by Shaun Curry
‘You can do it! You can do it!’ the children cheered.
‘Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things, Miwa-chan!’ Shiro shouted. ‘Visualize your rock in the pot and it will be so.’
Young Miwa clasped her hands in prayer, then grabbed her stone and threw it high into the air, right into the centre of the pot. The children shrieked in delight, jumping and dancing around little Miwa.
‘It’s not over yet!’ an adult yelled. ‘We still have one more throw.’
The children settled down as the final adult walked up to the line.
Without delay, the adult tossed the stone . . . and missed.
For several minutes the children screamed in joy and danced before the adults.
‘Catechists Tonia and Miguel have been hiding inside all day,’ Master Yamaguchi said. ‘I am sure they are very lonely. Who would like to join them for some playtime and stories?’
‘Yay!’ the children cheered again. ‘No more work in the field today!’
‘Come with me then,’ Master Yamaguchi said as he led the children towards one of the small dwellings, where Tonia and Miguel kept cover.
Meanwhile, the adults knew what was in store for them. Like every other day, it would be non-stop work until the dark hours. The village could not afford to miss their new production quota.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
1 June 1626
Magistrate’s Office, Nagasaki City
Governor Hasegawa Gonroku sat in his office and stared at a map of Nagasaki on his wall. So, he thought, the Shogun has finally decided to have his man in this important post. Gonroku knew he was not that man: he lacked the stomach for the brutal governing the Shogun demanded – often including torture and crucifixion. Gonroku himself had suggested that he wasn’t the right man for the job, so it was no surprise that the Shogun had appointed Mizuno Kawachi in his place. Until Kawachi’s arrival, however, Gonroku had a job to do and despite his distaste for the violent parts of the responsibility, he was resolved to leave office without losing face.
And then, in the middle of what had been a quiet day, two officials had rushed into the Governor’s office barely able to catch their breath. ‘Bugyo, we have serious news!’
‘Speak,’ the Governor said.
‘Criminals have murdered four officials in the residential quarters!’ said the first official.
‘What?’ At that moment Gonroku knew he would not be able to end his term untroubled.
‘They murdered our officials inside the home of a gaijin trader,’ the second official added.
Stunned, the Governor leaped from his relaxed kneeling position. ‘A gaijin killed my officials? Have you arrested him?’
‘No, your honour. Someone murdered the gaijin trader in the streets near the port last night.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, and rested his forehead on his right hand, then asked, ‘What else?’
‘The trader was an avid Christian and was carrying a cross, a Bible, and other items of Christian worship,’ the first official said.
‘When our officials confirmed his identity, they went straight to his quarters to investigate,’ the second official added.
‘Who was he?’
‘A well-known, long-standing trader,’ the first official answered.
‘His name?’
‘Mateus da Costa, a Portuguese trader,’ came the response.
‘I know that man!’ exclaimed Gonroku clasping a hand over his mouth. He had met with Mateus not long ago. ‘He’s traded in Nagasaki for decades.’
‘Was he a devout Christian, Governor?’ the second official asked.
Deep in thought, the Governor replied, ‘I don’t think so.’ He shook his head. ‘What did his home reveal?’
‘That someone had murdered all four officials when they arrived,’ the second official said.
‘But what did you find in his home?’
‘A lot of blood and business papers,’ the first official answered.
The second official then offered his assessment. ‘I think the murderers were professional killers, Governor.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘They were all killed by single slashes to their throats. There were no other cuts or wounds, so the murderers were very likely expert swordsmen.’
‘How many criminals were involved?’
‘We don’t know, Governor, but there must have been several. It would take several men at least to kill our officials like this. We train our officials very well.’
The Governor knelt down next to a small table and stared at the wall. He recalled that Mateus had given him some gifts, including an expensive terrestrial globe and dozens of pieces of exotic art work imported from Macao. He also recalled receiving these in exchange for granting Mateus additional trading privileges.
‘This is horrible news. I do not need a Christian scandal during my last days as Governor. It will be a humiliation for me before the Shogun.’
‘What should we do?’ the first official asked.
‘Lock down the city and put every official in Nagasaki and the entire district on high alert. I want anything out of the ordinary investigated.’
‘What else, Governor?’
‘Get the tracking dogs. Find these criminals at once. I cannot suffer such embarrassment before the Shogun.’
* * *
Dressed in flamboyant Portuguese trading attire once again, Father Joaquim approached the Government checkpoint with deliberate false confidence and a broad smile of fake bonhomie. As the priest strolled up to the outpost he could not stop his legs from shaking, and the tremor in his hands, as the violence from earlier that morning continued to haunt him.
‘What is the purpose of your travel?’ asked a guard.
‘I’m travelling to Hirado to negotiate commercial dealings on behalf of the Governor.’ He was shocked at the tremor in his usually calm voice.
A second guard wandered over and looked Joaquim up and down. ‘Gaijin are not permitted land-travel outside of the city. You should know this, and travel by boat if necessary.’
‘I understand, sir, but I have documents from the Governor granting special permission,’ Joaquim insisted.
‘I never heard of this,’ said the new official. He was clearly the more senior of the two men. ‘Let me see this documentation!’
