by Walt Mussell
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
DEDICATION
For Motoyo—You make every day of my life special.
Contents
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Author’s Historical Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Author’s Note:
Though actual figures and events from history are mentioned in this book, the book remains a work of fiction.
Western date references are used, as Japan employed a lunar calendar in the late sixteenth century, the time period of this book. This is also used to avoid confusion, as what might be the “third month” on the lunar calendar could refer to April on a Western calendar.
When someone’s full name appears in the story, I have followed the Japanese naming convention in which surname comes before given name. Some characters, like the mothers of the two main families in the book, are just called “Mother” with no mentioned name.
Goami: A swordsmith
Goami Sen: Castle servant and younger of Goami’s daughters
Goami Haru: Older of Goami’s daughters
Jiro: Apprentice swordsmith and Haru’s husband
Tokoda Shigehiro: High-ranking samurai at Himeji Castle
Tokoda Ujihiro: Himeji Castle samurai and oldest son of Tokoda Shigehiro
Tokoda Toshihiro: Himeji Castle samurai and middle son of Tokoda Shigehiro
Tokoda Nobuhiro: Swordsmith apprentice and youngest son of Tokoda Shigehiro
Sakichi: Birth/childhood name of Tokoda Nobuhiro
Moto Omi: Castle servant
Akamatsu Fumio: Lord of Haibara Castle
Yoshi: A restaurant owner
Naomi: Yoshi’s wife
The Carpenter: A hoodlum for hire
Eijiro: A samurai
Funaki: A samurai
Ishida: A samurai
Kaiken: A samurai
Kitayama: A samurai
Matsubara: A samurai
Michiba: A samurai
Saga: A samurai
Shimoto: A samurai
Yamashiro: A samurai
The following list notes individuals from history mentioned in this book.
Kinoshita Iesada: Lord of Himeji Castle from 1585 to 1600 and during the course of this story
Kuroda Yoshitaka: Former lord of Himeji Castle from 1567 to 1580
Sen no Rikyu: Father of the Japanese tea ceremony
Oda Nobunaga: Feudal lord who unified half of Japan. Assassinated by one of his generals in 1582 (five years before this story begins).
Toyotomi Hideyoshi: Feudal lord who rose to power after Nobunaga’s assassination. He was one of Nobunaga’s generals and unified Japan, earning the title of kampaku (regent) in 1585. He was also the lord of Himeji Castle from 1580 to 1585, under a former name, Hashiba Hideyoshi. He was given the name Toyotomi in 1586 by the Imperial Court.
Tokugawa Ieyasu: Feudal lord who rose to power after the death of Toyotomi in 1598. He earned the title of shogun (military ruler) in 1603 and established a line that ruled for two and a half centuries. He was a general of both Nobunaga and Hideyoshi prior to his rise to shogun.
Prologue
Haibara, Japan—August 1587
“By order of the regent, Christianity has been banned from the nation.”
Sen shivered in her light silk kimono, her arms wrapped against her body. The mounted samurai directed his pronouncement toward her master, castle lord and regional governor Fumio Akamatsu. The mounted samurai, flanked by two more men on horseback, swept his icy stare over her and the rest of the servants and samurai. The meaning was clear. The pronouncement applied to everyone at Haibara Castle.
Behind the three horsemen, hundreds of additional samurai advanced on foot in the early sunlight, their long shadows as menacing as their numbers. The samurai were a token of the much larger force outside the gate and an indication of the fate that awaited all the castle servants if they didn’t obey.
The three leaders dismounted. All three horsemen wore gray hakamas, the seven-pleated skirt of the samurai. A kiri flower, the crest of Regent Toyotomi, decorated their flowing blue robes. Did these men despise Christians or were they following orders? Sen bowed low and struggled to maintain a passive face as the men passed. The feelings of these men toward Christians didn’t matter.
The samurai stopped in front of Lord Akamatsu, exchanged perfunctory bows with him, and then the tallest samurai pulled out a scroll. “Akamatsu-sama, you and your assemblage must renounce your faith.”
Sen swallowed hard and glanced at Lord Akamatsu. Dressed in his fine golden kimono for the morning service, his regal bearing exuded confidence and peace. She laced her fingers and pressed her hands to her chin as she stared at the spectacle, drawing her arms in close.
Lord Akamatsu’s voice rang across the keep: “I am a servant of Jesus Christ, the Son of God and the human pillar of the one true faith.”
Stoic, the leader stared back. “The regent requests you reconsider. He reminds you of your great service to him over many campaigns. He does not wish to see it end.”
Lord Akamatsu nodded, but his expression remained impassive. “I am grateful for his recognition. It does not have to end. Still, I am a follower of my God.”
