The Seabird of Sanematsu (2 page)

He took a deep breath to give further orders.

**
*

Aderyn concentrated on the words, happy to have something to consider other than her pain. She recognized the language as Japanese--familiar by her having learned it from a nursemaid. A different dialect than the one she knew, with some words undecipherable, but she could follow the conversation.

The leader of this army, a sure and confident man, interested her. Those around him kept their distance yet were alert to defend him at the slightest hint of need. He would be the one with whom she would have to contend if she were unfortunate enough to be exposed.

He stood a head taller than most of the others. A loose jacket hung open to expose the two swords in a snug girdle around his trim abdomen; he wore the swords with the hilts to the left. Beneath this was a close-wrapped shirt identical to those of his army. A crest on both sides of the upper chest and the sleeves in white detail cut the dark blue and was repeated on the middle of his back. The shirt had a broad collar and crossed in the front to tuck into wide-legged black trousers.

His hair, so dark it appeared to have a blue tinge, was pulled up into a severe topknot, but the forepart of his head was covered with smooth, glossy hair, not tonsured like that of the others. His cleanshaven jaw was square and set. Even on the rolling and pitching ship, he had a sure and steady stance.

Aderyn’s muscles were in agony. Try as she might, she could not ignore the leg cramps. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out and quelled a moan in her throat. If discovered, she would be killed. There was no ally here…unless, some instinct told her, she could prove herself worthy in this man’s eyes.

Oh, God, the pain!

The slightest of unintentional whimpers revealed her hiding place. The warriors standing at their generals’ sides moved with rapid, military precision to pull away the protection of her sisters’ bodies. The weight lifted away from her was a relief; the fresh air rushing over her filled her lungs, replacing the smell of death. Before the glare of the bright morning sun blinded her, a glint flashed off the sword the one called Matsumoto, drawn in the swiftest of moves. Was she about to die?

CHAPTER TWO

NO!”

The gleaming steel stopped a hair’s width from the flesh of her neck. The one called Sanematsu had ordered her life spared. Wide-eyed, Aderyn stared in the direction of the voice.

He put a hand on Matsumoto’s sword arm and looked down at her; their eyes met and held. Her breath came in rapid gulps, and her heart raced. She could imagine what a sight she must be. Her torn gray wool dress, soaked with water, blood and other fluids she did not care to analyze, clung to her body. Her hair, matted and saturated with the same liquids, clung to her head, shoulders and back. A clump dangled down her forehead to drape across her nose and tickle the edge of her mouth before she flung it away with a defiant toss of her head.

She dared not show her fear to this man--he had the authority to let her keep her life, or to take it away. Gaining his respect was imperative. A warrior, he could see courage in an instant and would have immense respect for it, especially from a female. She could not have been in the East for this long and not learn the low regard with which females were held in this part of the world.

“Bring her along.” Sanematsu released Matsumoto’s arm, but did not retreat. He looked down at her, and she kept her eyes locked on his in an unwavering stare. She pretended to be unaware of the cold steel brushing her neck as it was withdrawn and sheathed.

With a questioning look, the Evil One, as Aderyn thought of him, settled his scabbards in the thin girdle around his waist and reached to pull her to her feet. She shook him off and got up under her own power, careful to step from the mass of arms and legs tangled around her. Straightening her dress, she again tossed her hair back out of her face.

“Sire, why do you wish to bother with her? She is of no use. A filthy
yabanjin
. You have never bothered yourself with spoils of war.”

“Barbarian or not, it is enough for you to know that I do wish her.” Taking his eyes off her for the first time, Sanematsu bent and picked up the flintlock from amid the bodies and tucked it into his girdle alongside his swords. “Order the men back to their tasks.”

“Where do you wish her quartered?”

“Do as you see fit, but do not harm her.” Sanematsu turned on his heel and strode toward the waiting boat. Unhindered by his flowing trousers, he disembarked down the rope ladder with a grace Aderyn had never seen in a man. Soon, his tall form, its back to the ship, was in view as the powerful samurai rowed toward the shore. At the ocean’s edge, he stepped into the shallow water and splashed up the beach to his horse.

Matsumoto gave orders to the men on deck, his harsh tone full of anger. They returned to their duties, and now that Sanematsu departed, he gave Aderyn his full attention.

