The Chrysanthemum, the Cross, and the Dragon

by Iver P. Cooper

  "Yes, but that means dealing with the government. You have to have the right connections to get a good deal, and my brother and I don't have them."

  "Then you won't mind if we go after the sulfur ourselves."

  "Not my business whether you do or don't."

  "So can you tell us where the sulfur is?"

  Li Cai tugged on his beard again. "It's been a long time.... I've forgotten."

  Captain Huang held up a silver coin. "Does this help your memory?"

  It did.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  It took a day for Juan and Domingo to reach the main Pantao village. Here, as in the Keelung area, the natives lived in stilt houses. These surrounded a larger structure that Domingo told Juan was a rice granary.

  "They cultivate rice here?"

  "Yes, very good rice. Millet, too, but who would eat millet if they could eat rice? And they trade rice to the natives further inland, who don't grow it."

  Juan and Domingo's visit was not especially fruitful. No, the villagers hadn't seen the priest for several days. No, he hadn't spoken of returning to Santo Domingo or Senar. No, he hadn't shown any signs of illness or injury.

  The Basayans didn't note anything suspicious about the villagers' conduct. They seemed honestly upset about Father Francisco's absence. The Basayans, listening to the villagers talking, reported that they seemed divided into two factions, those blaming the Spanish for his absence and those blaming Senar. And both factions were trying to work themselves up to the point of launching an attack.

  "I am astonished that these savages would be so enthusiastic for Christian learning that they would be ready to go to war over the loss of a priest," said Juan. "Is this common in these lands?"

  Aguilar spoke to his Basayans and then translated their reply.

  "They think that it is not the Christian learning that Pantao misses, but rather the protection from Spanish soldiers and other tribes that the presence of a missionary provides them. Spanish soldiers would be reluctant to mistreat them lest the missionary report their behavior, and other tribes would fear that an attack on a village with a resident missionary would prompt reprisal from Santo Domingo, or even from Keelung."

  "I see. And do they think that the aborigines in Senar would have the same attitude."

  Aguilar conferred with them and added that they did.

  "Then I think we had best take a closer look at Senar."

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  According to Li Cai, the sulfur came from a place called Quipatao. Mingyu asked what it meant and was given an ominous answer: women-who-call-forth-spirits. That is, a witch or shamaness.

  "Do you mean that it is a place where witches live or that witches have cursed?" asked Mingyu.

  Li Cai.shrugged. "No one lives there. No one can live there. Does that mean that witches cursed it? I think so. Do witches live there? Would they live in a place they cursed? I think not. Would they live close by? Yes, perhaps. Perhaps they cursed it because the people who once lived there offended them."

  "And what powers do these witches have?"

  Li Cai told him that according to his "country wife," they could invoke various spirits, known as the masters of the ground, the masters of the hunt, the masters of the village gates, the masters of the mountain, and so on. Good witches would cure diseases caused by the afflicted person having given offense to a birua, a spirit, or cleanse and protect the ground where a new house was being built. But bad witches could summon evil spirits that would harm people or crops. It sounded rather like the powers of a wu, a Chinese spirit medium.

  Before going to Quipatao, the natives would go to a shaman they trusted and have protective rituals conducted over them. The cost of these rituals had to be paid by the Chinese merchant sending them to Quipatao, which of course added to the cost of the mining operation.

  "How far away is Quipatao," asked captain Huang.

  "Go upriver. At the middle of the second bend, land your boat and head straight away from the river, toward the mountain. Steam rises from the area, so you can't miss it."

  "I've heard that before," Mingyu muttered to her father.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Senar looked very much like Pantao, at least to Juan. However, he did notice that the natives here tattooed their foreheads with clusters of vertical lines, while the aborigines in Pantao had favored horizontal lines.

  At Senar, Juan and Domingo repeated their interrogations. This time, however, their Basayans were of the opinion that the answers were evasive.

