text: Matsudaira Konnosuke looked haggard, and Muto wondered whether it was the crime wave they were experiencing, or some private problem. Matsudaira thought of Rosamund. She had slipped out again and as usual, her maid had no idea where she had gone. She always came back, but Matsudaira knew that there was a depth of feeling against the pale Southern Barbarians that often blazed into violence. Masterless ronin samurai, unemployed since the end of the wars some years before, were particularly prone to taking out their frustrations violently on any passerby. A Southern Barbarian was a prime target.
  
  Muto discussed the previous night's police events, then added, "I have heard a rumor, something worth checking ..." he stopped, not sure Matsudaira was attentive, not wishing to break into his thoughts.
  
  His lord signalled him to proceed, his attention drawn away from his errant mistress.
  
  The retainer read from a paper stamped with a police agent's sigil. "At Sanjusangendo, yesterday afternoon. After the attempt by the archer Wasa Senri to shoot five thousand arrows at a target. A well-dressed man in Honganji livery carrying a matchlock demonstrated exceptional skill. At a great distance he shot off the branch of a tree. At the same time I noticed Sanbonkichi, known to me as a dip reaching into the robe of ... The rest is not relevant, Muto said. I only received the report this morning. Could it be our murderer, I wonder?"
  
  "Entirely possible." The young magistrate-governor stroked his chin. "But then why would he display his skill so prominently?"
  
  Muto said thoughtfully, "Some men have an urge to boast. Perhaps this is one such."
  
  Matsudaira nodded. "Perhaps. Institute some quiet inquiries and alert your men. I will also have someone look into it. Now, what about this murderous samurai friend of ours ..."
  
  "No news so far," Muto answered after consulting his papers. "We are still looking."
  
  "I think you may not find anything then." He grinned, mentally thanking Jiro for prompt and decisive action.
  
  Muto said nothing, speculating on the giant samurai himself.
  
  The crowds around the Ito mansion were thicker than the usual throng of passersby in that quarter of the city. Everyone knew that a juicy and interesting murder had occurred, and everyone was speculating on precisely what had happened.
  
  Rosamund wandered through the crowd, her large hat pulled low on her face, the lower part of which was obscured by a hood. She could not understand how his office occupied Goemon's time, but she was interested in trying to understand. But the constables guarding the mansion and the paper seals on the doors limited access to all onlookers. Still, the feeling of freedom was wonderful.
  
  It was hot, towards noon, and she decided she needed a rest. She feared her foreign appearance would be obvious at a public eating place. Instead she walked slowly towards the shade of the mountain behind the villa. Here too the area was roped off and constables were minutely examining the ground behind the villa. Rosamund made a wide circle around the constables and climbed into the cool pine-clad hill. Through the trees she could see the city of Miyako spread below her, spots of grey tile and yellow thatched roofs amidst the enclosing green.
  
  Climbing higher into the mountain she eventually found herself alone. She walked until the sound of a tiny mountain rill attracted her attention, then suddenly remembered she was thirsty. She drank the cool sweet water then ate the pounded toasted rice cakes she had brought with her from the kitchen. By the time she had finished she was drowsy. She dozed, but the sweat on her body was discomforting. Finally she rose and stripped, then doused herself with the fresh cool water.
  
  She fell asleep on her robes, not bothering to dress. Her dreams turned violently erotic. Heavy cocks were forcing their way painfully and delightfully into her waiting cunt. Hard hands were bruising her skin and she revelled in their touch. She struggled awake, dream becoming reality. Something heavy was suddenly pressing her down and rough fingers were searching between her legs. She tried to struggle erect. A smooth-shaven man with a handsome aristocratic face was holding her down. He wore a doublet of bear fur and nothing else.
  
  He grinned at her. "I have never seen anything as beautiful and desirable as you. You must be a heavenly messenger, and though I know I will be cursed forever, I will have you."
  
  His accent was thick and almost incomprehensible to her, but she grinned at him savagely. "If you want me, you will have to fight for it," and struck him hard in the ribs while twisting her hips sideways. Surprised at her ferocity, Isei was unseated and he flew over. Rosamund rose and pounced on him, her blonde hair flying, her full jugs bouncing heavily. She was aroused now and her blows rained down on him without mercy. Her weight and skill surprised him and he tried to fight back, then tried to avoid her blows. He was on his back now, her pale form crouched over him. Desperately he struck at her exposed cunt with his open palm. His hand grasped a fistful of pale golden curls and a wet handful of delicious flesh. She shrieked at the sudden pain of the blow at her sex, then fought back wildly. Isei's hand contracted in a grip as he fended her off. His fingers clutched at the insides of her cunt and her tight asshole, penetrating deeply. She shrieked again and reached for his semi-erect cock. He fended her off and shook her above him. Her full breasts jiggled in his face, practically blinding him. Isei knew that she would reach his manhood and rip it off unless he did something quickly. He pulled her soft rounded body to his, searching for his hand with the tip of his cock. Without releasing his grip he inserted the crown of his shaft and thrust upwards with all his might.
  
  To Rosamund the first few seconds of the fight were reflexive. The pain of his attack merged with her own rage and frustration and her bloodlust rose when she felt her own victory. The sudden pain of his blow in her loins fanned the ever-present embers there into a blaze, and the continued pain of his hard fingers clutching at her brought a rush of delight to her brain. She felt the sudden insertion of his cock with satisfaction. Thrusting her hips down she sought to ensure the continuation of the contact. His clutching fingers did not relax their hold and she swayed, grateful for the delicious pain. Her hips automatically adhered to his while she fought his torso, intent on inflicting as much damage as possible. Isei brought a new weapon into play and bit deeply at one full breast. She pulled back and slapped his face twice. He hit wildly at her, connecting as often as not with the full soft bags of her breasts. His cock was massively thrusting into her tight soft cunt. The movements of the lower halves of their bodies contradicted the violence of their upper torsos. Rosamund felt herself melting, her juices flowing heavily to wet his clutching fingers and rapidly probing cock. Lust overcame her violence and she leaned forward, capturing his face with her hands. He tried to fend off her mouth and was surprised to find her lips sucking hungrily at him, her tongue probing his mouth demandingly but with no intent to punish. His hips, completely out of control now, pushed deeply into her demanding cunt. Her remarkable vaginal muscles went into operation and Isei almost screamed with relief as he felt his cock being milked, sucked into a vortex of her inner being.
  
  "Harder," the golden-headed vision murmured into his mouth as he tried to extricate his hands. "Harder. Hurt me. Push in!" He obeyed, nonplussed but cognizant now of the nun's strictures. She groaned and his hand was covered with the evidence of her pleasure just as his cock spurted his load again and again into her interior.
  
  She rolled off him, breathing heavily. There were purple welts on both their bodies and he leaned over her full breasts, licking them in apology.
  
  "There is some salve in my pouch," he said. "It will take away the marks."
  
  She nodded, stretching her glorious form and smiling radiantly. Though she had come only once, Rosamund felt as if she had known this man's body and pleasured herself on it forever. Or just as long as necessary. There was an animal magnetism about him combined with a sophisticated shyness and response to her needs. He brought her the salve, was about to speak, then raised his head like a hart testing the winds. He reached for his clothes hurriedly and dressed himself.
  
  "I will find you," he said, then vanished into the forest.
  
  She too could now hear the sound of men calling to one another below her, towards the city. Not anxious to be found there, she dressed hurriedly and climbed higher up the mountain. She always carried a document from Matsudaira which ordered her brought before him, but this insurance was precisely what she did not want in her present mood.