Read Casca 19: The Samurai for Free Online Page A

sprouting as far as the eye could see until the fields reached the more brackish lands of the beach. Squatting on his haunches, Muramasa screwed his face up tight in deep concentration. Looking first back over his shoulders to the mountain path, then back down to the valley, Casca thought he was trying to make up his mind which was the best route to take. The nights were cold in the mountains, though neither complained. What concerned Muramasa was that the going was becoming slower. At last Muramasa arose, shook his broad shoulders, and pointed down to the valley. With a grunt he spoke one word, "Taira," and touched the handle of his sword, Well Drinker. Casca understood him. Whoever was master down there was the ally of the Taira, whose clan Muramasa had been fighting against and had been hunted by.
    Whatever Muramasa had in mind, he was in a hurry, and to journey the mountain trails was eating up too much time. They would take the valley road and hope for the best.
    As for Casca, his eyes were full of everything new. He'd not seen very much of this strange land of small, intense people, only a few villages from the distance which did not appear to be very much different from those he'd seen in the southern parts of Chin. Though he had the feeling that if all the men of this strange land were as intense as Muramasa, they would be very hard to deal with if they ever got together on a single project.
    Two hours before sunset they had reached a good well traveled road. Casca drew many curious stares from the peasants they passed, but none stopped or questioned them. For the two strangers carried swords. They would leave any questions to others with swords. And as Casca's luck would have it, that's exactly that they ran into. Coming their way were three men on horseback wearing armor of a kind he'd never seen before: over -lapping plates of red and black trimmed with gold, broad helmets of the same colors and face guards that gave them the aspect of demons. The leader was obviously more richly dressed than the two warriors escorting him. Over his armor was a surcoat of rich light blue silk and over that a longer robe of brilliant rainbow colors interwoven into a hunting scene with many swans, cranes, and waterfowl. His face, like the others, was covered by a mask that showed only his obsidian eyes peering fiercely through the slits.
    When they spotted Muramasa and Casca, they reined up their horses, blocking the road.
    Casca had been in too many of these situations not to recognize trouble when he saw it. Just the angles of their bodies and their postures meant these men were not going to let them go easily. He shifted his pack so it would be easier to drop and adjusted the grip on the naginata . It would be of more use against mounted horsemen than his sword. The leader of the horsemen called out to them. He couldn't recognize the words but the tone of contempt and anger was clear.
    Muramasa stood his ground, his back tensing. Under his robes he flexed his muscles, loosening them up while on the surface he appeared calm and detached as Sakai Taira spoke to him as if he were no more than the dust under his lowest samurai's feet.
    "Ho, dog. These are my lands and I have given no one permission to use my roads or carry weapons on them."
    Muramasa bowed slightly, only a half bow, a deliberate insult. "I regret that we found no one to ask permission of. But as you see, we are only poor wandering men of no value. We seek no problems and apologize most deeply if we have offended any by our presence." The words were mild but Sakai knew they were not sincere. He was being mocked by this unclean thing before him. However, the ronin and his incredibly ugly and large barbarian companion might provide him and his samurai a few moments of diversion.
    "It matters not who you might have asked. For I have already judged and condemned you. For I am Sakai Taira, kinsman, guardian, and lord of this province for Taira seii Taishogun. Wakarimasu