1636: Seas of Fortune (34 page)

“I think I can do that.”

“Great. Let’s see how persuasive your tongue is.” She snickered.

Early January, 1634

Inoue Masashige, once an honored and feared
omotsuke
, an up-and-comer in the Tokugawa bureaucracy, sighed. Hands which had once been stained with ink were now grimy with the dark soil of Hachijo Island. Fingers once callused only by the rigors of sword practice now were blistered from the unaccustomed demands of the shovel.

He looked down at the pillar hole he had dug. Tomorrow, with the help of the local farmers, he would set the pillars in place and place a thatched roof above. Eventually, he would have a hut to call his own.

At least he would not have to farm the land himself. He had just persuaded the peasants that they should feed him in return for lessons in reading, writing and abacus-arithmetic. He might even aspire to be the village’s official scribe. Hah! His
yashiki-gami
, the guardian spirit of the Inoue, must have been drunk on sake when Katsuo slept in that confounded grove!

His erstwhile ally, the Edo magistrate of the south, had been executed.
Good riddance
, thought Masahige. Were it not for his incompetence, the plan would have succeeded. Masashige might at this moment be sitting in Edo Castle, in the chamber of the junior councillors, an honored protégé of the shogun.

But the magistrate, instead of simply slaying that busybody ronin, Katsuo, on the spot, had left a fool of a servant to guard him, armed only with a cudgel. Moron. Imbecile. Idiot.

When that sanctimonious prig of a senior counselor, Sakai Tadakatsu, revealed the anti-
kirishitan
plot to the shogun, Masashige had prepared to commit
seppuku
. Indeed, he wondered now whether that was what he should have done in the first place, rather than concoct the “gunpowder plot.” That is, carry out
seppuku-kanshi
, the ritual suicide to reproof one’s lord.

But Masashige’s friends had insisted that he go quietly into exile. His life had been spared at the urging of Iemitsu’s only friend (and former lover), the junior councillor Hotta Masamori. Masamori was one of the leaders of the anti-Christian, pro-seclusion faction within the
bakufu
, “Do not waste our efforts on your behalf. The Christians will make a mistake, and the shogun will remember that you tried to warn him of their threat. He will forgive you; you will return to Edo in triumph,” Masomori told him.

And Masashige vowed that if he ever got off the island, he would make sure that Katsuo regretted his meddling with affairs of state.

* * *

The privileged Tadakatsu sat with the shogun in the Great Interior, the inner section of the Edo Castle. Through the walls, he could hear the clacks as the shogun’s ladies practiced with the
yaginata
, the halberd.

Tadakatsu’s star was in the ascendant. He had enriched the shogun by identifying new mines, and making sure they came under Tokugawa control. He had learned of various beneficial political practices which, in the old time line, would soon have been adopted by the shogunate, and was able to gain credit for recommending them at this earlier date. And finally this ronin, the Katsuo, had alerted him to Inoue Masashige’s plot, allowing Tadakatsu to discredit the reactionaries at court. Now, he thought, it was time to tell the shogun of the kernel of truth unwittingly concealed in that plot, and recommend a new course of action.

“What would you say, Great Lord, of a farmer who ate all his saved seed?”

“I would say that he is very foolish, he fills a stomach for a short time, but he dooms himself to starvation in the long term.”

“Ah, and in that lies the genius of Japan, which distinguishes it from the Southern Barbarians. Thirteen hundred years have elapsed since the time of the Emperor Jimmu. How old is the oldest of the barbarian nations? A few centuries at most.

“Their rulers think only of what will profit them over the next month, or year, or perhaps a decade.”

Iemitsu interrupted. “Whereas we also concern ourselves with the tale of centuries.”

Tadakatsu inclined his head. “Such is the genius of the Japanese . . . and the Tokugawa. Now reading these up-time texts, I have found that there was a policy established which served our nation well for many years, but which in the end was our downfall. By this Ring of Fire, the kami and the boddhisatva have given us the opportunity to perceive this pitfall and to moderate that policy for both short and long-term good.”

“What is that policy?”

