“I hear a ‘but.’”
“But I think we can defend the homeland better by exiling the kirishitan, rather than killing them. Exile them far away, to a place where, in the defense of their new homes, they would be an obstacle to the expansion of the Southern Barbarians, rather than a threat to Nippon.”
Iemitsu thought about this. Exile was a classic Japanese punishment. Depending on the severity of the offense, and the offender’s connections, a criminal might be forbidden to enter Edo, banned from coming within twenty-five ri of Edo, or exiled to some remote and uncomfortable island. Iemitsu’s grandfather Ieyasu had sent Ukita Hideie, the daimyo of Mimasaka, and one of the Five Elders of the defeated Toyotomi faction, into perpetual exile on Hachijo, an island guarded by the dangerous currents of the Kuro Shio, the Black Tide. He would have been beheaded if he had not been the husband of a Maeda and the friend of Lord Shimazu.
“Are you sure that the bakufu won’t see such a pronouncement as a sign of weakness?”
“Not if properly presented, as a veiled attack on the Spanish domains. We will of course either occupy Hara castle with a strong force, from a domain known for anti-Christian sentiments, or pull it down altogether.” Hara was the castle where the Christian rebels, in the Shimabara rebellion, had made their last stand. “We can concentrate the kirishitan, or most of them at least, on an island, where we can keep them isolated until we are ready to transport them. And we should remove Matsukura from office, since it was his stupidity that triggered the rebellion.”
Iemitsu closed his eyes for a moment. “I will appoint Abe Tadaaki—don’t look surprised, I know that you and he are thick as thieves, lately!—to supervise the operation. With the understanding that it is a temporary appointment, that I want him back in Edo as soon as it is completed.
“Once the kirishitan are gone, we can open the Shimabara pensinsula to peasants from the more crowded of the other domains. And we can leave the daimyo guessing as to who will get rulership over it. They’ll be intriguing against each other, instead of against me.”
Tadakatsu smiled slightly. It was becoming Iemitsu’s idea, which was a good thing indeed.
But Iemitsu’s next remark made it clear that he wasn’t completely convinced. “Still . . . the Spanish, they keep sneaking in missionaries. Even if we completely replace the population of Shimabara, the problem will be back in another generation or two.”
Tadakatsu clapped his hands together. “Let us again use one problem to solve another. The ronin are restive, that is why some were recruited into the rebellion. So give the ronin something to do that will bring them back into service, and will also solve the missionary problem.”
“Ah. Manila.”
“Toyotomi Hideyoshi asserted sovereignty over the Philippines almost four cycles ago. And four years ago, you . . . um . . . ‘encouraged’ Matsukura Shigemasa’s plan to attack Manila.” Shigemasa was Katsuie’s father, and a warrior who had distinguished himself at the battle of Sekigahara and the siege of Osaka Castle. “Without actually promising to give him the one-hundred-thousand koku fief he wanted.”
“Ah, poor Shigemasa. He died that very year.”
“Not before obtaining Dutch support. Maps. Espionage reports on the Spanish garrison. Offers of cannon, troopships, and warships. I daresay the Dutch would still be . . . cooperative.”
“I must think about it. Is it better to move against Manila before we deal with the kirishitan here, or only after they are in exile? Do we trust the Dutch, or wait until we can build a fighting fleet of our own?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “How many kirishitan do you think there are?”
“Two to four tens of thousands, according to the up-timers’ encyclopedias.”
Iemitsu frowned. “That many? We don’t have many ocean-going ships. Do we have enough?”
“The Dutch and the Chinese have more. But even if we hired their vessels, we will have to transport the kirishitan in shifts, since otherwise there will be too many of them for the new land to support. A few thousand each year, over a twelve-year cycle.”
“Too long.”
Tadakatsu bowed. “I will speak to the shipbuilders.”
“Ask the Dutch for help if you must,” said Iemitsu.
“Let me show you where we might send the kirishitan, on the up-time globe the Dutch gave you.” Tadakatsu turned the sphere, and jabbed down his finger. “Here is Nippon.” He moved it lightly over the surface of the globe, following the ocean currents marked upon it. “And here, I propose, is New Nippon, the place of exile.”