Swords of Silence

by Shaun Curry

  ‘I have no fear,’ Joaquim replied as he wiped blood from his nose. ‘You should be more worried than me.’

  ‘I should worry?’ the Shogun roared. ‘Of what?’

  ‘“For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.”’

  ‘Do not preach your Christian filth here, priest! This is my castle!’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’ Joaquim stood with shoulders back, staring defiantly at the Shogun.

  ‘Then why did you run away like a coward on Kyushu?’

  ‘You misunderstand our intentions. We will never leave Japan. Our mission will survive here.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me in such a tone? Give this priest another beating!’

  Samurai again mercilessly pounded Father Joaquim. As he lay on the floor, gathering his wits, despite the blood in his eyes Joaquim stared up at the ceiling and saw the Shogun’s family crest hanging from the rafters. He pulled himself upright and wiped his face with a sleeve. ‘Your samurai have given me a thrashing,’ Father Joaquim said.

  ‘Do you wish another?’

  ‘They can deliver a beating to captives, but how brave are they facing a man with a sword?’

  ‘Tokugawa samurai are the bravest in all Japan. It was through battle my grandfather became Shogun.’

  ‘Good,’ Father Joaquim replied. ‘Then perhaps you will accept a challenge.’

  ‘What kind of challenge?’

  Father Joaquim stood. ‘A fighting contest.’

  At first only the Shogun laughed, but soon the room was cackling along with him.

  Joaquim interrupted the laughter: ‘Are you not interested in discovering the locations of more hidden Christians?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I hold the master list of all Christians in Japan, including foreign priests and clergy.’

  The Shogun held up a hand and the chamber fell silent. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, I offer you the whereabouts of all hidden Christians.’

  ‘In exchange for what?’

  ‘In exchange for our freedom: the four of us and all Christian prisoners in Edo prison.’

  For a moment, Father Joaquim thought of the village’s women and children in Nagasaki, but knew their release required an enormous amount of unlikely coordination on the Shogun’s behalf. In his heart, he knew an opportunity would present itself later to effect their liberation.

  ‘Why should I agree to such a contest? Now that I know you have this list, I can torture it out of you.’

  ‘I suspect you already know that torture will not make me speak. And if I die under torture, the master list and your opportunity will die with me.’

  ‘Perhaps we will put your bravado to the test and dismember you slowly.’

  ‘Do you have so little confidence in your samurai?’ Joaquim made direct eye contact, goading the Shogun. ‘Are you really afraid your samurai can not defeat a gaijin Christian?’

  Samurai murmured loudly at the impertinence of the suggestion. The Shogun glanced around the room and saw that many of his samurai looked unsettled. ‘What kind of honour is there in trying to squeeze information from me that I will give freely if I am defeated? Are the samurai of the Tokugawa so afraid?’

  A small tic began near the Shogun’s left eye. He raised his hand to quell his samurai’s agitated grumbles. ‘Silence!’

  Turning to face Joaquim, he declared, ‘You will die, priest. No one challenges the Tokugawa clan and lives. But your master list of hidden Christians interests me, if you can be trusted.’

  ‘We all die. It is how that counts.’

  The Shogun turned aside to quietly consult with his council.

  ‘Shall we accept the challenge?’ he asked, gritting his teeth.

  ‘I think we must, Lord,’ whispered Inaba Masakatsu, one of the Roju cabinet members. ‘The priest challenged you in front of your men. I think you must accept the challenge for the honour of your samurai and for the Tokugawa name.’

  ‘I agree,’ added Naito Tadashige, another cabinet member. ‘The men will feel dishonoured and shamed if we do not accept.’

  ‘But it’s ludicrous!’ the Shogun replied. ‘The foreign priest and his aides stand no chance.’

  ‘Why does he wish to fight?’ another member asked. ‘He would challenge us only if he thinks he can win.’

  ‘Perhaps he believes the ronin will fight for him. Perhaps the ronin is very skilled,’ Naito said.

  ‘Then we will not let the ronin fight. We can control the rules of the contest. So shall we accept?’ the Shogun repeated.

  ‘What could be greater than the master list, Lord?’