“The policy of
sadoku
, in a more stringent form than it exists now. We thought that the greatest threat to the stability of Tokugawa rule was the threat from within, from the missionaries and their converts. And indeed, in the old time line there was an incident, four years from now, which fueled our fears.” The Shimabara rebellion started in December 1637, the end of Kan’ei 15. “But instead it is the threat from without which we must meet, and because of the changes in the world, mere exclusion of western ideas is insufficient. Permit me to explain further.”

Iemitsu heard him out. Finally, he said, “So what do you propose?”

“Of course, Great Lord, you can put all the
kirishitan
, whether in Shimabara or elsewhere, to death. And I agree that so long as the Southern Barbarians use missionaries to conquer from within, we must keep them out of our homeland and forcibly repress Christianity.”

“I hear a ‘but.’”

“But I think we can defend the homeland better by exiling the
kirishitan
, rather than killing them. Exile them far away, to a place where, in the defense of their new homes, they would be an obstacle to the expansion of the Southern Barbarians, rather than a threat to Nippon.”

Iemitsu thought about this. Exile was a classic Japanese punishment. Depending on the severity of the offense, and the offender’s connections, a criminal might be forbidden to enter Edo, banned from coming within twenty-five
ri
of Edo, or exiled to some remote and uncomfortable island. Iemitsu’s grandfather Ieyasu had sent Ukita Hideie, the daimyo of Mimasaka, and one of the Five Elders of the defeated Toyotomi faction, into perpetual exile on Hachijo, an island guarded by the dangerous currents of the Kuro Shio, the Black Tide. He would have been beheaded if he had not been the husband of a Maeda and the friend of Lord Shimazu.

“Are you sure that the
bakufu
won’t see such a pronouncement as a sign of weakness?”

“Not if properly presented, as a veiled attack on the Spanish domains. We will of course either occupy Hara castle with a strong force, from a domain known for anti-Christian sentiments, or pull it down altogether.” Hara was the castle where the Christian rebels, in the Shimabara rebellion, had made their last stand. “We can concentrate the
kirishitan
, or most of them at least, on an island, where we can keep them isolated until we are ready to transport them. And we should remove Matsukura from office, since it was his stupidity that triggered the rebellion.”

Iemitsu closed his eyes for a moment. “I will appoint Abe Tadaaki—don’t look surprised, I know that you and he are thick as thieves, lately!—to supervise the operation. With the understanding that it is a temporary appointment, that I want him back in Edo as soon as it is completed.

“Once the
kirishitan
are gone, we can open the Shimabara pensinsula to peasants from the more crowded of the other domains. And we can leave the daimyo guessing as to who will get rulership over it. They’ll be intriguing against each other, instead of against me.”

Tadakatsu smiled slightly. It was becoming
Iemitsu’s
idea, which was a good thing indeed.

But Iemitsu’s next remark made it clear that he wasn’t completely convinced. “Still . . . the Spanish, they keep sneaking in missionaries. Even if we completely replace the population of Shimabara, the problem will be back in another generation or two.”

Tadakatsu clapped his hands together. “Let us again use one problem to solve another. The ronin are restive, that is why some were recruited into the rebellion. So give the ronin something to do that will bring them back into service, and will also solve the missionary problem.”

“Ah. Manila.”

“Toyotomi Hideyoshi asserted sovereignty over the Philippines almost four cycles ago. And four years ago, you . . . um . . . ‘encouraged’ Matsukura Shigemasa’s plan to attack Manila.” Shigemasa was Katsuie’s father, and a warrior who had distinguished himself at the battle of Sekigahara and the siege of Osaka Castle. “Without actually promising to give him the one-hundred-thousand
koku
fief he wanted.”

“Ah, poor Shigemasa. He died that very year.”

“Not before obtaining Dutch support. Maps. Espionage reports on the Spanish garrison. Offers of cannon, troopships, and warships. I daresay the Dutch would still be . . . cooperative.”

“I must think about it. Is it better to move against Manila before we deal with the
kirishitan
here, or only after they are in exile? Do we trust the Dutch, or wait until we can build a fighting fleet of our own?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “How many
kirishitan
do you think there are?”

“Two to four tens of thousands, according to the up-timers’ encyclopedias.”

Iemitsu frowned. “That many? We don’t have many ocean-going ships. Do we have enough?”

“The Dutch and the Chinese have more. But even if we hired their vessels, we will have to transport the
kirishitan
in shifts, since otherwise there will be too many of them for the new land to support. A few thousand each year, over a twelve-year cycle.”

