It is now the end of the sixteenth century, the 1580s—roughly four hundred years before the era I lived in.
In East Asia, it is around the time Toyotomi Hideyoshi is burning with ambition to conquer Joseon.
In just three or four years, the Imjin War will break out, and all of East Asia will be swept up in the flames of war... but.
Tsssup. If I want to intervene in the Imjin War, I have to cross the Atlantic and the Pacific.
So what I should be concerned with right now is—
Sixteenth-century Europe.
The age of early capitalism and colonial empires.
In Europe, the Ottoman Empire has seized hegemony over the eastern Mediterranean, commercial capitalism is rising in England, and colonial empires are stretching their hands toward the Americas, Africa, and all across Asia.
...is also not the answer I want right now.
What happened in sixteenth-century Europe? Not long-term trends like the rise of capitalism or the growth of colonial empires, but what enormous event flared up all at once like a burst of flame?
What else? The Reformation, obviously.
By the 1580s, England and the German regions and the like had all turned Protestant, while in France, Protestants and Catholics were still in the middle of waging war against each other.
The war between England and Spain also has various causes, but religious issues play a major part in it as well.
That’s right.
This is an age of religious fervor. An age when, if your sect was different, they’d set you on fire whether you were alive or dead.
...Of course, fanaticism has its positive sides too. After all, the ones who struggled to stop the exploitation of indigenous peoples in Central and South America were Christian priests. There are socially reformist aspects as well.
‘...But not for me.’
I’m screwed.
In the eyes of the Christians of this age, filled with religious fervor, what must I look like? No, even if they weren’t Europeans swept up in a religious frenzy, it would still be the same. Didn’t the natives bow to me when they saw me?
...
...
...
This isn’t it.
I can’t keep going like this.
First, I should give them some time to calm down.
If I just don’t leave the house for a while, that should do it. I often did that anyway, fiddling with this and that, so it won’t look strange.
Right.
I hurriedly closed every curtain in the house, shut myself in my room with boiled potatoes, and thought.
Everyone, please calm down...!
Calm down...!
***
“It has been quite some time since He came out of the mansion.”
“Do you think Lord Nemo will perform another miracle? You know, just like last time...”
“Shh. Quietly. (Silencio.)”
The English women, who had been chattering away, clamped their mouths shut at the words of an unknown Spanish man. It was hard to tell that, until just recently, they had been trying to kill each other.
“...Now, let us focus. Today is a joyous day. Is it not the day when countless men and women have walked among us of their own will and chosen to become our brothers and sisters?”
“...”
“...”
“...”
At Mr. Hewett’s words, everyone took their seats with joy written plainly across their faces.
He was right. After all, countless natives had promised to be baptized and had joined the gathering.
In any case, when Eleanor sat down, Vicente González, the governor of Santa Elena, who was seated beside her, whispered in English and asked,
“By the way. Is that man named Hewett a priest?”
“Yes, well, I suppose so? For the moment, he is essentially our priest.”
“Uh... ‘essentially’ your priest? What do you mean by that?”
“The priest passed away last year, so we just elected a pastor among ourselves. Mr. Hewett is a Calvinist, so...”
“...?”
“For the record, I—I said I didn’t want this! But with no priest here, there was nothing else we could do...”
A pastor... among themselves? They elected one?
For a moment, Vicente’s identity as a Catholic began to wobble.
...Is it really all right for me to be here? Will I be unable to enter Heaven later?
—“I did not attack you because you are Catholic. Did we not even have natives on our side who do not believe in Christianity? Religion is not the issue.”
Ahem, hem. Of course not. An angel had guaranteed it.
Vicente recalled the words the angel had left him while treating his injuries, and his body trembled again. The thrill that had swept through him at that moment was difficult to describe in words.
Since such a being had protected this community, then this gathering too was a holy church.
For now, he decided to think of it that way.
Soon, after several sermons and songs, Thomas Hewett lifted up an object that somehow did not seem to belong in a church.
Shrrng.
“Ah, aaah!”
“Good heavens... Is that ‘it’? Is it truly that?”
And yet the people gathered here instead leapt to their feet in excitement. Hewett silently nodded, drove “it” into the dirt floor, and knelt.
“It” was a sword.
The sword planted in the dirt formed the shape of a cross with its blade, hilt, and guard, looking utterly sacred.
Until just a few days ago, “this” had merely been an ordinary sword.
It had only been the sword carried by some ordinary Spanish soldier.
But not anymore.
“Behold. The proof of a miracle...!”
With an ecstatic smile, Hewett showed everyone the sword. At that, everyone sighed, trembled, and shed tears.
At this moment, there was no need to divide them into Catholics, Protestants, and non-Christians.
“When our Lord shed His precious blood upon the cross and forgave our sins, we call the spear that confirmed He had truly met death the Holy Lance (Lancea Sancta), and venerate it as sacred.
And when we were starving to death in the New World and killing one another in battle, He saved us. Should this sword, which testifies to His immortality, not likewise be called the Holy Sword (Gladius Sanctus)?”
“That is right!”
“Aaah! O Lord! Look after Your angel and the people he shepherds!”
“Aaaaah!”
“‘Israel is a luxuriant vine that yields its fruit. The more his fruit increased, the more altars he built; as his country improved, he improved his pillars (Hos. 10:1)!’
Everyone, ancient Israel received the grace of God, yet with its fruit, it increased its altars and beautified its sacred pillars, falling into luxury and pleasure, and so received His punishment.
And now He has come again with a vine, and we seek to build a new Israel upon this land. Will you repeat the mistakes of the past?”
