Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  The demon Tametomo called out from the gate, “Your words hit their mark better than your arrow, Kagetsuna. You have spoken so well that although you are an unworthy enemy, I shall give you an arrow in return. May it bring you honor in this life or be a remembrance in the next!”

  Kiyomori and his men heard a whistling arrow fly through the air and a shuk-shuk as it struck a target. Kiyomori saw one of the men ahead of him fall from his horse.

  “Roku!” Kagetsuna cried. “Roku my brother!”

  Another warrior who had been behind Roku stared in horrified awe at the blood-smeared arrow stuck fast in the armor above his left arm. This warrior turned his horse and rode back to speak to Kiyomori.

  “My lord, look at this!” He broke the arrow off and held it out to Kiyomori. “It is a blunt whistling arrow, yet it passed right through Roku’s armor and body and landed on me! Roku was dead before he even left his saddle! What kind of archer can do this? Surely no ordinary man!”

  Kiyomori stared at the arrow and heard the concerned mutterings of the men behind him.

  Kagetsuna rode up, his face pale with terror. “It is true,” he said softly. “Roku is dead, the arrow flew right through him as if he were no more than mist. There has not been such skill with a bow since Minomoto Yoshiie pierced three suits of armor with one arrow. Could it truly be such strength has come into the world again?”

  Kiyomori sucked in his breath through his teeth, looking out at the dark gate and the huge figure slouching in its shadows. I have a great destiny to fulfill, he thought. I have not yet built the new shrine at Miyajima. I have not yet returned Kusanagi to the Dragon King. I have a grandson not yet born who is to become a Taira Emperor. What if these things do not come to pass because I foolishly challenge a demon? I was chosen to lead the world out of the dark times. I must not let forces of evil keep me from my destiny.

  Lord Kiyomori turned to his men, and said, “No one has ordered us to attack and take this particular gate, only that we must enter the palace somewhere. This was merely the first gate that we came to. This palace has many other entrances. Why should we satisfy the demands of a braggart who was lucky with one arrow by attacking his gate? Let us ride to the east gate and try there.”

  Kagetsuna frowned. “That gate is still close by, my lord, and this demon archer could easily defend it as well. Let us go to the other side of the palace and try the north gate.”

  Kiyomori nodded to him. “Well said, Kagetsuna. Let us go there and hope for a more profitable battle.”

  As he turned his horse to lead his men northward, his son Shigemori rode up close to him, his face eloquent with disappointment and shame. “Father, it cannot be that you, Chief of the Taira, bound by Imperial command, are turning your face from the enemy?”

  Kiyomori scowled at him. “Do not let the tales you have heard of reckless courage make you foolish, my son. In battle, strategy matters as much as bravado, and it is wise to seek the better advantage before you charge into the fray. Let Lord Yoshitomo deal with his wild brother. We will find a more suitable entrance elsewhere. Truly, you have much to learn about war.”

  “I have learned one does not run from a foe one has faced and challenged.” Shigemori turned his horse, and shouted, “Those still with a stomach for glory, follow me!”

  “Stop him!” Kiyomori cried to his men. “The demon will strike him down like a defenseless sparrow. This must not be!”

  Though Shigemori plunged toward the gate, the other warriors pressed their mounts against Shigemori’s horse, pushing and turning him toward the north. Soon there was little Shigemori could do but let his horse gallop northward with the rest of the Taira, to the other side of Shirakawa Palace.

  Kiyomori took a last glance at the southeast gate. He heard the demon Tametomo laugh, and say, “Running away, Kiyomori-san? It will do you no good. A man’s doom follows him like his shadow.” Kiyomori did not reply, but whipped his horse with the reins to catch up to his men.

  General Yoshitomo sat on his horse at the east gate of Shirakawa Palace, grumbling to himself. The pitiful excuse Kiyomori had given for splitting their forces still rankled him. Directional taboos might be all well and good for the nobility who could come and go at their leisure. For a warrior facing battle, it was foolish to the point of insult.

