Swords of Silence

by Shaun Curry

  When a samurai abandoned his section of a pole to urinate at the side of the path, some of the prisoners saw an opportunity to whisper.

  ‘Where are they taking us?’ Miguel was tied to a pole behind Father Joaquim.

  ‘I don’t know, Miguel,’ Joaquim said. ‘Maybe to the court in Nagasaki.’

  ‘What will they do to us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Joaquim’s body felt like one massive bruise. He thought perhaps he had at least one cracked rib as his side hurt constantly and his breathing was painful. His swollen, blackened eyes made it hard to see where he was going, while his split lips made it painful trying to drink the rainwater pounding on him. His ears were still ringing from the many blows to the head he’d received, and it was hard to hear anything over the roar of the splattering rain and the sounds of feet pulling against the sucking mud.

  ‘They will torture and kill us, won’t they?’

  ‘Try to rid your mind of such thoughts, Miguel. They will not help you.’

  ‘But what’s the point? There is nothing we can do now.’

  ‘Miguel, this is a test of our faith. Through this, God is proving to us that our faith is real, that we are truly His children. Your faith will give you strength.’

  Miguel stumbled and fell, but quickly righted himself lest a samurai beat him for slowing the procession.

  ‘What shall we do, Father?’ a farmer asked.

  ‘We do the only thing we can, my son. Pray. We are in His hands now.’

  Father Joaquim heard a sharp snap and felt a burning pain across his back.

  ‘I told you to shut up,’ a samurai snarled, leather whip in hand.

  The samurai put his whip around the farmer’s neck and began strangling him. His face turned purple as the leather crushed his throat. Turning blue, he slumped, clamouring for air.

  ‘Let this be a warning, priest. Open your mouth, he will suffer.’ Seconds before it was too late, the samurai released his grip on the farmer’s throat, allowing him to breathe. Jiro made a loud gasping sound as he sucked air into his lungs.

  As the group stumbled on, many of the children, including Haruko, continued to slip and fall in the mud, causing delays and frequent stops.

  ‘Damn this weather and these stupid children,’ a frustrated samurai cursed. He approached Haruko, who had just fallen again. ‘Get up, stupid girl.’ The samurai hit her hard on the side of the head with his fist. She crumpled to the ground, face down in the mud, where she struggled to stay conscious and breathe. The samurai grabbed her by her hair, and hauled her to her feet.

  With rasping breaths, Haruko held one hand to her swollen head and cried as her mother looked on, helpless.

  ‘If you fall one more time,’ the samurai growled, ‘I will beat you to death!’

  Father Joaquim could no longer contain himself. ‘What kind of samurai are you to strike a child like that?’ he shouted. ‘Hit me, not her. Let’s see if you’re brave enough to hit a man!’

  With a guttural roar, the samurai charged at Joaquim, knocking him to the ground, and forcing the entire pole of victims to fall over into the mud. The samurai then kicked Joaquim repeatedly. Still fuming, he drew his sword and delivered a series of powerful blows with the butt end of his weapon.

  ‘Enough!’ Shigemasa shouted. He walked over to get a better look at Joaquim, who was on his knees, held up by his bound hands on the pole, bleeding afresh and coughing. ‘We can beat these mongrels only so many times.’

  ‘But this dog barked at me, Lord,’ the furious samurai protested. ‘We should kill him for dishonouring me.’

  ‘I do not want to deliver dead Christians to the new governor. Do you? His death awaits him in Nagasaki.’

  The samurai took a step back, clearly still frustrated.

  Joaquim picked himself up off the muddy ground, and the others also rose.

  ‘Everyone, listen,’ Shigemasa ordered. ‘This journey is taking far too long.’

  Pinching their lips together, the warlord’s samurai grumbled in agreement.

  ‘This cursed weather will force our journey to take three days instead of the usual two, but I see no reason it should take any longer.’

  ‘Hai!’ the samurai echoed in agreement.

  ‘From this moment forward, all samurai and retainers will keep their thrashings to a minimum to hasten our travel.’

  Responding to the grumblings from the ranks, Shigemasa added, ‘Have no concern, men. I can assure you all these Christian dogs will meet their end soon enough.’

