Taichang Ming Dynasty

Chapter 292 "Martyrdom"

"Master Sun, you should be handling this case." Yang Lian said to Sun Chuanting, "What exactly happened? Please tell me what you have found out."

"Okay." Sun Chuanting licked his lips and said, "After the incident, we arrested and questioned all the soldiers in the camp who were present that day, as well as the scout who reported the incident. The general outline of what happened is as follows."

From its origins to its transmission and conclusion, Sun Chuanting described in detail the facts he had uncovered, concluding, "The incident did not cause any significant impact. The Semites were not trying to incite unrest; they were simply possessed by a demon."

"Hmm." Yang Lian heard the tendency in Sun Chuanting's comments, but he did not comment on it. Instead, he turned to look at He Shixian. "General He, did that group of Western soldiers offer no resistance at all?"

He Shixian hesitated for a moment, then finally confirmed, "There was indeed no resistance. Not long after I arrived at the scene, they voluntarily surrendered their weapons. Afterwards, You Shiwei also said that the Semu soldiers only drew their swords after being surrounded. It was most likely a misunderstanding."

Sometimes, a well-intentioned greeting, misinterpreted, could be interpreted as a provocation. Misunderstandings leading to confrontations are not uncommon in Liaodong today. For example, Zhejiang and local soldiers stationed in the same area, while both classified as southern troops, could still get into arguments over language misunderstandings, sometimes escalating into brawls. Generally speaking, as long as knives weren't used and no one was killed, it wasn't a serious matter.

After hearing this, Yang Lian had a rough idea in his mind, so he asked, "In other words, the testimony of others can prove that the interpreter's wild words and incitement were true, but the Western soldiers were not incited, and our soldiers were even more afraid of it. Is that right?"

"That's right." He Shixian replied, and Sun Chuanting had no objection.

"Where are the people being held?" Yang Lian asked again.

"The prison of the Pacification Office." Sun Chuanting said.

"Let's go and see him."

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The three of them walked to the Shenyang Zhongwei Zhenfusi Yamen. Not long after they entered, Zhenfu Envoy Zhao Menghuai, who had heard the commotion, came to greet them with a group of officials.

"I pay my respects to Marshal He, Minister Yang, and Director Sun." Zhao Menghuai bowed deeply.

"Take us to the prison." He Shixian just nodded in response.

"Yes. Please come this way." Zhao Menghuai didn't ask any more questions. He bent his waist and led the way in front of the three people.

While the situation varied from place to place, starting with the reigns of Emperors Renzong and Xuanzong, the status of the Duzhihuishisi and the garrisons below it began to decline overall. After the reigns Renzong and Xuanzong, the Duzhihuishisi's status continued to decline. Over several generations, in the Nine Frontiers and Thirteen Garrisons, as well as other areas where a permanent military commander was appointed, the Duzhisi and garrison commanders, who simply held no actual titles such as military commander, deputy military commander, lieutenant general, guerrilla commander, or garrison commander, completely withdrew from the command structure and became mere military and political officials, or in other words, subordinates and assistants to the resident commanders.

The so-called "hereditary official positions are hereditary but not hereditary official titles". A hereditary military officer, no matter how powerful his ancestors were, if he wanted to have the power to lead troops, he had to pass the military examination, be verified by the Ministry of War and report to the emperor for approval before he could actually take up the post.

This reform of the ancestral system greatly alleviated the decline of the army caused by the "hereditary officials but not the hereditary talents" and also provided a path for ordinary people who were capable and courageous to fight to rise to the top. If the Hongwu military system had been strictly followed, He Shixian, who "started as a servant and later joined the army", would never have been able to climb above the hereditary officials of the guards by accumulating military merits.

The place where the missionary Father Alfaro González de Mendoza was imprisoned was a 200-year-old dungeon. This dungeon was so deep that even in bright daylight, one could not see the bottom, and only artificial light could be used to see the way.

The dungeon consisted of a single stone-paved passage, wide enough for four men to walk side by side. On either side of the passage were fences made of logs as thick as forearms, topped with candlesticks, behind which lay the cells where the prisoners were held.

The dungeon not only held Western missionaries, but also some prisoners who had violated military law but were not subject to the death penalty.

"This is it." Zhao Menghuai brought the three people to the end of the dungeon, near the torture chamber.

"Have you been tortured?" Yang Lian looked at the torture room illuminated by the bright candlelight and asked Zhao Menghuai.

