The Samurai of Seville

by John Healey

By this time, there were over 300,000 converts in the realm and 116 missionaries serving them. The Shogun was told that many of the missionaries were imploring their faithful to heed the priests more than the Shogun’s representatives. He issued an edict—much as Philip the Third had done in 1609 when he drove the Moors out of Spain—ordering all Catholics to leave the country. Those who remained were compelled to convert to one of the Buddhist sects or suffer execution.

  Around the time that Hasekura Tsunenaga and the Delegation prepared to sail from Spain to Rome, the Catholics in Japan who had managed to defy the edict and maintain their faith had gathered within the castle in Osaka under the protection of the Shogun’s main rival. The castle was thought to be impregnable. A tremendous battle ensued that brought Date Masamune back onto the field at the Shogun’s side. When it was over, 100,000 bodies littered the fields, and the castle collapsed in flames.

  The Shogun prevailed. His power was now absolute and would stay that way for generations. He and Date Masamune, their armor splattered with blood, celebrated the victory together, and the edict against the Catholics was made definitive and irrevocable.

  – XXXVI –

  In which the Samurais reach St. Tropez, Rosario relies upon her mother, Guada has a nightmare, and the King is displeased

  The Mediterranean thickened further until it resembled a pewtery porridge and the clouds lowered and darkened and the skies began to rumble. During the night, the swells and the wind increased so that by the time day broke, a fierce storm was upon them. Men who needed to be on deck were tied to the masts. Many of those confined below were miserable with fright and sickness. Unforeseen currents flowing north from Africa pushed the ship off course toward France.

  As the intensity of the storm abated, the ship found calmer waters the following evening and dropped three anchors off the shore of Saint-Tropez. Heavy rains fell through the night. But with morning all was clean and fresh, and the warm sun returned, turning the water blue and transparent again. The Delegation came ashore for provisions and remained there for three days, causing much sensation among the local populace.

  They never touch food with their fingers, but instead use two small sticks that they hold with three fingers…. They blow their noses in soft silky papers the size of a hand, which they never use twice, so that they throw them on the ground after usage, and they were delighted to see our people around them precipitate themselves to pick them up…. Their swords cut so well that they can cut a soft paper just by putting it on the edge and blowing on it. (Relations of Mme de St. Tropez—October 1615, Bibliothèque Inguimbertine, Carpentras)

  But Shiro stayed aboard the ship and passed the time swimming, getting stronger, and attempting to close his fingers around the hilt of his new sword.

  ***

  With Shiro gone, Rosario asked her mother to move in with her at the finca. Her father had died the year before of a broken back, slipping in the mountains while pursuing a goat. Her two brothers were in Cádiz seeking their fortunes, and her two sisters had married men from Arcos de la Frontera. Her ex-husband, Antonio, had remarried, to a girl from the village Rosario had never liked and who had yet to become pregnant.

  Her mother, Carmen, had not been in the Duke’s residence for twenty years. It had been her own pregnancy—when carrying Rosario—that had persuaded the Duke to end it with her. This happened at a time when he spent long periods away from his ancestral home.

  ‘It was when he returned from the disastrous Armada that he first took a liking to me and it lasted for seven years. I remember the house as being much larger, but I suppose that is normal.’

  They were walking through the mansion, from wing to wing, from salon to salon, through the well-raked gardens and into the chapel. They paused in the kitchen where some who worked there knew mother and daughter from the village.

  They took their evening meal by a small fire in the dining hall at the table where the Duke had lashed out at Doña Inmaculada and Guada. Then they retired to the master bedroom, where they lay down next to each other on the high massive bed. Both of them, decades apart, had experienced hours of intimacy with him there. Neither of them referred to it, but both had it in mind. They lay in silence, taking it all in until Rosario began to laugh. Carmen smiled and said, ‘Vaya por Dios,’ and began to laugh, as well.

  After Rosario fell asleep, Carmen rose and walked to the window. The village below was dark with only the church tower visible in the moonlight. In the hills above she heard a lynx howling in heat. She felt a chill. She was the only soul who knew for sure that Rosario was the Duke’s daughter, and she closed her eyes for a long moment to pray to Mary, asking that God not punish her silence by cursing them with a damaged child.

