Swords of Silence

by Shaun Curry

  As the samurai arrived in the village, most of the children hid behind their mothers, while the men scurried into the centre of the village to pay homage.

  ‘Where are they?’ Chikayoshi shouted.

  ‘Who?’ a frightened farmer asked, his head bowed and eyes downcast.

  ‘Don’t play stupid, you worthless peasant. Where are they? If they are here, tell us at once or we will torch your village and everyone in it!’

  Chikayoshi made a hand signal, and twenty samurai dismounted and charged into the dishevelled homes, ransacking them as they searched. As they plundered the dwellings, they smashed anything breakable. They destroyed cooking ware, clothing was pitched outside and trampled on, children’s toys were broken and furniture crushed.

  Inside the dwellings, terrified women and children screamed in distress as samurai whipped them around like rag dolls and pushed them to the floor. The men wailed in protest, and several ran to their homes to help their families, only to be assaulted by the samurai’s heavy fists and the butt-ends of weapons. Any man who dared try to restrain a samurai was beaten bloody and left on the ground.

  ‘Set that one on fire.’ Chikayoshi pointed to a large old home built of straw and wood in the centre of the village. As smoke curled into the air, a woman and two children ran out, crying.

  ‘Round up all the children!’ Chikayoshi yelled. ‘Bring them here.’

  Samurai shoved mothers to the ground and grabbed their crying children. A child tried to run, but was thrown to the ground and trampled. Her mother tried to save her, but they broke her neck with a shovel. The village men tried to protest but soldiers pummelled any man who tried to intervene. Chikayoshi did not notice the panic among the villagers. His thoughts were too focused on reaping the reward for finding the escaped Christians.

  ‘Tell me where they are or we will shove your children into the burning house.’

  ‘Please! Who are you looking for?’ a farmer cried in despair.

  ‘Three escaped foreign Christians. Where are they?’

  ‘We don’t know. I promise you, we have not seen foreigners.’

  ‘Look at that fire. Look at it with close attention,’ Chikayoshi ordered the villagers. ‘If we discover you have lied to us, we will incinerate every child in this village. As commander of this unit, this is my word!’ Chikayoshi turned in his saddle, surveying the villagers. ‘Now, I will ask one more time. Have you seen three runaway Christians?’

  ‘No,’ several peasants replied.

  ‘Harbouring Christians is harbouring criminals,’ Chikayoshi bellowed. ‘Violation of this law will warrant immediate death. Do you understand?’

  ‘We have seen no foreigners. We promise you!’ a farmer yelled, his voice cracking with fear.

  ‘Do you pledge your children’s lives on this?’

  ‘Yes. It has been years since we have seen any foreigner,’ the same farmer replied.

  Chikayoshi scanned the faces of the villagers to make sure they were petrified and got the message. ‘Don’t get too comfortable. We will return to verify your claims.’ Turning his horse around, Chikayoshi faced his samurai.

  ‘How are our supplies?’

  ‘Low,’ his second-in-command answered. ‘The men are hungry.’

  ‘Help yourselves to whatever you need,’ Chikayoshi said. ‘These peasants exist to support us.’

  Dozens of hungry samurai raided the village supplies, taking all of the food and filling their metal water containers. The villagers could only watch as the army emptied their stock of food and water.

  ‘Don’t be disheartened,’ Chikayoshi joked as he observed their forlorn faces. ‘You still have your fields. Get out there and harvest more.’ As Chikayoshi and his fellow samurai left, the commander yelled out, ‘I order you to keep your eyes open for the fugitives!’

  ‘But what can we do?’ a downcast farmer asked.

  ‘Send men into the forest to look for them.’

  ‘But we have a new, strict quota to meet.’

