The Ennin Mysteries: Collected Series 1 – 5 (25 Stories) MEGAPACK

by Ben Stevens

  And yet his mentioning of this Christian saint’s birthday being tomorrow had seemed strangely spiteful, as though he actually wished for the Christians to be denied this consolation even in their agony. As I say, I had previously no idea that my master was actually opposed to this religion. Indeed, despite the mysterious Buddhist training he’d received in China as a young man (something I mentioned in the case entitled The Cursed Temple), I considered my master to be one of the least religious people I knew…

  My master went with one servant back down to the castle dungeon, while another servant showed me outside…

  4

  I could no longer help myself; I had to take a closer look at those ancient scrolls my master had opened up on the long, low table. The ones which had recently caused him to make such a grandiose declaration as – Can the mechanism of space be actually predicted…?’

  I could have been accused of being the most disloyal of servants… And yet I had been with my master long enough now, sharing so many dangers, and I was certain that he would have allowed me to look at these scrolls in any case, had I only asked him.

  But he was still at the daimyo’s castle, trying to persuade those so-called ‘Hidden Christians’ (I was certain quite futilely) to renounce their faith – and thus avoid facing certain death the day after tomorrow. Even with the Christians being spared the torture of having their hands and feet nailed to their crosses, it would still be a most protracted and painful death – especially for the women and those children…

  But as for those scrolls… I have said already that they were written in Chinese, the ink quite faded. It was only by peering closely at the characters flowing in downward columns that one was able to see them at all.

  Whatever these characters said was a complete mystery to me – and yet as I moved one scroll that was overlapping part of the page of another, I saw what had until now been concealed from my eyes.

  A picture of a dragon, its mouth closing upon a circular object which I instinctively recognized depicted the very soul of a person. For I knew that this same image was common in Chinese Buddhism temples (both in China and also Japan), carved from wood only then a mythical fish with razor sharp teeth was often used in place of the dragon.

  The soul – tamashi – in which is contained all the earthly desires and physical wants of a person, and which Buddhism teaches must be ‘conquered’ – or as is symbolized by the fish or dragon, devoured – before true Buddhahood can truly be attained. (That, at least, is how I understand it. Doubtless a priest or monk could give a much better, fuller explanation.)

  So why had such an image (along with whatever was written) caused my master to mutter such an odd comment concerning space – that is, the very heavens themselves?

  And why this bizarre feeling that was only increasing in my chest, wholly inexplicable and yet still strangely certain that these ancient scrolls had some strong connection with the impending fate of the Hidden Christians…?

  5

  As it grew ever closer to noon on the scheduled day of execution, my master and I left the inn and made our way towards the hill where the Hidden Christians would be crucified. My master had informed me that I could stay at the inn if I wished, but something compelled me to go with him.

  It was a bright, hot day, the sun high in the sky. Even without being actually nailed to their crosses, the Christians would still suffer agonizing dehydration and sunstroke before they were finally executed with the bamboo spears.

  A large crowd was already assembled. I gathered that Inamatsu had insisted that everyone from nearby come and watch, so to deter anyone else from becoming a Christian.

  The five men, three women and two children were already up on their large wooden crosses – tied by their wrists and ankles, not nailed, as Inamatsu had promised my master.

  All of them, even the children, wore the same noble expression, so that I noticed that the daimyo himself – seated with his retinue nearby – had some difficulty in even looking at them.

  But my master exchanged a long look with Yuki Ishida, who seemed to give him a strangely secretive smile before then transferring her gaze to the sky above…

  My master had returned late from the castle the day before yesterday in a strangely sullen and withdrawn mood. I gathered that he’d been unsuccessful in persuading the Hidden Christians to reject their faith through the process of fumi-e (that hardly came as a surprise), but apart from that he’d since said almost nothing, instead spending the time until now again poring over those ancient Chinese scripts, making scribbled notes and – frequently – looking as concerned as ever I’d seen him…

  …Onoue – the samurai with the scarred face – stepped in front of the crosses, there on the top of the hill, and in a loud voice declared –

  ‘For practicing a foreign religion strictly forbidden in this region, you have been sentenced to death! But my lord Inamatsu is ever-merciful, and wishes you to know that even now, if you cry out for forgiveness at the very top of your voice and renounce your foolishness, you will be taken down and…’

  The Hidden Christians began to sing, drowning out Onoue’s words. The samurai looked helplessly at his master, who angrily shook his head. Some of the crowd watching began to cry, several falling to their knees.

  My master appeared agitated beside me, frequently glancing at the sky, and then at the guards holding the long bamboo spears who were stood near to the large wooden crucifixes. I could not be here when these spears were thrust through the bodies of the women and children, I knew that – but when, exactly, would Inamatsu give the order for them to be executed? These Christians were meant to spend several hours up upon their crosses, yet somehow I sensed that he would give the order for them to be killed sooner rather than later.

