Several of the faces gawked back at Yasuke in wonder, a look he’d seen before in China that went beyond admiration of his size and obvious martial skills. It was his skin color. Those who’d never seen anybody like him; those openly wondering if—from his color alone—he were truly human or some form of god or devil. Many locals had already made their judgment: from his skin color and pure white turban, they assumed erroneously Yasuke must surely come from the land of the black gods: Tenjiku. India. How wrong they were.
Yasuke made sure to make eye contact with possible threats on the beach, to promise them he was watching. Yet, after the bustle of previous landfalls in Melaka and Macao in southern China, this appeared to be nothing but a quiet fishing village. He breathed deeply. It felt good to be back on dry land so soon. This trip had been only three weeks long, but there was no denying the comfort that came from again standing on solid earth.
Lord Arima, accompanied by two European missionaries—Francisco Cabral, the local mission superior, and Father Fróis—advanced to help Valignano ashore.
Valignano remained in the prow of the boat as Lord Arima approached, and the Jesuit lifted his hands and gave another blessing to the awed crowd, interrupted only by the murmur of low surf and dragging shingle. Arima helped Valignano down, and the tableau of a petite twelve-year-old aiding the unusually tall missionary added further to the spectacle and strangeness of this historic meeting. All the actions were carefully staged to preserve each side’s honor and show the highest degree of respect, friendship and fealty. Courtesy is the ornament of Japan, and this day it was on full display.
The singing had resumed, and the mission superior, Cabral, knelt in the sand to kiss Valignano’s ring. Yasuke had repositioned himself so he was directly behind Valignano, the ocean to their backs, seeing everything from Valignano’s viewpoint; possible holes in the local security, potential escape paths. Throughout the proceedings, Valignano spoke Portuguese and Father Fróis rendered his words into Japanese. Fróis was a Portuguese man who’d, in sixteen years in Japan, mastered the local language, despite enjoying little support from his superior, Cabral, who held that Europeans should not, and could not, learn the outlandish Japanese tongue.
Cabral proved to be as Yasuke had heard. A fifty-year-old Portuguese man and mission superior since 1570, he was a red-faced and notoriously short-tempered man; his brow and cheeks a little redder, perhaps, as Father Fróis managed the greetings between Valignano and the Japanese lord while Cabral stood mute. As the interpreting continued, Yasuke stifled a knowing smile; that Valignano had come to remove Cabral from his duties was news only to Cabral. He would be informed later when it became most opportune for the Visitor to do so.
The entire Jesuit party moved from the shoreline to the nearby tents for further arranged niceties. As they began walking, however, the gathered crowd of villagers shifted forward, wanting a closer look, perhaps to even touch a banner or one of the missionaries’ cloaks.
Yasuke stepped closer to Valignano, eyeing the Japanese villagers for anything more than curiosity as Arima’s soldiers advanced on the crowd, shouting in warning. Yasuke did not yet know Japanese and prepared for the worst, assuming treachery from the guards themselves, gently placing his hand close to Valignano’s back to shift him one way or the other depending on what happened next. They pressed on to the waiting tents.
There, after another round of greetings and an exchange of gifts, the day’s agenda and security matters were addressed. The immediate area was safe for now, and Arima would provide a skeleton guard for the priests along with a number of extra servants, reflecting the increased status of the mission personnel. More than that, however, the hosting Japanese lord could not offer. He was at constant war with the neighboring Ryūzōji clan (who were anti-Catholic and surrounded him now on all sides) and had a siege to attend to; but if at all possible, he assured them gravely in his high-pitched boy’s voice, he would do more in the future.
The next stop followed a short walk to the mission building, where the entire Jesuit party would be served a modest banquet of European-style food. Arima would not join them this time, but would host Valignano in his castle at a later date when it was safe to do so. As soon as possible, he assured, as matters of great significance were to be discussed: plans and promises, both men believed, to last centuries.
A stirring of disquiet ran through the crowd while villagers at the fringes of the celebrations pressed closer again, struggling for a better look before the exotic foreigners moved on despite fresh warnings from the Arima guards.
