'Você fala o português?' the priest asked Jack.
The priest knelt on the floor in front of Masamoto, who now sat on a
raised platform in the main room of the house.
'Parlez-vous français?'
The priest, with hard glassy eyes and greasy thinning hair, wore the
distinctive buttonless cassock and cape of a Portuguese Jesuit. He had been
summoned to translate for Masamoto and studied Jack distrustfully.
'Habla español? Do you speak English?' he asked in frustration.
'Falo um pouco. Oui, un petit peu. Sí, un poco,' Jack replied fluently.
'But I prefer my own tongue, English. My mother was a teacher, always
getting me to learn different languages. Even yours…'
'Cursed child! You'd be wise not to make more of an enemy of me than
you already are. You're clearly the offspring of a heretic and not welcome
on these shores –'
He gave a sharp rasping cough and wiped dark-yellow spittle from his
lips with a handkerchief.
And you're clearly sick, thought Jack.
'The only reason you're still alive,' he continued, 'is that you're a child.'
Jack had already thought he was as good as dead when Masamoto had
stood over him on the beach. But the samurai had merely ordered him to
accompany him and his samurai back to the mainland where Hiroko was
waiting to escort them up to the house.
'Doushita? Kare wa doko kara kitanoda?' asked Masamoto.
His shoulder wound having been dressed, the samurai had changed into a
crisp sky-blue kimono patterned with white maple leaves. He sipped
placidly from a cup of sencha. Jack could not believe this was the same
man who barely hours before had been fighting for his life.
He was now flanked by two armed samurai. To his left knelt Akiko and
next to her was the boy she had been talking with prior to Masamoto's duel.
From the moment Jack had entered the room, the boy had glowered at him
with a look that was both detached and threatening as a thundercloud.
'Sumimasen, Masamoto-sama,' apologized the priest, tucking his
handkerchief away.
The priest, who knelt on the floor close to Jack, bowed with considerable
deference to Masamoto, the dark wooden cross that hung from his neck
gracing the tatami-covered floor as he did so.
'His lordship Masamoto Takeshi wants to know who you are, where you
are from and how you come to be here,' he said, turning to Jack.
Jack felt he was on trial. He had been summoned into the room only to be
confronted by this mean-spirited Jesuit priest. His father had cautioned him
against such men. The Portuguese, like the Spanish, had been at war with
England for nearly twenty years, and while the conflict was now officially
over, the two nations still harboured great animosity towards one another.
And the Jesuit Catholics remained the worst of England's enemies. Jack,
being an English Protestant, was in serious trouble.
'My name is Jack Fletcher. I'm from England. I arrived on-board a trader
ship –'
'Inconceivable, there are no Englanders in these waters. You're a pirate,
so don't waste my time, or his Lordship's, with lies. I've not been brought
here to translate your deceit.'
'Douka shimashita ka?' interjected Masamoto.
'Nani no nai, Masamoto-sama…' replied the priest, but Masamoto
immediately cut him off with what sounded to Jack like an order.
'Moushiwake arimasen, Masamoto-sama,' apologized the priest more
emphatically and bowed, coughing harshly into his handkerchief again. He
turned back to Jack and continued. 'Boy, I ask you again, how did you
come to be here? And by the Blood of Christ, you had better speak true!'
'I've just told you. I arrived here on the Alexandria, part of a trading fleet
for the Dutch East India Company. My father was the Pilot. We'd been
sailing for nearly two years to get to the Japans…'
The priest translated as Jack spoke, before interjecting 'By what route did
you sail?'
'South, through Magellan's Pass –'
'Impossible. Magellan's Pass is secret.'
'My father knew.'
'Only we, the Portuguese, the Righteous, possess safe passage,'
countered the priest indignantly. 'It's well-protected against Protestant
heretics like your father.'
'Your warships were no match for my father. He outran them in a day,'
said Jack, a fiery sense of pride filling him as the priest begrudgingly
informed Masamoto of this Portuguese humiliation.
Jack studied the priest distrustfully. 'Who are you anyway?'
'I am Father Lucius, a brother of the Society of Jesus, the protectorate of
the Catholic Church and their sole missionary here in the port of Toba,'
replied the priest fervently, making the sign of the cross upon his chest then
kissing the wooden talisman that hung from his neck. 'I report to God and
my superior, Father Diego Bobadilla, in Osaka. I am his eyes and ears here.'
'So what position does this samurai hold?' asked Jack, nodding his head
towards Masamoto, 'And if you're so important why do you bow to him?'
'Boy, I'd be more prudent with your words in future – if you want to live.
The samurai demand respect.'
Bowing low again, the priest continued. 'This is Masamoto Takeshi, Lord
of Shima and right-hand man to Takatomi Hideaki, daimyo of Kyoto
province –'
'What's a daimyo?' interrupted Jack.
'A feudal lord. He rules this whole province on behalf of the Emperor.
The samurai, including Masamoto here, are his vassals.'
'Vassals?… Do you mean slaves?'
'No, the peasants, the villagers you've seen, are more akin to slaves. The
samurai are members of the warrior caste, much like your knights of old,
but considerably more skilled. Masamoto here is an expert swordmaster,
undefeated. He is also the man responsible for plucking you, half-drowned,
from the ocean and fixing your broken arm, so show him due deference!'
Jack was astonished. He knew such medical skill was unheard of in
England. A broken limb at sea meant a slow agonizing death from gangrene
or else a painful and risky amputation. He was indeed extremely fortunate
to have met Masamoto.
'Please can you thank him for saving my life?'
'You can do it yourself. Arigatō means "thank you" in Japanese.'
'Arigatō,' repeated Jack, pointing at his broken arm, then bowing as low
as his arm would allow. This appeared to please Masamoto, who
acknowledged the respect shown with a curt nod of his head.
