by Shaun Curry
‘We find a boat and set sail.’
‘Where will we go?’
‘Nagasaki.’
‘Nagasaki?’
‘Yes. To rescue our women and children.’
Joaquim looked around and saw simultaneous looks of relief on the faces of the villagers. Several stared speechless at the priest, mouths wide open, as they contemplated the daring mission ahead. He said for all to hear: ‘I know many of you have many questions, and I regret I do not have all the answers. But God does, and nothing is impossible for Him.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
14 July 1626
Suetsugu’s Warehouse, Port of Nagasaki
Deputy-Lieutenant Suetsugu and Governor Kawachi walked purposefully towards the Deputy’s warehouse. ‘I invited you to join us, Governor, because I want you to bear witness as the first of these vile Christians breaks and recants.’
‘What makes you so confident that today will be the day? You have had two weeks, with no results yet.’
‘They have been resilient, it is true, but when you see their broken state, you will be impressed.’ Suetsugu was almost giddy over his plans and his confidence.
‘Good. The Shogun expects results.’
‘I am sure we will see results this afternoon. You will tell the Shogun of my mutilation of the Christians, will you not?’
‘I am sure the Shogun will reward you even more if you can get apostates,’ the Governor replied.
To protect his warehouse from theft and damage, Suetsugu had built a fence along three sides of its perimeter. The open side faced the water of Nagasaki harbour, allowing trading ships to dock, so the Deputy could load and unload his riches. To prevent escape, a dozen guards watched the perimeter throughout the night.
As the Deputy and Governor arrived at the gate, the guards bowed before admitting them. Then, as they approached the entrance, two more samurai slid open the large doors.
Inside, everyone remained still – not out of fear, but because none had the strength to move. Without exception, the women and children looked ghost-pale with deep dark circles under their eyes. They gazed at the authorities in silent rebuke as they were scrutinized like animals in an unholy experiment.
‘I have allowed them just enough food to remain alive,’ Suetsugu chuckled. ‘Just about,’ he added.
‘They look appalling,’ Governor Kawachi added. ‘You have done well, Deputy. Now let us see these recantations you promised.’
‘Bring them to the yard!’ Suetsugu shouted. ‘This afternoon someone will recant. I am tired of being merciful to you mutts.’ He turned to address the guards: ‘Is the water boiling yet?’
The guards nodded their affirmation.
‘Who shall we mutilate this afternoon?’ Suetsugu gazed at the emaciated women and children.
All tried to avoid eye contact with the Deputy as he gazed at the women before making his choice. ‘You, young girl, we have ignored you this week. Get over here.’
The young woman, Hatsumi, broke down in tears, unable to move. Kawachi scrutinized the woman, perceiving her sense of fear and terror.
‘I remember this girl,’ Governor Kawachi interjected as he examined her. ‘Was she not the good-looking one?’
‘She was,’ Suetsugu chuckled, ‘when she had a nose. Bring her here.’
Several guards rushed over to Hatsumi and grabbed her.
‘No more! No more!’ Hatsumi cried as samurai dragged her towards the pot of boiling water.
‘I will not waste time,’ the deputy declared. ‘One simple question: Do you recant?’
Hatsumi said nothing.
‘Do you recant?’
Her terrified sobs formed her only response.
The deputy nodded to four guards, who dragged her towards the pot. As two of the guards restrained her, the other two grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her and forced it into the boiling water, holding it there. Suetsugu and Kawachi watched with blank faces as her arm boiled, turning red, then dark purple. She collapsed from the pain with her arm still in the pot.
The guards released their hold on her and let her collapse onto the ground. At a sign from Suetsugu, a samurai threw cold water on her face and slapped her to revive her.
Suetsugu then approached Hatsumi, who was curled up over her injured arm, sobbing with pain. He stood above her. ‘Do you recant?’
Hatsumi did not respond.
‘Do not test me, girl! Boil her other arm.’
