"Don't talk like that. If the master hears of it, he'll be angry. Get down from there!"
"Sure. Do you have any work for me?"
"There are guests coming this evening."
"Again?"
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
"Who's coming?"
"A student of the martial arts who's traveled throughout the country."
"How many in the group?" Hiyoshi climbed down from the roof. Nohachiro took out a parchment. "We're expecting the nephew of Lord Kamiizumi of Ogo, Hitta Shohaku. He is traveling with twelve followers. There'll be another rider and three packhorses and their attendants."
"That's a fair-sized group."
"These men have dedicated their lives to the study of martial arts. There'll be a lot of baggage and horses, so clear out the storehouse workers' quarters, and we'll put them up there for the time being. Have the place swept clean by evening, before they get here."
"Yes, sir. Will they be staying long?"
"About six months," Nohachiro said. Looking tired, he wiped the sweat off his face.
In the evening Shohaku and his men brought their horses to a halt in front of the gate and brushed the dust off their clothes. Senior and junior retainers came out to meet them, and gave them an elaborate ceremonial welcome. There were lengthy words of greeting from the hosts, and no less respectful and eloquent a reply from Shohaku, a man of about thirty. Once the formalities were over, servants took charge of the packhorses and baggage, and the guests, led by Shohaku, entered the mansion compound.
Hiyoshi had enjoyed watching the elaborate show. Its formality made him realize how much the prestige of warriors had risen with the growing importance of military matters. Lately the term "martial arts" was on everyone's lips, along with other new expressions like "sword technique" and "spear technique." Martial artists like Kamiizumi of Ogo and Tsukahara of Hitachi were household names. The travels of some of these men were far more rigorous than the pilgrimages of wandering Buddhist monks. But men like Tsukahara were always accompanied by sixty or seventy followers. Their retainers carried hawks and traveled in grand style.
The number of Shohaku's party did not surprise Hiyoshi. But since they were going to be there for six months, he suspected rightly that he was going to be ordered around until his head spun. No more than four or five days had passed before he was being worked as hard as one of their own servants.
"Hey, Monkey! My underwear is dirty. Wash it."
"Lord Matsushita's monkey! Go and buy me some ointment."
The summer nights were short, and the extra work cut into his sleeping time, so at noon one day he was fast asleep in the shade of a paulownia tree. He was leaning against the trunk, his head dangling to one side and his arms folded. On the parched earth, the only thing that moved was a procession of ants.
A couple of young samurai, who disliked him, walked past carrying practice spears.
"Well, look here. It's Monkey."
"Having a good sleep, isn't he?"
"He's just a lazy good-for-nothing. How come he's the master and mistress's pet? They wouldn't like it if they saw him like this."
"Wake him up. Let's teach him a lesson."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Isn't Monkey the only one who hasn't once gone to martial-arts practice?"
"That's probably because he knows he's not well liked. He's afraid of getting hit."
"That's not right. It's the duty of all the servants of a warrior house to train hard in the martial arts. That's what it says in the household regulations."
"You don't have to tell me. Tell Monkey."
"I say we wake him up and take him to the practice field."
"Yeah, that'd be interesting."
One of the men struck Hiyoshi's shoulder with the point of his spear.
"Hey, wake up!"
Hiyoshi's eyes stayed shut.
"Wake up!" The man lifted Hiyoshi's feet with his spear. Hiyoshi slipped down the tree trunk and awoke with a start.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What do you think you're doing, snoring away in the garden in broad daylight?"
"Me, sleeping?"
"Well, weren't you?"
"Maybe I fell asleep without meaning to. I'm awake now though."
"Impertinent little ass! I've heard that you haven't spent one single day at martial-arts practice."
"That's because I'm no good."
"If you never practice, how do you know? Even though you're a servant, the household regulations say you have to practice the martial arts. From today on, we'll see that you practice."
"No, thanks."
"Are you refusing to obey the household regulations?"
"No, but—"
"Come on, let's go!" Allowing no further protest, they dragged Hiyoshi forcibly to the field in front of the storehouse. They were going to teach him a lesson for disobeying the household regulations.
Under the burning sky, the visiting martial artists and the Matsushita retainers were training hard.
The young samurai who had brought Hiyoshi urged him forward with hard blows to the back.
"Get yourself a wooden sword or spear and fight!"
Hiyoshi tottered forward, barely able to stand, but he did not pick up a weapon.
"What are you waiting for?" One man gave him a sharp rap on the chest with his spear. "We're going to give you some practice, so get a weapon!" Hiyoshi staggered forward again but still would not fight. He just chewed his lip obstinately.
Two of Shohaku's men, Jingo Gorokuro and Sakaki Ichinojo, were having a trial of strength with real spears in response to a request from the Matsushita men. Gorokuro, who wore a headband, was spearing two-hundred-pound rice bags and flinging them in the air in a show of apparently superhuman strength.
"With that kind of skill, it must be easy to fly at a man on the battlefield. His strength is astonishing!" said one of the spectators.
Gorokuro corrected him. "If you men think this is a technique of strength, you're badly mistaken. If you put strength into this technique, the shaft of the spear will break and your arms will quickly get tired." He put his spear aside and explained, "The principles of the sword and the spear are the same. The secret of all the martial arts is in the ch'i, the subtle energy of the tan t'ien, the area two inches below the navel. This is strength without strength. One must have the mental power to transcend the need for strength and regulate the flow of ch'i ." He lectured with enthusiasm and at length.
Deeply impressed, his audience listened attentively, until they were disturbed by a noise behind them.
"You obstinate monkey!" The young samurai swung the handle of his spear, hitting Hiyoshi in the hip.
"Ow!" yelled Hiyoshi in a tearful voice. The blow had obviously hurt. He screwed up his face and doubled over, rubbing his hip. The group broke up and re-formed around Hiyoshi.
"Lazy good-for-nothing!" yelled the man who had struck Hiyoshi. "He says he's no good and doesn't want to come to practice."
Hiyoshi found himself the center of a grumbling crowd, accused of being unrepentant and insolent.
"Well, well," said Shohaku, coming forward and calming them down. "Judging from appearances, he's still just a suckling, at an age when impertinence blooms. Flouting the household regulations while in the employ of a warrior house and having no taste for the martial arts is this fellow's misfortune. I'll do the questioning. The rest of you be quiet.
"Young man," he said to Hiyoshi.
"Yes." Hiyoshi looked straight at Shohaku as he answered. But his tone of voice had changed, for the look in his questioner's eyes said that Shohaku was the kind of man to whom he could speak freely.
"It seems you dislike the martial arts, even though you're employed in a warrior house. Is this true?"
"No." Hiyoshi shook his head.