The Master Swordsman

by WILLEM BEKINK

Chapter III

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For a year the boy did nothing other than chop wood. The first month flew by and he obeyed meekly in expectation of a glorious future.

He even made it a point of honor to excel in his use of the axe and energetically fulfilled the Sensei's assignment to keep the fire in the hut burning day and night, although he personally couldn't see the sense in it. But he took it all in his stride in order to attain the GREAT goal.

He even gained a certain sense of pleasure in getting up at every hour of the night to put wood on the fire.

After a while he could even hear, from the sound of the crackling wood, when the fire was in need of new fuel, even though his eyes were closed. His sleep was now less deep and his awakening quicker than was previously the case.

In the second month he began to get doubts.

Absently picking at the callouses on his hands he assured himself each night anew that the next day would certainly be the start of the lessons. But week followed week of just chopping wood and he felt himself becoming angrier and angrier.

He chopped with increasing ease from all angles and from the most absurd positions.

At the end of the third month he resolved that he would continue for but one more day at his insane task. If the lessons still had not started he would then literally down tools and go home. He would tell his father how he had been treated and he would certainly do something to make it clear to the Old Man who called the shots in the province. Of course he would give the Old One the chance to apologize, but thereafter he would now determine when the lessons should start what the timetable would be.

Brushing a formal note to this effect he pushed it, folded, halfway under the door, so he could immediately see when it was removed. An hour passed but the note still lay there. Another hour and the hours became days and the days weeks, the note becoming grubbier the longer it lay.

His annoyance grew by the day and he eventually decided to take stern measures. He had now given the Old One enough chances! He jerked the note from under the door and walked to the fire with it. When he unfolded it in order that it would burn more quickly he discovered that the paper was blank. It was not his note, it was even folded differently! His rage at the Sensei exploded, he felt cheated and insulted. The old scumbag!

To think that he had begged him on his knees to be taken on as pupil. It was enough, he would leave immediately.

Of course there would be those that would think he had given up and would secretly gloat.

But he would show them that he could also master the art of the sword elsewhere and without all that useless timewasting. He trembled with rage at the thought of how the Old Man would laugh to himself that he had finally got rid of his nuisance of a pupil. The insults that he had had to bear all this time!

How he hated the grinning, wrinkled face of the old rascal who, when there were peas for dinner, would lay two peas on his portion of rice. And then that remark about flower-arranging, that everyone had overheard. It was unacceptable and unbearable!

When his rage had somewhat subsided an ancient samurai saying suddenly occurred to him: "To bear what you think unbearable…is to truly bear."

He sighed.

And so it is that a good saying can sometimes help one through a small crisis.

In the fourth month, collecting all his courage he went to the Old Man, bowed deeply and respectfully asked when his first lesson in Kendo would start.

Above his bowed head the Old One mumbled: "Hmm…a fish that longs for a worm can seemingly not enjoy a meal of flies." For days the boy searched for the meaning of this riddle-like answer, coming to the conclusion that it had absolutely no meaning and was also not an answer to his question. He went again to the Old Master and repeated his question. This time the answer was short: "When you are ready."

"But I am ready", cried the boy, whereon the Old One answered: "Oh yes..? Well drop your pants and let's see then."

The boy almost screamed with rage. He went back to his axe and woodpile and splintered one log after the other as if possessed by the devil.

Every night he carefully inspected the state of development of his genitals in the firelight but there was not much to note and in dull despair time passed by.

He received a new task alongside that of wood chopping. He had to carry water from the river below to the top of the hill so that the old man could take his bath at the hut. That meant chopping the wood quicker as he now had only half the time for this. And other senseless tasks were added. He had to read and do writing exercises and remembr all sorts of nonsense. This was surely not work for a future sanurai?

The more time he had to spend learning, the less remained for his obligatory fatigue of water-carrying and wood-chopping. At first he laboured until deep into the night - then falling asleep, dead tired, only to be kicked awake frequently and unfeelingly for allowing the fire to die. He had no time for anything any more, not to think nor to be angry. There was only time for uninterrupted work, bitterly executed out of fear of being sent away: For that was a pleasure he wouldn't grant the Old Man!

And so he gradually came to discover that he had lost all interest. He took pleasure in nothing, nature didn't interest him and he remembered little of his earlier youth.

Little remained of the hate that he had harboured for the Old Man and he could even get worked up about eth two little peas on his handful of rice. He felt himself as broken as the farmers whose lives, he had heard, passed by in ceaseless, exhausting labour, without any prospect than mere survival.

When the first year was over he would not have the energy to even spit at the Old One's feet, let alone to become a great swordfighter. He was just exhausted, weary in body and soul. So he decided to throw it in and to leave on the night of the next full moon.

But on the night of the full moon he did not take flight. Something happened that caused him to forget his resolution.

And it was painful!

 

Chapter IV