The Way of the Warrior - Chris Bradford [33]
‘I had a fight,’ said Jack defensively, unable to hide the bruises ringing his eyes.
‘Looks to me like you lost. I warned you that the samurai could be ruthless.’
Father Lucius sat up, hacking into his handkerchief. The coughing and yellow sputum were recently accompanied by a fever and shaking chills. Conscious of Masamoto’s order, Father Lucius still insisted that Jack have his lessons, despite fatigue often overwhelming him. But after only a few sentences, they had to stop.
‘Jack, I’m afraid this sickness is defeating me in spite of all the teas, herbs and ointments the local doctor can administer. Even their medicines are no match for this…’
The priest broke into a coughing fit, pain wracked his face and he clenched his chest. Slowly, the coughing subsided to be replaced by the laboured wheezing.
‘I’m sorry, Father,’ said Jack, not knowing what else he could say.
The hostility that had characterized their earlier meetings had faded during the course of their lessons into a wary friendship, and Jack did honestly feel concern for the sick priest.
‘No need for pity, Jack. I have done my duty on this earth and will soon be rightfully rewarded in Heaven.’ He made the sign of the cross on his chest. ‘I’ll be better tomorrow, but today you must teach yourself. Please hand me my book.’
Jack reached over to the table and passed over the priest’s thick notebook.
‘This is my life’s work,’ he said, gently caressing its soft leather binding. ‘A Japanese–Portuguese dictionary. I have been compiling this book ever since I came to the Japans over ten years ago. It is the key to unlocking their language and their way of thinking. Using it, the Brotherhood can bring the Word of the Lord to every island of Japan.’
Religious fervour shone in Father Lucius’s rheumy eyes.
‘It’s the only one in existence, Jack,’ he said, and fixed Jack with a grave look. He studied him for several moments before, with a shaky hand, offering the book to Jack.
‘Would you take care of it for me, and if I am to pass from this world, will you ensure that it is placed in the hands of his Eminence, Father Diego Bobadilla, in Osaka?’
‘Yes, Father,’ promised Jack, unable to refuse the man’s dying wish. ‘It would be an honour.’
‘No, it would be mine. You have been a good pupil, in spite of your beliefs. Your mother must have been a fine teacher. With Akiko’s continued assistance, you’ll be speaking as fluently as a natural-born Japanese boy before the turn of the year.’
He smiled graciously at Jack, then continued in an unusually honeyed tone.
‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me look at your father’s diary in return? I fear my days are shortening on this earth and it would give me great pleasure to read of another’s worldly adventures.’
Jack immediately stiffened. Had the offer of the dictionary been a ploy to get the rutter?
Jack remembered the way the Jesuit’s eyes had gleamed with desire when it had first been presented by Masamoto. Since that day Father Lucius had often mentioned his father’s diary during their lessons. Was it safe? Where did he keep it? Would he care to regale one of his father’s stories? Would he show him a page from the diary? The priest clearly wanted the rutter, if not for himself, then most certainly for the Brotherhood.
Jack felt a small spike of anger at Father Lucius’s request and wondered whether the priest’s change of heart had been genuine at all, or merely a ruse to obtain his precious rutter.
‘I am sorry, Father Lucius,’ replied Jack, ‘but as you know, it is private and the only remaining possession of my beloved father.’
‘I know, I know. No matter.’ The priest seemed too weary to pursue the issue any further. ‘I will see you again tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Father. Of course.’
∗ ∗ ∗
That afternoon under the cherry blossom tree, Jack leafed through the pages of the dictionary. Father Lucius had been right to speak so proudly of his work. It contained reams of Japanese words together with their Portuguese equivalents, detailed notes on grammar, directions for correct