  ***

  One hundred and twenty-five kilometers away, in Sevilla, Guada was awake, as well. Her abdomen had grown to the point where she needed to get up more often throughout the night. Her room at Soledad’s palacete was lavish. Her aunt had chosen it on purpose, hoping it would help keep her niece there and serve to underline Guada’s sense of belonging to an impeccable bloodline.

  Shiro’s last letter had moved her deeply and made her all too aware of her true feelings for him. And though she was glad for him, glad to learn he had rejoined his compatriots and thus the world, glad to think he had left the lugubrious finca in Medina-Sidonia and its comely mistress, she felt an ache in her heart. For the distance between them now was vast again. The farthest that she had ever journeyed had been to Madrid, many years ago. The recent travels to Medina-Sidonia and to Sanlúcar de Barrameda had been dramatic events in her young life. Most people she knew, including Julian, including her mother and her aunt, had hardly traveled, either. But Shiro had come from the other side of the Earth and was now on his way to Italy to meet with the Holy Father. Afterwards he would return to Madrid once more before leaving for Japan.

  In the letter he had written, ‘Though I rebel against the notion, I realize there is a good chance we shall never see each other again. Where, Guada, is your sense of fate when I most require it? Or is this what your fates had in store? For us to meet, to dream of a possibility, in my case at least, and then to part forever?’

  She considered his question valid and only wished that it be his definition of fate that would somehow prevail, the one in which one’s will predominated. That they could have some sort of a future together was, of course, impossible, unthinkable. But she did wish to see him again, if only to prove to herself he was not an invention of her battered spirit.

  She was reluctant to go back to sleep. It comforted her to know her aunt was just down the hall, the servants in their quarters, that she was safe. She had awakened from an unpleasant dream in which Julian had again been forcing himself upon her. She could not make out his features but felt his weight and urgency and though she fought to get him off her, her limbs were heavy and barely responsive, the way Shiro had described his damaged fingers to be. She had only been able to raise her head enough to see her mother seated in a chair beside the bed, filled with mirth and urging the beast on. Guada had begun to scream until Julian finally looked at her, as if to tell her to be quiet. But as he did, she saw that his face was different, it was the face of her father Rodrigo and she had awakened from the dream whimpering and in a sweat. Reaching for the chamber pot she began to pray immediately, cursing the Devil for having toyed with her so cruelly. And she remembered how in the dream the pillow where her head had thrashed back and forth was embroidered with the letters M and V entwined together, stitched in blue thread. All she could think of was the Virgin Mother, or was it Marta Vélez?

  She was in no hurry to return to sleep. She was content to sit by her window enjoying the night jasmine and to wait for the first light of day.

  ***

  Philip the Third decreed a week of hunting for young noblemen on the grounds of the Pardo Palace. It was the Duke of Lerma’s idea that he and the King make a concentrated effort to get to know the up-and-coming young men who would soon be rep
lacing fathers too old or infirm to continue journeying and contributing to the Royal coffers.

  Two days into the event, the King was already bored and impatient, and he complained to the Duke of Lerma for having made the affair three days too long. The Duke in turn blamed it on an underling and promised the Monarch it would never occur again. At the end of the third, raucous meal, set out on long tables in the countryside, the King left early, unconvincingly begging their collective pardon, claiming to be overly burdened by pressing matters of state. All rose and bowed and toasted his good health.

  The Duke of Lerma stood by as the King mounted his steed. Surrounded by a dozen mounted soldiers and followed by pages, priests, and secretaries, the ruler of the world’s largest empire set out, relieved to return to the palace. But just as they were about to break free of the area, something caught his eye. He reined in his horse and raised his hand for all to do likewise. The Duke trotted up beside him. ‘Sire?’

