SAMURAI

CHAPTER 1; Afro-Thena Goddess

    General Kuddun looked directly into my eyes, then turned his gaze to the table in front of us. This loyal servant of the Khan narrowed his eyes. His forehead wrinkled. He thought hard about the map and data I presented on the table. Sheet after sheet was studied with intense concentration. The man, half of whose life was filled with war and conquest, was making certain the information that I gleaned over four years contained no mistake. 

    "We must divide the troops after taking control of the island of Tsushima. Placing supplies to support the next attack, then move to control the islands of Iki, Hirado, Taka, and Nokono," I said, interrupting his concentration.

    My finger pointing into the islands I referred to, I continued, "With only half the strength of our troops, we can destroy the city of Hakata. First, we will take control of these islands while waiting for the rest of the army. After the troops join us, we will continue.  We will beat that arrogant Shogun at his fort." 

    "What about their resistance?" 

    "No need to worry, General. They are only barbarian troops who have no experience fighting with foreign troops like us. Their weapons are not comparable to ours. I'm sure, we will easily win."

    A moment later, General Kuddun's drawn lips relaxed. His wide chin rolled to the side, dense sideburns covered most of his face, leaving his slanted eyes. "You are a genius. It would not be wrong for the Khan himself to order me to take you as a subordinate."

    My nostrils dilated as the thought of promotion crossed my mind. "Thank you, General. What I have done so far is also due to guidance from you.”

    The bloodthirsty man chuckled, repeatedly patting my shoulder. He reached for the large jar beside him, filled his glass, then filled my glass to the brim. The most delicious of wine offerings from the Franks in France shimmered. He raised his glass to me and I raised mine to him. No one was present in General Kuddun's office excepted us. The clink of the two glasses colliding filled the emptiness.  

    "For the health of the Great Khan!"

    "For the glory of the Ilkhanat Empire!" I replied.

     I downed the drink in one gulp. Bitterness and sweetness fused into one and flushed down my throat, leaving my insides covered with warmth. The drink repelled the remaining winter air that passed through the walls of the ship. My body was only wrapped in thin clothes and trousers, unlike the days of conquest when full armor and weapons were draped about the body. The last night in the territorial seas of Japan before the ship pulled anchor was a fine night to be enjoyed casually accompanied by the tastiest wine.

    I poured wine many times into an empty glass. This man, my father's age, many times gladly and immediately downed the liquid that I presented. After glasses of alcohol filled our stomachs, common sense gradually began to disappear. The barrier between superior and subordinate began to thin. 

    General Kuddun pulled the back of my head, bringing the muzzle of his mouth close to my face. The dry sea breeze combined with the aroma of liquor coming out of his nose. From such a close distance, I could see a scar from a sword on his face. Horrible.

    He looked straight at my face. From his deep black eyes, the lantern in the corner of the room revealed the reflection of my slightly pale face. The General's facial expression that was previously full of intimacy had turned suspicious. He inquired "Tell me how did you get this information?"

    I did not answer right away. I looked into those eyes, looking for the meaning of the question. I shook my head slowly. 

    "Isn't telling the way to gather information like opening the information itself, General?" I asked back. 

    My rank was far below General Kuddun's, but I had someone ready to defend my life by betting the rank of the General.

    His eyes widened and glared furiously. His eyes seemed to want to jump out. The warmth of the few minutes we had enjoyed disappeared completely.

    "Don't be impudent! Although you are the son of Robert Eracles, I will not hesitate to cut your throat! " 

    Spit along with the rest of the wine splashed against my face, some of it dripped soaking his whiskers.

    I'm not a coward. I must maintain the code of conduct, a code of conduct to hide my sources of information. "Sorry. I cannot say. It's up to you what you will do to me, General."

    General Kuddun's right hand moved at lightning speed. “Crack!” A jar half-filled with wine was thrown to the wall of the room. The expensive liquid soaked into the wooden wall. 

    General Kuddun's eyes grew bigger. His eyebrows joined above the base of the nose. 

    "Say it!" He gave a pause, then continued his threat, "Or I will cut your throat!"

    I didn't budge. "Sorry. No, General! " I replied firmly. 

    “Bastards!”

    As fast as he threw the jar, General Kuddun's right hand grabbed the machete on his desk. With the speed that was difficult for ordinary eyes to follow, he pulled the machete blade out of its scabbard, thrusting it toward my neck.

