Swords of Silence

by Shaun Curry

  Father Joaquim looked at Watanabe. ‘So when I pray, I should also give thanks?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it not arrogant to give thanks for what you are yet to receive?’

  ‘Thanking is the greatest form of faith.’

  ‘What about asking?’ Miguel enquired. ‘Is it not important to ask?’

  ‘Asking is like trying. If you ask too many times, it means you are uncertain about the outcome. When you are uncertain about the outcome, you cannot know, and the circle cannot complete itself. The best way to know is to thank.’

  Tonia took a deep breath. ‘Can we rest a short while?’

  ‘Not yet. The legion will have found a way to cross the river by now.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  29 June 1626

  Shogun’s Castale, Toshima District, Edo, Musashi Province

  ‘I should kill you! I gave clear orders not to disturb me.’ Shogun Iemitsu rose naked from his bed and wrapped himself in a plush silk robe.

  ‘Forgive me, Lord. I would never disturb you unless it was to bring you news of the greatest importance,’ the retainer stammered.

  ‘What is so important that you violate my strict orders?’

  ‘One of your spies on Kyushu sent a carrier pigeon. Some of your new prisoners have escaped.’

  ‘Which prisoners?’

  ‘Some of the Christians at Omura Prison.’

  The Shogun grabbed an elegant sake flask and smashed it against the wall, sending pottery flying. Turning on the retainer he asked with quiet menace, ‘Under whose command did these prisoners escape?’

  ‘Daimyo Matsukura Shigemasa, Lord, but he was at his castle when it occurred. They escaped under the prison master’s watch.’

  ‘Fools!’ the Shogun shouted. ‘They are all fools. There will be consequences for this!’

  ‘The prison master is already dead, Lord. Daimyo Shigemasa executed him.’

  ‘Good.’ The Shogun dressed himself as he continued: ‘Perhaps we should sanction Daimyo Shigemasa as well.’

  ‘He has organized a massive manhunt, my Lord, and deployed a force of 3,000 samurai to recapture them.’

  ‘Which prisoners escaped?’

  ‘The foreign priest and his aides, Lord.’

  In a second burst of anger, the Shogun kicked over an expensive Chinese table, smashing the exotic sculptures resting on it.

  ‘I despise those foreign mongrels. They carry a disease that challenges my dominion. They are the ones I most want to mutilate!’

  ‘What shall we do, Lord?’

  ‘Fetch my sword. We will go to the streets of Edo so I can vent my anger.’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’

  * * *

  An hour later, still raging, Shogun Iemitsu led dozens of his samurai and retainers down the streets of Edo, as residents and passers-by ran away, frantic to avoid him.

  At his side swung a long, glinting sword, the Shogun’s hand on the hilt. He itched to draw and use it. Taking a turn down a street, he caught sight of a man sleeping beneath a filthy blanket. He dashed towards him.

  ‘Stand up, worthless vagrant!’ The Shogun kicked him in the gut.

  ‘What? Who is it?’ the man asked as he woke up.

  ‘Get up, I said!’

  The man tried to rise, but he moved slowly, which vexed the Shogun, who had found an easy target for his fury. He plunged his weapon into the soft belly of the homeless man, his excitement rising as he withdrew his sword and watched the blood seep thickly on to the road.

  ‘This sword is razor-sharp!’ exclaimed the Shogun, his flushed appearance denoting his mania. ‘It’s perfect.’

  The homeless man fell forward, grabbing the Shogun’s garment in a vain attempt to steady himself, incomprehension etched on his face.

  ‘Don’t touch me, filthy creature!’ the Shogun roared in disgust. ‘Get away from me!’ Pushing the man away, he knocked him to his knees. With a swift downward swing, the blade glinted in the twilight as the Shogun severed the man’s head, sending it rolling a short distance away.

  ‘Vagrants are society’s waste,’ the despot declared as he handed an aide his sword to wipe off the blood. He retrieved his now gleaming weapon. ‘Now, what else can we find to test my blade on?’

  All of a sudden, a young Buddhist monk walked around the corner of a building and gasped at the bloody sight before him. A pot of rice clattered to the ground from his shaking hands.