Sen’s throat constricted as the words caused her heart to swell. The lead samurai’s eyes widened. He rolled up the scroll, glancing at both the men with him before focusing on Lord Akamatsu. “Then, you are ordered to surrender your castle and lands.”
“And if I refuse?”
The two flanking samurai stepped forward and drew their katanas, crossing the long swords at Lord Akamatsu’s neck. “Then our forces will lay siege to your castle, lay waste to your grounds, and lay your Christian followers in their graves. We will eradicate this faith, starting with you.”
A trickle of blood oozed from Lord Akamatsu’s neck, and Sen gasped.
Lord Akamatsu’s lips thinned, but he did not move. His gaze scanned both the servants and his own group of samurai nearby. His eyes
conveyed love. “And if I accede? What happens to my people?”
“We will question each one of them. They will be given the same chance as you. Renounce this foreign religion, and they may keep their station for whomever takes over the castle. Refuse, and they will face our judgment. Those we show mercy to may walk away with the clothes they wear. It is over. You are in our power now.”
“If you have power over me, it’s only because it was granted to you by God. I surrender the castle.”
Pride welled inside Sen at Lord Akamatsu’s steadfastness, and her arms relaxed as the samurai removed their swords from his neck. They spared him. But Sen’s breath caught in her throat as the samurai faced the crowd.
“Line up,” the lead man said, pointing in two directions. “Lord Akamatsu’s samurai to the left side. His servants over here on the right.”
Sen let the movement of the crowd carry her forward with the other servants. She bowed as more samurai passed, and then she headed to the servant line. She closed her eyes briefly. Lord, please help us.
A woman screamed, and the sound chilled Sen’s soul. She craned her neck to see around the fifty or so people in front of her and watched in horror. A maid from the kitchen—it looked like she’d been first in line—fell to the ground. Blood poured from both sides of her neck. Her body convulsed, then grew still as the life flowed out of her. She was a young woman, only fifteen. Now she lay on the grass, her pale-green servant’s kimono stained red.
Sen gulped air but couldn’t swallow. She glanced around as best she could without moving her head. All of the servants’ shoulders drooped. Would she and everyone in line face the same fate?
She finally managed to swallow, but the truth wouldn’t go down so easily. She was so close, so close. One more week, and then she would have left to be with her family. They needed her.
At the thought of her family, Sen reached into her belt and sighed. It was still there, the letter from her mother telling Sen of the death of her sister, Haru. The crinkled feeling of the paper brought sadness. It also reminded her of her duty, the duty of a remaining sibling when an elder child had died. She must find a husband to marry into the family business and to help her look after her parents.
The line moved slowly. Maybe thirty people in front of her now. Sen’s feet trembled with each step forward. Some people who had already stood before the samurai now walked free, staring at the ground, their chins tucked against their chests. Why had they been spared? Had they renounced Lord Akamatsu? Had they renounced Jesus? Were they now ashamed? Sen strained to hear, but the voices up front were inaudible despite the silence of the grounds. The samurai obviously meant for no one to listen. Sen leaned left but then righted herself. She would soon learn how the samurai offered mercy.
Another woman and then a man screamed and fell to the ground, blood draining from their necks and streaking their kimonos as they shook and then fell still. Two more people mercilessly slain. More servants walked past Sen, apparently headed to the castle entrance. Dejected with their heads bowed, they carried nothing but shame. Sen looked over at the other line, the line of samurai. Six men lay on the ground, motionless. Just as she might soon be. No screams had come from the samurai. Only the rank smell of death that floated on the air. Christians all, they’d refused suicide. None showed stomach wounds.
Sen craved water to quench her dry mouth. She struggled to breathe, each inhalation and exhalation sounding in her ears.
Could she make the right choice?
Confess God and leave her parents to Him? Renounce God to fulfill her duty to her family? Was that truly the choice set before her?
Sen wrung her hands as she drew closer to the front. More of her fellow Christians fell to the ground. Still, she could not hear their words. Were people confessing God and still surviving?
Only ten people remained ahead of her in line. One of the samurai wiped his blade on a dead servant’s kimono, then kicked some of the bodies to the side. Sen’s knees and shoulders wobbled as the sun reflected off the metal, stinging her eyes with its harsh light.
A sword. The realization dawned on her. She would die by a sword.
Childhood memories rushed forward like rapids, bringing images of her parents to mind. Her father was the best swordsmith in her hometown of Himeji. He had crafted hundreds of swords over the years.
How would he feel if he were to learn his daughter was slain by one?
Sen grasped her belt and traced the edge of the letter with her fingertips. Duty to God. Duty to family. Her breathing grew steady. Measured. Calm.