The arrival of Valignano and the Jesuits was the most important thing to happen to the region in at least a century. But, as the Jesuit party prepared to leave the beach, it became clear—whispers in the crowd, pointing, open gawking even—that the gathering’s attention had refocused.
For as tall and powerful and legendary as Valignano was, this other man—the priest’s bodyguard—was taller than the Jesuit by a head or more, and, if that were not enough, physically built like something out of myth. (These common people had been raised on fish, roots, seaweed and rough grains.) But, it was not only the warrior’s size that captured their attention. Or his unusually dark skin, for most around this port town had seen African and Indian sailors before. It was something else. Something neither they, nor he, could yet explain.
Some had come to see the colossal foreign ship.
Most to see the almightiest Catholic in all of Asia.
But everyone was looking at Yasuke.
Chapter Two
Only the Grace of God
For Valignano, as Yasuke had learned during the last two years, divine grace was never slow. They began working their very first day in Japan. The Jesuit was a champion of the notion that God makes, but only man shapes. Having barely eaten, and still drained from the voyage, Valignano had set to the business of saving Japanese souls.
Following the warm audience with Arima, they’d proceeded quickly to the mission building, a small converted temple set back from the road and enclosed by a wide grey ceramic tile–topped wall. The temple was wooden, blackened with age, and roofed with slim wood shingles. Plum trees grew in the adjoining courtyard, where a ceramic incense burner sat empty. All other Buddhist decor had been removed years before. Now, a large wooden cross formed the backdrop to the main hall. Before it stood the altar on which rested a lone, empty candelabra. (The church had run out of European wax candles months before.) Curtained alcoves lined the wall behind, each containing a devotional picture to be revealed during holy days, special festivals, and as a reward for those ready to progress to the higher mysteries.
Mission business took place in a simple chamber adjoining this place of worship. There, Yasuke collected his land legs and stood guard several feet away from Valignano while the Jesuits ate and talked and Japanese servants bustled about them silently like late-afternoon shadows.
The Jesuits enjoyed a modest feast made from locally assembled ingredients: wild fowl, cooked fish, vegetables, some rough bread. They paired it with one imported essential from further west—European wine. Ordinarily, such spirits were conserved for communion or given as gifts to local dignitaries and the Jesuits would drink the local rice wine, sake. But, today was a special occasion: the arrival of the Pope’s personal representative at the most distant outpost of Catholic Christianity.
* * *
The “Visitor to the Indies,” Alessandro Valignano, was a nobleman born in the city of Chieti, in the Kingdom of Naples. (A Spanish territory at the time, but wholly “Italian” still in taste and temperament.) Having received his doctorate in law from the University of Padua at only eighteen, he’d then entered the Church, rising quickly until a personal scandal—he slashed a woman’s face with a sword for reasons which were hushed up—cost him more than a year in prison. His time in jail apparently gave him some opportunity for reflection. Shortly after his release, in March 1566, Valignano joined
the Jesuits, a new and rather militant—as many of the brethren were former soldiers, and not shy about using force when necessary—Catholic missionary order.
Seventeenth century engraving of Alessandro Valignano.
Courtesy of Marquette University.
The Jesuit’s founder, Saint Ignatius of Loyola—who’d died twenty years before Valignano’s voyage to Japan—had been a Spanish soldier-turned-mystic and perhaps the only saint with a notarized police record: for nighttime brawling with intent to cause bodily harm. (Like Valignano, this came before his conversion to missionary Catholicism.) Over the course of the next two centuries, Ignatius’s new order swept across the world, spreading Catholic Christianity in whatever way necessary—on occasion even attempting to create entirely new state-like entities or colonies under its rule, especially in Brazil and Paraguay where they often organized the native people against European colonists and slave dealers. But first came the gifts, schools, charity work and the peaceful teachings and assurances of Christ’s deliverance. One Jesuit forefather described their typical game plan: “We came in like lambs and will rule like wolves.”