  * * *

  In Nagasaki, Governor Kawachi, Deputy-Lieutenant Suetsugu and a large number of officials and samurai stood on the edge of the village in the rain, watching workmen erect stakes for a mass execution.

  ‘How many stakes do you wish to raise, Governor?’ the deputy-lieutenant asked.

  ‘At least fifty.’

  ‘You want to kill that many?’ the Deputy-Lieutenant asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘We should erect more than we need. I want to remind everyone in Nagasaki that the remaining empty stakes are waiting for them.’

  ‘A wise plan, Governor.’

  ‘Christians should always fear for their lives. These extra stakes will remind them to live in fear.’

  ‘How many shall we execute tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’

  ‘How about thirteen?’ Suetsugu suggested.

  ‘Why thirteen?’

  ‘Because thirteen is an unlucky number for Christians.’

  ‘Why unlucky?’

  ‘Because their Lord, Jesus Christ, was betrayed by his thirteenth disciple, Judas,’ Suetsugu answered.

  ‘Your knowledge of Christianity is useful, Deputy-Lieutenant.’

  ‘“Know your enemy, and you shall win a hundred battles without loss.”’

  ‘So, are you my Judas or my Sun Tzu?’ the governor asked with a grin.

  ‘Oh no,’ the deputy answered with the hint of a chuckle, ‘I am far richer than Judas.’

  With upturned faces, both laughed at the joke.

  ‘Fine, thirteen crucifixions,’ the governor declared. ‘But make sure we have more stakes available.’

  ‘We will raise at least fifty.’

  ‘Good. Tomorrow will be a momentous day. Under my watch, let all of Nagasaki see Christianity die.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  21 June 1626

  District of Nagasaki, Kyushu

  The rain subsided as Daimyo Shigemasa led his captives to the first official guard station at the edge of Nagasaki. Given his prominence as a powerful warlord, almost everyone recognized him around the south of Kyushu. Exhausted, famished, and dehydrated, the villagers looked around at the expansive mountains that surrounded their entry into the city and deep blue sea port beyond, seeing a hopeless natural cage.

  Two senior guards scurried forward and extended a warm greeting to the Daimyo. Behind the officials a large number of samurai watched the arriving party of prisoners, fascinated especially by Father Joaquim and the foreign catechists tied to bamboo poles. The capture of a foreign priest and his catechists was a rare occurrence these days.

  ‘Daimyo Shigemasa, it’s an honour,’ the ranking guard stated. ‘How may we assist?’

  ‘I have uncovered an entire village of Christians. They have sheltered this foreign priest and his aides.’

  ‘An impressive capture, Lord,’ said the guard with admiration.

  ‘I am taking them to the Nagasaki Court of Justice for sentencing by the governor.’

  ‘Please proceed, Lord Shigemasa.’ The senior guard motioned them forward. ‘Several officials will escort you.’

  Shigemasa’s procession made its way down the mountain towards the city. Soon, the villagers would arrive at the Court of Justice, where they would face judgement.

  ‘What will happen to us, Father?’ Catechist Miguel asked, clearly terrified.

  ‘Judgement and sentencing.’

  ‘So the end is near?’

  ‘These
men have no power over us, Miguel. We are in God’s hands now, remember that.’

  * * *

  Magistrate’s Office, Nagasaki

  ‘I never said the Shogun does not want you to make money,’ Governor Kawachi told Deputy Suetsugu. ‘I only said he does not wish for your activities to disadvantage the regime.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ the Daikan said, sounding frustrated.

  ‘It means your decisions need to be better aligned with the Bakufu.’

  ‘Give me an example.’

  ‘The Portuguese.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘You favour them in trade and give them special privileges.’

  ‘My family has long-standing ties to government officials in Macao.’

  ‘So?’ The Governor glared, unblinking.

  ‘The Portuguese are long established as intermediaries between Japan and Macao.’ Suetsugu felt his temper rising.

  ‘And what about the Dutch?’

  ‘They are Christians too. I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, to begin with, they ransack our ships at sea. And they’re violent troublemakers.’