“No! Never!”
“Aah, aaaah!”
“Then repent! The Lord has sent us His angel, so follow Him!”
...Honestly.
Honestly, Vicente did think to himself, Is this really all right...?
A pastor... elected?
And they are even holding Mass... in English?
Was this not completely, utterly denying every bit of common sense he had built up over the past forty-five years living as a Catholic?
However.
‘...Well, I suppose this is fine.’
Also honestly, common sense had already been completely blown away the moment the “angel” regenerated his arm, so it did not matter. Vicente once again focused on praying fervently.
“Now, everyone, rise and receive His... ahem, the Eucharist.”
So it was time for Holy Communion.
Thinking that, he stood up... Huh?
“Gulp. Cough, cough...”
“What’s wrong? Y-you mustn’t spill it!”
Of course not. The Eucharist was none other than the flesh of the Lord.
Thinking so, Vicente hurriedly swallowed the “Host” he had nearly spilled, then asked Eleanor in confusion,
“This... isn’t made of wheat?”
“No! It’s made of potatoes!”
“...???”
“We have to source all the ingredients here, after all. If you look over there, there’s wine to use as the precious blood too, and we brewed that ourselves.”
“...Are there even grapes here?”
“Yes! Of course there are! A ton of...”
“...A ton of?”
“Uh... The taste is...”
“...”
Is it really all right to hold Mass like this?
Uh... surely it is.
In any case, after finishing the chaotic Mass in that manner, Hewett’s sermon continued, and the church gathering came to an end.
Flutter. Flutter.
Now it was time for Eleanor to do her part.
As the representative of the settlement, she had spent a little more time in contact with “the angel” than the others, and “the angel” also seemed to trust her.
“He... uh... told us, ‘If one must search for a reason for one person to save another, is that not far too sad?’”
At that, Hewett wrote it down exactly as he interpreted it.
“‘Do not seek a reason when one person saves another. For that is the grief of the Lord.’
...There.”
“Uh... He didn’t speak in such an authoritative tone, though?”
“It is our new law.”
“He spoke to me too! To me as well! He said that He attacked me not because I was Catholic, but to save the powerless! He said religion was not the issue!”
“And the angel said, ‘Be not bound by the road through which you seek faith.’ Thus...”
And so, now, not long after “Lord Nemo” had withdrawn from sight.
A book was being written.
***
“H-hewwo...”
“Hello, Virginia. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes...”
“Where is your mother?”
“She’s over theere picking land for the natives to live on.”
I glanced in the direction Virginia Dare pointed. Eleanor was there with Manteo and his mother, inspecting the site for a new settlement.
The soil of Croatoan Island has sand mixed into it here and there. The land is low-lying, full of wetlands, small in area, and even its distance from the mainland is awkward.
That was why Manteo’s tribe had asked us whether it would not be difficult for them to live here long-term as well.
Even they, the original inhabitants who had lived here for a long time, could not cultivate the grain they needed and had to go in and out regularly, so how could they possibly settle here?
The answer was simple.
1. Grapes are naturally resistant to salt damage and grow well even by the sea.
2. Potatoes naturally grow well in sandy soil.
And what is our staple food?
Ta-da. Just like that, the problem was solved. If the soil lacks nutrients, we can add fertilizer, and if water is lacking, they can draw it from our farm, where clean water gushes out endlessly.
That was the reason the thirty-three of us had been able to settle here long-term.
—“P-please, would you allow us to live near you...? For your sake, our entire tribe has been baptized!”
—“...When on earth did that happen?”
—“While you were in seclusion!”
—“...”
On top of that, Manteo and the other young men of the tribe knelt and pleaded, and in the end, the tribespeople were in the middle of abandoning the villages they had lived in before and moving nearby.
“So around two hundred more people are going to live here...”
This is really absurd.
In any case, we have plenty of seed potatoes and various crops, so there probably won’t be much of a problem taking them in. If anything, Manteo’s tribe, which had wandered until now, will be settling on this island for the first time.
And on top of that, the Spanish prisoners... no, the people I should now call converts, are also building a new village for themselves nearby.
In the blink of an eye, the settlement had grown several times larger.
‘...What if it keeps growing from here?’
Usually, protagonists in novels, when they receive a benefit like this, either hide it or do something, but can I really make everyone keep quiet about my “privilege” when hundreds of people already know?
If not, then how am I supposed to live here as a strange race, a strange being...
“Uh, Lord Nemo? Mom’s coming over there!”
Virginia, who had only started walking a few months ago, circled around me and shouted.
Thanks to that, I snapped out of my thoughts, patted Virginia on the head, handed her a Shine Muscat grape, and walked toward Eleanor.
“Eleanor?”
“Ah, Lord Nemo!”
“Is Manteo satisfied with the location?”
“Yes! He was even happier when he heard there was enough food.”
Eleanor cleared her throat and answered.
“It seems he was a little worried about food, since there are only about three thousand bunches of grapes left to trade...
Starting next month, other than the advance party that came now, they’ll be coming little by little to settle. Over there! That’s the settlement the natives are building!”
“Hahaha... ha, I... see.”
The tribespeople had already built several huts, but their shape was...
Uh... No matter how I looked at them, I didn’t think any traditional native houses shaped like that existed.
“...Would it be my imagination if I said they look somewhat similar to my house?”
“...No.”
We stared blankly at the clumsy replicas of “Green Gables” and fell into thought.
...What on earth is this settlement becoming?
In any case, that is how the settlement grows.