Father Joaquim reached into his bag and withdrew the letter he had used earlier.
‘This seal is broken,’ rebuked the lead official. ‘And it looks crumpled. Governor Gonroku would never issue official documentation in such decrepit condition.’
‘I can assure you the documentation is legitimate,’ responded Joaquim, feeling his anxiety rise. He kicked himself for forgetting to reseal the letter at Mateus’s home. Distracted by the sudden conflict earlier, he had forgotten to reorganize his papers. He felt an itchy bead of sweat slowly work its way along the inside of his shirt collar.
The lead official scrutinized Joaquim intently. ‘This documentation and situation is most unusual. We cannot permit you to travel until we receive explicit confirmation from the Governor.’
‘But I assure you these papers are legitimate,’ Joaquim pleaded. ‘Please, the Governor is relying on me and I don’t want any problems.’
‘Why is there blood on your bag?!’ asked the first official. He swiped a finger on a spot on the bag and showed the smear to his superior. ‘Look!’
Joaquim spotted the superior nod to his junior. Before he could react, the senior official shouted, ‘You are under arrest!’ and the younger official put Joaquim in a headlock from behind, knocking off Joaquim’s broad-brimmed hat.
‘Please, I don’t want any trouble,’ Joaquim said. He was taller than the Japanese official holding him and struggled to maintain his full height as the official persisted in his headlock but failed to put a knee into his back. In a half-strangled voice, Joaquim said, ‘Let me go and everything will end in peace.’
‘You are not going anywhere, gaijin, until t
he Governor interrogates you!’
‘I’m afraid I cannot let that happen.’ Joaquim dropped almost to his knees while gripping one of the official’s wrists, then stood and torqued until he heard the snap of the wrist. The young official screamed with pain and fell to the ground, nursing his injured arm. The senior official immediately drew his katana, assumed a tachi-ai standing posture, and pointed the sword at Joaquim’s face.
The priest felt strangely calm as he stared not at the weapon, but into the official’s eyes. His heart pounded, and he felt a gentle breeze caress his face briefly as the leaves on nearby trees rustled then fell silent. Somewhere a bird chirped, and the man on the ground continued to moan with pain. Joaquim realized that although the official before him was clearly angry, he was also wary of getting too close to this unarmed gaijin. ‘Kneel and raise your hands or I will kill you!’ the official commanded.
‘I cannot, sir. An entire village depends on me. Please, lower your weapon and let me pass . . . and I will let you live.’
The swordsman bellowed a roar that seemed to start from the pit of his stomach and charged at Joaquim. He took a massive swipe that would have split Joaquim from shoulder to waist had it landed. Joaquim felt the wind of the blade on his face as he deftly sidestepped and moved inside the blow as Master Yamaguchi had taught him. He delivered a blow with his elbow to the senior official’s face, feeling the nose break, while at the same time grabbing for the man’s sword hand. A precisely chosen pressure point proved too painful and the man’s weapon clattered to the ground.
With blood flowing freely down his face and his long dark hair flying wildly in the air, the senior official drew his short sword, or wakizashi, and stabbed at Joaquim’s face with another yell. The Jesuit felt the shock of steel on steel in combat for the first time as he swung the katana to block the strike, throwing the wakizashi backwards and exposing the official’s now unprotected head. With an instinct born of years of training Joaquim followed his defence with a yell of his own and a counterstrike that severed the official’s head from his shoulders.
The injured man cried with rage and leaped to his feet, drawing his sword with his good hand. He charged at Father Joaquim with equal fervour. Joaquim easily blocked the weak blow and countered by stabbing his sword through the man’s throat and killing him.
* * *
He could not be sure how long he had been sitting in the dust in the middle of the road, listening to the rushing of the air and the rustling of the leaves in nearby trees, but when Father Joaquim finally regained some sort of composure he found himself staring at two corpses lying in pools of their own blood. Looking down he saw he had spatters of it on his face, hands, and clothing. It occurred to him that he could not remain there and he had better move. He’d be able to make better time in the dark on his way down the other side of the mountain, away from Nagasaki and towards Arima.
He sighed and scanned the nearby terrain. He realized it would be safest to leave the main trail and head through the thick brush of the forest. He rubbed dirt on his colourful jacket to dull its brightness and disguise the bloodstains, then used it to try and clean and dry his hands.
Oh, Lord Father, please help me understand Your ways. Mateus da Costa was our only hope and now he is gone and, in your name, I have become a murderer. What penance must I do for these acts and to save my people?
Joaquim looked skyward as he prayed aloud for his friend and for himself. He set off, pushing his way through the forest undergrowth, deliberately abandoning the weapons at the guard station.
The trail, such as it was, took him uphill, until hours later he reached the mountain peak from where he could see all of Nagasaki and the neighbouring mountain peaks, where government guards monitored all travellers entering and exiting the region. He sat and took in the view, catching his breath, head in his hands, thinking, and was finally moved to prayer.
Oh Lord, forgive my wickedness. How are we going to pay the Daimyo his 500 silver coins? Should we just escape to Yezo without paying our taxes? Shigemasa will surely hunt us down. Show me the way, Lord. Show me the way.