  ‘Who are you?’ the Shogun demanded, lips pressed together as he narrowed his eyes.

  ‘A follower of Buddha. I was coming to bring this man food.’ He indicated the corpse at the Shogun’s feet.

  ‘You help the homeless in my city?’ the Shogun asked, contempt clear in his voice.

  ‘Yes, I seek to ease their suffering.’

  Without warning, the Shogun’s blade flashed, as his sword stabbed viciously through the young monk’s throat, perforating his oesophagus. Blood drained from his victim’s punctured neck, as his lifeless body fell to the ground, a pool of blood coagulating at the Shogun’s feet.

  ‘How dare these meddling monks prolong the lives of these disgusting vagrants!’

  Immune to their leader’s frequent displays of brutality, his samurai looked on with blank stares, revealing no emotion at the slaughter.

  ‘Perhaps this is enough for one day, Lord,’ one of his retainers suggested. ‘We would not want to dull your blade.’

  ‘One more,’ the Shogun said, turning around and scanning the streets. ‘I am still enraged by this priest’s escape. Daimyo Shigemasa had better catch him!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  30 June 1626

  Hizen Province

  At the head of 1,500 samurai, Daimyo Shigemasa hurried to the Chikugo-gawa River region.

  ‘In what direction are they moving?’ he asked the regiment’s commander.

  They stood encircled by warriors and advisers, close to the still-raging waters.

  ‘West, Lord.’

  ‘What happened yesterday?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lord. They escaped us at the river.’

  ‘They must be exhausted by now. How is it possible they escape a force of 300 samurai?’

  ‘My men spotted four people, my Lord. They have help.’

  ‘Three or four . . . what difference does it make? Your regiment has 300 warriors!’

  ‘We don’t know how they crossed the river, Lord.’

  ‘Did they take a boat or swim?’

  ‘We didn’t see a boat, Lord, and it’s not possible to swim, the river is too fast. Some of our samurai tried, but the river swept them downstream.’

  ‘Then how did they cross?’

  The commander sighed and shook his head, his shoulders hunched in acquiescence. ‘I cannot say, Lord. Our horsemen chased them across the plain, but an expert bowman ambushed them.’

  ‘Their helper is a ronin?’

  ‘He must be a former samurai because our horsemen suffered terrible wounds. Some believe it was the Christian priest who wielded the bow.’

  ‘A foreign priest wielding a bow? That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘It’s what several reported, Lord.’

  ‘Then they are imbeciles. Now tell me how they crossed the river.’

  ‘The samurai who arrived first thought he saw them walk across, Lord.’

  ‘Have your men been drinking, commander?’

  ‘No, Lord. They do not drink on duty.’

  ‘Then why is their judgement impaired?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lord. It all happened quickly.’

  The Daimyo huffed. ‘Now that I have arrived, we will get them. With almost 3,000 samurai on their heels, there will be nowhere for them to hide.’

  ‘What is our plan, Lord?’

  ‘We will use our great numbers, spread out, and circle in on them. We will scour every piece of land westward, leaving no stone unturned.’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’

  ‘And we will not rest until these runaway dogs are
back on their leash. Then we will drag them to the Shogun.’

  * * *

  ‘They are closing in on us, aren’t they?’ Miguel asked. He wrung his hands, failing to notice the magnificent, deep-hued sunset over the distant Pacific Ocean.

  ‘Have no fear, Miguel,’ Father Joaquim answered as the quartet plodded on. ‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’

  ‘But there are so many, Father.’

  ‘Believe, Miguel. He released us like Daniel from the lion’s den, and helped us cross a raging river. He will not abandon us now.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Master Watanabe, I would like to thank you again for your help,’ Father Joaquim said. ‘Without you, we would not have made it this far.’

  ‘In time, you will not need me.’

  ‘I wish that were true.’

  ‘Do not wish, Father. Know.’

  Joaquim chuckled. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ He smiled at his new friend. ‘I remember what you said: Knowing completes the circle.’

  ‘Good,’ Watanabe replied, nodding his head. ‘Do not underestimate yourself. Your skill as a warrior is impressive. If it were not for you, we would not have made it this far.’

