uncle Gon, carrying lances passed down to them from their ancestors, stared blankly toward the house. Before they could do anything, they needed guidance, so they stood there restlessly waiting for Osugi to appear and issue orders.

"Granny," someone finally shouted, "haven't you heard the news?"

"I'll be there in a minute," came the reply. "All of you, just be quiet and wait."

Osugi quickly rose to the occasion. When she'd realized the awful news had to be true, her blood boiled, but she managed to control herself enough to kneel before the family altar. After silently saying a prayer of supplication, she raised her head, opened her eyes and turned around. Calmly she opened the doors of the sword chest, pulled out a drawer and withdrew a treasured weapon. Having already donned attire suitable for a manhunt, she slipped the short sword in her obi and went to the entranceway, where she tied her sandal thongs securely round her ankles.

The awed hush that greeted her as she approached the gate made clear they knew what she was dressed for. The stubborn old woman meant business and was more than ready to avenge the insult to her house.

"Everything's going to be all right," she announced in clipped tones. "I'm going to chase down that shameless hussy myself and see to it she receives her proper punishment." Her jaw clamped shut.

She was already walking briskly down the road before someone in the crowd spoke up. "If the old woman is going, we should go too." All the relatives and tenants stood up, and fell in behind their doughty matriarch. Arming themselves as they went with sticks, fashioning bamboo lances hastily as they walked, they marched directly to Nakayama Pass, not even pausing to rest on the way. They reached it just before noon, only to find that they were too late.

"We've let them get away!" one man shouted. The crowd seethed with anger. To add to their frustration, a border official approached to inform them such a large group could not pass through.

Uncle Gon came forward and pleaded earnestly with the official, describing Takezō as a "criminal," Otsū as "evil" and Takuan as "crazy." "If we drop this matter now," he explained, "it will sully the name of our ancestors. We'll never be able to hold up our heads. We'll be the laughingstock of the village. The Hon'iden family might even have to abandon its land."

The official said he understood their predicament but could do nothing to help. The law's the law. He could perhaps send an inquiry on to Himeji and get them special permission to cross the border, but that would take time.

Osugi, after conferring with her relatives and tenants, stepped in front of the official and asked, "In that case, is there any reason why two of us, myself and Uncle Gon, can't go through?"

"Up to five people are permitted."

Osugi nodded her acquiescence. Then, although it looked as if she was about to deliver a moving farewell, she instead called her followers together in a very matter-of-fact way. They lined up before her, staring attentively at her thin-lipped mouth and large protruding teeth.

When they were all quiet, she said, "There's no reason for you to be upset. I anticipated something like this happening before we even set out. When I put on this short sword, one of the most prized Hon'iden heirlooms, I knelt before our ancestors' memorial tablets and bade them a formal farewell. I also made two vows.

"One was that I would overtake and punish the brazen female who has smeared our name with mud. The other was that I'd find out for sure, even if I died trying, whether my son Matahachi is alive. And if he is, I'll bring him home to carry on the family name. I swore to do this, and I will do it, even if it means tying a rope around his neck and dragging him all the way back. He has an obligation not only to me and to those departed, but to you as well. He will then find a wife a hundred times better than Otsū and blot out this disgrace for all time, so that the villagers will once again recognize our house as a noble and honorable one."

As they were applauding and cheering, one man uttered something sounding like a groan. Osugi stared fixedly at her son-in-law.

"Now Uncle Gon and I," she went on, "are both old enough to retire. We are both in agreement on everything I've vowed to do, and he, too, is resolved to accomplish them, even if it means spending two or three years doing nothing else, even if it means walking the length and breadth of the country. While I'm gone, my son-in-law will take my place as head of the house. During that time, you must promise to work as hard as ever. I don't want to hear of any of you neglecting the silkworms or letting weeds grow wild in the fields. Do you understand?"

Uncle Gon was nearly fifty, Osugi ten years older. The crowd seemed hesitant to let them go it alone, since they were obviously no match for Takezō in the event that they should ever find him. They all imagined him to be a madman who would attack and kill for the smell of blood alone.

"Wouldn't it be better," someone suggested, "if you took three young men along with you? The man said that five can pass through."

The old woman shook her head with vehemence. "I don't need any help. I never have, and never will. Ha! Everyone thinks Takezō is so strong, but he doesn't scare me! He's only a brat, with not much more hair on him than when I knew him as a baby. I'm not his equal in physical strength, of course, but I haven't lost my wits. I can still outsmart an enemy or two. Uncle Gon's not senile yet either.

"Now I've told you what I'm going to do," she said, pointing her index finger at her nose. "And I'm going to do it. There's nothing left for you to do but go home, so go and take care of everything till we return."

She shooed them away and walked up to the barrier. No one tried to stop her again. They called their good-byes and watched as the old couple started their journey eastward down the mountainside.

"The old lady really has guts, doesn't she?" someone remarked.

Another man cupped his hands and shouted, "If you get sick, send a messenger back to the village."

A third called solicitously, "Take care of yourselves!"

When she could no longer hear their voices, Osugi turned to Uncle Gon. "We don't have a thing to worry about," she assured him. "We're going to die before those young people anyway."

"You're absolutely right," he replied with conviction. Uncle Gon made his living hunting, but in his younger days he had been a samurai involved, to hear him tell it, in many a gory battle. Even now his skin was healthily ruddy and his hair as black as ever. His surname was Fuchikawa; Gon stood for Gonroku, his given name. As Matahachi's uncle, he was naturally quite concerned and upset about the recent goings-on.

"Granny," he said.

"What?"

"You had the foresight to dress for the road, but I'm just wearing my everyday clothes. I'll have to stop somewhere for sandals and a hat."

"There's a teahouse about halfway down this hill."

"So there is! Yes, I remember. It's called the Mikazuki Teahouse, isn't it? I'm sure they'll have what I need."

By the time they reached the teahouse they were surprised to see that the sun was beginning to set. They had thought they had more daylight hours ahead of them, since the days were growing longer with the approach of summer—more time to search on this, their first day in pursuit of their lost family honor.

They had some tea and rested for a while. Then, as Osugi laid down the money for the bill, she said, "Takano's too far to reach by nightfall. We'll have to make do with sleeping on those smelly mats at the packhorse driver's inn in Shingū, although not sleeping at all might be better than that."

"We need our sleep now more than ever. Let's get going," said Gonroku, rising to his feet and clutching the new straw hat he had just bought. "But wait just a minute."

"Why? "I want to fill this bamboo tube with drinking water."

Going around behind the building, he submerged his tube in a clear running brook till the bubbles stopped rising to the surface. Walking back toward the road in front, he glanced through a side window into the dim interior of the teahouse. Suddenly he came to a halt, surprised to see a figure lying on the floor, covered with straw matting. The smell of medicine permeated the air. Gonroku couldn't see the face, but he could discern long black hair strewn every which way on the pillow.

"Uncle Gon, hurry up!" Osugi cried impatiently.

"Coming."

"What kept you?"

"There seems to be a sick person inside," he said, walking behind her like a chastened dog.

"What's so unusual about that? You're as easy to distract as a child."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized hastily. He was as intimidated by Osugi as anyone else but knew better than most how to manage her.

They set off down the fairly steep hill leading to the Harima road. The road, used daily by packhorses from the silver mines, was pitted with potholes. "Don't fall down, Granny," Gon advised.