Consequently, with the conversions, over time the Jesuits were also expelled from at least eighty countries and cities, for engaging in political intrigue, infiltration and subversive plots of insurrection against host governments. Two centuries after Valignano and Yasuke, Napoleon would conclude, “The Jesuits are a military organization, not a religious order.”
Valignano’s criminal record evidently did not hinder his career with the Jesuits, or perhaps his brilliant mind and energetic Catholicism redeemed him in the eyes of his new superiors. He had a flair for dramatic spectacle (as evidenced by the hiring of Yasuke), and did not mind sticking his neck out or taking a chance to get big ideas done. He’d ruffled feathers in India and Macao by insisting European missionaries learn local languages, and—ignoring derision and protests from his Jesuit brethren—laid the foundations for the first Western attempts to academically study Chinese languages and culture.
By the age of thirty, in 1570, he was ordained. And, a mere three years later, after a stint as the rector of the College of Macerata, Valignano received one of the highest appointments a Jesuit could receive: “Visitor to the Indies.”
The “Indies” meant all the territory between East Africa and Japan; one third of the Earth. As Visitor, Valignano now oversaw all Jesuit finances, business, trade, church law, mission policy and diplomacy in Asia. Wherever Valignano sat was the head of the table. He had the authority to admit and dismiss Jesuits, to appoint and discharge local superiors (the priest charged with leading a local mission), and to send any member of the order wherever he pleased. In theory, only the Jesuit Superior General or the Pope, both in Rome, could overrule his decisions. And, since any communication with such authority figures took several years to be delivered and answered, it meant he could do as he pleased. A “hindrance” that satisfied both sides, allowing Valignano to get things done with full deniability still possible for the Vatican.
Valignano’s faith was deep, and his self-confidence in his own abilities to spread the influence of Rome in Asia was unshakable. As an aristocratic legal scholar with a deep understanding of theology, he ran his operations with authority and decisiveness. He had absolutely no doubt about the rightness of what he was doing, entrusting that nothing—no matter how unsavory during the process—ever ends ill which began in God’s name. He was exactly the kind of man the Jesuits sought.
Still, his judgments about other people could be scathing, and his attitude toward the “lower” classes was dismissive at best. (One of the most prolific writers of his age—thousands of letters, books and logs—Valignano does not mention Yasuke, or any other attendant, once in his writings.) The commoners he introduced to Christ were not really his concern beyond being soul fodder, quantitative proof he was succeeding in his job. He was a patrician and expected to move among similarly exalted people wherever he was in the world. If the rulers and upper classes could be persuaded of the correctness of the Catholic God, then any other riffraff would soon follow their example. He went about this proactively and was often willing to turn a blind eye to, or even support, activities such as gunrunning, slave trading and other questionable practices, if it would ultimately help him save more souls.
Having inspected the Jesuit missions in Mozambique, India, Melaka and Macao in China, this single-minded, class-conscious, innovative, highly ambitious and genuinely devout man had finally brought his vocation to Japan.
* * *
During their celebratory meal, the Mission Superior Cabral’s briefing was mixed. Reports on individual Jesuits maintained that most were doing their jobs well. Numbers of converts had reached one hundred thousand, often through mass baptisms of regional lords and thousands of their vassals, rather than individuals personally accepting Jesus as their savior. Thus, a vast majority of new “converts” had no true idea what they’d been sworn into or had even a basic understanding of Christian doctrine or faith. Often, unfortunately, even the priests and brothers themselves could not read Latin well, and shared scripture and ceremony from memory only.
There was also disquiet among the Japanese lay brethren who were pushing to be admitted as full members of the Jesuits rather than having their low rank decided by race alone. Cabral remained wholly opposed to the idea. It was bad enough, he argued, to have mixed-heritage Indian/Portuguese men, and “new Christians” (former Jews or Muslims) from Europe, without now allowing Japanese locals to get “above their station” too; a racist outlook quite common in this age.
The state of the missionary infrastructure, however, was improving, as reasonably safe bases had been established in Nagasaki and several other secure locations under Japanese patronage. There were, though, no defenses and transport was largely contracted out to locals. Thus, the Jesuits were almost completely at the mercy of the local Japanese lords who supported them.
