The man c.o.c.ked his head and mumbled, "Kiris.h.i.tans," but his face evinced none of the fear or hesitation that other j.a.panese had shown in response to this question.

Just maybe ...

Pet.i.tjean felt a faint hope stir in his heart for the first time. Perhaps this man would give him the information he sought. If that were to happen, he would not begrudge a single franc coin: he would gladly give away all his means.

"Do you know any?"

"You have some business with Kiris.h.i.tans, do you?"

"Yes."

"It'll be difficult," the man sighed deeply. "The Kiris.h.i.tan faith is banned, you know. B-a-n-n-e-d."

"So you don't know any Kiris.h.i.tans." Pet.i.tjean deliberately twirled the silver coin between his fingers. "Then you won't be getting this." He thrust the coin back into his pocket.

The man swallowed audibly. The foul sound was like a bald display of the man's l.u.s.t for the silver foreign coin.

"All right," he muttered with a sigh. "I'll take you to them. But who knows what kind of punishment I'll get from the magistrate if I get found out. This is a dangerous bridge to cross, Mr. Foreigner."

Then the man thrust three fingers into Pet.i.tjean's face. He was giving clear notice that he would not take on this task for a single coin but that he required three.

The man had obviously read Pet.i.tjean's heart. He seemed quite aware of how keenly this Southern Barbarian wanted to find out where the Kiris.h.i.tans were hiding.

Pet.i.tjean stared at the man's three extended fingers, then looked at the cunning face, and for a time he said nothing.

He had a powerful impression that he could not trust this j.a.panese fellow. But he would be left without any way to locate the people he was seeking if he didn't make a decisive wager on this man.

"Fine." Pet.i.tjean nodded, keeping his eyes riveted on the man's face. "But you're being truthful with me, aren't you?" He searched his pocket, pulled out one silver coin, and handed it to the man. "Once you actually take me to the Kiris.h.i.tans, I'll give you the other two."

A filthy hand with grime under its fingernails shot out and grabbed the coin and jammed it into the man's pocket. For some reason Pet.i.tjean pictured Judas betraying Lord Jesus.

"Are we going right now?"

"Now?" Surprised, the man shook his head. "We can't go till after dark. We'd best meet up here again at Shianbashi after it gets dark."

Pet.i.tjean had the feeling the man would not show up. But he could not argue with the man and was left with no choice but to agree with his plan.

When he returned to ura, Father Furet was standing in his customary spot at the work site, observing the progress of the construction. When Pet.i.tjean told him what had just occurred, Father Furet laughed heartily.

"You're so gullible. You've just tossed your money into a swamp."

"So you think he was lying?"

"Of course he was! You've been taken in, my friend."

Pet.i.tjean went to his room, opened the window, and gazed out at the bay of Nagasaki as the sun set, all the while keeping in check his mounting anger.

Even so, he finished his dinner quickly, slipped out without Father Furet noticing, and hurried down the hill. Someone was flying a kite above the slope that was surrounded by farmland.

The area was bustling with people as he approached Shianbashi. They all were on their way to the pleasure quarter, known as Maruyama. Pet.i.tjean stopped at the foot of the bridge and searched for the man. He was there ...!

Reflecting back later on how he had felt when he spotted the man, Pet.i.tjean remembered that an overpowering joy had suffused his heart. An elation that the man had kept his promise. But his joy was overshadowed for a brief moment by the humiliation he felt for having doubted the man.

Pet.i.tjean tapped the man's bony shoulder. "I'm sorry, friend. Have I kept you waiting?"

"Ah, Mr. Foreigner." The man flashed the few remaining yellowed teeth he had. And the smell of liquor issued from his mouth. Evidently he had traded away the silver coin he got from Pet.i.tjean and had spent every subsequent minute drinking in some bar.

"You've had quite a bit of liquor, haven't you?"

"I haven't been drinking. No, sir, I haven't been drinking, Mr. Foreigner." The man waved his hand in denial, but he couldn't conceal the unsteady gait that was the result of his drunkenness.

"Well, Mr. Foreigner," the man scanned their surroundings. "So you're looking for Kuros?"

"Kuros?"

"Don't say Kuro so loud, Mr. Foreigner! If the police hear it, you won't be the only one they'll take off in ropes." With one hand the man wiped the saliva from his mouth and then mumbled a number of words Pet.i.tjean couldn't understand.

Exasperated, Pet.i.tjean said curtly, "Please take me to them right now."

"I will, I will!" The man set off falteringly, clinging to the bridge railing to steady himself.

Mount Kazagashira soared blackly against the darkened sky. From Shianbashi, the man started up a road in the direction of Mount Kazagashira, in the opposite direction from Dejima and the hato.2 The road climbed a steep slope that pa.s.sed over the mountains and then descended to Mogi Bay.

