1636: Seas of Fortune (32 page)

“If they have diviners good enough to find copper mines in Nippon, while standing somewhere in Europe, then that is almost as remarkable.”

“The copper will certainly come in handy. What about the gold and silver? And the iron?”

“We have found the iron, too. Near Kamaishi. As to the rest—” Tadakatsu shrugged. “It is disappointing that we haven’t found them yet, but the maps and descriptions are of a very general nature. We must search a dozen
ri
in every direction from each town mentioned.” A
ri
was about two and a half miles. “And over mountainous terrain, to boot.

“But in view of our successes with copper and iron, I have ordered that additional surveying parties be sent out to look for the rest of the deposits.”

Beppu, on the Island of Kyushu, Japan

The Christian prisoners stood on the brink of Hell. There were five of them, all peasants, stripped naked, their bodies still bearing the red stripes of the lash.

But even though the sun had set, they weren’t shivering. To the west rose the great caldera of Mount Aso. Far beneath their feet, according to the Shinto priests they disdained, the
yama no kami
, the mountain spirits, tended gardens of fire in deep grottos. Like seeds blowing in the wind above, seeds of fire escaped from these grottos and heated the nearby lakes to fever pitch.

The
kirishitan
were held on the rocks above one such cauldron:
Chino-ike Jigoku
, the Hell of Boiling Blood. Steam rose from its rust-colored surface, first in wisps and then in great billows, and the air smelled of rotten eggs. The Hot Springs of Beppu were considered one of the
Sandaionsen
, the “Three Great Hot Springs” of Japan, but the
kirishitan
didn’t seem to be admiring the view.

Hasegawa Sadamitsu studied his prisoners, his expression suggesting that he had just bitten into an unripe persimmon. His superior had been broadly hinting that he wanted Sadamitsu to try throwing Christians into a snake pit, as the inquisitor in Arima was wont to do. Sadamitsu was much opposed to the idea. First, he would have to either buy or catch the snakes. Then they would have to be transported to the place of trial, and thrown in the pit. When the Christians’ ordeal had ended, either in death or recantation (or both), someone would have to recover the serpents and bring them back home. And then they would have to be cared for until the next batch of Christians was arrested. If he lost some of the snakes, there would be paperwork to fill out. And if the snake bit one of his men, who then died of the venom . . . more paperwork. Sadamitsu quietly cursed all hotshots who made unnecessary work for their colleagues.

Sadamitsu debated whether he should prod the Christians off the cliff one at a time. That would give the others time to reconsider their position. The shogunate wanted recanters, not martyrs.

On the other hand, it was getting late, and he really, really wanted a cup of sake.

He caught the eye of his second-in-command, and made a broad sweeping motion.

Edo (Tokyo), Japan

“You are sure of your translation?” demanded Sakai Tadakatsu.

“Most sure, my father taught me well.” The speaker was Magome Anjin . . . known to a few as Joseph Adams. His father was William Adams, the English pilot who became a
hatamoto
, an upper-level retainer, to Ieyasu, Iemitsu’s grandfather. Ieyasu valued William’s advice on dealings with foreigners. After Iemitsu’s recent edict restricting foreign trade, Joseph had thought it prudent to use his mother’s family name, Magome, rather than the English Adams. And the Japanese given name that Ieyasu had conferred on his father. Anjin, “pilot.” Joseph, too, was
hatamoto
, but he didn’t have any real influence with Iemitsu.

“I will have to think about how to present this to the shogun, and the Council. In the meantime, speak of it to no one without my permission.”

“Of course not. My heritage puts me at risk, if the information creates more ill will against the
gaijin
.”

Tadakatsu knew that the Dutch had their own goals; he hadn’t wanted to rely on a Dutch translation of the up-time texts. Hence, he had located and enlisted Anjin.

Thanks to Anjin, Tadakatsu now knew several explosive secrets. First, that in 1637, secret Christians had revolted in the Shimabara peninsula. Disgruntled ronin had joined them, and it had taken an army of two hundred thousand to crush the rebels. Perhaps thirty thousand rebels had lost their lives, either in the fighting or in the mass beheadings that followed.