  ‘Maybe they cause trouble because they cannot get a legitimate foothold in Macao or Nagasaki. The Shogun may not want to trade only through the Portuguese. He may wish to have more balance.’

  ‘That does not make sense.’ Suetsugu shook his head. ‘It was the Shogun who expelled the Spanish three years ago.’

  ‘That was different,’ the governor replied. ‘The Shogun had good reason to suspect Spain may try to invade Japan.’

  ‘But who planted that idea in the Shogun’s mind?’

  Sounding irritated, Kawachi said, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was the Dutch. I tell you, they’re troublemakers. You’ll be swapping one group of troublesome Christians for another.’ Suetsugu took a deep breath, trying to master his frustration. ‘The Dutch and the English planted that thought in his mind to suit their own interests!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. He is Shogun, and he decides policy.’

  ‘So what would the Shogun have me do?’

  ‘Provide the Dutch with more opportunity in Nagasaki.’

  Feeling his temper boil once more, Suetsugu shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. I can control the Portuguese, predict what they are going to do far more effectively than I can the Dutch.’

  ‘The Shogun is interested to learn the real reason the Portuguese monopolize trade in Nagasaki.’

  ‘The Shogun, or you Governor?

  ‘It’s the same thing.’

  ‘I already told you. The Portuguese have control of Macao, our largest trading partner.’

  ‘The Shogun has concerns you are taking bribes from the Portuguese to give them a monopoly on trade in Nagasaki.’

  ‘Bribes?’ Suetsugu turned away, having a hard time looking at Kawachi.

  ‘Are you taking bribes and not sharing the proceeds?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Suetsugu’s nostrils flared. ‘I am dishonoured by the insinuation!’

  ‘The Shogun has a right to ask questions. His regime controls trade in Japan, not the merchants.’

  ‘I do not dispute the Shogun’s control.’

  ‘Perhaps there is another reason you favour the Portuguese.’

  ‘Of what do you speak?!’

  ‘You have too many outstanding loans with them,’ answered Kawachi. ‘The only way the Portuguese can pay you back is if you continue to allow them a monopoly in Nagasaki.’

  Suetsugu’s face reddened as he clenched his fists. ‘That is absurd!’ The Deputy-Lieutenant’s agitation was becoming more pronounced as his gaze bounced around the room.

  ‘It is not absurd. You are making too much money from these loans, Deputy. You extended loans to the Portuguese at interest rates much higher than the Shogun considers proper.’

  ‘Give me an example.’

  Shoulders loose, Kawachi paused for a moment before answering, as if trying to get a rise out of Suetsugu. ‘Some of your interest rates are almost thirty per cent.’

  ‘It’s my money; I can lend it out at whatever rate I wish.’

  ‘The Shogun worries you are profiting too much from your position.’

  ‘I do not see why I should lower my interest rates!’

  ‘It is not only your rates,’ the Governor replied as he leaned back. ‘The Shogun thinks you may be in too deep now with your loans, so your personal interests are not aligned with the regime.’

  Suetsugu gripped his tea cup so hard it broke.

  ‘That is preposterous!’ The Deputy-Lieutenant shouted in frustration as he grabbed a cloth and wiped some of the spilled tea. ‘I bring our country the best silk from China!’

  The Governor turned at the sound of runners approaching.

  ‘Governor, we have an urgent message from a guard on the edge of the city,’ an official blurted out. ‘Daimyo Matsukura Shigemasa has captured an entire Christian village in Arima. He is bringing them to the Court of Justice now.’

  ‘He has also captured a Portuguese Christian Father and his foreign aides,’ a second messenger announced.

  ‘Take them to the court!’ Kawachi commanded.

  ‘Yes, Governor.’

  ‘The Deputy-Lieutenant and I will be there directly.’

  ‘Another foreign priest?’ asked Suetsugu, stupefied.

  ‘It appears so,’ responded the Governor. ‘Come, let us go. We can resume our discussion later. It is time to destroy more Christians.’