"Wait just a minute." The man stopped along the slope, and as he relieved himself he said, "The Kuros don't like being found out, so we've gotta keep that in mind."

The zigzagging slope was edged on either side by fields and rice paddies. Arable land was so scarce in Nagasaki that plots were cultivated up onto the hills and even up the mountain slopes.

They spotted a large thatched farmhouse surrounded by fields.

"That's it." The man stopped and lowered his voice. "That's a house where some Kuros live."

Pet.i.tjean took a deep breath and peered at the gray, melancholy house. His heart began to pound like a drum as he realized that he might have finally located what he had been looking for from the day he met that Chinese man in Naha.

"Kiris.h.i.tans are in there?" He asked in halting j.a.panese, his voice quivering. He continued forward along the path between the fields and approached the farmhouse.

He could hear the faint voices of a large number of people inside. A large group of men had a.s.sembled in the house and were talking about something in low voices.

"What are they doing?"

"Dunno." The man shrugged. "I don't know much about what the Kiris.h.i.tans do. Maybe they're having some kind of chat."

"A chat?"

"Look, Mr. Foreigner, I kept my promise. Can you just give me the money?" The man thrust out his hand and gave another avaricious grin, displaying his few remaining teeth.

"No, no." Pet.i.tjean shook his head. "I'll give that to you later."

"What do you mean, 'later'?"

"You'll get it once I find out whether this is really them."

Pet.i.tjean listened intently through the paper sliding doors. A bright candle glimmered within, and the men inside the room occasionally sighed or stirred. Among them, one high voice was giving some sort of instructions to the others.

Are they praying? He wondered as he listened to their voices. There was a certain rhythm to the voice giving direction, like the leader of a choir. Then it sounded like pages were being turned and some object being tossed about.

He looked behind him and saw the man who had brought him here peering anxiously toward him from some distance away.

"Come over here."

"No! I'm no Kiris.h.i.tan. Just hurry and give me what you promised."

When Pet.i.tjean tossed a single coin, the man clambered like a dog and scooped it up, then fled like a dog. No doubt he feared being a.s.sociated with the Kiris.h.i.tans.

Pet.i.tjean stood in place until the voices stopped. If he were suddenly to show himself in his priestly garb, he wondered how these Kiris.h.i.tans would respond. Would they be happy to see him?

The voices broke off. He could almost sense the flickering of the heavy candle's flame.

"Who's there?"

Had they seen his shadow against the paper doors?

"Do you think it's the boss from the f.u.kuda Shop?"

"He wouldn't be coming tonight."

After this exchange, the paper door was jerked open.

"Ah!" A tattooed man with a band of white cotton cloth wrapped around his abdomen cried out in surprise. The priest saw all the men sitting in the room hurriedly conceal wooden talismans that were set in front of them.

"Wait, you're-" He recognized the face of one of the men who leaped to his feet. It was one of the two toughs who had been beating the man at Shianbashi earlier today.

"Hey, it's a Southern Barbarian! Why would one of them be coming here?" one man cried hysterically.

"A Southern Barbarian?" A rough-looking fellow emerged from the back of the group. "Say, this is the foreigner we ran into at Shianbashi today, isn't it?"

Then someone said, "So you know him, Tatsu?"

"Naw, he's no friend of mine. Around noon today, there was a guy who was trying to sell stuff at Maruyama without a license, and we were smacking him around at Shianbashi when this foreigner here got in the middle of it. That's all I know about him."

Then this fellow called Tatsu said to Pet.i.tjean, "Mr. Foreigner, what brings you to our little gambling den? You a dice player?" The man coiled his fingers and pretended to be shaking dice. The men in the room burst out laughing.

Pet.i.tjean wasn't sure what the man was saying, but he opened his eyes wide and asked, "Then you men aren't Kiris.h.i.tans?"

"Kiris.h.i.tans? You trying to pick a fight with us, Mr. Foreigner?"

Seeing the outraged faces of the men, Pet.i.tjean realized that he had been hoodwinked by the man who had brought him to a place totally unrelated to his search.

"You're not going to find any Kiris.h.i.tans in Nagasaki, no matter where you look," Tatsu a.s.serted. "We j.a.panese have been warned in no uncertain terms that we can't believe in that sect. You'd better leave, Mr. Foreigner." Then he looked around at his colleagues. "d.a.m.ned intruder! It's a bad omen." With one hand he slammed the paper door shut with a bang.

Left standing outside alone, Pet.i.tjean turned around, but the man who led him here had disappeared into the night. Simply put, Pet.i.tjean had been conned out of his money.

That night he returned to ura with b.l.o.o.d.y feet-he had stumbled across stones on his return up the slope-only to run into Father Furet, who in his concern over Pet.i.tjean's whereabouts had set out with Okane's husband to find him.

