The Seabird of Sanematsu (16 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Aderyn’s presence during the afternoon’s training had also distracted Matsumoto Katsura. Concerned more with Sanematsu’s distraction, he could not contain the rage his lust provoked. He became so angry he injured two of his opponents during the hand-to-hand combat practice.

Frustrated, he watched as the woman followed Lord Sanematsu inside the bathhouse. Though surprised by this odd event, he could rest assured the daimyo would not take his pleasure with the girl. He had overheard the messenger about the council meeting; Sanematsu had no time to tarry in his bath.

Matsumoto sensed he would have his chance soon. While he waited in the garden, like a spider in anticipation of a butterfly’s falling into his web, he fantasized about Sanematsu’s seabird. Youthful partners were the easiest targets for his predilection for sexual domination; but since the passage of Sanematsu’s new law, the teahouses would not supply the boys he required.

Now his blood boiled, and he ached to have his way with the one person he could dominate in the most intense manner. He would have her kneeling before him and begging to taste and touch his Jade Root, to have it thrust deeply inside her. She would plead and cry for him. He hoped she would struggle and give him an excuse to inflict pain on the delicate bird. It would add so much to his pleasure.

So involved was he with his erotic schemes, Matsumoto did not notice Tori and Sanematsu emerging from the bathhouse until he heard Sanematsu speak.

“I wish for you to dine with me.”

“Thank you, my lord,” came the girl’s reply. Her soft, pleasure-filled tone of voice appalled the eavesdropping general. “I shall see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

Sanematsu took what appeared to be the first reluctant step in departing. However, Matsumoto did not waste time with his master, but watched his master’s bird. The steam had caused her to sweat, and a flush covered her face. She fluffed her uchiki at the neck like a shy maiden. Aroused more than ever, he decided he would show her what that feigned innocence would get her.

“I, too, Yoshihide-sama,” he heard her answer, her tone airy and delicate. The quick smile her whispered caress of his name brought to Sanematsu’s lips as he strode toward the main house disgusted Matsumoto.

“Tori.”

Her name spat like a curse from his lips as he stepped from the shadows where he lurked. Sanematsu had done him a great favor by dismissing the guards. With no one near for him to order away, she was at his mercy.

“Sachi-sama suggested I show you the stables. She said you have an interest in…flesh. Horseflesh, that is.”

Her expression was fearful--she knew her place well. He was samurai and carried two swords with license to use them. She could not refuse him.

“Come, now,” he snarled. “I know you speak our language.”

“I know you do, Lord Matsumoto,” she spoke precisely. “I remember asking Sachi-sama about the stable, but…I was thinking…whether or not I had the time right now. Lord Sanematsu has requested I attend the evening meal with him. I must change into more appropriate attire.”

“You will make the time.” He forced her with a painful grip on her forearm down the steps.

**
*

The remote area of the courtyard was quiet and menacing, devoid of people. Eerie silence surrounded the wood-and-plaster building housing the great warhorses of Sanematsu’s army. When they entered the dark stable, hay and horse scent assaulted Aderyn’s nose. The rush of blood in her ears muffled the sounds of the horses. Fear narrowed her vision.

Matsumoto led her past stalls from which the occupants poked their noses. Any other time and in any other company she would have enjoyed visiting the horses.

He shoved her into an empty stall at the back of the building. In the stall next to it, a huge bay stallion watched them over the half-gate. Fresh hay lay on the hard-packed ground of the shadowy depths. A shelf set low on the back wall was laden with tack and grooming equipment.

“You have been alone with Sanematsu-sama far too long, barbarian.” Matsumoto removed his swords. The long one he kept in his hand. The short one he stood in the corner.

“I do not understand, Matsumoto-sama.” Aderyn tried to be brave, preparing to talk her way out of this. She took a timid step toward the gate. Her heart constricted in a painful wrench.

“Of course, you do.” Matsumoto blocked her. “You and I will learn more about each other.”

Aderyn retreated until she was backed into the corner when he reached to touch her face. The closer he came, the harder the wood and rope pressed into her shoulder blades. His face, inches from hers, loomed large and menacing; his hot, fetid breath nauseated her.

“Sanematsu-sama is not what you need. You need a powerful man to teach you pleasures you have never experienced.” Matsumoto’s lust made his coarse voice more grating.

“No! You cannot--” Her protest stuck in her throat as his fingers closed around her neck, stopping both words and breath.

“You will not speak. I do not wish your words. Remove your clothes.”

Matsumoto dropped his hand after the order and backed away.

“I will not!” she choked out after a gulp of air. Anger coursed through her as her blood rushed along her veins. When he unsheathed the long sword, her terror returned.

“You will do it now!” He placed the point of the sword against her cheek. “Or Lord Sanematsu will be told of an unfortunate accident that has befallen his barbarian seabird.”

With precise skill, he pushed the blade tip, opening the skin in a line along her cheekbone. Pain and hot blood filled her face. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes until a single drop rolled down her injured cheek. Mixed with blood, it ran into the corner of her mouth to allow her to taste her anguish.

“Are you going to comply?” He ran his tongue over his dry lips and panted. The razor-sharp steel slid down to the hollow of her cheek. Another small, painful wound appeared.

“Yes.” Her voice quavered; the saliva in her mouth dried up.