His smirk increased as his finger traced the edge of the dress, tickling the flesh bulging over the tight bodice. The touch sent shivers up her spine and tears of frustration and anger welled up in her eyes.

His crooked, wicked grin increased. Seeing his pleasure at her unshed tears, Aderyn resolved not to cry. Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, she gave him a direct look while squaring her shoulders to stand ramrod-straight. Defiantly, her breasts remained in reach of the lewd warrior.

“Come.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the rope ladder with a rough tug. He did not hide his nature well nor was he a man who could tolerate a stare such as she exhibited. She suspected his master’s interdiction was the only thing preventing him from taking revenge for her insulting behavior.

Before they could climb down the rope ladder into one of the boats that had brought the boarding party, two men approached. Aderyn took the opportunity to look around the ship as he spoke with them. Although she could translate their words, she did not. The work around her was far more distracting.

Sorrow washed through her anew as the bodies were dragged to the center of the ship, and she blinked away the tears when she thought of her lost family. She renewed her vow to harden her heart, to survive. Today’s joy could be tomorrow’s sorrow. Life was now, and she must take hold of it. The past, even a moment past, was dead, and the future might never be. The present was all she had.

The men bowed and departed. Matsumoto gripped her upper arm once more and propelled her into the rowboat. When they reached land, he ordered the rowers to move the boat high up onto the beach--too good to get his feet wet. The other man had plunged into the surf like a small boy playing in a mud puddle, as if eager to feel the warm water and soft ooze of the ocean’s floor beneath his feet.

The first off the boat, Matsumoto took precise steps to secure his footing as they stepped onto the sandy shore. Aderyn followed, urged on by the soldiers and their swords. Her first efforts to walk up the soft sand resulted in a sprawling tumble. The guard nearest her grunted his commands, prodding her with the blunt end of his staff. The only thing he did not do was put a hand on her to either help her stand or push her along.

Coming up on her hands and knees, the squishy sand oozing between her fingers, she pushed herself upright. As she managed to move on the shore, guards fell in position, their captive at the center.

The samurai marched Aderyn toward a hard-packed road with such haste her skirt entwined around her legs. The pressure to move quicker forced her to hoist her heavy skirts, soaked and crusted with sand, up almost to her hips to free her feet. Her porous slippers made it even more difficult to keep pace.

The first step onto the hard road came as a welcome shock. She kept the heavy skirt lifted even though her progress became easier.

Her height gave her an advantage to see over the heads of her guards. They proceeded through the city, following a narrow street past the houses of fishermen and farmers that lined the outskirts. Full of smells, some easy to distinguish, others strange and exotic, the air had still the salty sting of the sea. She could taste it glazing her lips as it tickled her nose. The heavy odor of fish, rotten and fresh, along with the night soil used to feed the tiny plants growing in small plots near the squalid houses, masked the scents of green grass and flowering plants.

Colorful shops crowded to the very edge of the city, cloth coverings flapping over the window and door openings. Those portals not covered exposed the shops’ wares for customer appraisal--fruits and vegetable in one, housewares in another, fishing supplies in yet a third. People were sprinkled inside and out, dressed in grays and browns, some in black, all the garments draping wraps covering wiry, hard-used bodies. Old women, round and wrinkled, milled around houses. Small children moved at their feet and dress hems, laughing and shouting. The adults worked over their plots of garden or the fishing boats.

As the entourage of soldiers and Aderyn passed them, the villagers stopped their work. They turned and dropped to their knees, unconcerned with the hardness of the ground they knelt on. Prostrating themselves, they rose once the group had passed. Aderyn craned her neck to peer behind and watched the people return to their work without an apparent second thought about the troop and their captive stranger.

The trek led out of the city, passing more gardens and rice paddies up the mountainside. The road’s gradual incline made Aderyn’s calves cramp and ache as the strain increased. Her lungs labored to move oxygen through them, and her heart pulsed hard in her chest. A bright sun beamed in the mid-morning. Sweat rippled down her face and ran in rivulets between her breasts and down the small of her back. She longed to know how much longer she would have to trudge along.

The majestic castle towered above the city. The structure gave the illusion of being carved into the mountain covered with thick green forests behind it. Clouds hid the crest, and a hint of snow at the top peeked out from under the vaporous fringe. The pagoda-like structure came into view from the top to the bottom as Aderyn neared the surrounding wall. The square keep at the center rose from layers of porch-encircled floors, widening as they reached the ground.

