Swords of Silence

by Shaun Curry

  ‘Let us not fear. Nothing in this world can harm us with God to protect us and provide for us, if we ask Him.’ Silently, Father Joaquim reflected on one of his favourite Bible passages: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

  The exhausted band of Christians carried on towards the end of the road. Before them stood the entrance to a small abandoned silver mine at the base of the mountain. It appeared closed, deserted many years before. And, as Noboru had warned, beyond the silver mine, the mountains appeared too steep to climb.

  They were, as predicted, trapped.

  The group approached the battered entrance to the mine with trepidation. The entrance was dark, shallow, and sealed-up. Joaquim gestured for some to investigate it further. Their search revealed that the mine comprised an extensive cave system buried within its tunnels.

  With ashen faces, the entire village glanced back at an advancing company of samurai on horseback. Heavily armed, their body language revealed their confidence, poised for the pending slaughter. But they held back, merely watching.

  ‘Why are they not attacking?’ Noboru asked, clearly uncomfortable.

  ‘They are waiting,’ Joaquim answered.

  ‘Waiting for what?’

  ‘For their leaders.’

  ‘But why not charge? They have us cornered.’

  ‘Those in charge want to execute us with their own hands; they hope to gain political favour by it.’

  Noboru fidgeted. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We pray, and we wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’

  ‘Their arrival.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then it is up to God.’ Father Joaquim sat down on a large rock and everyone gathered around. ‘Our lives are in His hands now.’

  Beneath him he felt the ground vibrate. Small stones tumbled around. Birds startled into the sky. Then all was still again.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Less than an hour later, Shigemasa, the Governor, and the Deputy-Lieutenant arrived at the end of the path, dismounted from their horses, and laughed as they approached the shabby little band of Christians huddled together at the entrance to the mine.

  A sudden flight of birds startled horses and warriors alike, as they headed towards the far mountains. The surrounding trees were eerily quiet. Nothing stirred. No wind. No creatures. No birdsong.

  ‘Stay here,’ Joaquim instructed. He approached the three officials.

  The samurai’s horses began to paw the ground and snort. Their riders patted their necks and calmed them, but one started to turn and its rider was forced to make the horse turn a complete circle in an attempt to gain control. Hooves jittered as riders struggled to contain their mounts. Horses snorted, their ears flicking nervously backwards and forwards, as they pulled on their bridles.

  ‘So, we have finally caught the infamous Father Joaquim,’ Shigemasa gloated. They stood no more than a few feet apart. Feeling vindicated, the Daimyo cast a contemptuous gaze at the fatigued-looking priest, clearly thinking about imminent lethal revenge. ‘You have caused us much trouble, priest. You were fortunate to escape twice, but your luck has run out.’ Shigemasa looked back at the Governor and Deputy-Lieutenant and chuckled. ‘I think his head will look good hanging in the Shogun’s castle, do you not agree?’

  ‘Where is your Christian army, priest?’ the Governor asked. ‘Your message suggested thousands of hidden Christians.’

  ‘We are here now,’ Joaquim answered. He pulled his shoulders back and looked Kawachi in the eyes.

  ‘That pathetic group?’ Shigemasa laughed again as he pointed to the bedraggled group behind the priest.

  ‘Our greatest force is not visible to your eyes,’ Joaquim said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ The Governor looked perplexed.

  ‘God – God is with us in these mountains.’

  ‘Your God does not exist,’ the Governor answered. ‘And each of you will learn this today when we behead you.’

  ‘“The Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish,”’ Father Joaquim quoted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s from the Bible.’

  ‘You are a fool for believing in that,’ the Deputy-Lieutenant mocked. ‘The Shogun is god in Japan.’

  ‘Have your men drop their swords and ask the Lord for forgiveness, or I will pick up mine.’ Joaquim lifted his chin and pulled back his shoulders.

  ‘Grab your sword, priest,’ the Daimyo shouted. ‘It is time to end this.’

  Joaquim turned and walked back to his group.

  ‘Now what?’ Noboru asked.