“Too long.”

Tadakatsu bowed. “I will speak to the shipbuilders.”

“Ask the Dutch for help if you must,” said Iemitsu.

“Let me show you where we might send the
kirishitan
, on the up-time globe the Dutch gave you.” Tadakatsu turned the sphere, and jabbed down his finger. “Here is Nippon.” He moved it lightly over the surface of the globe, following the ocean currents marked upon it. “And here, I propose, is New Nippon, the place of exile.”

The shogun gave the globe a spin, and laughed. “So be it . . . Tairo.”

Tadakatsu bowed deeply. There had not been a
tairo
, a “great elder,” since the time of Hideyoshi. He was now the chief of the senior ministers of the State.

Negi-Cho district, Edo

Hanako studied her lover. “Wake up, Katsuo.”

No response.

“Katsuo, we’ll be late.”

Grunt.

Hanako reached for a pitcher of water near their bedding, and poured a thin stream onto Katsuo’s upturned face.

He rose with an oath, and reached for his sword . . . which Hanako had prudently first positioned out of his reach.

“Hanako, are you trying to drown me?”

“I am glad to see you’re awake now.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“The sixth time.” That was what an up-timer would call six a.m. “Can’t you tell by the light? Didn’t you hear the shopkeepers sliding open their doors?”

“The sixth . . . I didn’t sleep at all last night. Let me go back to sleep.” He reached for the quilt, and pulled it over his head.

She pulled it back down. “You’re taking me to the theater, to celebrate. Remember?”

He reached for her. “I have a better idea . . .”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, taking evasive action. “It isn’t every day I get the chance to see Nakumura Kanzaburo perform.”

Grudgingly, he got dressed. Done, he grabbed a fold of his
kataginu
jacket, twisting his neck to get a better view of the insignia recently sewn on. “Wish we had a mirror.”

“What did you expect? It’s just a restaurant that earns some extra coin by letting people sleep here that want to get to the theater when it opens.”

The insignia was the triple hollyhock, the
mon
of the Tokugawa clan. Katsuo was now a
gokenin
, a direct retainer of the shogun, with a stipend of one hundred
koku
.

Hanako wouldn’t dream of saying so, but she was happy that he hadn’t been made a
hatamoto
. He might then think himself above consorting with a
bikuni
. “Hurry, Katsuo. Nakamura could come on stage any moment now.”

Kyushu, Japan

Hasegawa Sadamitsu pointed with distaste at the base of the stake. “Too much tinder,” he rebuked. “The
irmao
will burn too quickly. Since his crimes are greater, he should suffer longer.” The Franciscan brother tied to that stake waited impassively as the actual executioners, of the abhorred
eta
class, made the necessary adjustment. The missionaries who had come openly to Japan had been kicked out in 1614. Perhaps thirty had gone underground, but most of those had been captured, and had either recanted their faith or gone to their martyrdom. This brother was one of the handful who sneaked into Japan each year on Portuguese or Chinese ships.

Sadamitsu also waited, but more impatiently. It didn’t appear that he would have any last-minute apostates in the present lot of condemned
kirishitan
, and that meant that Sadamitsu wouldn’t receive the bonus for causing a Christian, especially a priest, to renounce his faith. It was enough to unsettle his stomach.

Gradually, Sadamitsu became aware of a commotion, coming closer and becoming louder. Nonetheless, he raised his hand, ready to command the executioners to light the piles.

“Halt!”

Sadamitsu turned angrily, but quickly swallowed his words.

A special messenger from the shogun, as the man’s uniform and banner proclaimed him to be, was not to be trifled with.

“Edict from the shogun.”

“Thank you, make yourself comfortable, I will read it as soon as I have this execution under way.”

“You must read it aloud to the prisoners before proceeding.”

“Very well. But it’s a waste of time giving them another chance to repent, if that’s what it’s about.” Sadamitsu cleared his throat, and began reading aloud.

“This edict is to be read aloud and posted in every place where it is customary to announce an edict.

“1. The padres of the Christians have disturbed the tranquility of the realm by advocating the destruction of the shrines of the kami and the temples of the buddhas. Such cannot be permitted.”