  ‘That is not my problem. Until we capture them, no one is safe – and we will keep coming back!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  29 June 1626

  Master Watanabe and the Europeans sat at the edge of the forest and stared at a large, open field in front of them. They had to cross it before the pursuing army caught up with them, but it was so exposed. They had already managed to skirt several villages to avoid detection, but from the edge of the forest they had caught sight of a large company of samurai following on their tail, though the samurai had not yet seen them. It was only a matter of time though, Joaquim thought. It was still morning, and the day was growing hotter, but the group knew waiting in the shade of the forest for nightfall would make them more vulnerable, not less.

  Half a mile later Tonia’s pace slowed. ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. Her breathing was laboured. They were all beginning to tire, and Joaquim was concerned for her. ‘I’m sorry, Father, but I really need to rest. My feet hurt and I’m pretty sure I have blisters, but I’m frightened that if I take off my shoes I won’t be able to get them back on again. When can we stop?’

  ‘Not now.’ Master Watanabe shook his head, his eyes scanning the horizon. ‘We can’t rest in an open field. It’s too dangerous.’

  Tonia placed her hands on her thighs, and hunched over.

  ‘Here, drink.’ Watanabe offered her a skin filled with water.

  ‘It’s all right, Tonia. We’ll rest for a while,’ Father Joaquim said as he helped her find a place to sit. ‘We will take care of you.’

  Miguel approached Tonia and put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her, then he raised his head. ‘God preserve us!’ He pointed to the edge of the forest. ‘Look at their numbers! We’re doomed for sure!’

  They gazed into the distance as several hundred samurai approached from across the plain, with a dozen on horseback. All appeared heavily armed.

  ‘We are far from doomed, Miguel,’ Watanabe replied.

  ‘Now what?’ Joaquim asked.

  ‘The Chikugo-gawa is close to here. We can escape them in the water.’

  ‘Can we get there before they catch us?’

  Watanabe nodded. ‘If we hurry.’

  Extending their hands to Tonia, Joaquim and Watanabe pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Can you run, Tonia?’ Joaquim asked.

  ‘I must,’ she said simply.

  Watanabe led the group in a jog across the large open space. They had not gone far when they heard the echo of a cry from the distant samurai.

  ‘There they are! After them!’

  The small group of mounted samurai led a charge towards them, leaving the ground forces far behind as they raced at full speed. Behind them, hundreds of samurai followed on foot.

  ‘The horsemen are gaining on us!’ Miguel cried, as he looked back.

  Tonia bounced on her feet and sprinted as fast as she could, but tripped and crashed to the ground. Joaquim and Watanabe pulled her back up.

  The fugitives increased their pace, but the gap between them and the horsemen continued to narrow.

  Every time they looked back they saw the samurai gaining ground. They sprinted until their breath came in ragged gasps, their sides ached, and their vision began to blur.

  Joaquim called a halt to grab their breath. Hands on his thighs he said to Watanabe, ‘We won’t make the river at this pace. Give me Yamaguchi-san’s sword. I will slow them down.’

  ‘I will help you,’ Watanabe offered.

  ‘No, you must help Miguel and Tonia. Quick, pass me the sword.’

  Holding the sword, Joaquim turned to face the enemy. ‘Lord, grant me skill to defend my people,’ he prayed.

  The first horseman arrived almost immediately. With shoulders back, Father Joaquim stood in the middle of the field as his friends raced for the protection of the far side. With the sword hidden behind his back, Joaquim stood motionless, encouraging the samurai to rush him. He saw the white foam on the horse’s chest, heard its w
heezing gallop, and smelled its odour as the rider drew abreast, aiming to use the horse to knock him to the ground. The rider had not drawn his sword but had left it in its sheath. They want to take me alive if they can, Joaquim thought.

  He turned his body like a matador avoiding a charging bull, and swung his sword at the attacking samurai. The blade grazed the top of the horse’s head and passed through the samurai’s shoulder, throwing him from his horse. He hit the ground hard and lay still. The horse stumbled, broke its leg with a hideous scream, and crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust.

  Joaquim dashed to the unconscious samurai and grabbed his bow and arrows. Taking cover behind the injured horse, the Jesuit cut its throat to put it out of its misery, notched the bow quickly, and fired a series of arrows at the remaining horsemen as they closed in on him.

