Seas of Fortune(161)

“My lord has instructed me to explain our agricultural policy to you, that you may better reassure the farmers under your jurisdiction that their petition has received a fair hearing.” Shigetsuna paused a moment to collect his thoughts. “As perhaps you know, by act of Heaven”—he declined to specify whether this was the Buddhist, Shinto or Christian Heaven—“a town of the future was brought into our world. This town, Grantville, was part of a great kingdom that stretched from this coast to the one far to our east. The town had books of great learning, called ‘encyclopedias,’ and several of these were delivered as gifts to the shogun. These books provided information on how hot and how rainy this land, which they call California, is. And they provided similar information for Japan. Even though we do not know how they measure ‘temperature’ and ‘precipitation,’ we can compare the numbers for California to those for Japan. It was clear that this ‘Monterey Bay’ that we have colonized is much drier than Japan, save for eastern Ezochi, and also has cooler summers.”

Motonori was no farmer, but he knew the rhythms of rural life, and understood the significance of these teachings. Rice was called “the child of Water.” If the land around Monterey Bay was dry, then it would have to be irrigated in order for a rice crop to be possible. But that wasn’t all. Even in Japan, the rice crop would fail if the summer was too cool. That was why there had been little effort to grow rice in Ezochi, the land of the Ainu.

“So, will rice become something that is just remembered and not eaten?”

“No, no,” said Shigetsuna. “At worst, we can pay for Japanese or Chinese rice with goods from New Nippon. But we know rice was grown in Grantville’s California, in the valleys of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers.”

“So why did we come to Monterey Bay?”

“Military considerations. The rice growing areas are well inland, we would have to deal with more Indian tribes. And those lands have gold, and thus will soon attract the Spanish.”

“Ah. I must bow in reverence to your superior knowledge of this land. However . . . I do know a bit about how our peasants think. . . . Could we perhaps authorize them to construct a small rice paddy? One near a river or marsh, so irrigating it is not a lot of work? ‘Experience is the best teacher.’”

The adviser snorted. “‘Experience is a comb which nature gives to men when they are bald,’” he quoted. “But I will pass on your suggestion.”





May 1635,

Kawa Machi/Salinas





“One should never ponder the purpose of an order,” said Hosoya Jinbei, “merely obey.” He was one of the older samurai in the settlement, and had once guarded Date Chiyo-Hime and her wet nurse. He had fought at Sekigahara.

Watari Yoshitsune, a samarai of the younger generation, scowled. “But this order . . . It is one thing to order us to attack an enemy, even if it means certain death. It is another to treat us as if we were commoners.” The samurai in Salinas had been ordered to help with the wheat harvest.

“Requiring us to help with the farming isn’t treating us as commoners. Ji-samurai did it, in the old days.”

“These are not the days of our grandfathers.”

“Happy are the samurai who have long been in service to a lord,” said Toshiro Kanesada. “In time of peace, they can study the classics and practice in the dojo. If you were a ronin, as I was until this voyage, you could have found yourself a bodyguard to a fat merchant, or worse. I have known ronin who worked as carpenters or plasterers, ronin who made lanterns and umbrellas. Even ronin who were merely bandits. A ronin would not be so quick to complain about fishing or farming . . . especially in a foreign land where one may be attacked at any time.”

“But if we help the farmers, when will we have time to practice our martial arts? When I practice iaijutsu, I make a thousand draws in a single session,” Yoshitsune protested.

“Enough talk,” said Jinbei. “It is time to help with the harvest. Yoshitsune-san, as you swing your scythe, pretend that you are cleaving a foe. Or several foes at once, if you like.”

But Hosoya Jinbei was himself more troubled than he let on. He was a senior retainer, and despite what he had said to the others, he had questioned Date Masamune about the orders.

Respecting Jinbei’s many years of faithful service, Masamune had explained his reasoning. In Japan, one in twenty Japanese was samurai. Here, in New Nippon, thanks to Date Masamune’s contingent of retainers, it was about one in five.

The colonists and the retainers had brought food with them, of course, but they had used up several months worth while on board the ships, and more after arrival. They had started fishing, hunting, and gathering of fruits, berries and nuts, soon after coming ashore, but farming was a more drawn-out process. They were still eating more than they were producing . . . And as far as food was concerned, the samurai weren’t producing at all. Date Masamune had finally decided that they had to pitch in more than just shooting the occasional deer.