    Time moved slowly counting with the breeze. The metal blade lit by two phosphorescent oil lamps pointed at my neck quickly. Years of training plus many times experienced in conquest expeditions made it easy for me to recognize the dangers that were truly threatening and those just bluffing. I did not move my neck at all, letting the sharp metal move violently. 

    Exactly as I had expected. The sword did not continue its journey. Stop, pressing tightly on the right side of my neck, giving a small incision to my skin.

    Instead of whimpering in fright, I defiantly challenged. I held my voice so it wouldn't waver. "Why not continue, General?"

    Screaming curses blindly, general Kuddun pulled the curved machete from my neck, stuck the tip of the machete into the wooden floor. The handle shook when the grip was released. 

    "Son of a b***h! If only you weren't that damn General's son!"

    My smile was full of ridicule. "Yes. Do not expect General Robert Eracles to remain silent watching his son go home dead. Not because the enemy hit his head, but because of risking it for the sake of a principle that he held!"

    General Kuddun's voice roared in anger, "Get out of here! A dog is still a dog! Don't ever expect to be a wolf!"

    I moved from my chair while wiping a spot of blood from my skin. My feet slowly swayed as I left General Kuddun who was still uttering filthy curses.

    I returned to my room. A narrow room measuring two meters square without furniture. It welcomed my tired soul. My bed was a wooden deck with deerskin. The sword that saved my life, I used as a pillow. There were no special items like General Kuddun's boudoir except for an oil lamp perched on the wall. 

    I got the lamp during the conquest of a city. It was a special item because it was the only witness to the barbarity I had ever done to a young girl. I wanted it to always be near me.  I carried it around and looked at it before going to sleep. I hoped that the lamp would always remind me to not make the same mistake again. 

    The sound of a long whistle broke the silence of the night as a sign that the anchor had been raised. The floating wooden house for hundreds of unmatched soldiers moved slowly. The ship carrying the Ilkhanat army was a cruiser specially made by the reliable hands of shipbuilders from the Ming Dynasty.

     The length from end to end ranged from forty-four meters with the largest width of the hull reaching fifteen meters. Accommodating two hundred soldiers from various nations paddled by fifty slaves, the ship sped as if a Roman horse plying rolling desert sands. The wooden walls gave a slight crack as high waves hit from all directions.

    I laid my body on coarse deerskin. The night was getting late, its sorrow pressed my soul, making my eyes heavy. The writhing sadness that continued to haunt me, a memento from the lives I have taken, crushed my flourish of tenacity.  Before my eyes had completely closed, the screams of the masses echoed. The curses were interspersed with clanging steel. 

    Lazy to move, I let all the sounds evaporate into the walls of the ship. 

    The alarm had not been sounded. The situation was still under control. The guards were not kids who had just taken up the sword. They were trained soldiers who were not easily breached or broken. 

 "Must be some ignorant, hungry for war, practicing in the dead of night." I thought to myself.

    I let the situation pass without overreacting. Instead of falling further asleep, the scream that was originally faint grew louder.  Derisive laughing and the moans of death came and went. My eyes went open. This was no longer a soldier in training. My instincts told me something was wrong. My experience gathering information fueled my curiosity. 

    I got up, changed into thick clothes, put my sword on my left hip. I turned off my cherished oil lamp and put it in my bag with my favorite silver armor. I let the helmet, shield, and body armor emblazoned with a red cross, sit quietly in the corner. I slowly opened the door, closed it again in the same way. 

    Cries for life following one another brought the creaking open of other doors. In response to the smell of blood, the hallways immediately filled with dozens of disturbed Captains and Lieutenants. Dozens of warriors of Goryeo and the Yuan dynasty and three European-faced sergeants were involved in the confusion.

    Half running, I passed down the hallway. Turning between faces disturbed from their sleep, climbing the stairs to cross staggered figures who were still lazy to move, then returned to lite the aisles that were increasingly full of bodies clad in war armor and helmets. Long swords hung from their waists, clanging loudly against the shields in hand.

    Before reaching the top deck, leaving one more step that I had to climb, I stopped. In front of me, a big tall man blocked my way. His body was taller than my body which was only as tall as his chest. A long sword hung from his left hip. Large muscles encircled his hands, shoulders, and neck. 

    He was a giant among the soldiers of Asian nationality. His face had a rough beige. A large nose perched on a thick lip that was completely covered by whiskers. Sword scars adorned his forehead, a long cross from right to left dividing his face into two parts: Bad and worse. 