  After loosening the villagers' tongues with some liquor, one let slip that a party of warriors had gone to Pantao with the intent of collecting heads and had instead come across Father Francisco. After some debate, they decided neither to kill him outright nor to leave him be. Rather, he was being held captive at a secret location in the forest while the Senari figured out what to do with him. Since the Senari had no chiefs, this was a slow process.

  Juan and Domingo demanded Father Francisco's release. The Senari promised to do so, provided that they received a guarantee that he would not return to Pantao.

  Juan was willing to agree to this, on behalf of the new Chinese rulers of Tamsui, if Father Francisco concurred.

  "That's settled then," said a powerful-looking Senari warrior. "But it is too late to fetch Father Francisco. We will have a party to celebrate the agreement, and you can see him tomorrow."

  Juan turned to Domingo. "I fear they may intend to kill us at the party, or afterward. What do you think?"

  "There is a serious risk. There was an incident a few years ago in which they offered to help a small Spanish party across the river. They carried the Spaniards' weapons and cargo first, then came back and killed the unarmed Spanish."

  "Well, that was an apt punishment for stupidity," said Juan.

  "Unfortunately, the problem here is that if the offer is one made in good faith, and we refuse it, they may try to kill us for being discourteous."

  "Hmm.... " said Juan. "I see your point. Why don't we tell them this: 'We thank you for your hospitality. However, there is a present we must fetch for you first. We will have to return to the fort to get it.' "

  Domingo laughed. "It is worth a try."

  After Juan's words were conveyed to them, the villagers present went into a huddle, and then one of them wished Juan and Domingo a safe journey and a speedy return. "And don't forget our presents," he added.

  Juan and Domingo's party retreated warily from the Senari village.

  Once they were some distance away, Domingo wiped the sweat from his face. "That was a close one. I assume we will return in greater force tomorrow?"

  'Yes, and I will have our war junks go up the coast to where they can fire on the village, if need be."

  "They will be peeved if they don't get a present."

  "I am going to give them some sugar; that should please them."

  Chapter 13

  Captain Huang and Mingyu took two boats upriver. Even though they weren't very many miles away from Keelung, the land here was apparently different; they could hear bird songs they had not heard back in Keelung.

  They came to the bend that Li Cai had described and landed, leaving several sailors on guard. Then they started the journey uphill.

  Northern Taiwan was heavily forested, save in the high mountains, but it wasn't long before the trees thinned out. They continued walking into an area where the grass was yellow. Captain Huang and Mingyu checked to make sure that the little mirrors they had hung around their necks to reflect away hostile magic were still in place. The mirrors jostled against the crosses they wore as well. (They saw no reason not to hedge their spiritual bets.)

  The air here wasn't clear. They knew from Li Cai's words that the mist that roiled about was not fog, but steam. The air grew warmer and warmer, too. At last they came to places where there was no grass at all, just bare soil and dark rock. The air singed their eyes and throat, so they covered their mouths with wet cloths. The only comfort was that at least the ba
d air apparently kept the mosquitoes, flies, and snakes away.

  Neither Captain Huang nor Mingyu had ever mined for sulfur, but Bao had given them a man with some knowledge, and he expressed satisfaction at what he was seeing. "Look!" he said. He was pointing to a pool of bubbling mud. "This is a place of hidden fire."

  They continued searching, and he at last found a sulfur crystal in a rock cavity. "Here! This is sulfur, the Devil's Gold!"

  From time to time, he collected soil samples. "There are bits of sulfur in the soil," he told them. "We spread the soil in the sun, mix it with milk, wash away the dirt, and then dry the remainder to get the sulfur."

  Mingyu, eyes tearing, asked, "Do you have enough samples? Can we leave yet?"

  "Yes," said the sulfur expert, "We have enough to judge whether it is worth bringing a crew here."

  "Then let's leave this place of bad karma behind us," said Captain Huang.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Juan and Domingo returned to Senar with a large, well-armed force comprising both Chinese and Spanish fighters. The Spanish had willingly joined in, outraged by the treatment of Father Francisco.

