Grantville Gazette, Volume 72 Read online

  As a boat captain, rather than a mere hand, Luis had a house of his own. It was just one story, and made of whitewashed mud-brick covered with red roof tiles, but at least it wasn't a mere hut, or shared with other families. This being Andalusia, it was square, with a central patio, which all of the rooms opened onto. A good part of the patio was devoted to his wife's vegetable garden, where she grew artichokes and asparagus.

  Luis was carrying one prize specimen, a large swordfish, that he had saved for his family. His wife looked up when he came in the door of their common room.

  "Hello, I have brought dinner home for us, and I have coin, too. Our son has gone off with his friends, so we will eat without him."

  She came over and hugged him, "Welcome home. I will fry that up."

  ****

  As she prepared their meal, Luis relaxed in his chair. The walls of their common room were adorned, like any Spanish home, with crosses and religious pictures. Only a discerning eye would notice that several of these came from far away—from Madrid, from Genoa, even from Rome and Mexico City. They were, in fact, souvenirs of his travels.

  The village of Coria del Rio was home mostly to farmers and fishermen. Most of the farmers had never even gone as far as Seville. Most of the fishermen lived off the river, not the sea.

  But Luis—Luis do Japon—had crossed two oceans. Two decades ago, he had gone by the name of Kinzo. He had been a samurai, a retainer of the great daimyo Date Masamune. Date Masamune had given sanctuary to the Franciscan friar Luis Sotelo. Kinzo had been one of the Date clan samurai converted by Sotelo, and had taken the Christian name "Luis" in his honor. And Sotelo had taught Luis Latin and Spanish.

  Consequently, Luis do Japon had been chosen to be a member of the honor guard of Date Masamune's emissary to Spain and the Pope, Hasekura Rokuemon Tsunenaga. The Hasekura embassy arrived in Seville in October 1614, and went on to visit Madrid, Rome, and many other cities. But by the time they returned to Seville in 1616, grim news had arrived from the Far East: In January 1614, all Christian missionaries were ordered to leave the "country of the kamis and the buddhas," and it was made illegal for a samurai to be a Christian.

  In 1617, the news was no better, but Lord Hasekura decided that it would be better to wait in Manila, close to home, than in Seville. He sailed west, but Luis was one of six Japanese who Hasekura ordered to stay in Spain, and "behave as good Catholics."

  Friar Sotelo was ordered to return to New Spain. Friar Sotelo's brother, Don Diego de Cabrera, had wine and oil warehouses in Coria del Rio so, needing to settle the six Japanese somewhere, the friar arranged lodgings for them there, where his brother could keep an eye on them.

  De Cabrera warned them that the authorities looked with suspicion on long-term foreign residents who were not married to Spanish women, and they took the hint. Luis married, and now had a teenage son and daughter.

  If his wife's family had hoped that by this marriage connection, they might eventually profit from Spanish trade with Japan, those hopes had not been realized. In 1624, the Shogun banned the Spanish, because the merchants smuggled in missionaries. There was still trade between Macao and Nagasaki, but that was controlled by the Portuguese. And of course, his family would have nothing to do with the Dutch heretics.

  Nonetheless, the marriage had prospered, and some of his wife's relatives were now merchants in Seville, with small investments in the flota trade. And Luis visited them when he had business in the city.

  ****

  Early 1635

  Triana suburb, Seville

  As Luis do Japon walked along La Calle Larga, the main street of the Triana district, he became conscious that something was wrong. People stopped speaking as he approached, drew away as he came nigh, stared at him as he passed. One even made a sign to avert the evil eye.

  Like every Spanish townsman, he walked the streets armed with a sword and knife. Unlike them, he carried the two swords of his former samurai rank, the katana and the shorter wakizashi, as well as a tanto, a dagger.

  He surreptitiously made sure that they were all loose in their scabbards, and continued on, his head turning subtly back and forth to make sure that no one was following him with ill intent.

  A fraction of his attention went to trying to decipher the reason for the hostility, as it might tell him who to be wary of. Did the fishermen of the Triana resent the intrusion of one from Coria del Rio? If so, it was vexing; he wasn't even here to sell fish, but rather to get supplies that were available more cheaply in Seville than anywhere else.

