by Shaun Curry
‘Yes, Sensei, if you wish.’ Joaquim rose to his feet and faced Yamamoto. The priest looked up at the larger man, who attacked without warning, stabbing and yelling with great force. Unfazed, Joaquim stepped back and executed the new defensive technique, slamming the heavier man into the tatami and forcing him to drop the knife. The students nodded in approval.
‘Solid execution!’ Yamaguchi applauded his long-time student. He turned to address the dojo. ‘As you can see, one way to overcome great strength like that of Yamamoto-san is to execute perfect technique at speed. Father Joaquim has been training in budo for twenty years so his technique is very good. But what about those of you who have not trained for twenty years? Must you have even greater strength to overcome strength?’
Yamaguchi shot Chiba a quick glance then paused, allowing his students time to reflect on the question. ‘Many of us feel the need to fight force with even greater force. But there is another way.’
Chiba looked perplexed as Yamaguchi stared through the window at the rain outside.
Yamaguchi continued, ‘Today we are learning how soft can beat hard.’ He nodded towards the rain-soaked, clay window ledge. ‘Water is one of the softest substances in the world, yet it will wear down the hardest rock in time. The key to overcoming great strength . . .’ – the teacher hunched up, round-shouldered, looking feeble, – ‘. . . is to use soft.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Hard cannot always overcome hard because there is always something harder. Soft is the only sure way to defeat hard. Let me show you.’
Yamaguchi retrieved the sword he had brought to the dojo, and unsheathed it, revealing a magnificent blade. The entire dojo gasped involuntarily at the sight.
‘This magnificent katana once belonged to my former lord, Daimyo Konishi Yukinaga, before he was executed.’ Yamaguchi held the sword up high for the entire dojo to see, then he invited Yamamoto to face him on the mat and handed him the blade. He signalled that the student attack him again – but this time with the sword. Yamamoto hesitated, then with a loud grunt executed a vicious strike from the side. Yamaguchi then did the unexpected and stepped into the attack. He blended his arms with those of Yamamoto and twisted his wrist, swinging Yamamoto high in the air. The younger man hit the tatami hard. He groaned in defeat as Yamaguchi applied pressure to his wrist, engendering the spontaneous release of his student’s handgrip, and removed the sword.
The students watched Yamaguchi in awe. ‘As a warrior, you must learn to recognize hard so you can counter with soft. This applies to any weapon and any situation. This is not just a budo principle but a life principle. When you grasp that, you will be well on your way to a mastery not just of the way of harmonious spirit, but of life.
‘Our true strength comes from the universe. When you understand that, then you will understand that a drop of water can become as powerful as an ocean.’
He looked at Father Joaquim and gave him a short nod and a small, private smile.
CHAPTER FOUR
22 May 1626
In the warmth of the early afternoon, a dozen children giggled and shouted to each other as they played with small wooden toys near their disguised church building while Catechist Tonia watched over them. The older children, meanwhile, were in the rice paddies, working alongside the adults, trying to produce enough rice to meet Lord Shigemasa’s demands.
Tonia was tall and slim, a pretty, dark-haired woman in her early twenties dressed in old, worn farm clothes.
‘Who was that scary man on the big horse, Tonia-san?’ a child asked her.
‘Daimyo Matsukura Shigemasa,’ Catechist Tonia answered. ‘He is warlord of these lands.’
‘I don’t like him. He frightens me.’
‘You’re right to be wary of him. Lord Shigemasa is a cruel man. I don’t like him either,’ Tonia said softly. ‘But you need not fear him, for God is with us.’
Tonia had been born in Lagos, in Portugal’s Algarve Peninsula. After her mother died of a respiratory ailment, her father, a Portuguese merchant, had brought her with him to the Far East. Soon after their arrival in Macao, however, her father took ill and died as well. There were those who believed he had been poisoned by jealous Dutch merchants resentful of the Portuguese control over trade. Whatever the reason, the orphaned teenager, alone in the world and unprotected, chose to dedicate her life to missionary work.
Disguised as a Portuguese merchant’s wife, she had made her way to Nagasaki where she met Father Joaquim, who had taken her under his wing and sheltered her in this small village, some forty miles outside Nagasaki.
