by Ben Stevens
I glanced at Makku, who returned my look with a beaming smile and bright eyes. I felt sure that this was certainly not the last time my master and I would see this remarkable man; and this thought gladdened my heart still further.
The Sun Thief
1
The sliding door crashed open and she entered. As exquisitely beautiful a woman as I have ever seen. Deep eyes, a full red mouth, cheekbones which might just as well have been sculpted by the finest artist. She was wearing a luxuriant red kimono, and looked quickly from my master to me – and then back at my master.
‘You are Ennin-sensei,’ she said; and it was a declaration, not a question.
So abrupt was the woman’s entrance (she had not knocked first), and so striking was her appearance, that it was a moment before my master could reply –
‘Yes, I am Ennin. How is it that I can help you?’
‘I am Yuki Ishida, one of the Hidden Christians,’ returned the woman, so that I at once sat up even straighter in surprise.
‘Any moment now, samurai under the command of the daimyo Inamatsu will arrive here at this inn in order to arrest me,’ continued the woman named Ishida. ‘I know that they have been following me, and in a last attempt to – ’
At once several samurai appeared behind Ishida, led by an ugly-looking brute with a severely scarred face.
‘Got you now,’ he growled, his hand grasping one of the woman’s upper arms. ‘You had better just come with me, right – ’
‘Unhand that woman immediately,’ said my master, at once rising to his feet.
The samurai stared at my master, an ugly light glowing in his close-set eyes.
‘If I were you, stranger, I would stay out of this matter, and keep that trap of yours shut,’ he said.
‘I am Ennin,’ declared my master firmly, meeting the samurai’s gaze without the least sign of fear. ‘Perhaps you have heard of me?’
Many people recognized my master without him even having to first introduce himself, so striking was his general appearance. Unusually tall, completely bald, his cheekbones strangely high and prominent…
And yet upon hearing the name, the ugly-looking samurai merely sneered, his hand never relinquishing its grip on the beautiful woman’s arm.
‘Ah yes, the legendary Ennin-sensei, so beloved by all within the Imperial City,’ sneered the samurai, as those other helmeted men with him also snorted their laughter.
‘The one who loves to inform everyone he meets of how he has the ear of the Empress herself – and whose ‘cases’ are so dutifully related by his servant, who is undoubtedly this meek-and-mild little fellow sitting here…’
And the samurai indicated me.
‘Well,’ continued the samurai, his appearance of rough good humor abruptly vanishing, instead being replaced with a hard-eyed stare, ‘I tell you again that you’d better stay out of this. You’re a long way away from the Imperial City and that Empress, and this region is governed by the daimyo Inamatsu – and him alone.
‘So, Ennin-sensei, just make sure you don’t involve yourself in things that don’t concern you…’
I was careful to keep my expression impassive, although I confess that this brutal-looking samurai’s words had chilled me slightly. What he had said concerning the Empress was close to being treasonable; and yet we were a long way from the Imperial City, and this daimyo named Inamatsu certainly had a reputation for brutality – especially against followers of that foreign religion called ‘Christianity’, whom he truly despised.
In this, of course, he was hardly alone. In a number of regions, governed by various daimyo, to be a Christian is punishable by death. And yet some other daimyo actually permit this religion to be practiced, alongside the usual ones of Buddhism and Shinto. Indeed, in the coastal region of Nagasaki, it is even said that the daimyo there has become a Christian himself…
Yet the daimyo here, this Inamatsu, was widely known for his utter hatred of this foreign faith. Any person or persons discovered practicing it risked being tortured and executed, so that they had become known as the ‘Hidden Christians’, so carefully did they keep their belief concealed...
And yet, little more than an hour before my master and I had heard that some of these Hidden Christians had been captured; and then this woman named Ishida had so dramatically entered our room, followed by these dangerous-looking samurai…
‘I will be along shortly, to see lord Inamatsu,’ said my master now, as though he’d not even heard what the leader of these samurai had just said. ‘Kindly inform him of this; and also let him know that I wish to see these ‘Hidden Christians’ for myself – to see that they, and this woman here, are being treated correctly.’
The samurai sneered again, although I noticed that he seemed slightly less sure of himself under my master’s confident stare. Doubtless he had heard of at least some of the cases I’d written concerning my master – especially, perhaps, the ones I’d entitled The Demon King and The Touch of Death…
‘With your permission…’ said the samurai then with evident sarcasm, pulling the woman out of our modest room, another samurai sliding shut the door behind them.
‘Come, Kukai,’ said my master immediately, the pupils of his eyes like pinpricks. ‘This is a bad situation, for that woman named Yuki Ishida as well as for all those ‘Hidden Christians’. It is certain that daimyo named Inamatsu will have them all crucified, even though some of those Christians are still children…
‘For Inamatsu hates that religion with a vengeance – purely because of what happened to his beloved wife…’
Before I could ask what he meant by this strange last statement, my master looked at those papers in which he’d lately been so absorbed and muttered –
‘And yet… and yet…’
He’d recently obtained the yellowed rolls of parchment paper, from where I’d no idea. They were opened out now on a low table, for my master had been studying them when the woman had made her dramatic entrance.