It was early evening when Joaquim descended the mountain in moonless starlight. It was imperative he return to his village as soon as possible. But how would they resolve their worsening situation?
CHAPTER TWENTY
6 June 1626
Arima, Shimabara Peninsula, Kyushu
An orange dawn slowly cracked the horizon as Father Joaquim worked his way through the foothills and the new day became warmer. After sleeping under thick brush during the day and travelling through the thick Kyushu mountainous forests at night for several days, the priest was exhausted. He approached the village and its people at a plodding walk.
Joaquim sought to console himself. Things will be okay. It’s good to be back! This village is my home. Lord, thank you!
He made his way to Master Yamaguchi’s small, dilapidated home and glanced inside to see if his dear friend was awake. Candlelight flickered inside.
‘Is that you, Father?’ Yamaguchi said.
‘Yes, Sensei, I hope I didn’t wake you.’
Yamaguchi said, ‘Nonsense. You know I am an early riser.’
‘How did you know it was me? You didn’t even look out of the window.’
‘I dreamed you would arrive today, and here you are. You look tired. Come in and rest.’
‘Thank you, Yamaguchi-san.’
The priest was a picture of horror covered in mud, dirt and blood from head to toe. Joaquim let out a breath that rattled his lips as he bowed, then stepped inside, and took off his shoes.
‘Would you like some tea?’ Yamaguchi asked.
Joaquim nodded before dropping to his knees, across from Master Yamaguchi.
‘How was your visit to Nagasaki?’
‘I have bad news.’
‘Oh?’
‘Mateus da Costa is dead – murdered in the street, in the middle of the night.’
‘That is awful. Do you know who killed him?’
Joaquim shook his head. ‘Perhaps it was the Dutch, or another competitor. Or a Japanese thief. I don’t know.’ The priest paused and took a deep breath. ‘When the authorities arrived to investigate, they discovered me in Mateus’s home.’
‘And yet you are here.’
‘They tried to arrest me.’
‘And?’
‘A fight broke out. I killed them. I suspect every government official in Nagasaki is looking for me now.’
‘I had reservations about this trip, Father.’
‘Yes, I know, Yamaguchi-san, but I had to see if Mateus could provide us with a loan.’
‘You did your best. You cannot fault yourself for this.’
‘But I killed men, Sensei. My conscience weighs on me.’ The Jesuit made the sign of the cross over himself and buried his face in his hands.
‘I understand, but, Father, I am sure they would have killed you if they had had the chance, neh? These are dangerous times.’
Father Joaquim shook his head. This was no consolation for his actions.
‘You are alive because it is the will of God.’
Raising his head, the priest said, ‘Thank you, Yamaguchi-san. My purpose was so clear to me before, but I must admit I do not always understand His ways.’
‘Perhaps the Lord has another plan for us.’ Yamaguchi took a sip of tea.
Father Joaquim sipped his tea as well.
‘And how is the village, Yamaguchi-san?’
‘Everyone is fine, Father. We continue to work non-stop.’
‘How is that going?’
‘The mood is low, and we are falling behind. It will be impossible to meet Daimyo Shigemasa’s quota.’
‘We knew that would be the case. That is why we must pray.’
Yamaguchi nodded. ‘And in the meantime?’
‘We can only try to produce as much rice as possible. The closer we are to Daimyo Shigemasa’s quota, the better.’
‘I agree.’
‘And I will help.’
‘Help?’
‘Yes, I will also work in the fields.’
‘That is not wise, Father.’ Father Joaquim could see the concern in Yamaguchi’s expression.
‘I will wear a good disguise.’
‘There are spies everywhere. You risk your life if you are exposed.’
‘My life is already at risk, and so is the life of everyone in this village if we do not make our quota.’
‘Agreed. But working in broad daylight is taking it too far.’
‘We must remember the Lord is with us. We cannot live in fear.’
‘It is too risky.’
‘Please do not worry, Yamaguchi-san. God has a higher purpose for us. After we pay our taxes, we will move the village somewhere better. We will not be persecuted forever.’
* * *
After changing his clothes, and checking on his young catechists, Father Joaquim made his way to the rice fields and beckoned the villagers to come and hear his news.
As a few drops of rain fell from grey skies, Joaquim made the sign of the cross to the people crowding around him.
‘As you all know, for several years now a storm of trials and persecutions has assailed us. Alas, it appears conditions will only get worse before they get better.’ He looked out at the anxious faces in the crowd. Joaquim wished he could make the approaching dangers disappear.
‘We must maintain our faith. Circumstances change, but our God does not. The God we serve today is the same God who parted the sea for Moses and the Israelites. Have faith in Him.’
‘What is the news from Nagasaki?’ a farmer asked. ‘I thought you had a friend there who could help us.’
‘I will not lie to you,’ Joaquim answered. ‘Someone killed my friend. There will be no help from Nagasaki.’
The crowd murmured as bodies began to fidget.
‘What happened to him?’ a woman asked.
‘He was murdered. I do not know by whom, or why. I only know that door has been closed to us.’
As the priest looked at their faces, he saw tears in the eyes of grown men as well as women.