  But – what was happening…? The light was slowly beginning to fade, as though it was becoming dusk at only a little after noon… The twittering of the birds in the trees nearby had ceased; the crickets in the long grass were no longer chirping…

  I looked up at the sky and I gasped. A black shape was sliding across the sun, gradually obscuring its light! The Hidden Christians continued to sing, their words all the while honoring this man Jesus, the son of this god of theirs… All of us in the crowd, and all of the daimyo’s retinue, stared speechless up at the slowly-disappearing sun. Then a few people cried out in fear, shouting for this phenomenon to somehow cease…

  At once Inamatsu sprung up from the large, ornate chair in which he’d been carried here from the castle, and threw himself down on his knees in front of the Hidden Christians up on their crosses.

  ‘A sign – a sign…’ he wailed. ‘Only make the sun come back, and I will gladly concede what a fool I have been! I confess now that this religion Christianity is indeed the true one, and that I have been both foolish and barbarous in having tried to persecute its followers – of whom my dear wife was one…

  ‘Oh, my wife… My wife… She, the finest of all women – she knew…

  With wild eyes, he looked first at his entourage – the samurai and general servants – and then at the rest of the gathered crowd.

  ‘All of you, now – down on your knees!’ he yelled.

  Much to my surprise, my master obeyed this order immediately. And I noticed as he did so that he exchanged another look with the woman named Yuki Ishida, who retained every bit of her noble beauty even tied up upon that cross…

  ‘Wait,’ said the daimyo then, shaking his head and indicating to a few of his men. ‘Untie those Christians, now! Give them food, and drink! Let Jesus Christ Himself see how I am already repenting of my wickedness – if He will only allow for the sun to come back…’

  And as Inamatsu’s samurai hastened to do their master’s bidding, slowly the sun again began to show its face, the black circular shape retreating. The birds now twittered in the trees, and the crickets chirped in the long grass. The people stood all around exchanged amazed glances, as the Hidden Christians were gently untied and lifted down from
their crosses.

  Ishida, however, waved away her helpers as soon as she was stood upon the ground, and walked over to my master. People melted away from out of her path, staring at her in wonder. The sun behind her – now again fully bright – made her wonderful red kimono shimmer in a way that was almost ethereal…

  ‘You were sent by the Lord that other day, to tell us of how He – through you – would save us,’ stated Nishida, stopping just a few inches in front of my master, speaking in a low voice and with her eyes fixed upon his. Only I could hear what was being said between them.

  ‘No,’ said my master. ‘It was extreme good fortune, only. An eclipse, the moon blocking out the sun. The ancient Chinese believed that it was a dragon, which tried to steal the sun. They would bang drums, light fireworks, and make other loud noises to scare this dragon away.

  ‘But still, they recognized a pattern to it happening – that there was a set period of time between each eclipse, however long this period was. It could be calculated, if one had all the previous dates at their disposal…’

  So I had been entirely incorrect, I realized. That was, in my interpretation of that picture of the dragon devouring a ball-shaped object…

  ‘It was this I was able to learn, from some ancient Chinese scrolls that had recently come into my possession – and through a little trickery, I succeeded in changing the date of your intended execution slightly to coincide with this eclipse,’ continued my master. ‘Again and again I checked my findings, worried that I might have made even the smallest of errors somewhere, which would serve to make my predicted date and time incorrect…

  ‘But, in any case, I suspected that this eclipse might have the desired effect upon Inamatsu, who then as now struck me as being a rather superstitious individual…’

  But the beautiful woman only gently shook her head at my master’s explanation, giving that slight smile which was at once both maddening and mesmerizing.

  ‘Forgive me, Ennin-sensei, but it matters not what you say,’ she declared. ‘Today you have truly done the Lord’s work, whether you realize this or not. And from now on, here in this region at least, Christians will be able to practice their faith quite openly, without fear of being punished…’

  ‘I believe you will have considerable influence upon lord Inamatsu, from now on,’ returned my master, who’d merely raised his eyebrows at the woman’s previous words. ‘I trust you will use this influence wisely – and fairly…’

  Ishida smiled secretly back at my master, so that I at once had the uncomfortable feeling that I was intruding upon some private conversation – a conversation which went far deeper than the mere content of its words.

  ‘I will endeavor to use this alleged ‘influence’ of mine to ensure that the people are free to practice whatever religion they wish,’ said Ishida sincerely. ‘I only desire for people to find Christianity in their own hearts – not to be forced into accepting its message of universal peace and unconditional love.

  ‘That, clearly, would be a little self-defeating...

  ‘And, Ennin-sensei,’ she continued, still staring deep into his eyes. ‘My body – together with my mind and my heart – belongs entirely to my Lord Jesus Christ… So whatever future you might have anticipated for the daimyo and me…

  ‘Or, for that matter, anyone else…’

  My master nodded, and without another word gestured to me that we should both take our leave. And as we began walking back down the hill, leaving Yuki Ishida and all the others behind, my master wore a slight, distant smile; and once or twice he shook his head, as though in wonder.