Secondly, the shogunate had reacted by kicking out the Portuguese traders, and limiting the Dutch to the tiny islet of Deshima, in Nagasaki harbor, save for an annual journey to the shogun’s court in Edo.

And thirdly, that while the policy of seclusion—
sakoku
—had bought Japan over two centuries of peace, during that time, the Western powers had grown knowledgeable and mighty, and had finally humiliated the Tokugawa by forcing open the Japanese ports. Leading, in turn, to the overthrow of the shogunate by “outside lords” allied with the once-powerless emperor.

Tadakatsu believed that Iemitsu had no deep-seated hatred of Christianity per se. The Tokugawa concern was that the Spanish and Portuguese had a reputation of using missionaries as a fifth column, subverting the people and the lords and preparing the way for invasion. When the Tokugawa were still at war, the trade contact with the West was useful, as a source of weaponry. Once they had pacified the country, they concluded that Western guns and cannon were more likely to strengthen the outside lords, who had only grudgingly accepted Tokugawa rule, and stopped the trade in weapons. The Western traders remained convenient for conveying silks from China to Japan, but there was little else that the Tokugawa had still wanted from them.

But that was beginning to change. Iemitsu was not the only one who was fascinated with the up-time artifacts. There was also the newest senior councillor, Abe Tadaaki. Tadakatsu was confident that Tadaaki would, if properly approached, support the new policy Tadakatsu was thinking of proposing. And that he would be willing to dare the displeasure of the shogun by voicing his position before Iemitsu himself announced a policy change. It was Tadaaki, after all, who had refused to throw a fencing match to the shogun, back in 1630.

Still, once Iemitsu heard of the Shimabara Rebellion, he might lose his new-found enthusiasm. But should he? Tadakatsu feared that, with the dissemination of up-time knowledge, there would be Spanish or Portuguese steam warships off the Japanese coast in a decade, rather than two centuries. In which case seclusion wasn’t the solution. But free intercourse with the West might be equally dangerous. Tadakatsu wasn’t sure what he should recommend to the shogun.

He decided to go to the Senso-ji temple and pray to the Bodhisattva Kannon for guidance. And then perhaps call on Abe Tadaaki.

* * *

“Great Lord,” said Tadakatsu. “I have been thinking.”

“About the game?” asked Iemitsu. They were playing Go.

“About the parable concerning the sound the hare heard.”

Iemitsu placed a stone, threatening one of Tadakatsu’s formations. “What parable is that?”

“In one of his incarnations, the Bodhisattva was a lion of the forest. A hare lived in that forest. He was something of a philosopher, as hares go, and was thinking about how the Earth might come to an end. At that very moment, a ripe fruit fell nearby, but out of sight, and it made a loud sound. ‘The Earth is crumbling!’ the hare cried, and he started to run, without even a glance back in the direction of the sound that had startled him. Another hare saw him running and asked, ‘What’s the matter?’ The philosopher-hare answered, ‘There’s no time to ask or answer questions; run for your life!’ And the second hare ran.”

Tadakatsu took a sip of sake. “Other animals saw their flight, and started running too, without questioning whether they fled a forest fire, a stream of lava, or a tsunami. Soon, all the animals of the forest were fleeing, save for the Lion Bodhisattva. He forced one after another to stop and explain why he ran, and each referred him to another animal for the answer. At last he was directed to the hares, and the first hare told him what he had heard. The great-souled Lion told the other animals to wait, while he and the hare investigated further. With the Bodhisattva by his side, the hare found the courage to return, and there the Wise One found the ripe fruit, and the untroubled ground, and realized what had happened.”

Tadakatsu counterattacked in another part of the board. “And thus it was that the animals of the forest learned that they must not listen to rumors, they must learn the truth before they act.”

November 1633

The senior members of the
Roju
, the Council of Elders, were assembled in the
yobeya
, the “business office” of the shogunate. It was in the central citadel of Edo Castle, near the shogun’s daytime apartment. The councilmen in attendance were Inaba Masakatsu, Naito Tadashige, Morikawa Shigetoshi, Aoyama Ukinari, Matsudaira Nobutsuna, Abe Tadaaki, and Sakai Tadakatsu.