Hatsumi screamed, ‘I recant! I can’t take any more. I recant!’
‘Magnificent!’ Suetsugu turned to the Governor, smiling as though he had won a game. ‘I told you someone would recant today.’
‘Good, Deputy-Lieutenant. You are achieving results; this will please the Shogun.’
‘The rest will recant within the next five days.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘The first one is always the hardest. In five days, if the rest of them have not recanted through torture, I will kill them, starting with their youngest and working my way to the oldest.’
Suetsugu glanced towards the mother of a newborn. Her startled eyes, and tightened hold on her infant, revealed that she understood his message.
‘Good, Deputy. I leave you in charge.’
Suetsugu walked over to the new mother, snatched her baby from her, and held the infant up in the air, his fist around its neck. ‘Do you see this baby?’ he shrieked. ‘If you have not all recanted within the next five days, you will all be responsible for this baby’s death!’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
14 July 1626
Edo Harbour, Musashi Province
The sight of thirty emaciated, mangled strangers stumbling through the streets of Edo in the early evening attracted an audience. The tall European man and what appeared to be an old ronin leading them created an even more intriguing spectacle.
Looking around the bay, Father Joaquim struggled to discern how they would get back to Nagasaki. The southern trading port was far away from Edo and the group had no money to pay someone. More importantly, the Christians were outlaws and no one would want to risk themselves, or their boat, to transport fugitives from the regime to the other end of Japan.
Tonia inspected the boats in the harbour. Anchored together in the centre part of the bay, large craft with tall sails wallowed together in choppy waters, surrounded by a plethora of smaller vessels. She perused the distinctive flags that hung from the larger boats as they blew in the wind. ‘I see only the Shogun’s official red-seal ships, and small fishing boats. I don’t see anything in between.’
‘Neither do I.’ They continued to look at the choices without success.
‘There is one boat that would serve us well,’ Master Watanabe said. The old ronin pointed to a mid-sized boat at the end of the harbour partially hidden by a couple of larger ships. It floated at anchor below a small hill on which a Buddhist temple sat. Joaquim looked at the brownish-grey boat. It looked old and leaky, and far from seaworthy. By choice he wouldn’t have used it as a ferry.
‘Who do you think that ship belongs to?’ Tonia asked.
‘I think the temple monks,’ said Master Watanabe.
‘There must be something else,’ Father Joaquim said. The seagoing instincts of his youth warned him this ship would likely drown them all as soon as they were out of sight of land. He pinched his lips together and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘How can there be only one possible boat for us?’
‘Because the others are out at sea now. Their owners are making a living. What’s wrong with the monks’ boat?’ Master Watanabe asked. He was hurrying to keep stride beside the longer-legged padre while looking unhurried himself.
‘It belongs to the Buddhists!’
‘So?’
‘Since Buddhists have hated Christians for over a century now, why would they help us?’
‘Did you pray for a boat, Father?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Well, there it is. In the entire harbour it is
the only boat that fits your needs.’
‘I find it difficult to believe God would have Buddhists help us.’
‘Do you believe God has greater wisdom than you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then put away your prejudices. They are clouding your mind. That is your boat.’
‘We have no money to offer,’ Father Joaquim said, as though that fact would settle the debate.
‘Ask them for help.’
‘Perhaps it would be better if you ask for us. You are not a Christian priest. Perhaps they will be more receptive to you.’
‘You must not become dependent on me, Father.’ Master Watanabe stopped walking and turned his gaze from the boat back to Father Joaquim. ‘I am only a guide showing you the way.’ He placed his hands on the Father’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring smile. ‘You must do these things. I cannot do them for you.’
The priest nodded. ‘Very well.’
‘Are you sure, Master Watanabe?’ Tonia asked. ‘If you’re wrong, they might turn Father Joaquim over to the Shogun . . . or kill him. Most Buddhist monks are skilled warriors.’