While the Jesuits’ discussion provided insights into the overall political landscape and helped Yasuke better understand the security situation, he had other, more immediate, concerns. He did not know the layout of the entire building yet, or the remaining areas of the port town. He preferred to have time to check doors, to learn the ins and outs of all the surrounding buildings, to inspect the kitchen and utensils. Worries of poison and secret passages that could be exploited by would-be assassins were very real. What perplexed him most was the sheer flimsiness of the buildings. They looked beautiful, but the wood was wafer thin and the doors and shutters were made of white paper on a simple wooden frame. Paper! Ideal to let light into the rooms, yet not translucent and far too easy for an enemy to simply walk through. For a man trained to identify and resolve weak points of entry, this was ludicrous. Further, Yasuke did not yet know the language, setting or supporting cast. All he could bring to the table until he did was his size, skill and vigilance. He hoped it would be enough.
Yasuke’s concerns about the buildings around them were quickly eclipsed by the next turn of Valignano’s conversation: plans to again see the boy lord, Arima—but this time in Arima’s own castle. A stronghold currently under siege by his deadly enemy, Lord Ryūzōji, who specifically despised the Catholics. It was folly to even discuss. Yet, discuss it Valignano did.
If Arima had sneaked though the siege to welcome his distant visitor and get home again, surely Valignano could, likewise, reach Arima. A couple of local guides and soldiers would spirit them inland, over the river and through the mountain trails which formed the backdrop to the Japanese lord’s castle. What choice did they have? After all, the Jesuits could not convert the rest of Japan while hiding in some remote fishing village. They needed to press ahead regardless of the danger and, God willing, live to proselytize the Catholic faith. Death was a constant companion in this age, whether at the hands of an assassin’s blade, disease or from everyday threats such as an infected cut. It was not an age for the ti
mid.
* * *
Days later, Yasuke was on another damned boat. They journeyed up the coast in the middle of the night, navigating toward Arima and the young lord’s Hinoe Castle. After their landing, they’d head into territory surrounded on all sides by troops who were expressly, even fanatically, anti-Catholic. If captured, they would face torture and probably death. It was only their first week in Japan.
A sampan boat similar to the type used for coastal travel. Photographed and touched up with paint in the nineteenth century.
They traveled the seven miles in a tiny sampan boat, no more than a fishing craft, timing their arrival for the predawn hours hoping to avoid enemy discovery ashore or being intercepted at sea. The oarsman stood at the rear of the boat, handling the one huge oar. Valignano and a Japanese acolyte who’d accompanied him to interpret huddled under a primitive shelter. Yasuke stood guard. While he’d do his best to make sure everything went smoothly, too much of the day was out of his hands. All he could do now was safeguard against a pitch-black, barely visible shoreline. While he watched, whispered conversation slipped from beneath the small boat’s awning. Valignano was taking the opportunity alone with a Portuguese-speaking Japanese person who he could communicate easily with, trying to gauge the mood and attitude of the local man who so dearly wanted to enter into the Catholic order.
After the short boat ride, they landed on a pebbly beach miles from any port. There, several of Arima’s soldiers waited and then sneaked Valignano, with Yasuke and the interpreter, silently up into the damp, fragrant, semitropical forests of southern Japan. Along steep back trails into the mountains, then down to a river which they forded, and then up a mountain again on the other side. The darkness was filled with the universal sounds of unfamiliar birds, scratching rodents and unseen creatures of good size moving deep in the nighttime. Whether they were wolves, monkeys, bears or boar, Yasuke could not tell, but he much preferred such sounds to the slosh of water and creaking wood. He was on his guard. Enemy soldiers probably scouted the surrounding woods, and though he was prepared to fight to the death, he knew that only the abilities of Arima’s warriors—men they did not yet know or entirely trust—would save them all from capture and a grisly end. Or would they fade into the forest at the slightest sign of danger?
Yasuke: In Search of the African Samurai Page 3