  A roof tile whizzed past his head. He dove into a stall, shouldered past those standing inside, and went out the back.

  Luis remembered that one of his wife's brothers lived a couple of streets over, closer than the chandler that was his original destination. He went there quickly and cautiously and knocked on the door.

  "Who is it?" came a voice.

  "Your brother-in-law, Luis. Let me in, in the name of God."

  There was a pause.

  "Hurry!" Luis demanded.

  The door opened. Juan Cardozo scowled at him. "I hope you have not brought trouble to this door."

  "The longer you leave me standing out here, the more likely that is to happen," said Luis.

  "Well, get in here, quick!"

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Luis told Juan what had happened, and then asked, "So what grievance do the Sevillians have against fishermen from Coria?"

  "It has nothing to do with Coria, and everything to do with you being Japanese. You haven't heard?"

  "Heard what?"

  "Word only just hit the streets, but a year ago, a horde of your people sacked Manila, and killed every Spaniard in the city. A "president's eyes only" correo came from Veracruz to the House of Trade this past week, on an aviso that sailed the Atlantic out of season, so of course many were curious. The House of Trade must have tried to keep it secret, but well . . ." He shrugged. "'The crew of the aviso knew all about it. So soon the wenches in the taverns and brothels also knew. By now, it is all over the Triana."

  "How could Japan have attacked Manila?" asked Luis. "Manila is hundreds of miles from Japan, and we don't have siege artillery. Or a fleet."

  Juan issued a mirthless chuckle. "Opinion in the taverns is divided as to whether the Japanese were transported there by the Dutch or by demons out of Hell."

  "Fuck!" said Luis. "So, when I walk outside, as soon as anyone sees my eyes . . ." As a full-blooded Japanese, his eyes had the characteristic epicanthic fold.

  "Yes, you have a problem. If you were a medieval knight, you could put on your helmet and lower the visor. But you'd be a bit conspicuous in the here and now."

  "That's true," said Luis. He pulled a piece of paper and some coin out of his purse.

  "These are the supplies I was supposed to pick up at the chandler we use. Can you buy them and have them delivered to my boat, on the Arenal? It's the Estrella, as I am sure you know, and we are beached in front of the Puerto de Macarena. In the meantime, I'll figure out how to get out of Seville with my skin still attached."

  "Good luck on that," said Juan. "But I'll do what I can."

  ****

  That night, a tapada, a veiled woman, left Juan's home, carrying a large bag.

  "The veil itches," said Luis.

  "It was your idea. You rejected mine," said Juan.

  "I'd rather be a woman under a veil than a corpse in a coffin," said Luis.

  "Keep your voice down," warned Juan. "In fact, don't talk at all. You're no castrato."

  As they progressed toward the Arenal, Luis fretted. His swords were hidden inside the bag, wrapped so they wouldn't clink together. But that also meant that if it came to a fight, all he had was his dagger.

  For that matter, even if his disguise weren't penetrated, there was the matter of the law. For women to cover their faces was, in the view of the authorities, a sign that they had a licentious purpose. There was a fine of 3,000 marevedis for each offense. A night watchman might impose
the fine, or at least demand a bribe to overlook it. The watchman might even insist that Luis remove the veil, in which case, well, he would need his dagger.

  Even though he was a good Catholic, Luis found himself holding his breath as he approached the castle that stood at the Triana end of the bridge of boats that crossed the Guadalquivir to Seville proper. The castle that held the offices of the Holy Inquisition.

  Despite these perils, Luis made it to the Estrella, unhindered.

  Juan leaned toward him. "Your supplies should be on board, I had them delivered this afternoon. Good luck, and stay out of sight as much as you can until things blow over." He hurried off.

  Luis hefted the bag and lowered it over the deck rail. He tried to be quiet but the bag didn't cooperate, and the deckhand sleeping on the deck stirred. He raised his head, and said, "Well, hello, young lady, come aboard and let's get to know each other better. You can even keep the veil on . . . ."