  He heard shouts from the south and assumed Kiyomori had chosen to begin an attack there. Very well, thought Yoshitomo. Let the o-so-brave Taira take the first blows. Once they are inside the palace, then I shall lead my men through this gate. But soon there was silence broken only by the rumble of hoofbeats departing. The Taira cannot be fleeing, can they?

  Something felt wrong to Yoshitomo. The atmosphere around him felt eerie and unsettled. The strange, glowing smoke within Shirakawa Palace cast a gloom that could not be natural. Why has the sun not risen? Yoshitomo wondered. Surely it is near dawn, and yet it is still dark.

  “My lord, someone moves at the gate.”

  Yoshitomo narrowed his eyes and made out against the glowing smoke a tall, long-limbed man.

  “So,” growled a voice within the gate, “can this be my renowned elder brother who faces me now?”

  Yoshitomo rode his horse forward, even within arrow distance. “Tametomo, is that you? In the name of Emperor, reject this rebellion. Come and join us, the side of the right. You sully your name by siding with rebels and usurpers.”

  Harsh laughter split the gloom. “What do I care which is the side of the right, my brother? The world of foolish mortals is not meant for one like me. I was born with a demon’s nature and after being discarded from my home I found a wizard-monk who taught me to achieve full demonhood. What do I care which fool sits on the Jeweled Throne? The Shin-In appreciates the dark arts, as I do, and he has promised me a good fight, so here I am. And my changed appearance bothers our father and brothers so, it is most amusing to me.”

  Yoshitomo swallowed hard and tried to convince himself that his brother was merely boasting. “What can I offer you, Tametomo, to change your mind?”

  “Nothing! Already the mighty Taira have fled rather than face me, and this is the greatest pleasure I have had in days. Why should you be any more courageous than they? Begone, elder brother, before I am tempted to hurt you. In the name of the blood we once shared, be off with you. Here is a memento to remember me by.”

  Yoshitomo heard the thrumming of a bowstring and the next moment his head was pulled sharply aside. An arrow protruded from the right flange of his helmet. Angrily, Yoshitomo turned his horse around and rode back to his men. The first he encountered, he ordered, “Take out that rude, boasting boy. Kill him and then we will storm the gate.”

  Seven men rode toward the gate, firing arrows from horseback, but none of them made it close to the palace wall. With a speed beyond mortal capability, Tametomo fired his bow and one by one each of the seven men fell from his horse, each transfixed by an arrow.

  “It cannot be possible,” Yoshitomo murmured.

  “He truly is a demon,” said Akugenda Yoshihira, his face pale.

  “With even only one man of this strength,” another man said, “how can we fight our way through the gate? Particularly if the cowardly Taira have fled and will not assist us.”

  Yoshitomo thought a moment as he attempted to control his horse, which had become skittish at the smell of blood. “We will not. There are other ways to fight. If you cannot get through to the enemy, you must make the enemy come out to you. We will set the palace on fire.”

  “But my lord, the Hōshōji Temple is just across the street, and it houses many treasures. There is a bit of wind, and the fire may travel. Is it worth the risk?”

  Yoshitomo frowned. “True. It would be bad to antagonize the monks. I will place the final decision with the Imperial Court. Take a message to Lesser Counselor Shinzei and explain the situation. We will wait here for his answer.”

  The man bowed in his saddle and departed for the East Sanjō Palace. It was not long before he returned with the reply. “
Lesser Counselor Shinzei says your plan has merit, and His Majesty gives his approval. If your efforts succeed and thereby allow the Emperor to retain the throne, he can rebuild whatever temples are burned. Do not fear. Only destroy the rebels as soon as possible.”

  “Very good,” said Yoshitomo. “The wind is coming out of the west, so let us start the fire at the house to the west of Shirakawa Palace.”

  “My lord, that is Middle Counselor Fujiwara Ienari’s house!” said the messenger. “He is a very powerful and influential man.”

  Yoshitomo smiled a grim smile. “As His Majesty has said, if we succeed, Go-Shirakawa will build him another house. Burn it.”