"No, it was just an interrogation." Zhao Menghuai said.

"Severe punishments are often unjust," Sun Chuanting said from behind Yang Lian. "He's very honest and didn't show any resistance. That's why I didn't send the chief judge from the Pacification Office down."

"Yeah." Yang Lian nodded slightly. "Open the door."

"Yes." Zhao Menghuai took the key from the jailer and unlocked the door. He then used a tinder to light a candle embedded in the stone wall of the cell. Confinement was also a form of punishment. In this dungeon, except for rounds and food delivery, there was no light at all.

"Who are you?" Father Alfaro González de Mendoza blinked, obviously not yet accustomed to the sudden light.

"I'm Yang Lian, Right Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate and Provincial Governor of Liaodong." Yang Lian's voice was relatively gentle. "We've spoken before, you should recognize me."

"Oh!" Father Mendoza squinted his eyes, barely able to see Yang Lian's chin through the tears in his eyes. "It's Master Yang."

"I'm going to ask you a few questions now. I hope you can answer truthfully," Yang Lian said.

"Just ask, Lord Yang. I will tell you everything I know." Father Mendoza said with a smile.

Yang Lian looked down at the missionary, who was sitting upright, and asked, "Why did you say such slanderous words against the emperor and the imperial court?"

Mendoza was stunned for a moment. "I did not slander the Ming Emperor, nor did I despise the Ming court."

"Bullshit! The evidence is there, it's no use trying to deny it!" Zhao Menghuai, the pacification commissioner, was suddenly furious. His signature was on the existing confession. If the prisoner changed his confession, he would be implicated.

"Please be patient." Yang Lian looked back at Zhao Menghuai, who immediately shut up.

Yang Lian then asked, "Then let me ask you, have you ever said something like 'The Emperor is in trouble' or something like that?"

Mendoza didn't catch the subtlety between the two questions. He replied, true to his heart, "I'm merely stating the facts! The Ming Dynasty is the greatest empire in the world, yet it is shrouded in boundless obscurity and evil. The emperor and his ministers are trapped within a devilish illusion, blindly believing in the evil idolatry of pagans and worshipping buildings and tablets carved from worthless stone and rotten wood. This is leading the people, who should be blessed, into a state of evil and depravity."

Yang Lian listened patiently to Mendoza's nonsense with a stern face. He took a deep breath, and when his emotions calmed down, he said, "Do you know what you are talking about?"

"Of course I know!" Mendoza stood up suddenly. The momentum was reversed. But just as he was about to speak, He Shixian held him down.

"If I didn't ask you to stand up, just sit still."

"What is an evil idol?" Yang Lian continued to ask, but his tone had become cold.

"They are the sculptures enshrined in the so-called 'ancestral halls'," Mendoza replied immediately.

"What about the buildings and tablets you're referring to?" "The so-called 'ancestral temples' and the wooden tablets with people's names engraved on them."

Yang Lian's eyes flickered with murderous intent. "Who taught you to say all that?" The fact that he could articulate such defamatory words so clearly was beyond the realm of "unintelligible overseas customs."

"My words come from my soul, from my heart," Mendoza said with a pious expression. "The Ming Dynasty is shrouded in the shadow of Lucifer. From Liaodong to Zhili, and from Zhili to Guangdong and Guangxi, the continent is filled with fallen souls. I have been called by my Lord and received a sacred mission to come to this continent to spread the gospel and save those who have been afflicted by Lucifer."

He Shixian couldn't bear to listen any longer. He ordered Zhao Menghuai, "Shut up."

Zhao Menghuai glanced at Yang Lian and, seeing he showed no sign of objection, stepped forward and slapped Mendoza twice, hard, on both cheeks. But Mendoza continued to chant, as if sensing his impending death, he was determined to use these final moments to spread the gospel even more. But to the officials, he was simply acting mad.

He Shixian grabbed Mendoza's chin and, exerting force with his five fingers, dislocated it. The missionary, already prepared for martyrdom, could no longer pronounce a complete syllable, and could only continue to "bless" this land, which he believed had been completely corrupted by the fallen angels, with a dull hum.

"He has always been like this. He starts to go crazy when asked a few questions. He recites some nonsense that is incomprehensible." Zhao Menghuai said.

"Have you remembered everything?" Yang Lian withdrew his gaze. He felt that there was no need to interrogate him again.

"I've remembered it and signed my confession." Zhao Menghuai replied.

