Where had
this white girl learned to speak his tongue?
"I am the daimio, Oda Yorimoto," he said. "These are my
wives. Now you are one of them. Come!"
"Not yet--not here!" cried the girl clutching at a straw.
"Wait. Give me time to think. If you do not harm me my
father will reward you fabulously. Ten thousand koku he
would gladly give to have me returned to him safely."
Oda Yorimoto but shook his head.
"Twenty thousand koku!" cried the girl.
Still the daimio shook his head negatively.
"A hundred thousand--name your own price, if you will
but not harm me."
"Silence!" growled the man. "What are even a million koku
to me who only know the word from the legends of my
ancestors. We have no need for koku here, and had we, my
hills are full of the yellow metal which measures its value. No!
you are my woman. Come!"
"Not here! Not here!" pleaded the girl. "There is another
room--away from all these women," and she turned her eyes
toward the door at the opposite side of the chamber.
Oda Yorimoto shrugged his shoulders. That would be
easier than a fight, he argued, and so he led the girl toward
the doorway that she had indicated. Within the room all was
dark, but the daimio moved as one accustomed to the place,
and as he moved through the blackness the girl at his side felt
with stealthy fingers at the man's belt.
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