‘There is but one way to find out, Tonia.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
14 July 1626
Buddhist Temple, Edo Harbour, Musashi Province
Joaquim knew he had no other option. He owed the villagers the chance to reunite with their families in Nagasaki.
As he made his way up the seeming endless stairs cut into the steep hill, he noticed several colourful flags, long and vertical, affixed to long wooden poles and cemented into the ground. They displayed a variety of Buddhist phrases and bore the prayers used by the Amidist Buddhist sect in Japan. Namu Amida Butsu, read the first flag – Hail to the Buddha Amida. A little further up the hill another flag read, ‘He who advances is sure of salvation, but he who retreats will go to hell.’ Reading the mantras, Joaquim shook his head and thought, I must be out of my mind. As he passed more flags he felt relieved he could read kanji, an essential skill for all Jesuits in Japan. He bit his lip and shook his head as he read some of their warnings.
The Japanese warrior monks emerged when Buddhism was introduced to Japan. It came to Japan through China, and when it reached Japan it complemented rather than threatened the existing religion, Shinto, known as ‘The Way of the Gods’. Shinto involved the worship of thousands of kami, regarded by Buddhists as manifestations of the Buddha himself. So the creeds of Buddhism from China and Shintoism from Japan coexisted well.
However, this was not the case with Christianity. Christian doctrine contrasted with Buddhism, and conflicts always arose when the two religions came into contact. A major obstacle for the priest was that Buddhism was aligned with the Shogun, and the Bakufu regime all but enforced Buddhism as a matter of law. Now that the Shogun had banned Christianity from Japan, Father Joaquim couldn’t imagine a Buddhist warrior monk contradicting the Shogun’s edict and helping a Christian. Yet he had to try. To convey his peaceful intentions, he came alone and unarmed.
Joaquim was surprised that he reached the top of the stairs without being challenged. Surely they must have seen him climbing for a while now.
‘Halt where you are.’ A bald monk confronted him at the top of the stairs. He pointed a sharp blade at the priest as a warning. Father Joaquim raised his hands above his head. Monks surrounded him and one ran to a nearby structure and rang the temple bell to alert the remaining members of the community. Another ran to a lookout at the top of the hill to see if other trespassers were approaching.
Within a few minutes, dozens more warrior monks joined the crowd surrounding the priest. All had shaved heads and wore beige kimonos and trousers, with lightweight black jackets. The bulkiness of their clothes informed the Jesuit of the lacquered plates of armour underneath their robes. Some carried weapons, including knives, bows, spears, and swords.
Joaquim stood before them with his hands raised. The shouting intensified. A sharp pain to the back of the head put the priest on his knees on hard stone ground.
He found himself surrounded by a horde of yelling, aggressive warrior monks, all wielding sharp naginata spears pointing at him from all directions. At a moment’s notice, he could be sliced into pieces. He bit his lip and waited for what came next, believing his demise was imminent.
A voice said, ‘Who are you? A merchant? A trader?’
‘I am a Christian priest.’
‘Kill him!’ someone in the crowd yelled.
‘No, let us collect a reward for him. His capture is worth money.’
A quarrel broke out among the monks, who continued to point their spears at Joaquim’s head. The quarrel subsided when the temple’s grey-haired elder and head monk arrived. His presence noticeably calmed the atmosphere, though Joaquim’s heart still pounded in his chest.
‘Quiet, I said!’ As the last of the younger monks stopped arguing, the elder said, ‘What is the problem?’
‘This gaijin is a Christian priest. We caught him on our grounds, approaching the temple.’
‘Is it true, stranger? Are you a Christian priest?’
Joaquim studied the old man, wondering if what he saw was mercy towards his disposition.
‘Yes, I am.’
With that admission, the yelling and shouting flared up again. ‘We should kill him!’
‘Quiet!’ the old monk ordered. He raised his hands again. ‘Control yourselves. We will not have another outburst like this.’
The rambunctious younger monks relaxed their posture further, lightening their aggressive posture towards the priest.