  ‘Now we thank God for protecting us.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘No. Have enough faith in Him to believe in a miracle. Be ready to enter the caves in the mine as soon as you see my signal, all of you.’

  ‘What signal?’

  ‘You will know it when you see it.’

  The priest closed his eyes and reflected on one of his favourite Bible passages: If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. As he reopened his eyes, he collected himself, making his peace with God and thanking Him for what would come next. Then he withdrew Master Yamaguchi’s sword from its sack. Wielding it with his strong forearm, he walked back and confronted Shigemasa’s army a short way away.

  He scanned the valley. From left to right he saw thousands of battle-ready samurai, thirsty for their blood. He felt a gentle tremor beneath his feet. Looking up he saw wispy, rainbow-coloured clouds motionless in the sky above him. He smiled, absorbing their beauty, not comprehending their meaning.

  ‘What is that fool doing?’ said Shigemasa. He remounted his horse next to the Governor and Deputy-Lieutenant. ‘Does he truly believe he has a chance against us?’ His head pounded, pressure building behind his eyes. The air was suffocating in these mountains, heavy, oppressive.

  They laughed at the Jesuit’s audacity. Behind them, a number of the samurai shifted uncomfortably and their horses snorted, and pawed the ground once more. They had heard rumours of a gaijin warrior priest who had killed two of the Shogun’s greatest fighters in one fight. They had not believed it, but seeing the courage of the priest before them – a man who dared challenge the might of a thousand samurai, unarmed and alone save for a magnificent katana in hand – they began to believe it was true.

  A rattle of stones scuttled behind them. Horses skittered, their nervousness enhancing their riders’ doubt.

  ‘Turn to me and be saved,’ Father Joaquim shouted, ‘all you ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other!’ With that he raised Master Yamaguchi’s sword above his head. The afternoon light caught the blade, and it flashed like a celestial flame as he drove it into the rock beneath him.

  As he did so the ground trembled again and shook. The horses neighed in panic and tried to retreat, crashing into each other. Trees swayed. The troops looked around in confusion and fear, staggering off balance as the earth beneath them began to ripple and shake more violently.

  Leaving his sword lodged in the rock, Joaquim hurried back to the mine entrance. ‘Into the mine,’ he shouted, waving them inside. ‘Now!’

  The Christians hurried into the mine as quickly as they could, doing their best to hide in the various crevices.

  Looking through the entrance, they saw the earth continue to erupt and split with growing power. Joaquim saw Shigemasa’s samurai stumbling and falling to the ground. In every direction soldiers lost their balance as they braced themselves against the instability of the very ground they stood on. The Jesuit saw fear and confusion and wide-eyed wonder in the faces of samurai gathered to kill him and his people. The walls of the cave shuddered. The Christians huddled together and held their breath, deafened by the cracks and groans of the earth as it strained around them.

  ‘Take him!’ Shigemasa
shouted. He pointed at the cave, but as samurai struggled to cross the shaking earth, the ground split and rocks and boulders crashed down from the mountain above.

  The leaders fled on horseback, terrified, just before the earthquake caused a landslide to bury the charging warriors. As Joaquim watched from the narrow entrance of the silver mine, the earthquake vented its fury on the samurai host. From neighbouring mountains, gigantic movements of soil, rock, and trees crashed down the sides of the cliffs, gathering speed and power; a tsunami of rock and earth that destroyed everything in its path.

  In their cave sanctuary, the very foundations of the earth shook and wavered, the noise thunderous. The screams of animals and men reverberated through the tunnels, as Father Joaquim and his villagers readied themselves for their inevitable end.

  Then the mountainous cul-de-sac collapsed in on itself, and became an unstoppable crushing force that filled the adjacent valley, engulfing everything beneath a huge deluge of earth and mud.

  From outside, the entrance to the mine disappeared. No visible trace remained; removed from the face of the earth; lost to memory.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  20 July 1626

  Silver Mine

  Hours later – or was it days? – when the tectonic earth movements ceased, the Christians found themselves completely sealed in the mine. In the darkness, everyone was overwhelmed with the raw smell of fresh earth and gravel, their lungs full of the swirling dust.