"Bernard." Father Furet placed a sympathetic hand on his brother's shoulder and tried to console him. "I know just how you feel. But this senseless obstinacy isn't healthy for you. Let me just come right out and say it: There's not a single Christian left here in j.a.pan. It's been more than two hundred years since the ban was imposed. They all either died or succ.u.mbed to the beastly persecution. How could they possibly have pa.s.sed on their faith to their descendants? You must give this up."

The words "give up" sank bitterly and despondently into Pet.i.tjean's heart. But he was, in fact, utterly weary of the quest. Father Furet was right. It was hopeless to try to find any Christian believers here in j.a.pan ...

Winter gradually made its way toward spring. The hue of the clouds floating above Mount Inasa softened and took on a pinkish tint. The clouds reminded Pet.i.tjean of the flocks of sheep that were raised in the countryside of his faraway homeland.

Though spring was at hand, Pet.i.tjean's heart was weighed down in gloom. The young priest was deeply discouraged by the realization that the people he had been searching for in j.a.pan did not exist.

In contrast to the despondent Pet.i.tjean, Father Furet was in fine spirits. Thanks to the diligent labors of the workmen, construction on the church was progressing remarkably well.

The building was neither strictly Gothic nor completely Rococo but, rather, a mix of the two styles, and naturally it showed every sign of becoming the most unusual and modern building not only in Nagasaki but in all of j.a.pan. The foreign residents in Nagasaki were of one voice in acclaiming it a "charming little church." Apparently to these Europeans, who were accustomed to seeing majestic cathedrals all around them, the church seemed tiny and enchanting, as attractive as the young ladies of Nagasaki. But the j.a.panese in Nagasaki surely regarded it as a magnificent structure, on the scale of a grand palace.

Spectators thronged nonstop around the building. Some, hearing rumors about the church, had reportedly come from as far as Sotome to see it.3 "This church," Father Furet triumphantly informed the j.a.panese, "is not a person's house. It is the house of G.o.d."

He was amused that whenever he said this, the j.a.panese spectators, whose mouths had dropped open, retreated back a few steps and with worried looks muttered, "Really?"

Of course, because they were prohibited from having any a.s.sociation with Christianity, none of these j.a.panese spectators would make even the slightest move to go inside the nearly completed building.

Father Furet lamented that fact. He wished he could show these j.a.panese the statues of Jesus and the Blessed Mother inside and explain to them just what manner of house of G.o.d was here. Were he to give even the slightest indication of doing so, however, the eyes of the officers from the magistrate's office would flash with anger. No doubt he would receive complaints from an official named It Seizaemon, who came to the site every other day, claiming it was just his "normal rounds."

While Father Furet was absorbed in the completion of the chapel, Pet.i.tjean continued his afternoon strolls of Nagasaki. He no longer had any expectation of encountering hidden Christians, but he was convinced that having the people on the street remember his face would serve him in good stead when the time came that he was allowed to proselytize.

One day he came upon something truly unusual. Some boys had set up two poles, and they were gluing tiny shards of gla.s.s to a string stretched between them.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

One boy jabbered, "Making ikanoyoma!" animatedly.

Pet.i.tjean had made it a practice whenever he didn't understand something in the Nagasaki dialect to ask what it meant, even if it came from the mouth of a child.

"Ika? What's that?"

The boy gaped at him as though he were an idiot and said, "Ika is an ika, of course. It means 'squid,' but it's a kite! When you stick a paper tail on it, it looks like a squid, you know?" Kites in Nagasaki at this time were called either ika, squid, or hata, flags.

"And what is a yoma?"

"It's this string." It gradually dawned on him: these children were busily gluing a mixture of gla.s.s shavings and rice kernels to the string of a kite.

"Ah, yes!" Pet.i.tjean remembered that Okane's husband had told him that Nagasaki was famous for kite flying. Each spring the citizens held a heathen festival honoring Kompira, the guardian G.o.d of seafaring. It was a highly animated celebration, with pilgrims gathering from near and far, jostling like waves on the ocean, and each local partic.i.p.ated in what they called the Clash of the Kites.

The Clash of the Kites was a compet.i.tion in which partic.i.p.ants attempted to get the string of their kite tangled with the string of an opponent's kite and cut the enemy's string. Both adults and children took this contest seriously. Undoubtedly these boys were gluing gla.s.s shards to their kite strings in preparation for the Clash.

"Is it OK if I watch you for a while?" Pet.i.tjean always had ready some candy made from potatoes for just such an occasion. The potato candies, called tankiri, were a gift to help him make friends with the children.

Thanks to the tankiri that Pet.i.tjean gave them, the boys were more than happy to let this Southern Barbarian watch as they industriously glued the gla.s.s shavings to the string that they had wound around the poles, which were held up by a horizontal bar.