  At the outer perimeter of the clearing chosen for the meal, all of the horses belonging to the young nobles were gathered. They were tied to posts and branches and next to each horse saddles and hunting gear rested on the grass guarded by faithful servants, some of whom had accompanied their masters from distant parts of the kingdom. Strapped to one of the saddles was a red leather quiver filled with arrows.

  ‘There,’ pointed the King. ‘The red quiver—fetch it to me.’

  Instructions were shouted, and within seconds a soldier stood beside the Royal stallion holding the quiver in both hands for the Monarch’s inspection. The King leaned down and took a good look at it. There could be no two like it in the world and certainly not in Spain. And the arrows bore the markings of his own master archer, a skilled Jinense inherited from his father Philip II.

  The King turned to the Duke of Lerma. ‘Find the man that saddle belongs to, and bring him to me immediately.’

  – PART FOUR –

  – XXXVII –

  In which the Pope is sly

  Camillo Borghese received them in the Map Room. He was seated on an elevated throne flanked by Cardinals and sixty members of the Swiss Guard in full array. The setting, with its enormous, vivid frescoes painted by Ignazio Danti, was calibrated to present an image of spiritual magnificence and geographical domination. Father Sotelo, in a state of high excitement, beamed at the surroundings as if to say to his Asian guests, ‘This is where I come from. This is what I and my God represent.’

  Excerpt from an account written by Father Luis Sotelo, De ecclesiae Iaponicae statu relatio:

  When we got there by the aid of God in the Year of Our Salvation 1615, not only were we kindly received by His Holiness the great Pope, with the Holy College of the Cardinals and a gathering of bishops and nobles, and even the joy and general happiness of the Roman People, but we and three others (whom the Japanese Christians had specially designated to announce their condition with respect to the Christian religion) were heard, rested, and just as we were hoping, dispatched as quickly as possible.

  Hasekura Tsunenaga and Shiro, impressed as they were, privately judged the enormous hall to be ostentatious and overdone. They preferred the luxurious austerity displayed in Philip the Third’s Spain. The baroque papal presentation did not intimidate them, for they had the throne rooms in Edo and in Kyoto and in Osaka for use as comparison, rooms that derived their splendor from exquisite design and a minimal intrusion of furniture. Nevertheless, they bowed repeatedly and rendered a convincing show of awe and modesty in the hope it would help obtain the realization of Date Masamune’s wishes.

  Translation of the Latin letter from Date Masamune to the Pope:

  Kissing the Holy feet of the Great, Universal, Most Holy Lord of The Entire World, Pope Paul, in profound submission and reverence, I, Date Masamune, King of Sendai in the Empire of Japan, suppliantly say: The Franciscan Padre Luis Sotelo came to our country to spread the faith of God. On that occasion, I learnt about this faith and desired to become a Christian, but I still haven’t accomplished this desire due to some small issues. However, in order to encourage my subjects to become Christians, I wish that you send missionaries of the Franciscan church. I guarantee that you will be able to build a church and that your missionaries will be protected. I also wish that you select and send a bishop as well. Because of that, I have sent one of my samurai, Hasekura Tsunenaga, as my representative to accompany Luis Sotelo across the seas to Rome, to give you a stamp of obedience and to kiss your feet. Further, as our country and Nueva España are neighbouring countries, I beg your intervention so that we can discuss with the King of Spain, for the benefit of dispatching missionaries across the seas.

  The Pope seemed receptive and genuinely curious, and he agreed to the dispatch of additional missionaries to Japan and sanctioned the idea of Sotelo’s church. But on the topic of trade, he decided to defer to Philip the Third.

  ‘When you return to Madrid, tell the King you have my blessing and that I shall defer to his decisions in all matters nonspiritual.’

  It was a start, or so they convinced themselves. Hasekura Tsunenaga’s portrait was painted by Claude Deruet, and the Ambassador was made an honorary citizen of Rome. Shiro was pained and surprised to hear Date Masamune’s recognition of Father Sotelo’s desire for a church to be built in Sendai and hoped it was a ruse. The language employed in the letter to the Pope was most unlike him, and Shiro clung to that.