    Captain Bernardigio Paganinus smiled mockingly. Even though his rank was higher than mine, the task that I currently carried did not place me under his command. 

    "Where are you going, Little dog?" he taunted. Two yellow front teeth gleamed in the light of the ship's wall lanterns.

    European and Mongol soldiers often mocked me and called me a little dog because I was born of a European father and Mongol mother. Not strong enough to be a Mongol wolf, nor terrifying enough for a European tiger. Had my father not been the Khan's favorite General, I would have been devastated by wolves and tigers long ago. 

    However, living in the shadow of a well-positioned parent was like living in a fragile cage. Once the cage collapsed, the wolves and tigers were sure to pounce quickly. 

"Get out of my face!" I hissed.

    Bernardigio Paganinus laughed heartily, looked at me with a condescending smile. The European captain had his hands on his hips, still standing in my way. "If I won't move, what will you do?"

    If there were a person I hated most in this world, it would be him. My former sergeant at the time of the conquest, who had now been promoted to captain. The meanest man I'd ever met. His sword and armor had been smeared with the lives of hundreds of innocents. For me, Captain Bernardigio Paganinus was no more than a human consisting of flesh and lust for anger. 

    There was no humanity I could see in him. If the Khan told me to take his life, I would gladly remove the heart from his body, cut off the hand that once forced my hand to pierce the heart of an innocent woman, and cut off his genitals in exchange for my virginity which was lost to tarnish the sanctity of a weak woman. 

    Shame, I couldn't do that. Not only because he occupied the position of commander in charge of fifty soldiers, more than that, but my fighting ability was still far behind that of Bernardigio Paganinus: great strength, fast movements, swinging his sword full of strength.  Just as he said, I'm just a little dog in front of a tiger.

    Although reluctance filled my veins, I was forced to resort to the protection of my father's big name. 

    "I'm the son of Robert Eracles, the great General of the Great Khan. I might not be able to defeat you. But, if we return to the mainland, I can get you demoted. My father will throw you into a dirty country!” 

    "Ptuiii!" The ship's worn-out decks became increasingly disgusting with his filthy saliva pouring into the deck. Captain Bernardigio Paganinus uttered a curse. 

    Eventually, he leaned his body, giving way to me. I gave a trifling smile of triumph even though my heart screamed in defeat. For not wanting to be seen as a despicable being, I had lowered my self-esteem by taking cover behind my father's name.

    On the deck of the ship, the cold sea breeze was welcoming. The deck, thirty meters long and ten meters wide, was filled with Ilkhanat soldiers. Colorful suits of armor raced each other to show their loyalty. Nine pillars as high as fifteen meters stood firmly flying the brown cloth. 

    Moonlight piled weakly covered by clouds. Its rays were helpless, defeated by the gleaming of dozens of torches that moved quickly around the outer deck wall. The Ilkhanat flag in the shape of a blue triangle with images of fire, sun, and moon, fluttered in pride. The ship moved at medium speed, breaking the waves gracefully.

    I gasped. Twenty Goryeo soldiers in red armor completed with helmets surrounded seven unidentified passengers. Their long swords extended forward, waiting for the order from the commander to pierce their opponents. 

    While, on the other hand, the seven stowaways also held swords. Unlike the long swords used by samurai, their swords looked shorter. Black clothes wrap their bodies from their heads to their feet, leaving only a pair of eyes visible from behind their head coverings. 

    Next to them, seven bodies with the same clothes laid bathed in blood, overlapping each other with fifteen soldiers' bodies dressed in lifeless red armor. Pieces of limbs cupped together with pieces of the helmet and the tatters of their red armor.  The sea breeze blew bringing the smell of rancid blood.

    Before my brain sorted out exactly what had happened, the leader of the Goryeo warriors gave the signal to attack. Cries of war mingled with the curses of the dozens of Goryeo warriors rang through a pause of a few seconds followed by fierce jumps, slashes, and punctures. 

    The seven people in black did not stay silent. They jumped to greet the attack. The knell of death rang again. Dozens of flashes of metal met, making an irregular tinkling sound. The movements of the seven stowaways were very agile. As if dancing to the same rhythm, their right hands holding swords were parried, their left hands repeatedly made secret weapon-throwing movements.

    From the movements and weapons, I could guess from which group they came. Stupid reckless ninjas! They came to kill the wrong enemy. General Kuddun was not a petty general, not a general who could be stabbed while sleeping. He was surrounded by highly capable guards arrayed in multiple layers. 

