Free Casca 19: The Samurai by Barry Sadler

further attention to it.
    He and Muramasa took turns on guard, letting the women catch their sleep. They would probably have need of it in the coming days. He and Muramasa talked for a few moments, Casca adding to his list of words and phrases while Muramasa shook his head in disbelief at the half understood tales Casca told him of the outside world. He told him of the great cities of the Genghis, of Rome and the legions, Byzantium and Sarmatia, and Persia and the Vandals. It was too much for Muramasa to believe that anywhere in the world there could be a greater or richer city than that of the Son of Heaven, who, though just a boy of eight years, was still by divine right a direct descendant from the immortal gods. Ahhh, surely, this long nosed ugly one was a great storyteller and was simply trying to be amusing in his clumsy fashion.
    Through the night, they took their turns, letting the coals of the fire die down after they had eaten. There was no sense in advertising their presence if it could be avoided. Muramasa took first watch, using the time to set the scale of his life and future in balance. He knew that he had failed in many things, but now he had the chance to succeed. Or did he? Was what to become of him now more in the length of the cold shining steel he called Well Drinker than himself? Would it one day drink from his blood also?
    Ahhh, we ll, if it did, then that, too, was his karma. Until then he would play the great game against all who came. It had been a most unusual series of events that had happened to him since he had found the long nosed one on the beach. Perhaps he was a spirit form or possibly he was possessed by one. The scars on his knotted body were enough to give one nightmares. Muramasa was a warrior and knew the meaning of many of those wounds he had seen. The man should have died several times over or at the least have been a pathetic cripple with amputated limbs. Perhaps the gods were keeping him alive to do their bidding and somehow aid Muramasa to realize his ambitions.
     
     

CHAPTER NINE
    Eyes watched the ronin by the shrine several times during the night, though not the eyes of bandits or samurai of the Taira. They were the eyes of Yoshiko no Hirimoto. She slept as a warrior did. Every sound, no matter how slight, was instantly registered. When one was not identified by the subconscious, her eyes would instantly snap open as her hand tightened on the handle of the namban-bo . When she did wake, there were always doubts about her fortune to nag her. Was she lucky to be in the company of two such as these? They did look disreputable and the big barbarian was frightening in the extreme by his very difference.
    But they had killed the Taira, that was not in doubt. And what would her chances be to reach Kamakura without them? There were still many days to go, and her chances of making it without an escort were very slim indeed. She had to make it. Much depended on her reaching Kamakura. From there her message could be sent directly and safely to Yoritomo.
    Aiie , it would be good when she could put down the weight of her responsibility. For now only she was free and able to bring Yoritomo the information that the Kwanto was his when he was ready to move against the Taira. The passes leading to and from the eight provinces would be controlled by those who would rally to him once he was in position to threaten and take Heian Kyo – if he made it that far. First he would have many battles to fight and win before he advanced to the Kwanto. But if he did, then he would not be resisted and the passes to the city of the Emperor would be open to him, as well as having at least three of the most powerful barons of the Kwanto throw their forces in with his.
    If she did not manage to get the message to Yoritomo, then who could say what alignments might occur if he did not move rapidly enough to secure the fealty of the lords of the Kwanto now that it was proffered. If he hesitated, they could change