  Arrow after arrow flew at the attacking samurai. The leading riders were helpless to protect themselves from arrows that hit either them or their horses. The riders who survived injury to their mounts fell to the ground only to be struck in the chest, shoulders and legs as they stood up. A few were crushed by injured horses. Several more at the rear of the group pulled themselves short, but the majority fell some fifty yards or so from Joaquim’s position. The ones at the back readied their bows and arrows, and several arrows struck the ground and the horse near Joaquim. But the samurai were exposed and, he knew, would not retreat.

  Taking advantage of their vulnerability, Joaquim fired again and again, the arrows whistling on the air, finding their targets, ripping through exposed chinks in the horsemen’s armour. One by one they fell, their wounded mounts thrashing on the ground, screaming their distress.

  Finally, only the wounded remained, unable to do anything other than try to stem the blood, as it discoloured the surrounding grass. The injured samurai waited, immobile, anticipating their ignominious demise from their enfeebled, prone positions.

  But no one came. No swaggering victor, eager to gaze into their eyes as they gasped their last. An uneasy hiatus confused their warrior expectations. Had there been more than four to decimate their cavalry so quickly? Where were they now?

  The samurai footmen were still some distance away. Joaquim looked sadly at the pathetic scene before him, then turned and ran towards the river.

  It didn’t take long to catch up with Master Watanabe, but the gap between them and the ground troops was still narrowing. Tonia struggled to keep up, clearly in pain as she gasped for air. She was not so much running as lurching now.

  ‘Nearly there!’ Master Watanabe shouted. ‘Our escape is at hand.’

  Joaquim and Miguel ran alongside Tonia, grabbing her hands and pulling her forward. At last they reached the edge of the wide Chikugo-gawa River.

  Recent heavy rains had made the river overflow and now its wild and fast-moving waters raced and swirled past them. They would likely drown in these tumbling waters. But the samurai would certainly kill them if they fell into their hands.

  ‘This is where we will escape them,’ Watanabe said. He approached the river’s edge and put his hand in the water.

  ‘Where’s the boat?’ Miguel asked, clutching his stomach.

  ‘We don’t have a boat,’ Watanabe answered.

  ‘How on earth are we going to cross?’ asked Miguel. He watched the wild waters rush by in horror.

  ‘With our feet, Miguel.’

  ‘What? Where’s the bridge?’

  ‘There is no bridge. We will walk across.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Miguel blurted as his eyes bulged. ‘Do you think you’re Jesus?’

  ‘Please, I have no time to explain. You must trust me. Have faith. I will help you take the first step.’

  Watanabe stepped into the wild waters. With his feet planted wide, he stood firm in the river as the rushing waters flowed around him. Joaquim was astounded.

  ‘Tonia, quick, take my hand.’ Watanabe reached for her. ‘Miguel, hold onto her other hand. Father, take Miguel’s hand. Form a line.’

  Tonia and Miguel remained frozen to the spot. Behind them, hundreds of samurai approached across the great field, their weapons glinting in the sun, the sound of their thudding feet carried on the breeze. The distance between them and the fugitives lessened with every step they took.

  ‘Do as he says!’ Father Joaquim commanded.

  Tonia and Miguel stepped into the water and formed a line. Watanabe closed his eyes, lifted his head towards the sky, and meditated for a moment. Then he walked with deliberation through the rushing water, guiding Tonia, Miguel, and Father Joaquim forward.

  ‘Trust in God,’ Watanabe said. He continued to step deeper as the rough waters rushed up to his thighs. In the rear, Joaquim was flabbergasted. He felt the strong current pull at him, but somehow, defying logical reasoning, they remained linked and resolute and firmly anchored in a way the priest could not comprehend.

  ‘Is this a dream?’ Tonia asked. They continued to walk into the heart of the raging waters, as though it was bracing them rather than attacking.

  ‘It’s as real as you are,’ Watanabe said.