    Before crossing the first layer, this group of stupid ninjas had already faced dozens of soldiers.

    Seven ninjas jumped agilely, slashing while still throwing secret weapons. Every shuriken was throwing, one life stretched. The body of a Goryeo soldier laid in a heap succumbed to the secret weapons and sword strokes. I had to admit, I admired their fighting spirit. The Goryeo soldiers were getting more and more restless.

    Captain Jinbun panicked. The order to increase the number of auxiliaries was shouted. Twenty fresh Goryeo warriors immediately ascended to the fray to replace their dead comrades. An additional twenty new forces turned the situation around. The movements of the seven black shirts attackers were slowing down. They were getting tired.

    My blood raced. Bernardigio Paganinus came out of nowhere accompanied by five of his men. It seemed that the European soldiers could not bear to leave the soldiers of Goryeo to enjoy their blood fest by themselves. The large, tall bodies of the European soldiers were conspicuous. The battle was increasingly unbalanced. 

    "It's unfair!" My scream drowned in the clanging of metal and cries of pain. But, nobody paid attention to my protest.

    The six large European soldiers pushed into the fray with their long swords. One by one the attackers fell. With one stroke of a Templar sword, the bodies of two attackers were split. Blood spurting from their wounds, flooded the deck floor, spraying three of their friends who were increasingly pressed. 

    I didn't think it would take much longer. The remaining three ninjas would follow their friends. The fight was no longer interesting to watch. I decided to resign. Sleeping in the dim light of my lamp was more interesting than seeing a m******e.

    Groans accompanied by the sound of metal breaking bones accompany my steps. My sharp hearing caught the last breaths of one of the attackers. Only two left. Stupid attackers, I thought. Paying a high price for ignorance. I didn't know what they wanted to prove by risking their lives for vain deaths.

    Before disappearing behind the last step, a shrill cry pierced my ears. A woman's scream! Not a howl pleading for forgiveness, but a fearless battle cry. As if there was magical power in the tone of that voice, freezing my soul, I stopped in my steps.

    Thousands of times I had heard the screams of women begging for their lives, wailing screams asking for mercy for their honor so they would not be tarnished. At first, the screaming seemed to be a struggle, cutting into my humanity piece by piece, penetrating the depths of mercy, as I used to hear from the beautiful songs on the altar. The beautiful moments of my childhood in the gentle caress of affection had all but disappeared for the blood I had shed.

    As if an invisible force pulled my body, I hurried back to the deck. Like a scene that I had seen dozens of times in the conquest of a country, the scene presented before I was a repetition of the nostalgic moments I had had. 

    Dozens of malignant, lustful faces surrounded a young girl who was standing with feet that were no longer sturdy. Beside her, a middle-aged woman lying on her back was dying. Both of her hands covered her stomach which was gaping due to a sword wound. 

    The dying woman screamed at the young girl to flee. Of course, it was only a vain cry. The besieging soldiers wouldn't just let her go. Before her wish was conveyed, the voice of the dying woman weakened. Her body dropped after the Grim Reaper finished his work. The young girl without black headgear screamed hysterically.

    From where I stood, no more than a few feet tall, though the light of dozens of torches and perfect moonlight, the face, and appearance of the attacking girl clad in a black shirt was engraved in my eyes. I'd met hundreds of women from various nations, dozens of unique beauties from various regions. However, this girl's beauty offered something else. 

    Dark black hair fluttered in the wind. Her face was pale but shined like marble in the moonlight. Her nose was sharp, complemented with full lips, her chin hanging with gaunt cheeks. The girl's body was tall and slender for a Japanese woman. And what fascinated me the most were her eyes. The black eyes behind eyelids protected by tapering eyelashes emitted a cradle of tranquility for those who were staring at her. 

    The charm of the girl melted the painful memories that had been bound to me, like the combination of Aphrodite and Athena; a combination of deadly beauty.

    Bernardigio Paganinus -- a former Templar Knight, and five of his men, a dozen Yuan warriors, and twenty Goryeo warriors, seemed to be bewitched. They just spun around, whistled, and gave filthy praise. My heart moved, bringing my steps closer. My two hands parted the sea of men, pulled their armor aside, and gave me a place so I could enjoy the owner's beautiful face. 

    The soldiers were racing to shout as if the loudest scream among them would be able to attract the heart of the woman they were after.