What I could see of them (there were several of them, all of them overlapping each other in places) made nothing any clearer. Ancient writing in Chinese – I recognized maybe a few characters, that was all. And yet my master had been busy making abundant notes on all that he was reading (in the very first case I wrote concerning my master, The Cursed Temple, I related exactly how he’d become fluent in the Chinese tongue) – a stream of figures mostly, which he’d spent literally hours poring over, occasionally shaking his head and muttering unintelligibly to himself.
Although, once I’d heard him declare –
‘But is it really true…? Can there be a pattern here… Can the mechanism of space be actually predicted…?’
‘…Come, Kukai,’ repeated my master now. ‘We must leave at once…’
And with those strange documents that had somehow come into his possession left upon the low table, we left our room…
2
The Hidden Christians were being kept in a large, stone-built room with straw scattered across the floor, at the base of Inamatsu’s castle. It was almost chilly inside this gloomy room, although it was a bright summer’s day outside. I noticed that iron hoops had been set into the stone walls in places, although the Hidden Christians were not secured in any way. They were stood or sat around – five men, three women (including Yuki Ishida), and two young children.
I noticed that, nearby, a large metal plate had been placed upon the floor, and the straw cleared all around it. I peered closer at this rectangular-shaped plate, rounded at the corners. On its surface it had an impression of a man stretched out upon a crucifix, obviously a likeness of this man, Jesus, whom the Christians worship as being the son of their god… (That, at least, was about as much as I understood of this foreign faith.)
‘Come on now,’ said the samurai with the scarred face, who’d grudgingly allowed us entry into this room, upon our arrival at Inamatsu’s castle. ‘Simply put your foot upon this plate, upon this image of your false god, and you can leave im
mediately – you will be free!’
So, this was one of those so-called fumi-e – the ‘stepping-on’ pictures designed to detect practicing Christians. A true Christian could not, of course, put his or her foot upon an image of this man, Jesus, anymore than a Buddhist could do the same with an image of the Buddha.
When none of the Hidden Christians stirred, the samurai shouted –
‘Do you understand that, otherwise, you will all be crucified tomorrow, at noon? You will each be nailed, hand and foot, to a crucifix, and ultimately will have four bamboo spears inserted into your body.
‘Is that really how you wish to die – how you wish for these children to die…?’
‘Let the children go,’ said Ishida, her voice perfectly steady. ‘You surely will not kill these children in such a way…’
‘They have been baptized into your faith?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then they must renounce it – through placing one of their feet upon this fumi-e – or they will be executed along with the rest of you,’ returned the samurai.
‘We will never renounce the way of Jesus Christ,’ said one of the children suddenly, as the other firmly nodded his head.
‘Then we will come for you just before noon tomorrow, and take you to your place of execution,’ said the samurai simply. ‘But remember – any time you decide to stop your foolishness, you have only to call for a guard, and having stepped upon the fumi-e you will be released.
‘In this way is my lord Inamatsu merciful.’
‘We die for Christ,’ said Ishida. ‘What is any amount of suffering in this life, when compared to the glory of His Kingdom that awaits us?’
As horrible as this situation was, still I was astounded by this beautiful woman’s calmness – by all the Hidden Christians’ calmness, especially those two children. Clearly their faith had given them great strength of mind – and character. But the law of this region was clear: to be caught practicing any religion other than those of Buddhism and Shinto (which had, in any case, by now become almost intertwined) was to face execution – and a particularly gruesome one at that. To be nailed alive to those crosses, there left to hang for several hours until – finally – those long bamboo spears were used to end the agony…
I had heard stories of those captured Christians – both foreign and Japanese – similarly executed singing and praying even as they suffered, calling upon their god to forgive their tormentors…
The samurai with the scarred face turned to look at my master.
‘You see, Ennin-sensei, that there is absolutely no point in you being here. These Japanese have been given the opportunity to renounce their idiotic gaijin religion, and thus save their own lives, and yet none of them will do so…’
The samurai’s voice tailed away; he looked in annoyance at my master, who in return was paying him absolutely no attention at all. My master’s eyes were shut; he appeared as deep in thought as ever I’d seen him. His lips moved slightly, although his voice was almost completely inaudible.
I caught just a couple of words, however –
‘Noon… Tomorrow…’
Abruptly my master opened his eyes.
‘I wish to see lord Inamatsu, now.’
The samurai breathed deeply, obviously struggling to control his temper.
‘Ennin-sensei… I allowed you to come here purely out of respect for whom you are, and the fame you have within Japan… Be careful you do not trespass too greatly upon such good will…’
My master quickly waved one hand in an irritable manner.
‘You speak as though you are the master, and not the servant, samurai. I repeat that I wish to see the daimyo Inamatsu – now.’
The samurai turned suddenly upon his heel and walked rapidly away, as though his anger was too much for him to bear standing still. Only when this samurai was almost at the entrance of this grim room, did he say –
‘Come with me, then…’
3
‘So it’s you, is it, Ennin-sensei?’
