Chapter 14

It was the end of the 16th century, the 1580s, approximately 400 years before the era I had lived in. In East Asia, it was a time when Toyotomi Hideyoshi was fanning the flames of his ambition to conquer Korea. In just three or four years, the Imjin War would erupt, engulfing the entire region in conflict.

Sigh. For me to intervene in the Imjin War, I would have to cross both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Therefore, my immediate concern had to be 16th-century Europe.

The era of early capitalism and colonial empires. A time when the Ottoman Empire held hegemony over the eastern Mediterranean, when commercial capitalism was on the rise in England, and when colonial powers were extending their reach into the Americas, Africa, and Asia.

…But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for either. What was the single, explosive, fire-like event that defined 16th-century Europe, beyond long-term trends like the rise of capitalism?

What else but the Protestant Reformation.

By the 1580s, regions like England and Germany had largely become Protestant, while in France, Protestants and Catholics were still locked in a brutal war. The conflict between England and Spain also had many causes, but religion played a significant role.

That’s right.

This was an age of religious fervor. An age where people would burn others at the stake, living or dead, simply for belonging to a different denomination.

…Of course, fanaticism has its positive aspects. It was Christian priests who fought to stop the exploitation of the natives in Central and South America. It had a side of social reform as well.

‘…But not for me.’

I was screwed.

In the eyes of the Christians of this era, steeped in religious fervor, what must I have looked like? No, it wasn’t just the Europeans swept up in this religious storm. Didn’t the native peoples bow to me as well?

…

…

…

This is not good. This cannot continue.

First, I need to give them time to calm down. If I just don’t leave the house for a while, that should do it. I was often cooped up tinkering with things anyway, so it wouldn’t even look strange.

Yes.

I rushed to close every single curtain in the house, barricaded myself in my room with a supply of boiled potatoes, and thought.

Everyone, please, calm down…!

Calm… down…!

***

“It has been quite some time since he has come out of the manor.”

“Do you think Sir Nemo is performing another miracle? You know, like last time when he…”

“Shh. Silencio.”

The chattering English women immediately fell silent at the words of a nameless Spanish man. It was hard to even remember that, just a short while ago, they had been trying to kill each other.

“…Now, let us focus. Today is a joyous day. Is it not the day that many men and women have walked among us of their own free will to become our brothers and sisters?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

At Mr. Hewitt’s words, everyone took their seats, their faces beaming with joy. He was right. A great number of the native people had promised to be baptized and had joined their gathering.

As Eleanor sat down, the governor of Santa Elena, Vicente Gonzales, who was seated next to her, leaned in and whispered in English.

“By the way, is that man, Hewitt, a priest?”

“Yes, well, I suppose he is? For now, he is our priest, isn’t he?”

“…You ‘suppose’ he is a priest? What do you mean by that?”

“Our priest passed away last year, so we just elected a pastor amongst ourselves. Mr. Hewitt is a Calvinist, you see…”

“…?”

“For the record, I-I voted against it! But with no priest, we had no choice…”

They… elected… a pastor? Themselves?

For a moment, Vicente’s identity as a Catholic wavered.

…Is it really okay for me to be here? What if I can’t get into Heaven later?

-“I did not attack you because you are Catholic. On our side, there are even natives who do not believe in Christianity. Religion is not the issue.”

Ahem, hmm, of course not. The angel guaranteed it.

Vicente trembled as he recalled the words the angel had spoken while treating his injuries. The thrill that had coursed through his body at that moment was difficult to describe. Since such a being protected this community, this gathering must also be a holy church. He decided to think of it that way.

Soon, after a few sermons and songs, Thomas Hewitt lifted an object that seemed somewhat out of place in a church.

Shing.

“Ah, aaah!”

“Good heavens… is that ‘it’? Is it really?”

But the people gathered here, far from being alarmed, rose from their seats in excitement. Hewitt gave a solemn nod, thrust ‘it’ into the dirt floor, and knelt.

‘It’ was a sword. The sword, stuck in the earth, formed the shape of a cross with its blade, hilt, and guard, looking incomparably holy. Just a few days ago, ‘this’ had been nothing more than a common sword, wielded by an ordinary Spanish soldier.

But not anymore.

“Behold. The proof of the miracle…!”

Hewitt, a look of ecstatic bliss on his face, showed the sword to all. And all who saw it gasped, trembled, and shed tears. In this moment, there was no division between Catholic, Protestant, or non-Christian.

“When our Lord shed his precious blood on the cross to forgive our sins, the spear that confirmed His true death we call the Holy Lance, Lancea Sancta, and hold it sacred. And when we were starving to death and killing one another in this New World, He saved us. Therefore, is it not fitting that we call this sword, which bears witness to His immortality, the Holy Sword, Gladius Sanctus[1]?”

“It is!”

“Ah, Lord! Look upon your angel and the flock he shepherds!”

“Aaaah!”

“‘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 (Hosea 10:1)!’[Hosea 10:1 (호 10:1): The Bible verse Hewitt quotes is from the Book of Hosea. He uses the prophet’s warning to the ancient Israelites—who used their God-given prosperity to build idols and fall into decadence—as a cautionary tale for their own “New Israel.”]] My friends, the Israel of old received God’s grace, but with its fruits, they built more altars and beautiful pillars, falling into luxury and pleasure, and thus received His punishment. And now He has come again with a vine, and we are to build a new Israel in this land. Will you repeat the mistakes of the past?”