"Hmm." Yang Lian asked again, "Where are those Western soldiers?"

"Imprisoned in the prison upstairs." Zhao Menghuai raised his thumb and poked it twice.

"Are there any of these people who can speak Chinese, Tatar or Jurchen?" Yang Lian asked.

"No. I asked everyone one by one, but no one could communicate. At most they would say 'hello', 'thank you', 'silver' or something like that." He Shixian shook his head.

If so, clarifying the facts would be much easier. He Shixian didn't even need an interpreter to help him; he spoke fluent Mongolian and Jurchen. However, his abilities were limited to speaking and listening; he couldn't read, let alone write. Mongolian and the Manchu script, which Nurhaci had fabricated based on Mongolian, were like incomprehensible books to He Shixian.

"That's it." Yang Lian nodded, then instructed Zhao Menghuai, "Go up and bring the confession."

"Yes."

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The three of them left the prison and arrived at the main hall of the Pacification Office. After a short wait, Zhao Menghuai retrieved a thick stack of confessions. "Here are the statements of the soldiers who listened to the incitement, the lookouts who rushed to report the incident, and some of the soldiers from the standard battalion who participated in the suppression," Zhao Menghuai said, placing the statements on the table closest to Yang Lian.

Yang Lian picked up all the confessions. He quickly scanned a few pages, but missed the crucial one, Mendoza's. "The prisoner's confession isn't in there?"

"It's with me," Sun Chuanting said. "The contents recorded there are basically the same as what I just told you."

"Did you take the confession home?" Yang Lian continued to read the circumstantial evidence. The statements recorded on it were similar to what He Shixian said.

"No, it's kept in the yamen." Sun Chuanting replied.

"Go get it." Yang Lian said.

"Yes." Sun Chuanting was startled and ran out quickly.

Half a minute later, Sun Chuanting returned to the Zhenfu Division with a sealed envelope. By then, Yang Lian had already reviewed all the circumstantial evidence.

"Zhongcheng. Please." Sun Chuanting handed the envelope to Yang Lian.

"Why is it sealed? Are you planning to send it out?" Yang Lian asked.

Sun Chuanting replied, "I was planning to send it to the Jinglüe Yamen. Since you are here, I will let you forward it."

"Okay, I'll pass this on to Zuo Tang." Yang Lian nodded slightly, then tore open the envelope and shook out the confession inside.

He read the confession with a frown, and saw the signatures of He Shixian, Sun Chuanting, and Zhao Menghuai on the last page. In other words, the procedures at the Shenyang level had been completed.

"Kill him." Yang Lian had no doubts. "The operation will begin tomorrow at noon. Give me the pen."

Zhao Menghuai breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly fetched a pen dipped in ink and asked, "Who should be killed?"

"Only the one who has strayed into the evil ways will be executed. He spread lies and misled the troops, slandering the emperor and the imperial court, and unsuccessfully attempted to incite the troops to revolt. The evidence is irrefutable, and his crime is unforgivable. Therefore, I request the king's order to execute him under the banner." Yang Lian added his name to the end of his confession, and added, "The others cannot remain in Shenyang either."

"What should we do with them?" Sun Chuanting was a little nervous.

"It has nothing to do with us. Just escort him to Liaoyang." Yang Lian returned the brush to Zhao Menghuai, then said to He Shixian, "General He, this case is closed. No one else will be implicated. Inform the entire army as soon as possible to reassure them."

"Okay." He Shixian nodded solemnly. It was the first time he saw decisive killing in this weak scholar.

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At noon the next day, as daylight dawned, the entrance to Shenyang was already teeming with soldiers from the General's Battalion. Clad in full armor and leaning on their spears, they stood like nails in the traffic. They formed a human wall, blocking out the clamor of the entrance.

In the center of the market, a wooden platform, as tall as an adult, stood. On it lay a wooden frame with two rat tails hanging from it and a blood-stained stake. The executioner from the Pacification Office was already waiting on the platform.

At noon, Alfaro González de Mendoza, a missionary sent to Liaodong by His Excellency Long Huamin, the president of the Society of Jesus, to serve as an interpreter and carry out missionary work, arrived at the city gate, escorted by a team of personal guards. He also carried the banner of the imperial decree bestowed upon Xiong Tingbi by the late Emperor Wanli.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the long flagpole standing in the center of the wooden platform cast a blood-red shadow like a knife blade under the sunlight.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the missionary was "martyred".

(End of this chapter)