    Lustful faces would not let a goddess die senselessly. At least not now. The Afro-Thena goddess would be played with like a beautiful cat. Satisfied after days of playing, the Afro-Thena goddess would be left to die. Her femininity was tarnished. 

    "Stop!" shouted Bernardigio Paganinus. 

    Acting dashing he continued, "I am the owner of this woman. Whoever dares to approach her, they will feel the ferocity of my sword.”

    Bernardigio Paganinus stood firm, brandishing his long sword in the air. It was as if he was the leader of the Don Juan who was in love. Five of his men stood behind. Instead of retreating, the other captains drew their swords followed by their men.

    Captain Goryeo didn't want to lose. "No way! What is your right to feel the highest among us? See! Tens of my men died. I have the right to this woman." 

    "What did you say? Without you, we would still have been able to face these thugs. No! Let's share this girl!" 

    The captain of the Yuan soldiers who had been spinning while cursing did not want to lose. He cried for his rations.

    Jinggu, the original Mongol captain was ignited. As having Ikhanat blood, Genghis Khan's grandson, he and his soldiers felt most entitled to the spoils of war. 

    "We are the most entitled to this woman! We, Genghis Khan's grandchildren, are of Mongolian blood. You are just surrendered soldiers from conquered nations. How dare you claim to be the best?"

    Instead of receding, European warriors, Yuan warriors, Goryeo Forces, and Mongol warriors each coalesced by race. The sword and spear were brandished. The attack formation closed using the remaining available space. 

    In a matter of time, blood would spill. They were in groups, ready for battle in formations typical of their nature. 

    It was not beauty that split a large army into its races that would compete. The Ilkhanat army consisted of various ethnic groups and brought all the customs, habits, and dignity of a nation into the alliance of troops. No one wanted to budge, except by a direct mandate from Khan. Whenever a small dispute arose, only oil was thrown to hasten the fire.

    I stepped back, moving slowly toward the Afro-Thena Goddess who stood confused. She did not know what was being debated. The language we used was Mongolian, a foreign language to Japanese ears.

    In the middle of the tension, the thunder of a voice broke the deadlock. Everyone on the deck went silent when a loud shout shook them. From the top deck, near the wheelhouse, General Kuddun stood with his hands on his hips. 

    Behind him, three lieutenant generals stood in arms. Two lieutenant generals from the Goryeo army, one lieutenant general from Yuan. The four faces of the leaders sent to deliver the Ikhanat's letter of intent to the head of the Japanese military were flushed.

    "You cheap bastards! Just because of a woman, you start fighting each other?!" shouted General Kuddun. 

    His sideburns and long hair were twisting in the wind. The ship's spotlights from the stern split around his shape. General Kuddun was furious. 

    "Kill that girl right now!" he ordered.

    The four captains of the troops seemed to wake up from a dream of the warmth of a woman's body. Without asking again, the four leaders of the inter-racial forces came forward. No more lust. All that was seen was a murderous appetite.

    The four of them approached with their swords drawn. The Afro-Thena Goddess stepped back, increasingly pressed toward the ship's wall. Her hands remained clenched, her face looked hopeless. Her beautiful lips were drawn and uttered something obscure.  A final prayer, maybe a call to someone she wouldn't meet again. 

    When her steps closed on the deck's boundary with the open sea, she made a move that was very easy to anticipate; she jumped into the sea.

    Nothing could be done except that. There were only two choices. Get killed at the hands of bloodthirsty Captains, or jump into the open sea. The Afro-Thena Goddess chose the latter.

    Unfortunately, the Mongol soldiers did not allow her that choice. Before her entire body passed through the parapet, three lassos captured her body. 

    The Mongol soldiers were already anticipating the attackers and intruders who wanted to escape. They were Mongol horsemen who were used to catching wild horses with only a rope. With one move, the three ropes around the small, thin body pulled her to the deck, letting her writhe like a shark caught on a hook. Cheers erupted. The cry of a lively murder party. 

    “Kill!”

    “Behead!”

    The beauty of the Afro-Thena Goddess was not deadly anymore. There was no snort of lust from the soldiers. What remained was to be the scene of mutilation of one who was unable to fight back. The girl's mouth cursed, her eyes glared fearlessly. Four swords of various shapes were drawn, aiming quickly at the body of the weak, bound woman. 

    Her body floundered struggling, waiting for the tips of the swords to pierce.