  ‘What if he is killed before he has a chance to tell us, Lord?’

  ‘We will extract it from him before he takes his last breath in battle,’ the Shogun said.

  One after the other, each Roju cabinet member nodded in agreement.

  The Shogun turned to Father Joaquim: ‘It will be a pleasure to watch my samurai dismember your body, moments before you surrender the master list. We accept your pathetic challenge.’

  Throughout the chamber samurai roared their approval.

  Father Joaquim challenged the Shogun, his gaze direct and unflinching. ‘If I win, how do I know you will keep your word? How do I know we will gain our freedom?’

  The Shogun’s face reddened as he clenched his fists. ‘Do not insult me, priest. A samurai’s word is stronger than metal.’

  ‘Then we agree to the contest?’ Joaquim answered.

  ‘Consider this your death, priest.’

  Joaquim nodded and bowed. ‘Daimyo Shigemasa took a valuable sword from us on Kyushu. We request the return of this sword for our contest.’ Joaquim banked on their former teacher’s sword helping his catechists recall their training, and channel the spirit of Master Yamaguchi.

  ‘Do you think a sword can save you, Christian dog?’

  ‘If your samurai can choose their weapons, so should we.’

  ‘If you knew anything about budo, priest, you would know that battles are not won by swords, but by the skill of the samurai who hold them.’

  ‘So you do not object?’

  ‘Use your sword,’ the Shogun said. ‘It will make no difference.’

  The Shogun stood to address his retainers. ‘Prepare the Budokan at once. We will slaughter these Christians tonight!’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  14 July 1626

  Shogun’s Budokan

  Miguel said, ‘The Shogun will bring his best warriors. Do you think we can win?’

  Father Joaquim inched towards the nervous young man. ‘Look at me, Miguel. I do not think we can. I know we can.’

  Miguel sighed. ‘Why are you so sure?’

  ‘Because we are fighting for something important – our lives and those of our friends. We were trained by the best, Miguel. Master Yamaguchi was one of the finest warriors in Japan, and a great teacher.’

  ‘But that was training. This is real life – life or death!’

  ‘You’re right. That was only training. But let us not forget the most important thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Faith that the Lord is with us.’ Joaquim sat down next to Miguel. ‘We asked for His help, and He has answered. Just believe.’

  ‘I do believe, Father.’

  ‘If you believed, Miguel, you would not doubt the outcome. You would know He will answer.’

  Miguel clutched his arms and stopped paying attention as he focused on the thunderous sounds that boomed from the main hall of the Budokan. Although he could not be sure, he thought he heard the Shogun’s samurai chanting and stomping their feet.

  ‘The end is near. Listen to the ominous noise coming from the hall next door. Others are being tortured and killed even as we sit here.’

  ‘But we are not. Do you expect the Lord to solve your problems for you, Miguel, or give you the opportunity to solve them? Don’t let fear prevent you from trusting God, Miguel. Have the courage to tr
ust Him.’

  ‘I will do my best, Father.

  ‘When you feel weak or doubtful, rely on God for your st—’

  The door swung open and a dozen samurai entered the room. ‘Get up!’ the lead samurai shouted.

  As soon as they arose, the samurai beat them to the ground. As they beat Tonia and Miguel, the catechists cried out in distress. All of a sudden, Miguel shrieked as a samurai hammered his hand repeatedly with a sword handle. Worried about his young catechists, Father Joaquim tried to absorb most of the blows himself, on their behalf, but his efforts only seemed to attract additional rounds of beatings. As the wounded prisoners lay on the floor, the warriors stomped first on their bodies, and then their hands and feet. ‘Now you are ready to meet the Shogun’s fighters.’ The lead samurai grinned.

  ‘Get up!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t worry. We will not beat you again. This time, the Shogun’s warriors will do it.’ Giving Father Joaquim one more kick to his back, the samurai repeated, ‘Get up, I said!’

  But the prisoners could not rise. Losing patience, the samurai hauled them to their feet.

  ‘We must make you look pretty,’ said the lead samurai. He wiped the blood from their faces. ‘We cannot have you look unsightly before you leave this world.’

  Father Joaquim looked at his young aides. ‘Are you okay, my friends?’