  "It's me, you idiot," whispered Luis. "Keep your voice down and take my bag."

  "Captain?" the deckhand squeaked.

  "Help me aboard. This damn dress is a bit restrictive."

  ****

  The deckhand, fortunately, was from Luis' wife's side of the family and looked perfectly Hispanic. Hence, he had not encountered any problems during the day, other than losing half his pay at gambling and spending the other half on the booze he had just been sleeping off.

  His mind had been on dice, drink, and dames, not necessarily in that order, and if anyone in his vicinity had complained about the Japanese attack, he had been oblivious to it. Now, however, he was quick enough to understand that they had a problem. Or at least Luis had a problem and was making it his problem, too.

  "What do you want me to do?" he sighed.

  "Get the boat in the water at first light. Ask for help from your neighbors."

  'Won't they wonder how I got here by myself?"

  "Tell them your skipper is sleeping off a drunk and will go into a rage if awakened prematurely. I'll be hiding under a tarp."

  ****

  The following morning, Luis felt the boat lurch. As instructed, the deckhand had gotten help hauling the boat back into the river. Luis heard him call out his thanks as he poled them out from the bank. The current took hold of the boat, and they were on their way.

  "You can come out now, Captain."

  Luis emerged slowly, shading his eyes with his hand as if the dawn light was bothering him. It was, but the main reason was to make it that much harder for anyone nearby to see the shape of his eyes.

  Fortunately, even here at Seville, the Guadalquivir River was broad enough so that with the Estrella drifting down the center, no one on the bank could tell that he was Asian. And the crews of the few boats near enough to matter were intent on their own business, not searching for Japanese.

  ****

  Luis' home, Coria del Rio

  Luis, his two fellow samurai, their adult sons, and the heirs of Luis' deceased fellow guardsmen sat on chairs in Luis' common room, sipping wine from pigskin containers.

  "My vote is to leave," said Gonzalo do Japon. "Matters are going badly for the Spanish Crown, neh? A Spanish army defeated by the heretics of Grantville. And Spanish rule over the Netherlands is in, shall we say, even more doubt than before.

  "The king will need money for more troops, but the loss of Manila means loss of revenue from at least one, maybe two, Manila galleon runs.

  "I expect that the Crown will raise taxes, which will cause . . . disgruntlement . . . here. How better to distract the populace from their new burden than to appeal to their honor, to say that it is necessary to put the Japanese in their place.

  "This is not a problem that will blow over in a week, or a month. We will be living with this for years."

  Luis nodded. "There's certainly a chance you're right. What do you propose?"

  "We can take a ship to Rome. Nowhere was our embassy more warmly welcomed than in Rome. We even had an audience with the Holy Father. And our lord was named a Senator of Rome!"

  Luis heard several coughs and indistinct murmurs from behind the screen dividing the common room. On the other side the Spanish wives and adult daughters of the ex-samurai sat on cushions, listening to the debate but not participating. Not yet, at least.

  "And are you proposing that we go to Rome with or without our families? "

  Luis heard more coughs and murmurings.

  "With them, of course," said Gonzalo hastily. "And our valuables, and perhaps some of our household goods, if they aren't too costly to transport."

  Luis snorted. "And how will we support them? I do not think that there is a shortage of fishermen in Rome. The Pope who welcomed us, Paulus Quintus, died in 1621. And his successor in 1623. We have no sure expectation of patronage from Papa Urbanus Octavus.

  "Did you think we could become translators? Our knowledge of Japanese is now rusty from disuse, and few missionaries are still sent there."

  "Our katanas, at least, are not rusty," said Gonzalo. "We could hire out as guards or teach our fighting arts."

  "And how often have you practiced your fighting skills since you settled in Coria del Rio? Back home, when I practiced iaijutsu, I would do a thousand fast draws in a row. And that would have been considered a normal iaijutsu workout. "

  Gonzalo looked sheepish. "Not daily, certainly. I thought that becoming a Spanish fisherman was like taking the tonsure and retiring from the world, or choosing to be a farmer rather than a samurai after the Separation Edict—the beginning of a 'second life,' in which martial arts were no longer central. I do kata still, but as, as a form of meditation, when I am not too tired from a day's fishing."