Tonia knew her mere presence in the Japans was unusual and risky, especially as a young, unmarried Christian woman. She did not even have the slim protection of being a businessman’s wife. She was fortunate that her long black hair and olive skin colouring helped her, from a distance at least, blend in with the Japanese.
‘Remember, Haruko-chan,’ Tonia said to the child, ‘no matter how frightening the Daimyo may seem, God is much, much stronger.’
‘Okay,’ the child said as she hugged Tonia.
‘Tonia-san?’
Tonia turned to a little boy who was tugging on her cloth shirt. His name was Shiro, maybe six years old. He lived with his uncle in Master Yamaguchi’s village because life was too impoverished in his native village. Life had become hard in all the villages, as warlords throughout the country escalated their demands on peasants who had no one to appeal to and no way to defend themselves.
Shiro asked, ‘Why is Daimyo Shigemasa raising our taxes? My uncle says it is impossible to make more rice.’
‘Daimyo Shigemasa needs the extra rice to feed his new samurai,’ Tonia said. She reached out a hand and placed it over one of the boy’s. ‘The Daimyo also needs extra taxes to build a large castle.’
‘Why does the Daimyo need so many warriors? Won’t they just hunt Christian families like us?’
Tonia turned away, unsure what to say to the boy. The truth? It was too dangerous to try and hide it from him, and yet too harsh to tell him the real answer to his question. She said, finally, ‘The adults have disguised our village well, Shiro-kun, so this is not something you need to worry about.’
‘My uncle says I have to hide that I’m a Christian because if the Daimyo finds out, he will kill us!’
‘Your uncle should not say such things to you, Shiro-kun,’ said Tonia, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the conversation.
‘He told me one Christian woman on the Daimyo’s lands had her hands cut off for praying.’
‘Try not to worry about such things, Shiro-kun. God will protect us.’
‘Are you sure, Tonia-san?’
‘Yes. We are His children and He will look after us. I promise.’ Tonia realized the noise of children playing had died down, and turned to see the other children listening to their conversation. Her heart sank as she considered their fears. Children should not be afraid for their safety. But that was not the world they lived in.
‘Do you believe this, Shiro-kun?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I pray for His protection every night.’
‘Good. Believing is the first step to receiving the Lord’s help and blessings. And prayer is the best way to speak to Him.’
Shiro nodded in agreement, narrowing his eyes and biting his lower lip. For a young boy, Shiro had a sharp mind, and perhaps a too-attentive ear.
‘Come, let us all say a short prayer together,’ Catechist Tonia said. She motioned for the children to gather around.
CHAPTER FIVE
22 May 1626
Shimabara Castle, Shimabara Peninsula, Kyushu
Matsukura Shigemasa hastened up the tall and spacious stairwell of his newly built castle, accompanied by seven of his most loyal retainers. He ignored the many samurai standing guard outside myriad rooms in his oversized palace. To Shigemasa they were little more than living chess pieces.
Just as inconsequential to the Daimyo – unless one failed at his duties – were the hundreds of samurai ou
tside, who guarded the manicured grounds, each wearing their lord’s official colours of red, white, and black.
Shigemasa passed fine Chinese silk and satin embroideries, exceptional large-scale drawings, and various exotic ornaments and statues. But he ignored it all. The lavish evidence of his wealth emphasized his power, nothing more.
As he entered the castle’s grand chamber the large audience of retainers and samurai ceased talking. They all assumed a kneeling position, bowed, and waited. Assuming a seiza position in front of them, Shigemasa asked curtly, ‘So, do you think our visits to the villages have been effective?’
Who there had the courage to speak his mind to such a powerful man? After a moment a bald-headed senior retainer said, ‘Yes, Lord. Although I imagine the new taxes may not have pleased some of the peasants.’
‘They are peasants. Who cares?’ the Daimyo said.
An adviser, still new to his post, ventured, ‘But after these new taxes, the peasants will have nothing.’
A more seasoned retainer gave the younger man a furtive head shake. The Daimyo raised an eyebrow and let out a breath. ‘Peasants need just enough to eat and survive. They must pay the rest in taxes!’
‘Yes, Lord,’ the adviser answered, and bowed his head.