'So is this Masamoto's house?'
'No, this is his sister's, Hiroko. She lives here with her daughter Akiko.'
The priest started coughing violently once more and it took a moment for
him to recover. 'Enough of your questions, boy! Where's the rest of your
crew?'
'Dead.'
'Dead? All of them? I don't believe you!'
'A storm drove us off-course. We were forced to shelter in a cove, but a
reef hulled the Alexandria. We had to make repairs, but were attacked by…
I'm not sure… shadows.'
As the priest translated Jack's story, Masamoto's interest piqued.
'Describe these shadows,' asked Father Lucius for Masamoto.
'They were men, I think… dressed in black. I could only see their eyes.
They had swords, chains, throwing knives… my father thought they were
wako.'
'Ninja,' breathed Masamoto.
'Whatever they were, one of them killed my father,' said Jack, his voice
taut with emotion, the memory of the night rising up like fire in his chest.
'It was a ninja with a green eye!'
Masamoto leant forward, tense and clearly disturbed by Father Lucius's
translation of Jack's outburst.
'Repeat exactly what you just said,' demanded Father Lucius on behalf
of Masamoto.
The image of the ninja's hooded face and his father's death replayed in
Jack's head. He swallowed hard before continuing, 'The ninja who
murdered my father had one eye. Green like snakeskin. I'll never forget it.'
'Dokugan Ryu,' spat Masamoto, as if he had swallowed poison.
The samurai guards visibly stiffened at his words. The black-haired boy's
face flashed with fear and Akiko turned to Jack, her eyes full of pity.
'Doku-what?' asked Jack, not understanding what Masamoto had said.
'Dokugan Ryu. It means "Dragon Eye",' explained Father Lucius.
'Dokugan Ryu was the ninja responsible for murdering Masamoto's first
son, Tenno, two years ago. Masamoto-sama had foiled an assassination
attempt on his daimyo and was hunting down those responsible. Dokugan
Ryu was sent to kill his son as a warning to stop his search. The ninja has
not been sighted since.'
Masamoto spoke gravely to Father Lucius.
'Masamoto wants to know the whereabouts of the rest of your family.
What of your mother? Was she on board?'
'No, she died when I was ten. Pneumonia.' Jack looked meaningfully at
Father Lucius, recognizing the priest's symptoms for what they were. 'My
father left my little sister, Jess, in the care of a neighbour, Mrs Winters, but
she was too old and didn't have enough room to look after both of us.
That's why I was on the ship. I was old enough to work, so my father got
me a job on board the Alexandria as a rigging monkey.'
'You have suffered greatly. I am truly sorry for the death of your mother.
And of your father,' said Father Lucius, with apparent sincerity.
He then recounted Jack's history to Masamoto, who listened solemnly.
Masamoto poured himself some more sencha. He studied the cup before
sipping slowly at its contents.
No one broke the silence.
Masamoto put down the cup and addressed the room. As he spoke, the
colour drained from the priest's face and Akiko's eyes visibly widened in
astonishment. Jack saw that the black-haired boy had turned rigid as stone,
his thunderous expression darkening with barely contained malice.
With a slight tremor to his voice, Father Lucius translated.
'Masamoto-sama has deemed that you, Jack Fletcher, are to be taken
under his care until you are "of age". This being the second anniversary of
his son's death, he believes you to be a "gift from the gods". You have
suffered under the same hand of Dokugan Ryu. You are therefore to take
Tenno's place by Masamoto's side and shall henceforth be treated as one of
his own.'
Jack was stunned. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the idea of
being adopted by a samurai lord. But before he had a chance to respond,
Masamoto had summoned Taka-san into the room. Taka-san was carrying a
package bound in a hessian cloth, which he laid at Jack's feet.
Masamoto addressed Jack, Father Lucius translating as he spoke.
'Masamoto-sama found you clutching this to your person when he pulled
you from the sea. Now you are recovered, he is returning your rightful
possessions.'
Masamoto signed for Jack to unwrap the rectangular object. Jack tugged
at the binding and the cloth fell away to reveal a dark oilskinned parcel. The
entire room watched with mounting interest. Father Lucius edged closer.
Jack knew exactly what it was without removing the oilskin. It was his
father's rutter.
The room swirled around him and out of nowhere Jack could see his
father's face. He lay dying on the deck, blood bubbling from his lips. His
head lolled to one side, his eyes meeting his.
'Jack… the rutter… get it… home… it will get you home…'
Then his final breath…
'Jack? Are you all right?' asked Father Lucius, bringing Jack back to his
senses.
'Yes,' said Jack, quickly gathering his wits. 'I'm just upset. This was my
father's.'
'I understand. These are your father's charts perhaps?' said Father Lucius
nonchalantly, but all the while his glassy eyes coveted the oilskin-covered
object.
'No… no… It's my father's diary,' lied Jack, snatching up the rutter.
Father Lucius appeared unconvinced, but let it pass.
With the presentation of the book done, Masamoto had clearly decided
the meeting was over and stood. Everyone bowed as he spoke.
'Masamoto-sama has ordered that you rest,' translated the priest. 'He will
meet with you again tomorrow.'
Everyone bowed again and Masamoto swept from the room, swiftly
followed by his two guards and the moody black-haired boy.
Father Lucius got up to leave too, but broke into a coughing fit that
rattled his lungs. As the fit subsided, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
He turned on Jack.
'A pox on you and your heretic ship! It's brought an ill wind – I've been
struck down ever since you landed upon these shores,' he croaked, holding
on to the shoji for support.
He looked Jack in the eye.
'A word of warning, Jack Fletcher. Never forget your saviour is a
samurai. The samurai are a gifted but utterly ruthless people. Step out of
line and he'll cut you into eight pieces.'