  ‘My hand, Father,’ Miguel replied. ‘I think it’s broken.’

  As the four were shoved into the main hall of the Shogun’s Budokan, the noise was thunderous. Hundreds of Shogun Iemitsu’s samurai stomped on floorboards and clapped their hands. As he looked around, Joaquim felt intimidated as the entire hall stared at their group, willing their demise. His heart pounded as the vibrating floors under the samurais’ stomping feet caused his body to shake and tremble. The noise was deafening.

  Up at the front of the Budokan the Shogun, his father, Hidetada, and the entire Roju cabinet sat on an elevated platform from which the Shogun would run the contest. Adjacent to the front podium and running along both sides of the training mats, Joaquim observed large spectator stands holding hundreds of samurai, keen to witness the bloodshed.

  As he gazed around the massive hall, he and his friends were pulled over to the left side of the room, where the Shogun forced them to kneel. As the Shogun raised his right hand, the hall became silent.

  ‘Welcome to the Budokan, where you will die!’ the Shogun shouted from the front.

  Straightaway, the hall again erupted with cheers, yells, and loud rhythmic foot stomps.

  ‘Silence!’ the Shogun ordered. ‘I will now read the rules of the contest.’ He surveyed the hall before resting his eyes on Joaquim. ‘One: There will be three fights, one for each Christian dog. Two: Each fight will be to the death, but in the priest’s case, not until he has divulged the information. Three: I choose the order and the adversaries for the fights. Four: The winning side of the overall contest will have at least two victories, although I doubt the foreign mongrels will win even one.’

  Again, the roar of hundreds of samurai resounded through the hall.

  ‘Give them their sword,’ the Shogun instructed a retainer before turning his attention back to Joaquim. ‘After your deaths, your beautiful sword will look splendid in my collection. Now, prepare to be gutted!’

  Inspired by the Shogun, the Budokan erupted once more in an exhilarated fury, no doubt intended to provoke and taunt the small group. Everywhere the priest looked, he could see Iemitsu’s samurai gesturing obscenities and threats.

  The samurai stomped their feet enthusiastically and clapped loudly.

  Joaquim reassured his young aides. ‘Know that our freedom is at hand.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Tonia answered.

  ‘Do you see this sword?’ the padre asked. ‘It belonged to our sensei and dear friend, Master Yamaguchi. Let this sword remind you of our training with him. When you use it, remember him.’

  Tonia nodded.

  ‘And remember the most important thing – the Lord stands with you.’

  CHAPTER FOURTY-EIGHT

  14 July 1626

  ‘The first death shall be your woman!’ the Shogun roared from the podium.

  Tonia spoke to Father Joaquim. ‘Any final advice, Father?’

  ‘Remain calm and trust in God. Let Him inspire your movements. What technique do you see in your mind’s eye, Tonia?’

  For a moment, Tonia closed her eyes and visualized the predominant technique she would use to defeat her opponent. It was a technique she had practised over and again under the patient instruction of Master Yamaguchi. Now all she had to do was hope an opportunity would arise to use it.

  ‘I see defence followed by a counter-attack.’

  ‘Good. There is wisdom in that. Follow your intuition. Your opponent will try to impress the Budokan and will come out strong. Focus on defence in the beginning, and protect yourself. When an opening comes, strike!’

  ‘Do not waste our time, woman!’ the Shogun shouted. ‘Get on the mat!’

  Father Joaquim extended Master Yamaguchi’s sword to Tonia as she stepped onto the mat, where she bowed with respect to receive it before jogging to the centre of the mat to face the glare of hundreds of ruthless samurai.

  ‘I call Akane-san!’ the Shogun bellowed.

  The noise level rose at once, deafening in its intensity. A large, barbaric figure emerged from the corner of the Budokan. At a distance, Father Joaquim thought the samurai was a huge man, but as the figure moved closer he saw it was a woman – by far the largest and most powerful woman he had ever seen.

  Joaquim saw that Tonia was praying as she scrutinized her opponent.

  ‘You will bow to the Shogun and then to each other,’ the official on the mat announced. ‘Then you will fight . . . until one of you is dead.’