  When they reached Senar, there were new complications. A large group of Pantao warriors had arrived and were screaming insults and threats at the Senari. Domingo said that they were demanding that Father Francisco be released and returned to them. And when the Sino-Spanish force arrived, they announced that they wanted Father Francisco to promise that he would remain in Pantao and not return to Senar.

  "What are the Senari and the Pantaoans saying?"

  "My Basayans say, depends on who you listen to," said Domingo. "Some are urging that they go to war to settle who gets him. Some of the Senari say that Father Francisco should be brought forth, to decide. But I fear that they expect him to favor them, and if he doesn't...." Domingo drew his forefinger across his throat.

  "Well, let's support the call for Father Francisco to be brought here. At least that gives us more of a chance to rescue him."

  With Juan's intervention, the Senari grudgingly agreed to produce Father Francisco and let him speak.

  It was perhaps an hour before Father Francisco was led into the clearing where the different forces were disputing his fate, but it seemed like an eternity to Juan. He was immediately recognizable as a Dominican priest by his garb, a black cappa covering a white habit. Or at least the habit should have been white, but it was stained brown and red by mud and blood.

  As Juan had been told back at the fort, Father Francisco was short and stout. He seemed taller once he began speaking. Father Francisco thanked the Senari and the Pantaoans for their love but chastised each of them for seeking to keep the Word of God for themselves.

  This did not go over well.

  "Translate what I say," said Juan to Domingo. He walked up to Father Francisco and drew his sword. "People of Senar and Pantao, is it your wish that I cut Father Francisco in half, so you each may have half at all times, even though it means he will never speak to you again?"

  Juan, of course, was thinking of the famous scene in the Bible in which King Solomon settled which of two harlots had given birth to the living child they were quarreling over. When the king said that he would divide the child, and give half to one and half to the other, one of the two thought this was reasonable, and the other said, "Oh, my Lord, give her the living child, please do not kill him." And by that, Solomon knew her to be the true mother.

  Of course Juan expected that both tribes would decline the proposal. However, he did not take into account the fact that not only were the tribes frequently at war, it was their practice to dismember their victims and proudly hang the carefully painted bones from the ridgeposts of their huts.

  Both the Senar and Pantao agreed with the proposal to physically divvy up Father Francisco and even allowed that the Spanish could take away the skull and torso for their trouble, since they couldn't fairly be divided between them. Apparently, they thought his leg and arm bones would be just as efficacious as the living priest. Perhaps more so.

  "Now what?" asked Domingo.

  "Let me think for a moment," pleaded Juan.

  The murmuring from the natives increased as he pondered his options.

  "They were wondering what is taking you so long," said Domingo. "They are wondering whether they should pull out their knives and do it themselves."

  Father Francisco was praying to the Lord to forgive the savages if they carved him up.

  Suddenly Juan thought of the Holy Communion.

  "The tribes had some sort of religion before we came, didn't they?" asked Juan.

  'Yes. They believe the world is full of spirits."

  "And in propitiating these spirits, do they perform, how shall I put it, symbolic acts?" Juan, of course, had in mind that the bread and wine of the Holy Communion were transubstantiated into the literal body and blood of Jesus Christ.

  Domingo hastily conferred with the Basayans. "The sign that a woman must become a shaman is that she suffers various ailments indicating that the birua wish to speak through her. These could be headaches, stomach pains, and so on. When a shaman is invested, the other shamans make a substitute body for her. It is wrapped in a banana leaf and given to the birua in exchange for her own body. Then the substitute body is placed in a box, and the birua no longer afflict her physical body."

  "Perfect. Tell them that it is not his true body that is to be cut but a substitute body that we will make today, and the substitute body is to be cut in half, with one half given to the Senar and the other to the Pantao. And one moon Father Francisco will spend with the Senar and the next with the Pantao, and so on moon after moon."

