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Authors: Barry Sadler
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misfortune and did as he was ordered. Raising his single tattered sail of rattan, he made for the Straits of Shimonoseki and the main island of Honshu, where, if Amida Bhudda was kind, he would put off these people with their swords and never see them again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Lady Yoshiko no Hirimoto bowed to the ronin with sincere respect. Although she was samurai, never had she seen sword dance such as she had just witnessed. The man might not be of her class, but he was without a doubt a warrior to be reckoned with. And there was his strange companion who had killed the samurai by snapping his neck as if it were no more than a rotten twig. Such strength, though certainly there was a certain lack of finesse to his technique.
Her maid began to whimper. Quickly she corrected her. "Quiet, remember who you serve! We are samurai. Never let common people see you with weakness!"
Yoshiko was absolutely sincere. If the ronin had not been able to dispose of the shugo , she would have killed herself before permitting them to take her captive. She could not let her life be used to threaten her family. Her delicate, well groomed manner covered a heart as fierce as any of her family. Samurai women had their duty also, even to the death.
Perhaps these men might be of service to her, for she had far to go and alone it would be difficult. Even more important, they had horses.
As the gray eyed big man was obviously a barbarian, she felt, no need to address herself to him. "May I ask as to the name of our rescuer and most humbly apologize for being the instrument by which you have become involved with our problems?" She removed her hat.
Casca felt his chest clench. Her face was bare of the white powder of the women he had seen earlier. Her complexion was very pale gold with roses and milk for accent. Her hair was set high on her head, bundled loosely under her straw hat. She was without question one of the most beautiful and exotic women he had ever seen in all his years of wandering.
Muramasa felt his face flush with awkward emotion. This was the first time in his life that a highborn had ever spoken to him as if he were a true man and not just another peasant soldier to be thrown away like so much chaff before the winnowing winds of war.
Trying to affect the more refined speech of the nobles he answered stiffly, "I am Jinto Muramasa, my lady. May I inquire as to your name?" He bowed deeply with respect.
Gracefully she responded in kind, inclining her head delicately, showing the nape of her neck to be as long and graceful as the swans that swam in the lily ponds of the Emperor's palace at Heian Kyo. "With pleasure, good sir. And may I say that your name, War Sword, is most apt." She knew now that he had killed samurai of the Taira, he could not betray her to them without losing his own head. She said demurely, "I am Yoshiko no Hirimoto."
"Ahhh!" He hissed between his teeth. So that was it. Her father, Oe no Hirimoto, was known to be a noble and an important advisor to the Minamoto. If she could be taken hostage, it would be very difficult for her family, even if she was never ransomed or set free. The shugo were after her.
Casca coughed politely. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want to be left out of this. Let Muramasa take his pick of horses and clothes, but this was something different.
Muramasa frowned at his companion's ill manner, but he felt he did owe him at least an introduction to a great lady of a noble house. It would further his education greatly. Bowing again, he asked, "If it would not offend you, Yoshiko no Hirimoto-san, I would like to present my traveling companion. He is a most curious man, but as you have just witnessed, sometimes a most useful person."
She smiled at the big pale man as she would one of her father's pet dogs. She had never seen anything like him. He was so ugly that he was almost attractive in a perverted way. Her face flushed at such an indelicate thought. "Is he an
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Lady Yoshiko no Hirimoto bowed to the ronin with sincere respect. Although she was samurai, never had she seen sword dance such as she had just witnessed. The man might not be of her class, but he was without a doubt a warrior to be reckoned with. And there was his strange companion who had killed the samurai by snapping his neck as if it were no more than a rotten twig. Such strength, though certainly there was a certain lack of finesse to his technique.
Her maid began to whimper. Quickly she corrected her. "Quiet, remember who you serve! We are samurai. Never let common people see you with weakness!"
Yoshiko was absolutely sincere. If the ronin had not been able to dispose of the shugo , she would have killed herself before permitting them to take her captive. She could not let her life be used to threaten her family. Her delicate, well groomed manner covered a heart as fierce as any of her family. Samurai women had their duty also, even to the death.
Perhaps these men might be of service to her, for she had far to go and alone it would be difficult. Even more important, they had horses.
As the gray eyed big man was obviously a barbarian, she felt, no need to address herself to him. "May I ask as to the name of our rescuer and most humbly apologize for being the instrument by which you have become involved with our problems?" She removed her hat.
Casca felt his chest clench. Her face was bare of the white powder of the women he had seen earlier. Her complexion was very pale gold with roses and milk for accent. Her hair was set high on her head, bundled loosely under her straw hat. She was without question one of the most beautiful and exotic women he had ever seen in all his years of wandering.
Muramasa felt his face flush with awkward emotion. This was the first time in his life that a highborn had ever spoken to him as if he were a true man and not just another peasant soldier to be thrown away like so much chaff before the winnowing winds of war.
Trying to affect the more refined speech of the nobles he answered stiffly, "I am Jinto Muramasa, my lady. May I inquire as to your name?" He bowed deeply with respect.
Gracefully she responded in kind, inclining her head delicately, showing the nape of her neck to be as long and graceful as the swans that swam in the lily ponds of the Emperor's palace at Heian Kyo. "With pleasure, good sir. And may I say that your name, War Sword, is most apt." She knew now that he had killed samurai of the Taira, he could not betray her to them without losing his own head. She said demurely, "I am Yoshiko no Hirimoto."
"Ahhh!" He hissed between his teeth. So that was it. Her father, Oe no Hirimoto, was known to be a noble and an important advisor to the Minamoto. If she could be taken hostage, it would be very difficult for her family, even if she was never ransomed or set free. The shugo were after her.
Casca coughed politely. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want to be left out of this. Let Muramasa take his pick of horses and clothes, but this was something different.
Muramasa frowned at his companion's ill manner, but he felt he did owe him at least an introduction to a great lady of a noble house. It would further his education greatly. Bowing again, he asked, "If it would not offend you, Yoshiko no Hirimoto-san, I would like to present my traveling companion. He is a most curious man, but as you have just witnessed, sometimes a most useful person."
She smiled at the big pale man as she would one of her father's pet dogs. She had never seen anything like him. He was so ugly that he was almost attractive in a perverted way. Her face flushed at such an indelicate thought. "Is he an
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