The leer in his eyes revealed he wished she would resist so he would have an excuse to hurt her more. She put a hand to her belt and opened the front of the osode with deliberate slowness, in desperate hope someone would interrupt this horrendous happening. A hitoe, a thin, plain chemise-like garment worn by joined women that Sachi made her wear lay beneath. As was its purpose, it hid her body.

A growl emerged from deep within Matsumoto’s throat. The katana cut though the material in a direct line from her left shoulder across her chest, making a wound, long and curved, beneath her right breast. Blood dripped down her ribs. She swallowed hard to keep from screaming. The pulse rate in her temples tripled.

In the next stall, the horse began to move in nervous excitement at the smell of blood and other human scents similar to those of war. He nickered and bumped his shoulder against the wooden walls, trying to break through the gate.

Matsumoto’s moved his sword away. “Take it off.”

Aderyn’s hair swayed as she shook her head. She could not go on with this. She closed her eyes, but her tears would not cease. Salty water flowed down her face and burned the cuts on her cheek. She bit her lips until they bled, but she did not make a sound.

“You will regret your decision.”

The sword returned to her shoulder, the flat edge pressed against her skin. He forced her to her knees as he opened his practice clothes. He reached into the loose fundoshi, pulling out his rampant flesh. Aderyn averted her eyes from the thick, heavily veined organ. Gravel and rocks sliced into her knees.

As though he sensed the evil taking place, the horse’s movements became more frantic. He bounced up and down as his whinnies changed to snorts, His forelegs lashed out, cutting through the air with sharp hooves. When Aderyn saw his heavy head over the high wooden divider, her tears stopped.

The sword came away, and Matsumoto positioned the weapon so it passed over her shoulder without harming her flesh. The sharp edge came to rest, poised, by her upper arm. He applied pressure, and it sliced a deep, painful wound into the muscle.

Aderyn stared up at him but did not cry out. The breath captured in her lungs burned, and her chest hurt from the rapid pounding of her heart, but she would not show it. He would take too much pleasure in that for her to allow it. She would do anything to prevent his enjoying her torture.

The great stallion now neighed and thrashed in his stall. His agitation increased as Matsumoto’s advances became bolder. If she could hold out a little longer, someone surely would come investigate. The stablehands were very particular about the horses.

She concentrated on the horse and its frenzied movements. He reared, bumping his ears on the ceiling, then came down to strike the gate with his hooves. His ears flattened against his head; his nostrils flared. His neighs became a loud scream. When his hooves did not move the gate, he charged. His deep chest crashed into the wood as he continued his vocalization.

Matsumoto reached for her exposed breast, shrouded by the halves of the hitoe. The nipple puckered with cold and fear. A horrible leer was painted on his face. Sweat dripped down her torso. A shiver raced down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck rising.

“What is going on?” a young voice called from the stable doorway. “Uma?”

Aderyn’s trembling heart skipped several beats. Matsumoto’s fat fingers halted in mid-reach and his head went up.

“Is someone here?” the man asked as he neared the empty stall. “What is going on?”

Aderyn listened to the approaching footsteps. The horse continued his assault on the gate.

“Great horse.” His tone was gentle.

The snick of steel sounded as a sword left the scabbard.

“What causes this commotion?” He was next to the stall.

Matsumoto grasped Aderyn’s injured arm and squeezed it then, with an indelicate shove, propelled her under the shelf at the back of the stall. She crouched into the corner, pulling her legs up to her chest. Her chin quivered, and she drew the ruined hitoe up over her body. Her arms encircled her knees tightly to try and keep her trembling under control.

Matsumoto, his back to her, gathered his swords and righted his clothing. In seconds, he would be gone, and she would be safe. For how long? She would never be free of him. At any time, he could complete his attack.

“Great horse, easy,” the young man soothed. “What is this about?”

The stallion calmed but continued to stomp its rear hoof.

“Uesugi-uji.” Matsumoto exited the stall and approached the unknown warrior. “I ordered you and your fellow recruits to attend Nakata-uji’s war class.”

“You did, my lord,” the new samurai answered. “It has concluded. I heard Dai-tan’s screams as I passed the stables. I thought something had happened to him, so I came to investigate. I am sorry if I displeased you, Matsumoto-uji.”

“You have done well. I must have disturbed him while working on my horse’s tack. The horse is quiet now. We can leave him.”

Matsumoto’s voice faded as he and the warrior-to-be left the stables.

In pain, Aderyn pulled herself up. She lifted her osode and draped it around her shoulders, having no strength or, with her injured arm, way to fasten it. Tearing a length from the destroyed hitoe, she wrapped the wound. The blood continued to seep down her face as she wiped away tears.

She could not openly walk to her room. As she struggled to get into the corridor, she became weak and stumbled against the occupied stall’s splintered gate. The fear she had controlled for so long had drained every ounce of her energy. She slid to the ground and cried.

The smell of old hay came with the burst of warm air blowing down her neck as something nudged her head. Something soft nibbled her shoulders. She looked up. The horse pushed his velvet nose against her bleeding cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered. If not for his noise, the young samurai would have passed by and left her to Matsumoto. Her horror intensified as she thought of what he would have done to her.

As he bent low to accommodate her, she grabbed the horse’s head. Encircling the massive neck with her arm, she allowed him to pull her up as he raised his head. She clutched great handfuls of his black, coarse mane and buried her face in it. Violent sobs racked her body, and her shoulders shook as she burrowed her face in the warm coat. Tears flooded down her face. Nickering in response, the warhorse comforted her.