Wielder of the Spear of Cicero
“Quickly! This way!” The general waved his men on through the fortified settlement and watched as they set the building that lined the streets on fire . They ran past him in a flood, bearing torches as well as swords and spears. Most of the town was already ablaze, but save for the roar of the fires and the occasional whinnies from his horse, the town was strangely quiet for being razed.
“General Takashima!” The general tore his eyes away from the leaping flames that devoured the buildings of the town and glanced down at his subordinate, kneeling on the cobbled road before him.
“Speak!” he commanded gruffly, and the young samurai finally raised his eyes to meets his commander’s.
“Sir! All the houses and stores are empty, sir!”
“The blasphemers have obviously retreated to the church in hopes that their false god will protect them!”
“What are your orders, sir?”
“We will destroy any and all followers of the pernicious doctrine!”
“Sir!” The youth bowed and darted off through the streets. The general turned his horse and started off on a canter toward the church at the center of the hamlet. The building seemed unobtrusive enough, but despite its clean Japanese architecture, it housed a subversive religion that undermined authority within society and the family. As he neared the edifice, Takashima watched his men crowding at the entrance and grew angry. His orders had been clear, but still they hesitated.
At Takashima’s approach, an officer made his way through the crowd and toward his horse, his face hardened and lined with age beneath his mask and grey strands of hair slipping out from underneath his helm.
“What is the meaning of this, Kasumoto?” The aged samurai bowed before replying.
“Sir, the leader of the Christians wishes to speak with you.”
“Keh! Where is the Jesuit dog?” Takashima dismounted and stomped toward the doorway of the church, his men clearing a wide girth for him. Immediately General Takashima recognized the Jesuit priest, still wearing his missionary garb in audacious affront.
“My Lord Takashima,” the blue-eyed man addressed rudely in heavily-accented Japanese, “I wish to speak with you.”
“To plead for your life, no doubt. It appears to be the custom of the West to raise cowardly children.”
“My Lord, I plead not for my own life, but for the lives of the followers of Jesus Christ.” The foreigner fell to one knee and bowed his head, finally displaying a modicum of respect. Takashima looked to the building before him, his men standing at the ready with torches, and then looked back down at the foreigner.
“What are they doing in there?”
“Praying, my Lord,” the Dutchman answered without looking up. Takashima scoffed and waved a pair of his men forward. The warriors grabbed either arm of the priest and pulled him to his feet.
“It’s a pity they’re praying to the wrong god.” The Jesuit priest stared in horror at Takashima and began to struggle with his captors. “Jacob Vondel, you stand accused of defying Ieyasu-sama’s order of expulsion of the Christian missionaries, a clear act of treason against Ieyasu-sama and Go–Mizunou-sama. And one punishable by death.”
“What?!”
“Sir!” The general glanced over to Kasumoto, holding the reins of his horse. “What of the Christians?”
“Board the doors and windows, then burn the church to the ground.” The general approached Kasumoto and the men exchanged glances. The younger, more self assured, projecting confidence in his actions , while the elder, wiser’s eyes flickered with doubt and misgiving.
The moment passed and Takashima took the reigns and mounted his horse, nudging the stallion away from the assembly and the church, presumably headed for the corps’ encampment in the forest that surrounded the Christian settlement.
While the sound of Takshima’s departure grew more and more distant, Kasumoto wordlessly watched the samurai drag the Dutch priest away to a hasty execution. When Vondel’s shouts could no longer be heard over the ubiquitous roar of the fires that surrounded them all, Kasumoto turned his slatey gaze to the remaining aggregation of samurai who ringed the church, silently awaiting his order.
Kasumoto gave an understating wave of his hand and watched as the men immediately went to work barring the doors and windows of the building. When that was done, they reassembled and gathered up their torches, awaiting the next command.
It was a slow and deliberate nod of Kasumoto’s head that sealed the fate of the Christians, still chantlessly imploring their western god to protect them while they congregated within the walls of their holy edifice.
Kasumoto Shigure did not turn away when the bright flames began to devour the church from the outside in. He did not cover his ears when the dissonance of the inferno was blended with the screams of the Christians as they burned to death. He did not shield his skin from the heat of the fires, fueled as they were by human kindling. He did not plug up his nose when the smell of charred flesh pervaded the air.
He watched in silence as the building was routed and remained watching it until the last crossbeams collapsed and the building which had stood for salvation to the villagers became a charred and blackened mass grave.
Kasumoto looked up across the rest of the smoking village, most of the fires having already burned themselves out. The dawning sun stretched its glowing fingers through the wafting smoke, adding a strange and out of place element of natural beauty to the otherwise horrific scene.
“Sir?” For the first time since the church’s ignition, Kasumoto turned his head away from the church and found himself eye to eye with a young and obviously exhausted samurai. The young man had abandoned most pieces of his armor and was leaning heavily on his spear. “What would you have us do?”
“Have a fresh man ride out to the nearest town and bring back a monk to perform last rites.” The warrior nodded wearily and turned to trudge out of the skeletal village.
“You are too sentimental, Shigure-san.” Kasumoto turned around and watched Takashima approach him, his face fresh and well-rested. The younger man adjusted his armor and began to walk out to the remains of the church building, still smoldering in the early morning light. He trudged through the embers irreverently, kicking beams of charcoal aside, apparently oblivious of the human remains through which he trod.
Kasumoto turned his head away in disgust, only to return his attention to his superior when an elated cry broke the relative silence of the morning. Takashima was kneeling in the ash and wood coal, digging something out. In another minute, he extracted what appeared to be a rod of some kind from the rubble and Kasumoto’s vision was overcome with a flash of light so bright it outshone the sun behind it and blinded any who looked on.
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