  Three of his men departed with torches and soon smoke was rising from the roof of Ienari’s mansion. The powerful westerly winds carried sparks and embers from the burning wood across the road and the wall and the gate onto the roof of Shirakawa Palace.

  The air filled with choking smoke and soon there came the screams of women and children. Servants and ladies fled the palace, whirling and scattering like autumn leaves upon a storm wind.

  “Slow them down!” Yoshitomo commanded. “Some of them may be men trying to escape!”

  But there were too many fleeing and too few horsemen to stop them. Yoshitomo and his men were able to ride into the palace, but the smoke, both natural and supernatural, confounded them, making it impossible to see clearly.

  A shadow rode toward him, and Yoshitomo drew his sword. “Stop and declare yourself! In the name of the Emperor, I Minomoto Yoshitomo command it!”

  The smoke cleared enough to show it was Taira Kiyomori riding in from the north. “Ho. Yoshitomo. It is good you announced yourself, or I might have killed you. Where is the Shin-In?”

  “I do not know,” Yoshitomo admitted. “In this smoke, and with so many fleeing …” he finished with a shrug.

  “A brilliant plan,” Kiyomori said sardonically. “Thanks to your fire, we have gained Shirakawa Palace, but lost the rebels. I presume there has been no sign of your unfortunate relatives either, then?”

  “They will be easily found,” Yoshitomo retorted. “After this morning, no one will support them. And at least I devised a plan. I heard you ran away from Tametomo at the southeast gate.”

  “I was merely looking for a better entry. There is no sense in getting one’s men killed for nothing.”

  Their argument was broken by the sound of tolling bells. Shigemori came galloping up to them. “Father, Hōshōji Temple is burning! The scrolls! The sacred tapestries! So much will be lost!”

  “Our good general Yoshitomo says that His Imperial Majesty permits it. That all will be rebuilt,” said Kiyomori. “Apparently it was expected this might happen.”

  “Well,” said Shigemori, his expression uncertain, “if it is an Imperial command, what can a man do? But so much holy work destroyed—it will bring bad fortune, I am sure.”

  “War is bad fortune enough, boy,” growled Yoshitomo. “You need not look for further omens in its doings. I would have thought that you, a Taira, would know this.” Yoshitomo did not wait for a reply but turned his horse and rode through the smoke to search for his own son and to salvage what victory he could.

  Verandah Cushions

  At the Hour of the Ox, early the following afternoon, Generals Yoshitomo and Kiyomori made their formal report at the Imperial palace. It was said they made a splendid entrance in their finest silk brocade robes. The day was bright with sunlight glittering off the snow and ice, and made the Imperial courtyard beyond the gate called Inpumon seem paved with silver. The atmosphere in the palace compound was one of great joy that the rebellion had been broken so swiftly.

  Yet all was not joyful in the mind of Lord Kiyomori. He watched Yoshitomo carefully as they both dismounted their horses and proceeded on foot to the Great Hall of State. He watched for who among the nobles gathered seemed to be favoring Yoshitomo with bows, smiles, and nods, and whether more were favoring the Minomoto general than him. In the aftermath of a successful battle, it could be assured there would be promotions handed out and favor given. The Ise Taira commonly served the Imperial cause, so their participation in this battle might be considered merely a matter of course, while Yoshitomo was the only leader of the Kawachi Minomoto to remain loyal to the Emperor.

  The court might choose to make an example of Yoshitomo, Kiyomori mused to himself, and shower more honors upon him than upon the Taira. Surely the gods and the Dragon King will let nothing interfere with my prophesied destiny. But it is said the Minomoto are watched over by the mighty Hachiman. One cannot be too careful. Ah, well, I have a plan that may assist matters.

  Kiyomori and Yoshitomo were both guided to the verandah outside the Great Hall of State, and knelt there on cushions of gold thread and scarlet silk. From the whispers beyond the gold-leafed paper shōji beside him, Kiyomori knew the Emperor was already present within. He wondered that he and Yoshitomo were not ushered into the Imperial Presence itself. After our great achievement are we still not worthy? But he willed himself to patience. There were still some First Rank nobles who thought it improper for warriors to come near the Emperor under any circumstances. Or perhaps that is an honor that will be bestowed upon us in time to come.