Shigemasa scanned his retinue. ‘What about hidden Christians? Do you think our forays to the villages will help to uncover any of the remaining vermin?’
‘I do not know, my Lord,’ a retainer to his left replied. ‘They are a resilient group.’
‘Then we must put more pressure on them, neh?’
‘A wise thought, Lord.’
‘Agreed. In time they will break and betray one another.’ The Daimyo smiled. ‘And what about the reward of silver coins? Do you think this tactic will be effective?’ He again looked at his followers.
Speaking cautiously a retainer several rows back said, ‘If I may be bold, Lord, I am not sure if silver is the most effective way to get the Christians to betray one another.’
‘I agree, Lord,’ another spoke up. ‘These hidden Christians are an incestuous group and support one another.’
‘I also agree, Lord,’ said a third. ‘For them, Christianity is a way of life, akin to the Way of the Sword.’
Shigemasa jutted his chin forward and let out a growl. ‘Then give me alternatives. Do not tell me what will not work. Tell me what will!’
A longtime retainer, seated closest to him, answered: ‘Perhaps it would be more effective if we concentrated our efforts on the so-called apostates.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Might it not be more effective to focus on those who have recanted Christianity? Apostates know who many of these hidden Christians are, and are more amenable to bribes and enticements.’
The Daimyo shook his head. ‘Do you think me stupid? We have tried this already. We have exhausted our leads with the apostates; they have already informed on the Christians they knew, yet more still infest my lands. What else can we do? We must eliminate any remaining Christians on my lands before Governor Kawachi arrives.’
‘Yes, Lord,’ his retinue agreed.
‘I will not lose my lands because of this scum.’
‘Yes, Lord,’ one answered. ‘If any Christians remain, we will find them.’
‘I will never again suffer an embarrassment such as I did when we discovered that filthy Father Navarro hiding on my lands, neh.’
A retainer to his right spoke up for the first time. ‘Yes, Lord. It was regrettable.’
‘Regrettable? Is that what you think?’ Eyebrows raised, nostrils flaring, the Daimyo continued: ‘Regrettable is losing a dog in a boar hunt. Having the Governor learn of Christians hiding in my lands is intolerable!’
‘Yes, Lord,’ the retainer quickly corrected himself. ‘Of course, you are completely correct. It is indeed intolerable. We will see it never happens again.’
‘Yes, you will.’ The Daimyo turned his head towards his senior retainers. ‘Let us not forget that the Shogun gifted these lands to me for distinguishing myself in battle at Osaka.’
‘Never, Lord,’ several replied together.
‘I was chosen as daimyo of Shimabara to exterminate Christianity with an iron fist.’
‘Yes, Lord.’
‘It is for this duty that the Shogun has exempted me from all taxes and dues.’ Shigemasa grabbed his katana and smashed it across a table set with a fine tea service. ‘I will die before I lose my lands because of this putrid religion!’
Broken glass flew in all directions as black tea and leaves splattered everywhere. Shigemasa continued to rage.
‘Hai, Lord. We will exterminate Christianity long before that.’
CHAPTER SIX
22 May 1626
Arima, Shimabara Peninsula, Kyushu
Father Joaquim and Catechists Tonia and Miguel huddled together in a tiny, impoverished hut. A small candle illuminated their surroundings, creating a peaceful atmosphere as they shared a small amount of rice from a communal bowl.
‘A lot has happened and there has been much change,’ Joaquim said.
‘Recent events have been worrying,’ responded Miguel. He fidgeted his fingers and rocked his knees back and forth.
‘That is why I’ve called you here tonight,’ said Father Joaquim. ‘I’ve made some important decisions about our mission. I’ve discussed the matter with Master Yamaguchi, and we’ve decided to move the village to the north.’
‘Where in the north?’ Tonia asked, as her eyes widened.
‘Yezo.’
‘But that’s on the other side of the country!’ Miguel exclaimed.
‘Are you sure, Father?’ Tonia asked.
‘Yes. When I’m in Nagasaki, I will dispatch a letter to the new Visitor in Macao.’
For a moment, Miguel contemplated the news as he bit his lip. ‘I think I’m relieved about this decision.’
