“My people hope that you have enjoyed your visit.” First-to-Dance’s clear implication was, and they are looking forward to your departure. “We wish you a safe return to the Island of the Uttermost West.” In case he had missed the implication.
“Alas, those who are still here cannot return. But we look forward to helping the Ohlone, our younger brothers.” There were, in fact, some among the Ohlone who could pass, appearance-wise, for Japanese.
“Will you help us kill our enemies?” asked First-to-Dance. The Indians of central California were not especially warlike, but they did have disputes over access to hunting and fishing grounds, and there were tit-for-tat killings, too.
“If you are attacked without provocation on your part,” Masamune replied, “we will come to your aid. But if you make unprovoked war on others, we will be very angry. But have no fear, our thunder sticks will frighten away your enemies.”
First-to-Dance was silent for a time. Then she said, “Will you teach us how to make the trees that run on water?”
Masamune waved his hand in front of his nose, as if he was trying to waft away an unpleasant odor. “The time for that will come.” The Japanese ships gave them the advantage of interior lines if any of the coastal settlements were attacked by the Indians. Masamune was in no hurry to make it possible for the local Indians to conduct raids by sea. It was bad enough that the Chumash to the south and the warlike tribes of the Pacific Northwest had canoes. “But we will be happy to share with you the fish of the deep waters. And the fruits of our fields.”
“The Ohlone come to the Great Sea each year to collect mussels, abalone and snails, and fish for surfperch, and rockfish and cabezon.” She used the Indian names for these, of course; she had taught the words to Chiyo-Hime and Masamune’s scholars. “But they have not been able to do so for many moons, as they are afraid of offending the Guardians.”
“They are welcome to come; there are enough for all. Let them come to the beaches and rocks in good spirit. But they should come in twos and threes, lest they frighten away the fish and offend Ebisu, the God—excuse me, the Patron Saint—of Fishermen.” Masamune didn’t want large groups of Indians near the Japanese settlements.
First-to-Dance inclined her head. “And we will show you the hidden woods, where acorns are bounteous. And you may come there to collect them. In twos and threes, so as not to displease the Spirit of the Forest.”
Fall 1635,
Niji Masu/Watsonville
The wheat and the barley, the rye and the millet, all had grown well. The rice, well, that was another matter. The milder summer of Monterey Bay had seemed a blessing, at first; it meant that the rice plants didn’t drink as greedily as they did back home. Which was just as well, as it barely rained during the summer. They irrigated the paddies with water ponded during the wet season, but that wasn’t enough; they had to mix in some of the bay water.
There was much argument as to the reason for the failure. Some blamed the saltiness of the bay water. Others complained that it never became hot enough for the grain to ripen properly. Hyonai, in fact, feared that this was the case. Feared it because, while the peasants could find more fresh water in the mountains, and build aqueducts to carry the water to the field, they couldn’t make the sun any warmer.
There were also arguments of a more theological nature. Some loudly and repeatedly insisted that it was a mistake to deviate in the slightest from the old Shinto rituals. Perhaps, they said, Deusu delegated rice growing to the kami. If Deusu minded the kirishitan following tradition during the decades of hiding, why wouldn’t he have blighted their crop, again and again, until they learned their lesson?
Others decried every one Yojiro’s ritual concessions. They thought that the villagers should have asked for the blessing of the saint and left it at that.
The only point on which everyone agreed was that they were unhappy not to have any New Nippon-grown rice.
Kawa Machi/Salinas
The morning sun had not yet dried out the blood when Date Masamune came over to inspect the body. Hosoya Jinbei still gripped, even in death, the kozuka, the disemboweling blade.
Seppuku—ritual suicide—could be committed for many reasons. Jun-shi was following one’s lord into death; it was forbidden by law but still happened from time to time. Gisei-shi was self-sacrifice, perhaps a defeated lord killing himself as part of a peace settlement. Sokotsu-shi was to win forgiveness for a mistake. Fun-shi was a general expression of indignation with the vagaries of fate. Kan-shi was more specific; it was to reprove one’s lord.