“No! Never!”

“Ah, aaaaaah!”

“Then repent! The Lord has sent us His angel, so follow Him!”

…Honestly.

Honestly, Vicente thought to himself, ‘Is this really okay…?’

Electing… a pastor?

And holding Mass… in English?

Isn’t this negating every single piece of common sense I’ve built up over the past forty-five years as a Catholic?

But.

‘…Well, it’s probably fine.’

To be honest again, common sense had already flown out the window the moment the ‘angel’ regenerated his arm, so it didn’t really matter. Vicente focused once more on praying earnestly.

“Now, everyone, please rise and receive His… ahem, the Holy Body.”

It must be time for the Eucharist.[2]

He thought as he stood up, but… huh?

“Gasp. Khoff…”

“What’s wrong? D-don’t spill it!”

Of course not. The Holy Body is the same as the flesh of the Lord himself.

With that thought, Vicente hastily swallowed the ‘Holy Body’ he had almost dropped and, bewildered, asked Eleanor.

“This… isn’t made of wheat, is it?”

“That’s right! It’s made of potatoes!”

“…???”

“We have to procure all the ingredients here. If you look over there, we have wine to be used as the Holy Blood, and we made that ourselves, too.”

“…Are there even grapes here?”

“Yes! Of course, there are! An incredible…”

“…Incredible?”

“Uh… amount of… delicious…”

“…”

Is it really okay to conduct Mass this way?

Uh… it must be.

Anyway, after the chaotic Mass concluded, the church gathering ended with a final sermon from Hewitt.

Flutter. Flutter.

Now, it was Eleanor’s turn to shine. As the representative of the settlement, she had spent more time in contact with the ‘Angel’ than anyone else, and the ‘Angel’ also seemed to trust her.

“He… uh… said to us, ‘If one must find a reason to save another person, isn’t that too sad?’”

Hewitt immediately transcribed her words.

“‘Seek no reason in the salvation of man, for that is the Lord’s sorrow.’ …There.”

“Uh… his tone wasn’t that authoritative.”

“It is our new law.”

“He spoke to me too! To me too! He said He did not attack me because I am Catholic, but to save the powerless! He said religion is not the issue!”

“The Angel saith, ‘Be not constrained by the path through which you seek faith.’ And so…”

And so, in the short time that ‘Sir Nemo’ was absent…

A book was being written.

***

“Ah, hewwo…”

“Hello, Virginia. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes…”

“Where is your mother?”

“She’s obe dere, choosin’ wand for da natives.”

1. I glanced in the direction Virginia Dare pointed. Eleanor was with Manteo and his mother, surveying a site for a new settlement. The soil here on Croatoan Island was sandy in many places. The land was low, full of swamps, and the island itself was small, not to mention its inconvenient distance from the mainland. That was why Manteo’s tribe had asked us how we could possibly settle here for the long term. If even they, the original inhabitants, couldn’t grow the necessary crops and had to periodically leave the island, how could we possibly establish a permanent settlement?

The answer was simple.

1. Grapes are naturally salt-tolerant and grow well by the sea.

Potatoes naturally grow well in sandy soil.

And what are our staple foods?

Ta-da. Just like that, the problem was solved. If the soil lacked nutrients, we could add fertilizer. If it lacked water, they could draw it from my farm, where clean water gushed forth infinitely. That was the reason why our thirty-three people were able to settle here for the long term.

-“P-please, could you allow us to live near you? Our entire tribe has been baptized for your sake!”

-“…Since when?”

-“It was while you were in seclusion!”

-“…”

On top of that, Manteo and the other young men of the tribe had knelt and pleaded, and so their tribespeople were in the process of abandoning their old villages and moving here.

“About 200 more people will be living here…”

It was truly unbelievable. In any case, we had plenty of seed potatoes and other crops, so accepting them wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, Manteo’s tribe, which had been semi-nomadic until now, would be establishing their first permanent settlement on this island. Adding to that the Spanish prisoners… no, I should call them converts now, who were building their own new village nearby…

In an instant, the settlement had grown several times over.

‘…If it keeps growing, what do I do?’

Usually, the protagonists in novels hide these kinds of benefits, but can I really keep the mouths of several hundred people who already know about my ‘cheat’ shut? If not, how am I supposed to live here as a strange race, a strange being…

“Oh, Sir Nemo? Mommy’s coming!”

Virginia, who had only started walking a few months ago, shouted as she circled around me. Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I patted Virginia’s head, handed her a Shine Muscat grape, and walked toward Eleanor.

“Eleanor?”

“Ah, Sir Nemo!”

“Is Manteo satisfied with the location?”

“Yes! He was even more pleased to hear that there would be enough food.”

Eleanor cleared her throat and answered. “It seems he was a little worried about food, since we only have about 3,000 bunches of grapes left to trade. Starting next month, more people besides the initial advance party will be arriving to settle. Over there! That’s the settlement the natives are building!”

“Hahaha… ha, I… see.”

The tribespeople had already built a few huts, but their form was… uh… no matter how I looked at it, I didn’t think any traditional native dwelling looked like that.

“…Would I be mistaken if I said they look somehow similar to my house?”

“…No.”

We stood there blankly, staring at the clumsy replicas of ‘Green Gables’ and were lost in thought.

…What in the world is happening to this settlement?

In any case, the settlement grows.