  "Anyway," said their fellow samurai, Juan do Japon, "there are risks just in getting to Sanlucar and finding a ship to take us to Rome, or anywhere else, for that matter."

  Gonzalo took a puff on a pipe. The Portuguese had introduced tobacco smoking to the Japanese, and the Spanish were equally addicted. "We . . . we could pool our resources, and buy a ship, and crew it ourselves. And our Spanish-born relatives can front for us until we are on the open sea."

  Luis shook his head. "Most of them have never even been through the Straits. And you think they will agree to leave Spain forever? No, we need to find a better solution. Let me talk to de Cabrera, since he settled us here in the first place. I will send word begging for him to come here, since we don't wish to chance the streets of Seville right now."

  ****

  "The great irony," said Don Diego de Cabrera, "is that however bad it may be for Spain in general, the fall of Manila will lead to the rise of Seville. The ships of the flota carry European goods from Seville to New Spain and Tierra Firme. But the galleons of the Pacific carry Chinese goods from Manila to New Spain, undercutting us. Why, the Chinese silk weavers even imitate Christian religious art!

  "The Council of Seville has repeatedly petitioned the kings of Spain to restrict, even abolish, the Manila trade. The king's order of 1593 limited the volume of the trade, required the payment of duties before the goods could be sold in New Spain, and prohibited their transshipment to Tierra Firme, but the Manila and Acapulco merchants have maliciously flouted the king's will."

  "So we should just keep our heads down, and this will all blow over soon?" asked Luis hopefully.

  De Cabrera shook his head sorrowfully. "It is bad enough when Spain is defeated by another European power, like the Swede. It cannot disregard an attack by a pagan nation. I have no doubt that some counteraction will be taken. If not seeking to recapture Manila, then perhaps a bombardment of some Japanese city."

  "Yes, yes," said Luis, "but that is a matter for princes. Spain has been at war with the Dutch heretics off and on for many years, and the Dutch were, my brother told me, the shogun's allies against Manila, yet Dutchmen have come to Seville to trade since I first came to this country. They may be watched by the Inquisition, they may be charged special fees, but if they behave themselves they have no more fear of violence in the
city than a Spaniard would. Why should one from Japan fare worse? Here in Coria, our neighbors have known us for decades. They know us to be good Catholics and loyal to Spain."

  "It is the way of the world," said de Cabrera. "You look different. The news from Manila besmirches the honor of Spain, and yet most Spaniards are impotent to address the true cause of their grief and anger. When you walk by, they see that by persecuting you, they can restore their honor. It is not your neighbors, but my neighbors, who do not know you, who you rightly fear."

  "So, should we flee to some other Catholic country?" asked Gonzalo.

  De Cabrera pondered the question. "No . . . it is a last resort. You will be able to take only a portion of your property, and selling the rest in haste, you are likely to get a poor price. The attempt at flight might be detected, and taken as an admission of guilt, that you are spies for your emperor. Or as an admission that you have reverted to paganism, and so exciting the attention of the Inquisition. Even if you safely leave Sanlucar, the crew of the ship that offers you passage might seek to take advantage of you. When the moriscos were expelled from Spain, some were robbed, raped, even murdered.

  "No, you must speak to your wives, and have them speak to their mothers and fathers, their brothers and sisters, and those in turn speak to their relations.

  "Truthfully, now. Does your parish priest think well of you?"

  "I am sure he does," said Juan. "Of the six of us who came to Corio in 1614, only three are still alive, but we have never missed a service in the twenty-odd years we have lived here, even when we have been sick or injured."

  "That is good," said de Cabrera. "I will speak to him, and see whether he might preach a sermon that will promote good will."

  ****

  The three ex-Japanese followed de Cabrera's advice, and received assurances from their relatives and neighbors that in Coria, at least, they were held blameless for the actions of their distant former countrymen.

  "Having the support of the people of Coria is gratifying," said Gonzalo, "but how can we fish on the river? Or buy or sell in Seville or Sanlucar? Close up, they'll see that we have almond eyes."