Joaquim raised an eyebrow. ‘Why do you think you are relieved?’
‘Well, Father, the journey will indeed be difficult, but I don’t think we will last long if we stay in Arima. In time, Lord Shigemasa will find us and kill us.’
‘Don’t let the regime frighten you, Miguel,’ Joaquim replied.
‘Yes, Father,’ Miguel answered, though his voice betrayed a lack of conviction.
‘And how do you feel, Tonia?’ Joaquim asked.
‘I have concerns, Father. Every day, I pray to God for His support.’
‘That’s good, Tonia. Only He can deliver us to the salvation of greener pastures.’
‘Father, this morning you mentioned borrowing silver bullion from Mateus,’ Miguel said.
‘Yes, to help us meet our new taxes.’
‘Do you think he will?’ Tonia asked.
‘I hope so. The trip to Nagasaki could be dangerous. I would like you both to stay here and keep an eye on the village.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Miguel placed a hand on his chest.
Father Joaquim noticed Miguel’s face turn ashen. It was clear the catechist feared to leave the village. His arms clasped his body tightly across his chest; his self-protective stance denoting his insecurities.
‘How will you repay the loan?’ Tonia asked.
‘As you are no doubt aware from your late father, the best Chinese silks imported into Japan arrive on Portuguese galliots. So, I will offer to help Mateus sell this silk at prices above those of the pancado system.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Miguel.
‘The Japanese have fixed prices for silk,’ Tonia explained. ‘The Shogun wants to limit the profits of foreign traders.’
‘But I thought the Shogun made avoiding his new system illegal.’ Miguel appeared pale in the candle’s flickering light. ‘Won’t that draw unnecessary attention to us?’
‘It has always been a corrupt business, Miguel. Portuguese merchants are always looking for higher profits,’ said Father Joaquim.
‘But if the authorities fix the prices, how can we sell at prices above the system?’ T
onia said.
‘Opportunities present themselves. Wealthy families and warlords will pay higher prices for access to the best.’
‘But why does Mateus not do it himself?’ Miguel asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Mateus is a merchant, not a Christian Father banned from Japan on pain of death. It’s much riskier for you than for him.’
Joaquim said, ‘Mateus may know the wealthy families, even the Daimyo, but his Japanese is weak, plus he does not understand Japanese etiquette and customs as well as I do.’
‘But he can speak a small amount of Japanese. This is too dangerous. You’re a Catholic priest in hiding.’
‘The village needs the money,’ Father Joaquim replied. He rested his hand on Miguel’s shoulder and looked into the young man’s blinking eyes. Miguel clutched his hands as the priest continued, ‘I believe Daimyo Shigemasa will do terrible things, particularly to the women and children. We cannot let this happen.’
They sat in silence for a few moments. Miguel’s distress was obvious.
‘Everything will be all right,’ Joaquim assured him. ‘Like Saint Francis Xavier, the founder of our mission in Japan, I place my faith and hope in the Lord. He will protect us. You must do the same. How can we ask the villagers to have a faith we lack?’ Father Joaquim added.
‘Yes, Father,’ Tonia replied.
Miguel nodded.
‘What time will you leave tomorrow?’ Tonia asked.
‘As soon as the sun goes down. I have a baptism planned for tomorrow morning. It’s important to welcome our village newborn into the house of God.’
Joaquim stood up, lowered his head to Tonia and Miguel. As he left the hut, he pondered on his two catechists. Tonia, he thought, showed great courage and aptitude for the mission. Miguel did not appear cut out for the difficulties they were facing. He thought of the trials of Abraham and Job, and wondered why God tested them so. Is this my test now? he wondered.
CHAPTER SEVEN
23 May 1626
Father Joaquim scanned the horizon as morning sun, against a clear blue sky, warmed away the chill of morning air. He stationed himself close to a large wooden basin, on a small mound in front of the entire village, ready to perform a baptism. In front of him stood a young Japanese couple, holding their newborn baby before an excited crowd. For a split second, the Jesuit closed his eyes and reconsidered the risks. Under most circumstances, he would never venture outside in daylight – the perils were too great. If caught, torture and a gruesome death awaited him. But this was his favourite holy sacrament.