  ‘The current is very strong in the middle!’ Miguel shouted. He bit his lip as the waters propelled him off-balance and ahead of the group. Only the linked hands kept him upright.

  ‘Fasten your inner eye on the power of God to support us. When you do this, the water becomes as solid as rock.’

  Miguel held Tonia’s hand tightly, keeping his eyes closed, feeling the cold water pushing and pulling as it swirled around his legs up to his waist, his feet seeming to find purchase, but on what, he couldn’t say for certain. Immersed in prayer, Father Joaquim kept his eyes closed and gripped Miguel’s hand tightly as he walked through the powerful waters.

  They took their final steps onto the far riverbank just as the samurai arrived at the other side. The soldiers let out a ferocious war cry and loosed a hail of arrows that arced across the raging waters, forcing Joaquim and the others to take cover behind nearby rocks.

  Dozens more samurai arrived. Many, eager to impress Shigemasa and gain a rich reward, ran into the water and tried to swim to the far bank.

  But the river’s current was too strong. The turbulent water crashed over the samurai, dragging them down in their heavy armour, driving them towards the rapids further downstream. The relentless undercurrent swallowed them whole, tossing their helpless bodies on to the rocks as they were swept to their death.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Father Joaquim and his companions breathed a sigh of relief and clasped their hands in prayer. After offering thanks, the priest laid a hand on his heart and looked to the sky. Despite feeling grateful, Joaquim knew their reprieve was temporary. He wanted to rest – they all did – but he knew they could not. Shigemasa’s warriors would be enraged after seeing their comrades swept to their deaths, and Joaquim knew they had to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the samurai.

  Mindful of Tonia’s need to recoup her strength, Joaquim and Watanabe agreed silently to walk for a while in order to give her a chance to recover a little. If they did not, Joaquim feared they might end up having to carry her, which would really slow them down.

  Tonia stopped limping after a while, and eventually broke the silence between them. She caught up to Master Watanabe. ‘I must know. How on earth did you perform that miracle?’

  ‘Of what do you speak, Tonia?’

  ‘How did we walk across the river?’

  ‘I did nothing, child. It was our communion with the Source that saved us.’

  ‘You mean, God?’ Father Joaquim said.

  ‘If you wish. Does the name really matter?’

  ‘But why call Him “the Source”?’

  ‘Is God not the source of all creation?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then we can also call Him the Source. It is through the Source we can accomplish these deeds. I cannot do these things on my own.’

  ‘Then why cannot I do them?’ Miguel asked.

  ‘Who s
ays you cannot?’

  The young man shook his head. ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘You must believe that you can.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘Really? Does your Bible not say, “Greater works than these shall you also do”?’

  Joaquim nodded in agreement.

  ‘Help me with the passage, Father,’ Watanabe added.

  The padre nodded. ‘In the book of John, Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.”’

  ‘Correct,’ Master Watanabe replied. ‘Jesus was always in communion with the Father.’

  ‘But I cannot do this,’ Father Joaquim protested. ‘I’m a normal man.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Jesus was lying or trying to deceive when He said that?’

  ‘No, of course not. But I’m just an ordinary man.’

  ‘So Jesus spoke this passage only to supernatural men?’

  The padre shook his head. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Then it’s time to put away your doubts and start to truly believe in your inherent powers.’

  ‘It sounds like fantasy,’ Miguel said.

  ‘Did you not just walk through a raging river, Miguel?’

  ‘Yes, but that was only because of you.’

  ‘I told you, I can do nothing. Everything I achieve is through my faith in the Source. But the belief starts in you. Believe that He lives in you.’

  ‘I believe this,’ Father Joaquim avowed.

  ‘I know you do, Father. Your faith is strong, and you are close to doing these great works on your own. Now it is time for you to know you can do these things yourself. And thanking Him is the strongest form of knowing.’

  ‘I will try,’ Joaquim replied.

  ‘There is no trying. You must do. When you know, the outcome is assured.’