  At the reception afterwards, Cardinal Roberto Bellarmino, prompted by Father Sotelo, paused to speak with Shiro, who told him that the King of Spain had made him a gift of the Cardinal’s book, the ‘Doctrina Cristiana.’ Flattered to the core and after an extended exchange of pleasantries, the Cardinal took an interest in the young man’s damaged hands.

  ‘I have an acquaintance who may be of use to you, an astronomer with an artistic bent who has many friends among the best doctors and surgeons in Rome. I shall have you presented to him if you so desire, but on one condition.’

  ‘My Lord?’ Shiro asked.

  ‘That you not allow him to addle your soul with his sinful rant about the Earth not being at the center of the universe.’

  – XXXVIII –

  In which two dogs eat chestnuts

  A messenger from the Duke of Lerma arrived at Don Rodrigo’s house in Sevilla summoning the Grandee to Madrid for a meeting with the King. Rodrigo could barely contain his excitement at the thought he was about to be awarded some special mission. Doña Inmaculada intuited another possibility.

  ‘The audience might have something to do with Guada,’ she said.

  ‘Guada?’ he asked incredulously. ‘He’s barely aware of her existence.’

  ‘She spent three years at court and was well received.‘

  ‘But what would that possibly have to do with this? You don’t send a rider on a four-day journey to Sevilla to bring back a Grandee of Spain to conference with his King about our daughter.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said affecting a pallid smile. She saw no point in going on about it.

  ‘Of course I’m right,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll know soon enough,’ she replied.

  He entered the capital at twilight at the end of a clear November’s day and went directly to Marta Vélez’s mansion, where he was greeted sympathetically. Not wishing to contemplate any connection she might have with the royal summons, she instead encouraged Rodrigo in his fantasies about what might be on the King’s mind. An ambassadorship would be the most likely explanation, and to somewhere important, France perhaps, or the Low Countries.

  On his way to the Alcázar the following morning, he was already making mental calculations regarding the allocation of household funds and the choosing of favored employees who might keep a proper eye on his estates during his time abroad. The Duke of Lerma greeted him warmly but when questioned pleaded ignorance, a response that only served to intensify Rodrigo’s curiosity given the universally acknowledged belief that the Duke of Lerma knew everything about the Monarch.

&
nbsp; Rodrigo was ushered into the Royal Library. It contained hundreds of volumes assembled for the King by a committee of sabios or wise men, who had been charged with the task of putting together a selection of titles aimed at helping the Monarch pilot the ship of state. But Philip had also insisted the library contain works banned by the Holy Office of the Inquisition, one of which, The Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini, he was enjoying when Rodrigo appeared. Two large dogs rose from the floor and approached the Grandee as he bowed to the King.

  ‘Your Majesty.’

  ‘Don Rodrigo. I am so pleased you could come. Don’t mind the dogs. They prefer chestnuts to flesh, and I’ve a bowlful here,’ he said, pointing to a valuable ceramic resting by the opened manuscript.

  ‘Chestnuts, sire …’

  ‘They are Canes de Palleiro, from Galicia—chestnut trees all over the place.’

  ‘A province unknown to me, I’m afraid,’ said Rodrigo with a grin.

  ‘You old snob,’ replied the King. ‘I doubt you’re afraid to say it at all. To men like yourself it must seem like a black forest filled with Visigoths, not an olive grove or a jasmine vine within hundreds of kilometers.’

  ‘It does have a reputation, sire.’

  The King tossed a pair of polished chestnuts into the air, and the dogs caught them in midflight. Rodrigo appreciated the touch of how the animals, gruff beasts that would have been more in place in a corral in the rainy north, nevertheless wore silken collars embroidered with the Hapsburg coat of arms.

  ‘The sun does shine there occasionally,’ said the King, ‘and if you don’t mind a bit of damp, the hunting to be had is far superior to anything around here.’

  ‘As you know, sire, hunting has never been my strong point. I prefer the relative comforts of husbandry.’

  ‘I know. I know,’ said the King, irritated, and Rodrigo picked up on it. ‘Your degree of civilization is most impressive.’