  "Father Francisco isn't going to like being the subject of some pagan rite."

  "He isn't going to like being dismembered, either. This way, he can preach to both tribes."

  Domingo relayed Juan's "explanation" to the rival tribes, while Juan whispered to Father Francisco about what was going on and urged him not to protest Juan's solution, if it got him out of this mess.

  There was more haranguing among the aborigines, but at last they agreed. The Senari even agreed to let Father Francisco return to Pantao for what was left of this moon.

  And Juan had spent more than enough time away from Mingyu.

  Chapter 14

  Palapag, northern Samar, Philippines

  June 1634

  Captain Atondo, of the galleon Concepción, was ushered respectfully into the great cabin of the San Raimundo, where the senior captain, the Captain-General of the Acapulco Galleons, awaited him. The walls of the cabin curved inward toward the stern. On the left side, there was a wooden table with ornately carved chairs, where the captain-general would meet with the ship officers or be served his dinner on silver plates.

  On the right, there was an alcove holding an actual bed, albeit a narrow one. On the wall above the bed, a mirror hung in a gold frame.

  At the stern end, there were three pairs of diamond-paned windows, with gilded molding. The decor was completed by a bookcase, a large globe, a wall cubby containing two crossed swords, a wall rack of pistols, and several locked, ironbound chests. These surely held jewels and other especially precious cargo.

  Captain-General Mendoza was already seated at the head of the table, flanked by his adjutant on one side and the Master of the Silver on the other.

  Mendoza wore a robe with an ermine collar, a white lace ruff, and a velvet bonete. He had heavy brows, a moustache shaped like a recurve bow, and a beard that ran in an arc from one corner of his mouth to the other. That mouth was not smiling.

  The captain-general beckoned the commander of the Concepción over.

  "Captain Atondo, please be seated. You have no doubt heard the dreadful news."

  "That Manila has fallen? I heard it as soon as we landed in Palapag, but it is difficult to believe."

  "Believe it we must. I have here a certified copy of a letter left in early April by a Lieutenant Juan Cardona with the alcalde-mayor in San Jacinto, on
Ticao. The sergeant-major in command of the fort added a note of his own to the effect that this Juan Cardona spoke Spanish like a native, wore a proper garrison officer's uniform, and was familiar with Spanish military protocol. In short, he appeared to be exactly who he said he was.

  The captain-general passed Juan's letter to the adjutant, who dutifully read it aloud. The letter was addressed to the captain-general of the galleon fleet of 1634, and began by describing all that Juan had seen with his own eyes and heard with his own ears: the state of the fortifications of Manila, the coming of the Japanese embassy, the arrival of the Portuguese galetas, the suspicious fire, and his last patrol beyond the walls. And then he spoke of what he had learned from Mingyu and others later on: that the galetas had disgorged Japanese and Dutch troops and siege equipment, that they had joined with more ships in an assault on Manila, and that the city was simultaneously attacked from within, presumably by the supposed embassy. And that this in turn had led first to the successful storming of the main gate and then, after threats were made against the civilian population, to the surrender of the final redoubt, the Fort of Santiago. Juan also wrote about his Chinese connection and his intent to ask for Admiral Zheng's aid. Finally, he humbly offered his assessment of the new military situation.

  When the adjutant finished this recitation, the captain-general snarled, "So, Manila fell because the governor-general was so greedy for the Japanese trade that he permitted this embassy to remain within his walls after dark. And because he didn't inspect the Trojan Horse, these galetas."

  Captain Atondo nodded. "It appears that he must share responsibility with the commander of Fort Santiago. Lieutenant Cardona reported that the walls were in a ruinous condition and the moat mostly filled in."

  "What a mess," said the Master of the Silver.

  Mendoza had not finished his diatribe. "It's a pity the governor-general is a Dutch prisoner, as I would like to take him back to Madrid in chains."

  Atondo didn't respond directly. Either he agreed with the sentiment, or he thought it imprudent to disagree.