  The Toymaker

  1

  ‘The dart was poisoned, obviously. The assassin fired it – probably by blowpipe – into the centre of this man’s forehead, and…’

  The magistrate shrugged, not needing to finish. He, my master and I were stood around the body of the middle-aged toymaker, which lay sprawled out on the floor of the small workshop that was located at the back of his shop. On shelves and on tables all around were a multitude of beautifully handcrafted toys, made from wood, cloth and other materials, painted in bright colors and (in the case of many of the dolls) wearing exquisite little kimono. So lifelike were some of these dolls, with black hair and white faces, their eyes fixed ahead and staring…

  ‘Yes,’ nodded my master. ‘That would certainly seem to be the case…’

  ‘I’m glad you think so, Ennin-sensei,’ returned the magistrate with a small smile. ‘I’ve actually read one or two of the fascinating accounts written by your servant or ‘helper’ here, Kukai-san, and so am aware that you don’t always have the highest opinion of us small-town magistrates…’

  My master gave a slight cough, as I suddenly recalled writing (possibly in the case I entitled The River-dancer) one of my master’s comments in particular –

  Is total idiocy a requirement for such a profession?

  ‘The deceased ran this shop together with his son, I believe?’ said my master quickly.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded the magistrate, the slight smile vanishing and his alert and keen-eyed look at once returning. This magistrate, at least, was clearly no fool. ‘The son is still a young man, who is currently being cared for by an elderly neighbor – he is distraught. His mother passed away a few years before, leaving just him and his father to occupy the small living area that is above this shop.’

  My master nodded, and looked at the small desk set against the back wall of this workshop. On it were trays containing all the intricate tools, brushes and paint-pots of the toymaker’s profession; he had evidently been in the middle of repairing the large wooden doll – which was sat upright and in the centre of the desk – when he’d been disturbed…

  And murdered.

  ‘He fell over his stool, knocking it to the ground, when the dart struck him,’ noted my master, indicating that item of furniture which lay close to the toymaker’s body. ‘The lamp on this desk continued to burn until it ran out of oil; it – ’

  My master suddenly paused, and bent down closer to look at this lamp.

  ‘It has been placed very close to this doll, which suggests that this toymaker, Kotaki-san, was using its light to examine what needed to be fixed…

  ‘Yes, I see now – the doll’s left hand, the last two fingers of which have been somehow snapped off. A delicate job, which undoubtedly explains the small piece of wood, files and glue which have been taken out of various trays. We can see by the way Kotaki-san ordered all the tools of his trade that he was an extremely methodical man; we also know that he was an insomniac…’

  ‘Due to the fact that he was still working in the dead of night, with his son only finding his body this morning, shortly before the pair were due to open the shop,’ declared the magistrate. ‘You think that the deceased’s methodical nature, or insomnia, have some bearing on this case, Ennin-sensei?’

  ‘I do not,’ returned my master. ‘In fact, I confess that I can find precious little here to go on, save for the basic fact that the toymaker was disturbed during his nocturnal repair work by someone who then proceeded to fire a poisoned dart into his forehead – and then leave, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Did they first knock at this door? They surely opened it, anyway. Kotaki-san turned round to face his assassin and…’

  My master shrugged.

  ‘He must have made some noise when falling, also knocking over his stool,’ said my master then. ‘Strange that his son appears not to have heard anything, as he was apparently sleeping in one of the rooms above this shop…’

  ‘Perhaps, despite his grief, we should go and speak with him,’ suggested the magistrate.

  ‘Yes, that would probably be the best course of action…’

  I was relieved to leave that small room. Yes, it was obviously made oppressive due to the simple fact that it had a dead body lying in it. (The magistrate now gave instructions, to two of his men who’d been waiting outside, that this body could be removed.)

  But those
dolls and the other toys – or at least, those which represented people or animals – lining the shelves, with their eyes painted, or made of glass, their gaze seeming to follow you wherever you were stood… Several of these toys also had smiles drawn on, or stitched on with thread, one depicted with striking red lips against a painted white face, curiously eerie here in this small room of death, where a mystery assassin had struck at some point during the night…

  2

  ‘I am a sound sleeper – what else can I say?’ declared the toymaker’s son miserably, a short while later. ‘Although, I doubt whether I shall ever sleep again…’

  He shook his head, a thin man already starting to lose his hair although I doubted whether he was much past the age of twenty-five. He was in his neighbor’s small living room – she was an elderly woman, living on her own, who clucked and fussed around him, all the while giving my master, the magistrate and I disapproving glances.

  ‘So you heard – nothing?’ persisted the magistrate.

  The toymaker’s son looked almost despairingly at him.

  ‘No, not a thing… Surely… Surely you don’t suspect me of having had something to do with this…?’

  ‘I said no such thing,’ returned the magistrate sharply.

  ‘Forgive my asking this, Kotaki-san,’ said my master smoothly, ‘but I assume it was intended that your father’s business should pass entirely to you, upon your father… Well, you know…’

  The young man made to speak; and then hesitated for a few moments, dropping his gaze to the floor.

  ‘I will tell you the truth, Ennin-sensei – and that is that I am incapable of continuing my father’s business,’ he said softly. ‘Despite his best efforts to teach me, it soon became all-too-obvious that I have absolutely none of his remarkable ability to make, and so also fix, toys. It is my biggest regret that I somehow failed to inherent his talent; all I could do was to help him run the shop – to deal with the customers.