  * * *

  Court of Justice, Nagasaki City

  To maintain order in the overcrowded court, officials crammed the villagers into a corner of the room and forced them to kneel. Filthy and bloodied, with dark circles under their eyes, the villagers appeared overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious as they awaited Kawachi and the Deputy-Lieutenant.

  Moments later, Kawachi arrived and gazed at Father Joaquim, his catechists, and the villagers who stared up at him in dazed shock.

  ‘You will bow,’ the Governor commanded. ‘How dare you not acknowledge my presence!’

  The villagers prostrated themselves before the new governor.

  ‘You are very lucky,’ Kawachi announced. ‘Had you arrived yesterday, you would have all perished in our great fire, when I celebrated my arrival by burning thirteen Christians to death.’ The Governor smiled grimly. ‘Deputy, please remind me of some of their names.’

  On hearing the victims’ names, Father Joaquim experienced a deep sense of sorrow at more friends lost to the holocaust. They had given so much to the faith, but now they were dead, like hundreds of other Christians before them.

  ‘This Court of Justice will not convene long today,’ the Governor declared. ‘You are all criminals according to the law of the Shogun. Take these mutts to the prison. Tomorrow, we will pronounce judgement on them.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  22 June 1626

  Nagasaki Prison, Nagasaki City

  It was the smell that hit him first. Father Joaquim lifted his eyes from his downward gaze and studied the dim surroundings and his fellow prisoners as best he could in the dark. The prisoners had to make do, crammed next to each other, naked, cold, and in their own filth. He pinched his nose at the putrid stench. It was past midnight, of that he felt certain, and many of the exhausted inmates were struggling to fall asleep. There were no beds or blankets, just an overcrowded, cold concrete prison filled with the sounds of snoring, weeping, and moaning.

  The priest was still mourning the loss of his friend and sensei. Added to his grief now was the discovered loss of friends in the Society. Lord, I do not understand Your ways, he prayed, staring into the darkness. Please, grant me vision. Father Joaquim covered his eyes and face with his hands, using his fingers to massage his temples. The rancid smell, along with the pervasive moans of his fellow prisoners, continued to make him gag, and gave him a headache.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Catechist Miguel turne
d towards Tonia. ‘Why did Master Yamaguchi not defend himself against the Daimyo?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tonia replied. ‘Master Yamaguchi defended himself against such an attack a thousand times.’

  ‘He even taught us that technique several weeks ago,’ Miguel continued.

  ‘Perhaps he was afraid the Daimyo and his samurai would have killed us all,’ Tonia responded.

  Father Joaquim said, ‘Yamaguchi-san always placed others first.’

  ‘I guess it doesn’t matter any more.’ Miguel shrugged.

  ‘Miguel, please, try to have faith,’ Joaquim said.

  ‘Faith in what?’

  ‘That we will survive.’

  ‘Do you truly believe that, Father?’

  ‘Yes, Miguel.’

  ‘Look around you – this is the end for us.’

  ‘If you feel that, then you do not have faith, Miguel. You must believe.’

  ‘Believe in what?’

  ‘Our survival, Miguel. Do you believe the Lord will protect us?’

  Miguel sighed as his brows drew together and his face tightened. ‘I want to believe, Father, but look at where we are, in prison, facing a death sentence, with no way of escape.’

  ‘Our reality is what we believe, Miguel. I have asked the Lord for help, and I believe we will survive.’

  ‘I believe, Father,’ Tonia interjected. ‘I believe we will be free again one day.’

  Miguel shook his head in frustration. ‘I’m sorry, Father. I have the greatest respect for your faith, but I have seen nothing but bad luck since I arrived in this God-forsaken country.’

  ‘Then pray, Miguel, for our survival, and for Japan.’

  Miguel sighed again and closed his eyes to retreat from the conversation. ‘I am tired. I will try, Father – I will.’

  * * *

  Kawachi, Shigemasa, and Suetsugu gathered in the Nagasaki magistrate’s office.

  ‘So what do we do with them all?’ the Governor asked. He sat behind the magistrate’s desk.

  ‘Execute them at once,’ said Suetsugu.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Shigemasa stated. ‘It doesn’t matter, just as long as I get credit for their arrest.’