Looking again at the intruder lying on the ground, the elder asked, ‘Why are you here?’
‘I am here to ask for help.’
‘He came to the wrong place,’ one monk replied as he jabbed Father Joaquim in his side with his pommel.
‘Lower your weapons and be silent,’ the elder monk ordered again. ‘I am conducting this interrogation.’ Looking down again at the priest, he continued, ‘It is strange that you are asking us for help, Christian priest. We are a Buddhist community. Are you aware of this?’
Father Joaquim nodded. ‘I am.’
‘And yet still you come here. Who needs help?’
‘My village, a farming community from Kyushu: women, children, husbands, fathers, elders, everyone. Unless we can get a ship to Nagasaki, the Shogun will slaughter us all.’
‘The Shogun wishes to annihilate you because your village is Christian and you are their patriarch?’
‘Yes, he wishes to destroy us because we are Christian.’
‘The Shogun is fierce,’ the elder monk added. ‘He crushes anyone he dislikes.’
‘He is a tyrant.’
‘The priest is an enemy of the regime,’ interjected one of the younger monks. ‘Let us collect a reward for him!’
‘Let us kill him!’ another shouted.
‘That’s enough!’ the elder monk scolded. He turned his attention back to Joaquim. ‘You are brave to come here alone. What inspired such boldness?’
‘We will all die if I do not. The samurai has already burned the village to the ground and murdered our village elder.’ As he spoke, he relived the pain of Master Yamaguchi’s needless death.
The elderly monk studied the priest for a moment, then reached down to help Joaquim to his feet. ‘My name is Kansuke,’ he said. ‘We will help you. My apprentices and I will take you to Nagasaki.’
The younger monks immediately expressed their dissatisfaction, but the elder quieted them.
‘Thank you, Kansuke-san. I am Father Joaquim Martinez, and on behalf of my village, I thank you.’
‘Why should we help them?’ a monk fumed. ‘Christians are our enemies.’
‘Enemies of yesterday can become friends of tomorrow,’ Kansuke answered. ‘The teachings of the Buddha require compassion towards all beings, not just other Buddhists. Here is an opportunity, a chance to express that compassion. Remember, every situation allows us to experience a different par
t of ourselves.’
Only partly convinced, a young monk asked, ‘What shall we do, Kansuke-san?’
‘Get the vessel ready. We sail at sunset.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
14 July 1626
Edo Harbour, Musashi Province
To smuggle more than fifty people undetected aboard a boat was a formidable task, particularly when those people comprised two factions who distrusted each other. The early-evening darkness aided their secrecy but, try as they might to be quiet, making noise was inevitable. To aid their clandestine activities, several of the monks staged a boisterous mock argument as a diversion in another part of the harbour.
The situation became even more complicated when the diversion failed, and a pair of government soldiers ran over to the Buddhists’ boat, demanding that they cease all activity until a larger squadron of soldiers arrived to investigate.
An altercation resulted and before the two soldiers could reach the main shoreline to get help, Kansuke’s monks tied them up and gagged them before hiding them in the dark brush next to the shore.
Joaquim had travelled on many different types of ships in his lifetime. One thing about junks was their battened sails, which made the vessels fast and easy to sail. This boat looked old, and Joaquim noticed much of the wood was decaying. But the Buddhists still used it to earn a marginal income. Like most traditional junks, the hull of the vessel had a horseshoe-shaped stern, supporting a high watch deck where several Buddhist flags fluttered, with the largest that of Amida Buddha, at the top. The Buddhists congregated next to their flags as they boarded. The Christians moved to the bow. Having boarded everyone, apparently without detection, the monks set sail for the open ocean.
As Father Joaquim raised his head after a prayer of thanks, he spotted several of the monks glaring at him. He thanked the Lord that Kansuke was travelling with them.
* * *
‘Approach,’ the Shogun commanded the four Buddhist warrior monks. The monks crawled, in deference to their great dictator. ‘My servants tell me you have valuable information. Speak.’