  ‘I sought only to slow them down. Thank God, I do not think I killed any of them.’

  ‘Yet they seek to destroy you.’

  ‘It is of no matter,’ Father Joaquim answered. ‘Their actions will determine their own fate. If they live by the sword, they will suffer the consequences.’

  ‘And while they live by the sword, you live by the Cross?’

  ‘Yes, but I have given my life to serve our Lord Jesus Christ and to carry the Word of God.’

  ‘Perhaps the Way of the Cross is not so different from the way of the sword. Both involve a life of service.’

  ‘Master Yamaguchi and I spoke of this sometimes.’

  ‘Both involve absolute devotion. A samurai serves his warlord unconditionally. A Christian serves his Lord Jesus Christ without condition and would die for his faith.’

  ‘Agreed, there are similarities,’ Father Joaquim said. ‘But there are telling differences.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Samurai kill on orders from their daimyo. God does not allow Christians to kill.’

  ‘But Christians do kill.’

  ‘Only in self-defence or to protect the innocent. In no other way would I seek to kill another.’

  ‘I make no judgement, Father.’

  ‘I simply emphasize that Christians are different from samurai.’

  ‘I prefer to focus on the similarities, not the differences,’ Master Watanabe said. ‘Focusing on similarities brings us together.’

  ‘It is a wise philosophy—’

  ‘Look!’ Miguel’s sudden shout interrupted the conversation. He was pointing to columns of wispy smoke rising above the woods before them. The young catechist cried, ‘The forest is on fire! We have to turn back!’

  But Tonia had already turned to observe the forested hill from which they’d emerged a few minutes before. ‘We can’t go back. Look there!’ she cried.

  Daimyo Shigemasa and his company of samurai emerged from the thick trees behind them. The soldiers had them cornered.

  The pungent odour of the dry burning wood wafted towards them.

  ‘What shall we do?’ Miguel yelled.

  ‘We will escape them in the fire,’ Master Watanabe said.

  ‘We can’t run into that fire!’ Miguel yelled. His eyes bulged. ‘It will burn us alive!’

  ‘Calm yourself, Miguel,’ Master Watanabe answered.

  ‘We have a fire and samurai in front of us and Shigemasa and his hordes behind us. We have nowhere to go! Why would I be calm?’

  ‘Trust me, Miguel. As before, just follow me.’ Watanabe stepped towards the forest, which was now engulfed in roaring flames.

  ‘We will survive, Miguel,’ Father Joaquim asserted.

  As he spoke hundreds of Shigemasa’s samurai began a rush down the hill to capture their prey.

  Miguel backed away from the heat of the burning trees. ‘Nothing can survive that fire!’

  ‘We will make it, Miguel. You must believe. Raise your consciousness to a higher level.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Miguel answered. ‘I can’t do it.’

  Watanabe said, ‘We will pass through unharmed. Again, let us hold hands and I will guide you.’

  The wood popped and spat as the heat of the flames grew stronger. Going towards it was madness! Miguel stared in horror as flames fanned in all directions, prompting endless sparks to crackle and ignite. In the distance, Miguel saw crashing trees, thick black smoke, and animals fleeing in desperation. Wide-eyed himself, Joaquim saw Miguel’s hands shake and realized his own shook as well.

  ‘When I was a young man sailing in the Indies,’ Joaquim said urgently, ‘I saw naked men walk on beds of fire unharmed. I swear to you. I am frightened too, but it happened. I saw it! We must believe He is with us. This is God’s test. You must embrace it.’

  Turning back to face the hill, they saw Shigemasa’s samurai charging at full speed towards them, encompassing most of the immediate horizon. As they charged, they raised their weapons in the air and roared.

  Watanabe said, ‘Miguel, we have run out of time. I can only offer you my hand, but it must be you who grabs it and takes the first step.’

  ‘I cannot. Fire terrifies me. I was burned as a child. I cannot!’

  Father Joaquim made the sign of the cross and grabbed Miguel’s shoulders, facing him. ‘What do you fear more, Miguel? The certainty of endless pain and torment, alone at the hands of the Shogun, or believing the Lord will save us and walking into that forest with your friends by your side?’