She neared the front. One more person, an older woman, was ahead of her. The woman walked toward the three samurai awaiting her and bowed. Two of the samurai crossed their long swords at the woman’s neck. The lead samurai’s words finally reached Sen’s ears. “I will say this once. Renounce your faith.”
“I am a servant of Christ,” the woman said.
Metal clanked against metal as the samurai completed the cut. The old woman’s hands flew to her neck. Retching, she sank to her knees, then fell to the ground.
My turn.
Sen stepped forward and bowed to the three samurai, her gaze fixed on the bodies at her feet. Lives taken, cut down. The old woman before her twitched and inched toward Sen, the last flashes of her life ebbing away as the red spots of blood began to stain the hem of Sen’s kimono. The coppery smell of blood filled Sen’s nostrils. Bile rose in her throat as she choked back a gag and then straightened to her full height, her eyes focused on the samurai.
The men nodded back, then crossed their long swords at her neck. The cold metal dug into her skin, yet it burned like fire. Sweat poured down her face and back. The leader’s face betrayed no mercy. “I will say this once. Renounce your faith.”
Sen took in a shallow mouthful of air and exhaled. Tears bit her eyes as images of her parents’ faces again rose in her mind.
God, please look after my family.
“I am a servant of Christ.”
The blades bit deeper. The clank of swords sounded in Sen’s ears as she struggled not to cry out. She scrunched her shoulders, bringing them up to salve the sting. Her head felt light and her knees buckled. Her breathing slowed . . . and then continued. Her dizziness cleared. She reached her hands to her neck and felt the hot liquid. The cuts were deep.
But she would live.
She rose slowly, too fearful to glance at the samurai’s face, her eyes fighting tears. She should accept her fate and leave. It wasn’t her place to ask, but she had to know. “Forgive me,” she said, bowing low. “I beg your indulgence.”
The samurai tilted his head, his gaze scanning her up and down. “You’re the first to dare question us. You have courage, as misplaced as it may be. You may ask.”
“Why?”
The lead samurai smiled. “You paused before you responded. You debated this religion in your mind. There is still hope for you.”
Paused? She had paused?
She had prayed before she answered. The samurai had taken it for doubt. Her prayer had saved her.
“Thank you,” she responded.
“Let the lesson burn into you. You survived today only by our justice. Now leave these grounds. See if your deity protects you.”
Sen bowed, glanced once more at the bodies at her feet, and then walked toward the entrance. The castle gate, long a source of comfort, appeared ominous as she approached it. Just a few more strides and she’d be outside. Once outside, she would head for home.
But home was eighty miles away. Could she make it there on her own?
She passed through the gate, took a few steps along the road, and crashed to the ground.
Chapter One
Himeji, Japan—April 1588 (Eight Months Later)
The faint fragrance of cherry blossoms roused Sen from her slumber. It shouldn’t have.
A creak from the hallway cut through the snores and wheezes of the other castle attendants sleeping around her. A couple of guards making their ro
unds? It was early for anyone except samurai.
Closing her eyes, she endeavored to go back to sleep. Yet the scent lingered. It filled her body and raised her spirits. She brought her hands to her neck and traced the scars on each side. Would she wake up every morning and remember that day, a day when samurai murdered twenty of her fellow servants? She clasped her hands under the blanket, remembered her fallen friends, and thanked God again that she had been spared.
Sen savored the minutes of solitude while the other women slept. She sat up and slipped the letter from her mother from her bag of meager belongings, opened the paper, and traced the characters with her fingertips in the moonlight that filtered through the window. Since that tragic day, she had carried the letter with her. A reminder of her sister. A reminder that she needed to go home. After tracing the characters for a few minutes, she put the letter back, looking around to make sure that no one was watching. Tears welled in her eyes as she lay back down, recalling her childhood. Haru, I wish I could have seen you once more.
“Wake up, Sen,” a woman’s voice said.
She opened her eyes and shook her head to clear the blur, seeing the face of her friend and fellow attendant, Moto Omi. Her black hair was pulled taut behind her head and pinned with a red comb that accented her yellow servant’s kimono.
“What’s wrong?” Sen asked.
“What’s wrong?” Omi rolled her eyes. “You’re still asleep. Do you want to get in trouble? You’ve only been here two weeks. You need to be alert. If you lose your position, you’ll have no place else to go.”
Sen nodded, then rose and dressed in silence. Omi helped her put away her bedroll, wooden pillow, and bag. Sen slid open the door to the room, stepped into the hall, and then stopped. A narrow viewing portal nearby offered a glimpse of the western grounds. The pale pink cherry blossoms on the trees, a sign of spring, shimmered in the receding moonlight. For the first time since Sen’s arrival in Himeji, a tiny bud of hope sprouted in her heart.
As she wiped a tear with the back of her hand, a gentle shove broke her thoughts.