My master bowed again, both of us kneeling as we faced the large figure of the daimyo Inamatsu. His brow was low and heavy; he peered out at the world with eyes full of distrust and anger. His cheeks were red and fleshy; along with the rest of his corpulent frame they spoke of endless days filled with too much eating and drinking, the daimyo through this trying to quell some inner source of misery, of discontent…
‘My head of samurai, Onoue, informs me that you have a problem with the way I wish to punish these Christians in my territory, Ennin-sensei,’ continued the daimyo, moving his bulk slightly in the ornate, golden chair in which he was sat. Either side of him were byobu – six-paneled ‘wind-walls’, which showed fantastic designs of dragons flying over crashing oceans.
‘Onoue-san is mistaken,’ replied my master simply. ‘I merely come to beg mercy for the manner in which these Christians will be executed – there are two children in their number, after all…’
‘Impossible,’ said the daimyo. ‘Do not for one moment think that I am some sort of monster who enjoys meting out such a punishment – and yet it is the only way that others in my territory will be effectively dissuaded from embracing that accursed gaijin religion.’
‘And yet Christianity was not always banned here,’ stated my master quietly, so that I glanced at him in surprise.
At once, the daimyo’s piggish eyes seemed to glow almost red with anger – with fury.
‘Be careful, Ennin – be careful,’ he snarled, looking (for all his bulk) as though he might suddenly spring from his chair and attack my master.
‘Forgive me, lord Inamatsu,’ said my master calmly. ‘I meant no disrespect…’
The apology seemed to pacify the daimyo slightly; he sat back in his chair, that feral light in his eyes diminishing.
‘You do not need these strange powers it is alleged you have, to know that my dear late wife was a Christian,’ said Inamatsu, his face at once contorting with evident grief. ‘And, yes – at her request, after she was converted by a visiting gaijin priest – I allowed this foul religion to be practiced here in my kingdom, alongside Buddhism.
‘No coincidence, surely,’ continued the daimyo, his voice again rising in anger, ‘that my wife should then sicken so quickly with a strange wasting disease, the like of which none of the physicians I ordered to try and treat her had ever seen before!
‘I did not need a Buddhist priest to tell me, just an hour or so before she… she passed away, that this was divine punishment for her having converted to a foreign faith…
‘And so following my dear wife’s funeral, I banned this religion – giving clear reason as to why. Those fools who wished to still practice it could now do so in secret – knowing full-well what would happen to them if they were caught.
‘And now at least some of them have been caught, and so they will be severely punished. That is all.’
‘But you will make martyrs out of them, if you have them executed tomorrow,’ declared my master.
‘How is this so?’ demanded the daimyo, his puffy eyes now staring suspiciously at my master.
‘Because that date happens to be the birthday of one of their saints,’ returned my master, so that I again glanced at him in surprise. Firstly due to the fact that he knew such a thing; and secondly, that he should choose to volunteer this piece of information to the daimyo.
‘I know this fact like I know a great many things,’ continued my master firmly. ‘It has no deeper meaning than that. But I tell you that if you have these Christians executed tomorrow, they will merely rejoice that they have the chance to die for their belief upon such a special day – and they will be celebrated as true martyrs by those other Christians in Japan. Both those who have to hide their beliefs, and those who do not, depending on the territory they inhabit.’
The daimyo nodded his approval of my master’s words, a slight smile now upon his mouth. I, however, was dismayed by my master’s vindictive action towards that doomed group of Christi
ans – I’d previously no idea that he was so opposed to this religion…
‘Good, Ennin-sensei – I thank you for such information,’ declared the daimyo. ‘I see now that you also despise this damn gaijin religion… I take it there would be no issue with having these Christians executed the day after tomorrow?’
‘None at all,’ returned my master quickly. ‘That would be perfect… But, lord Inamatsu, I beg of you – temper justice with just a little mercy. Have these Christians merely tied to their crosses, not nailed hand and foot. If only for the sake of those two children…’
‘Very well, Ennin-sensei,’ sighed the daimyo. ‘For the information you have just given me, and that only, I concede to your request. At noon the day after tomorrow, the Christians will be taken to a nearby hill and there tied upon their crosses. After several hours have passed, they will then be executed with bamboo spears.
‘Now – I grow hungry for my lunch. Is there anything else you wish to speak with me about?’
‘No, my lord, thank you. I would just like to see the Christians again one last time, down in their cell. To talk with them – to try and see if I can make them renounce their faith.’
‘Take as long as you wish, Ennin-sensei,’ shrugged the daimyo. ‘I would certainly rather that they merely renounce their foolishness, and thus live. But, make no mistake – if they do not, then they will die.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ returned my master, as a servant then showed us out of the room.
‘You may return from this castle to the inn where we are staying, Kukai,’ said my master. ‘I do not know how long my interview with the Christians will last…’
I nodded, not really able to look at my master, so confused was I by his actions. On the one hand, here he was apparently trying to save their lives, by attempting to persuade them to renounce their faith. I was absolutely certain that he would fail in this, however. (I remembered the calm fortitude obvious in all the captured Christians, and especially in the beautiful woman named Yuki Ishida.)