  The charging samurai were closing in. The thundering of hundreds of stamping feet drew closer. Through the flames was the only way forward.

  ‘Quick, let us hold hands,’ Master Watanabe called out.

  ‘Do as he says.’ Joaquim took the lead by grabbing Master Watanabe’s hand. Tonia followed and Miguel hesitated, then joined at the rear.

  The flames had now reached the tops of the trees. As the fire intensified, the heat increased, sparking more trees as burning branches tumbled to the ground, scattering the wildlife. The smell of smoke blew in their direction, causing the group to cough.

  Master Watanabe led them into the flaming forest. Entire trees raged in flames. Burning splinters blew in all directions, creating black smoke and ash that covered their faces. The heat was scorching, yet despite the almost overpowering heat they remained untouched by the flames. Miguel was terrified, making whimpering sounds with every step. He suddenly cried aloud in terror, dropped Tonia’s hand to escape the flames, and ran straight towards Shigemasa’s forces.

  ‘What happened?’ Father Joaquim asked, trying to see through the heavy smoke.

  ‘He let go of my hand,’ Tonia cried.

  ‘We have to go back for him,’ Joaquim yelled.

  ‘They will take us, Father,’ Watanabe replied. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘We can’t leave him!’

  ‘What about your plan to rescue the others?’

  ‘God will show us another way. We must go back.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘What God has set His hand to do must triumph – even with setbacks.’

  ‘Fine. I will lead us out.’

  * * *

  Miguel shook and squeezed his eyes shut as he lay in a pool of blood, captured by the samurai, who had beaten him savagely. He covered his head with his hands as he continued to receive blows, but somehow it was still a relief from the choking smoke, heat, and soul-gripping terror of being burned to death. But the moment he glimpsed Father Joaquim and the other members of his group coming back for him, Miguel felt shame and guilt.

  ‘There are the others,’ a samurai yelled. A bloodcurdling cheer rose from their ranks.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Shigemasa’s samurai beat Father Joaquim and his c
ompanions almost senseless. Blood oozed from a hundred wounds over their battered and bruised bodies. Dazed and almost unconscious, the quartet lay on the ground with their eyes closed as the enormous forest fire burned in the background.

  ‘Get these canines up! It’s time to put them back on their leash and rejoin the others,’ Shigemasa commanded.

  As samurai yanked Father Joaquim to his feet, Shigemasa walked over to face him. ‘Did you really think you could escape me?’

  Joaquim squinted at Shigemasa through the pain of his beating. The warlord stared back at him with contempt.

  ‘There is nothing to escape from,’ the priest said. ‘Our faith is our freedom. You have no power over us.’

  ‘Your words are empty,’ the Daimyo replied as he struck Father Joaquim with his fist, knocking him to the ground.

  Father Joaquim tasted blood and spat it away.

  ‘You run because you’re afraid. But no force in the world could prevent us from capturing you.’

  ‘You underestimate the power of God.’

  ‘And you underestimate me!’ the Daimyo roared as he kicked Father Joaquim again. ‘You will regret your escape, priest. I promise you.’

  ‘I’m not worried. Our fate rests with God.’

  ‘He does not exist. Where is your Jesus now?’

  ‘Your sword may break me, but it cannot break the Word of our Father.’

  ‘Watch your tongue, Christian dog. I am the daimyo of these lands. No force here is stronger than mine!’

  ‘There has always been a force stronger than you, Daimyo. You’re just not aware of it,’ Father Joaquim answered.

  ‘You live in the past, priest. There are no Christian daimyo any longer.’

  ‘That is not the force I speak of.’

  ‘Then who? These troublemaking ronin?’ Shigemasa sneered at Master Watanabe. ‘You filthy ronin. Have you been helping these Christians?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then we will crucify you alongside them. The Shogun despises ronin in league with Christians.’

  Unperturbed, Master Watanabe returned Daimyo Shigemasa’s gaze.

  ‘Too much talking.’ The Daimyo’s son placed his hands on his hips. ‘We need to punish them. Their escape has caused us great embarrassment.’

  ‘We will punish them, Katsuie-san, rest assured,’ the Daimyo replied.