  ‘Is everyone okay?’ Father Joaquim called out. ‘Check your family members. Check your neighbours.’

  Chatter and commotion broke the silence as the dust began to finally settle and the earth again resembled something solid, to be trusted. After a while, someone called out, ‘“But I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain.”’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  23 July 1626

  Shogun’s Castle

  With a large crowd on hand to applaud his every move, Shogun Iemitsu practised his archery skills in the large courtyard of his castle. His practice had paid off. He had become skilful, and each time he hit the bull’s-eye with great accuracy the crowd responded with applause and cheers. And each time, in response, he raised his arms in triumph as he swaggered around the yard.

  Amid one such display a senior retainer approached him. ‘Lord Shogun, you have a message from Nagasaki.’

  ‘Give it to me.’ Snatching the note, the Shogun read the piece of paper, his temper rising, his cheeks reddening, until he exploded in uncontrollable fury. Crumpling the paper, he threw it on the ground before grabbing his bow, with which he smashed a lantern that sat on top of a nearby post. Turning one way and another, looking for objects to help him vent his fury, he grabbed a handful of arrows and smashed them over his knee. He grabbed more arrows and was about to break them, but stopped and gazed around the courtyard, full of his samurai and scores of servants, each of whom sensed their vulnerability. Frozen with blinking eyes, everyone peered around, pondering who would be the victim of the Shogun’s wrath.

  Hell would be paid . . .

  EPILOGUE

  24 July 1626

  Kuchinotsu, Shimabara Peninsula, Kyushu

  As dawn broke, a lone peasant crossed a muddy rice field towards a small village in Kuchinotsu at the southern tip of the Shimabara Peninsula. The peasant walked with purpose as he observed the natural beauty of the unique location surrounded by green hills, ample blossoming trees, and local fauna scurrying in all directions. In the centre of the village, the peasants were preparing to have their only paltry meal of the day. As the stranger approached, peasants arose to receive him.

  ‘How may we help?’ the village leader asked.

  ‘I come to carry news to all villages in Shimabara and Amakusa,’ the traveller answered.

  ‘We are listening.’

  ‘I carry news of a Christian Father who has evaded the forces of the regime. Empowered by God, he has overcome the Shogun, the Governor, and the Daimyo in one stroke. It is good news for all hidden Christians.’

  ‘But we are not Christian,’ the village leader replied, his voice shaking.

  ‘I also come to recite an old poem about the divine revelation,’ the visitor declared.

  ‘Recite your poem,’ the village leader said.

  When five years shall have passed five times,

  All the dead trees shall bloom;

  Crimson clouds shall shine brightly in the western sky,

  And a boy of divine power shall make his appearance;

  These things shall usher in a Christian revival in Japan.

  ‘Tachi-Aguru,’ the village leader replied. Rise up.

  ‘Tachi-Aguru for sure,’ the messenger responded. ‘It is time for all Christians in Japan to rise!’

  Acknowledgements

  In completing this novel, I would like to thank my entire family and circle of friends, who supported me on this long journey of bringing this story to life.

  In particular, I would like to thank my father David, my mother Heather, my sister Kristjana, and my grandmother Delores, for their tireless support and generosity, and for being the great listeners they are.

  I would also like to extend a special thank you to Jelena and Xavier for their inspiration, patience, and support in bringing this endeavour to completion.

  Last, I would like to thank my agent Peter, and my editors, Jerry and Jennifer, whose expertise, skill, and mentorship were invaluable in bringing this project to fruition.

  Author’s Note

  Swords of Silence was inspired by real history and real characters in history, including the Shogun of Japan and other members of his regime. Among others, these included his cabinet members, the Daimyo (‘warlord’) of Shimabara, and the Governor and Deputy-Lieutenant of Nagasaki.

  Not least, however, this novel was inspired by the real heroes of history, including all the brave missionaries of the Mission of the Society of Jesus – otherwise known as the Jesuits – along with their faithful converts.

  Remaining true to events of the past, I ask myself: Who am I to soften the edges of history to create a more gentle story?

  Shaun Curry