The Seabird of Sanematsu Read Online Free Page A

foresee food being offered any time soon. Then again, she had not been ill-treated so far and supposed a meal would appear. This man for whom she was “prepared” would not wish a malnourished skeleton to share his bed.

    A shiver raced through her at the idea of bedding any man. She would never have entertained thoughts of having the Evil One as a lover. What of the other? Looks could be deceiving but he did not appear evil.

    Without warning, the horror of her position overcame her. Tears came in a torrent, coursing down her cheeks as reality arrived in a crush of uncontrollable emotion. Sobs wracked her as she went from kneeling to lying with the thin bed covering wadded around her face to prevent anyone’s hearing the loud wails she could no longer keep inside.

    Her sisters and parents had perished. Why had she been spared?

    At last, the lament stopped; and she drifted into an exhausted sleep, oblivious to her uncertain fate.

CHAPTER THREE

    Lord Sanematsu had ridden away with his retainers to a small farming village five miles inland to collect the taxes to support his provinces. With war imminent at all times, the group of samurai drew the attention of the wary peasants--invaders from the northern islands of Nihon or bands of rogue samurai often swooped into small villages to pillage the farms and houses, taking what provisions and women or boys they fancied.

    The industrious farmers and peasants stopped working to bow as Sanematsu passed. He nodded his acknowledgment and reined his horse in at the center of the town. There was no distinct area of commerce within the grouping of sporadic dwellings; rice and vegetable growing were more important than lavish living. The low houses were adequate shelter for the hard-working families.

    A young boy ran to hold the warhorse’s head but avoided any eye contact with Lord Sanematsu, since to do so was rude and punishable. The boy knew, though, that Sanematsu’s reaction to a familiar look would not be a rebuff but a tousling of his hair.

    Sanematsu Yoshihide was not considered an easily angered master; rather, more as a kindly older brother. When Lord Matsumoto was sent to do his master’s work, the town’s mood was different. A volunteer to hold the horse had to be pushed forward, and then several days later, more often than not, the boy would disappear.

    The boy who held Sanematsu’s horse today had to fight his way from the group of his peers to have the honor. Like all young peasant boys, he dreamed of joining Sanematsu’s army when he was old enough.

    Sanematsu slipped off the right side of his horse as an old man hurried from the common building. The daimyo reached out to prevent him from falling to his knees, knowing the old man’s joints did not take to bending. They stood to exchange their bows. The old man made certain his was deeper, to reflect his respect for his liege lord.

    They entered the building that served as the town’s meeting hall and center of government. Sanematsu oversaw the business of tax collecting while his men carried bags of rice and a small amount of gold out to the waiting carts supplied by the village. He sipped tea with the village elders, heard their laments of crop failures and farming difficulties. He could do nothing about these, but he used the knowledge to justify their limited provision of his household.

    Lord Sanematsu earned the respect of his subjects with his fairness and sound judgment. With this treatment, it was he who profited, able to count on his people’s loyalty. Keeping him out of war was a greater reward than rice or gold--a village starved and without means to support itself might use what resources it did have to join with an enemy to overthrow him. Bands of ronin--masterless samurai--wandered Nihon in a loose cohesion looking to farmers to provide support for their belligerent efforts, and hungry farmers were whom they preyed on to mount an attack to overthrow a daimyo.

    When the teapot was empty