A page entered, and announced the impending arrival of the shogun. The
Roju
made the appropriate obeisance and Iemitsu entered.

Iemitsu cleared his throat. “You are of course aware that an extraordinary event has been reported to have occurred in the land of the Southern Barbarians. A so-called ‘Ring of Fire’ transported a town from four hundred years in the future into our time. And from the place the Barbarians call ‘America’ to their Europe.

“The Dutch and Portuguese agree that this Ring of Fire is real, and they also agree that such a prodigy could only be the result of divine action. Such agreement on the part of barbarians so hostile to each other is of course a miracle in itself.

“While they did not dare to say so to us, I am sure that they credit it to their Christ. We of course know that it must be the result of the action of the buddhas, or the kami, or perhaps both acting in concert.

“It is of course essential that we fully understand the significance of this event in the context of
Ryobu Shinto
.” The term referred to the amalgamation of the Shinto and Buddhist religions, peculiar to Japan.

“We believe that this requires firsthand observation. But even if there was a barbarian whom we trusted, they are all ignorant of the true nature of the universe, and could not be expected to make intelligent observations. Hence, we have decided that a proper religious delegation must be sent to this, this Grantville.

“So, I have decided to license a Dutch ship to sail under the Red Seal, and bear my embassy to Amsterdam, and, ultimately, to Grantville.” He paused, then added nonchalantly. “While the delegation is in Grantville they can of course also consider whether the up-timers have any suitable gifts for us. Like the ‘rain poncho.’ Or the ‘barometer.’” “Gifts” was a euphemism for trade goods, it being uncouth for any of the
bakufu
, let alone the shogun, to show open interest in any mercantile dealings. The
bakufu
were the ruling class, that is, the shogun’s close relations, high shogunate officials, and the daimyo and their most powerful retainers.

Osaka, Japan

“So, is it ready yet?” asked Takara.

“Not yet,” Tomomochi replied. They stood outside a swordsmith’s shop. There, they could hear the impacts of the hammers as the swordsmiths pursued their sacred art. In his mind’s eye, Tomomochi could picture them. They wore robes, like those of Shinto priests, and their work area was marked off by a rope from which paper streamers hung, like the enclosure of a Shinto shrine.

A messenger had come from the capital a few weeks ago, informing Tomomochi that in view of his discovery of the great new copper mine, he had been awarded the right to wear the
daisho
, the “long and short.” A commoner usually could only carry the short blade, the
wakizashi
, and then only when authorized to do so by a travel permit. Only samurai, and a few privileged non-samurai, had the right to carry the longsword, the katana.

“Have you decided on the
tsuba
design?” The
tsuba
was the sword guard, and would be made by another craftsman.

“An ‘igeta,’ of course.” The igeta was the frame placed around a country well. A stylized igeta, four crossed lines in a diamond pattern, appeared on the shop-sign of Riemon Soga’s smithy in Kyoto, and also, of course, on that of Tomomochi’s satellite establishment in Osaka. Both of their stores were named
Izumi-ya,
that is, “spring-shop.”

Tomomochi’s thoughts went to the other news brought by the messenger. News of risk and opportunity. He had been invited to join a mission halfway around the world, to study the arts of Grantville. Not one Japanese in ten thousand even knew the name, so closely had the shogunate guarded the information about it. But he had been told that the general location of the copper mine he had found had been divulged in a book from Grantville, a book supposedly written hundreds of years in the future. And that the shogunate had resolved to find out if Grantville really came from the future, the spiritual significance of its appearance, and finally, whether they had any useful arts which the Japanese should acquire. As it had acquired gunsmithing from the Portuguese almost a century ago. The messenger hinted that the up-time craftsmen exceeded the Portuguese as much as the Japanese did the primitive Ainu to the north.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime. But who would care for his father if he fell ill? Who would run his shop while he was away? What if the ship was sunk by a typhoon? Or, returning, he found that politics had shifted again, and that they were barred from reentering Japan?

He had not, of course, been formally offered the position. He would have to make a decision soon, and send word of what it was. If, and only if, he said he intended to accept, would he receive the offer. No Japanese official would make such an offer without knowing in advance that it would be accepted. Embarrassment must be avoided.

December 1633,