  The second the formalities were over, Akane charged at Tonia, taking massive swings with her razor-sharp sword. Tonia felt the rush of air on her cheek as the blade searched for its target. Within seconds, Akane backed Tonia into the corner of the mat, where she defended with quick jerky movements against the flurry of attacks. With each aggressive strike, Tonia raised her sword and blocked the attack, creating a fusillade of clacking sounds as the blades clashed. As she defended, Joaquim saw signs of weakness in Tonia’s enormous opponent and he became frustrated she was not doing more to counter-attack.

  Akane took another rumbling charge at Tonia, this time forcing her to the opposite side of the mat. Once more, Tonia eluded the series of strikes by a thin margin, two of which missed her throat by inches. But suddenly Tonia seemed to relax and start to take control, as Joaquim noted that she was getting a measure of her opponent’s technique. Now feeling more confident in her defence, Tonia allowed her training to kick in as she gathered her strength and refocused on her own abilities.

  Surprised that Tonia had not died yet and could fend off her attacks, Akane seemed perplexed as she shook her head, glancing at the Shogun in bewilderment. The momentary lapse of attention was all Tonia needed. She slashed at Akane, cutting her wrist deeply and drawing a great deal of blood.

  Akane shrieked in pain and almost dropped her sword. The Budokan went silent.

  ‘Slaughter that mutt!’ the Shogun yelled at Akane, as she tried to refocus. Akane raised her sword for a third round of strikes at Tonia, but her deep wound weakened her technique and everyone in the Budokan could see it. As she tried to raise her sword again, Tonia deflected it and slashed open her opponent’s right arm, causing her opponent to drop her sword.

  Akane screamed as blood spurted from her bicep. Tonia seized the moment and raised her sword. With a decisive sideways movement, she slashed it through Akane’s exposed throat, severing her oesophagus. Blood spurted in all directions as the huge woman’s shriek was cut short. The mountain of a woman teetered, then she fell to the mat with a thud.

  The hall was silent. The shocked Shogun pounded his fist on the floor in frustration, baring his teeth and breathing heavily. ‘Remove her!’ he
roared. ‘I have never seen such luck.’

  As samurai dragged Akane’s corpse off the mat it left a red smear behind it. They threw the body into a corner. The Shogun yelled, ‘Young foreign boy, get on the mat! I promise you will not have such luck.’

  ‘What do I do, Father?’ Miguel asked. ‘I cannot fight with a broken hand. What can I do?’

  ‘Do you remember the sword-removal technique Master Yamaguchi taught us?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Don’t think, Miguel. Look at me! Know. Remember the sword-removal technique! You must remove his sword and then defeat him with your hands.’

  ‘Get on the mat, boy!’ the Shogun roared.

  ‘But what about my hand, Father?’ With an ashen face and a trembling chin, Miguel remained motionless, laden with uncertainty.

  The Shogun’s samurai shoved him to the centre of the mat.

  ‘Suzuki-san!’ the Shogun shouted.

  An athletic, dangerous-looking samurai emerged from the back of the Budokan and walked forward.

  The Budokan erupted as the samurai in attendance chanted: ‘Su-zu-ki! Su-zu-ki! Su-zu-ki!’

  Suzuki strode powerfully towards the mat. As he arrived, he bowed twice to the Shogun, who returned the gesture with a nod and a grin. Next, Suzuki turned and bowed to Miguel, whom he gazed at with a cold, dark stare.

  As they watched the way Suzuki moved, Joaquim and Watanabe knew at once that Miguel was outmatched by a considerable margin. As they looked at one another, the priest felt guilty for getting Miguel involved in the contest. If he died today at least it would be quick, rather than a lingering and painful end in a stinking, cold, dark dungeon.

  Miguel returned the bow, his nerves on edge, evidenced by the shaking of his hands as he gripped his sword. Then, to Joaquim’s dismay, Miguel ignored his suggestions and charged at Suzuki. Miguel used up his energy in a short period of time, and exhausted himself by swinging his sword from side to side with little purpose and skill. Suzuki defended the attacks effortlessly as though he were playing with a child, blocking each attack with perfect poise and precision.