At the end of the road, a huge gap opened in the heavy stone walls. Aderyn was not given time to empty the sand from her shoes or take in her surroundings once within them. Matsumoto hustled her to a small house in the rear of the main building.

Inside, a woman knelt on the wooden floor folding small towels. Another moved jars and bowls on a low shelf. Very plain, they were dressed alike in dark clothes, with scarves to protect their hair. They turned in unison, the one standing knelt and both prostrated themselves to Matsumoto.

“Prepare her for Lord Sanematsu.” He turned to the guards who had followed them from the vessel. “Hamasaki-uji, you will remain to watch our lord’s prisoner. Take her to the cells until after his day’s duties.”

“Yes, Matsumoto-uji.” The youngest man inclined forward from the waist. Matsumoto and the others left.

Aderyn paid little attention to her guard, more concerned with what kind of place this was and what Matsumoto meant by “preparations.”

A pleasant, sweet smoke from a fire burning somewhere beneath the small, dark hut flowed through the air. Clumps of wet sand dropped from her skirt to the unfinished hardwood flooring, the planks smooth and gleaming. Fine steam rose from a large redwood vat filled with hot water, making the room humid. Perspiration trickled down her torso.

Because of her childhood in Macao, the strict cleanliness of the Eastern people did not come as a surprise. Her mother had taken exception to this, among other points of Asian custom. Daily sprinklings of face and hands were all Kathryn saw as necessary. Their clothes were seldom laundered, months passing before the long, heavy woolen dresses and multi-layered underclothes were considered unfit for wear. Her hair did not touch water any more often than her body.

Now, she reached to her scalp to scratch at the lice residing there that had come to life, as if they knew their existence was about to come to an abrupt end.

The vat called like a womb into which she could retreat. The desire to be free of the smell and stain of battle increased with the thought of having hot, soapy water cover her from head to toe. She wanted to lower her soiled body into the water and let it soak away the crusted blood on her face, hands and side. The dress was scratchy and stiff, now that the gore had begun to dry.

The women broke into Aderyn’s abstraction when they moved toward her. She protested as they reached to remove her clothes. Undressing and bathing in front of the guard who stood inside the doorway disturbed her. She pushed the women aside and backed away. “No” wouldn’t come in any of her languages. At dawn, she had lost everything except her pride and dignity. Was she to now lose even that?

The harder she resisted, the more persistent the maids became, until they at last overpowered her and tore the dress from her body. They chattered, and although Aderyn understood their words, she remained silent--there were times when silence and seeming incomprehension were the best defense. The petticoat and pantaloons fell away after a bit more protesting, and only Aderyn’s small hands shielded her private areas from Hamasaki’s eyes.

He stood without emotion, eyes front and unseeing. Maybe this was not the first time he had performed such duty. She did not know whether to be hurt or relieved by his lack of interest, but it did not relieve her embarrassment.

As though sensing her shame, the women gave her a small square towel. They guided her to a low stool while they spoke to each other. One woman soaped and scrubbed her skin with a hard brush while the other shampooed her hair. Once they had removed every trace of dirt, buckets of clear warm water cascaded over her head. The smell of blood and death fell away with the water; and Aderyn savored the refreshing sensation of clean skin.

After the smooth, fragrant soap rolled down her body to drip away through the wooden slats, she stepped to the vat. Gritting her teeth, she lowered her body, inch-by-inch, into the tub and sat on the stool beneath the steaming surface. Her body eased once her flesh became acclimated to the heat. Weary muscles unbound, and she grew drowsy.

The women went about tidying the hut, leaving her to her ease. Hamasaki stood, his face stony, looking into some far distance to avoid the sight of the naked woman.

Aderyn kept her guard up, wary of what would happen next. Still, for the first time since she awoke, she could think about something besides surviving. She was curious to learn more about where she was, although fear still filled her. What would her captor do with her now she was all clean and groomed? Would he have his way, and then kill her? Or keep her in some sort of harem to call on at intervals?

The prospect of learning a new culture stirred excitement within her, despite her precarious situation. She had soaked up more about the people of the East in her sixteen years than her father, who had traveled among them daily. The colors of the market and aroma of the foods had piqued her inquisitiveness. The rhythm of the languages and the manner of the people interested her. But each tidbit of knowledge made her hunger for more.