  The gold-paper shōji slid aside and Lesser Counselor Shinzei emerged to kneel before them. Shinzei bowed to them both, and Kiyomori thought he saw a knowing twinkle in the counselor’s eye as he bowed in return. Shinzei and Kiyomori were well acquainted, having spent many evenings discussing history and politics at Rokuhara. With such a friend in high office, so close to the Emperor, Kiyomori felt reassured.

  “His Imperial Majesty,” Shinzei began, “would like to hear your stories about the attack on Shirakawa Palace and how events unfolded.”

  There was an awkward moment as it was unclear who should begin. But Shinzei nodded at Yoshitomo, indicating he should be first. Kiyomori could not help worrying as to whether there was meaning in this, or whether it would be to his advantage.

  Yoshitomo spoke briefly, mentioning only that their forces divided to provide greater surprise and that the defense of the palace proved stronger than expected. If there had been disapproval of Kiyomori’s actions, Yoshitomo did not voice them in any way. He finished with a description of how Shirakawa Palace had been set afire, in accordance with Imperial instructions, and how that led to the unfortunate burning of Hōshōji Temple.

  Then Shinzei turned to Kiyomori, who chose to report much the same events as Yoshitomo, omitting how he fled from the demon at the southeast gate. Kiyomori went on to say he did not know of the order to burn the palace until after he and his men had already fought their way inside. Kiyomori finished by producing a scroll from his sleeve. “Here is a list, compiled by my men, of the rebels who died in the fire, and those who were captured.”

  Shinzei accepted the scroll, asking, “And the Shin-In? Is he among those listed here? The Emperor is most eager to know.”

  Kiyomori and Yoshitomo shared a brief glance before Kiyomori admitted, “No, my lord. The Former Emperor seems to have been spirited away. Very likely he has escaped to one of the nearby mountain monasteries, in which case it should be a simple matter to find him.”

  Shinzei made a noncommittal nod and excused himself to go into the Imperial Presence to make his report to His Majesty. Kiyomori knew the Emperor had already heard all they had said, but formalities needed to be followed. After Shinzei had slid the shōji shut behind him, Yoshitomo leaned over, and asked, “Are you going to tell him?”

  “Tell him what?” Kiyomori replied, irritated.

  “About how it was truly a demon we faced at Shirakawa Palace. About how those rumors that the Shin-In is involved with evil forces may be true.”

  Kiyomori replied cautiously. “In the dark, in the heat of battle, a man might imagine many things. Although he is a Retired Emperor and a rebel, the Shin-In is brother to he who currently sits upon the Jeweled Throne. To imply evil of any of the Imperial blood …”

  “I unde
rstand,” Yoshitomo said quickly. “I shall say nothing on the matter.”

  A minute later, Shinzei reemerged from the shōji and knelt before them again. “His Imperial Majesty has received your recountings with great pleasure and commends you both on your great success. He asks now that you order your men to see that the houses of the captured and killed rebels are burned to the ground. As for your prisoners, those of lesser or no rank are to be executed as soon as possible. Any sons they may have still living shall be executed as well, in order to avoid any further rebellion in the name of vengeance. Now as to the higher-ranked rebels, and those still at large—”

  Here Kiyomori put his plan into action. “Most Noble Lord, Great Honored Majesty,” said Kiyomori, pressing his forehead to the floorboards, “it is to my great sorrow that I admit that my own uncle, Tadamasa, took part in the rebellion. I regret that thereby he has brought shame upon on my clan and has stained our name. Therefore, I am in full agreement that he should be found as soon as possible and executed at once, as well as his sons. I shall behead them personally, for it is only proper that they meet death at the hands of a kinsman.” Kiyomori sat up, looking straight ahead, careful not to glance at Yoshitomo.

  Yoshitomo swallowed audibly. After a long moment, he said, “Most Noble Shinzei, Great Imperial Majesty, I also regret that my kinsmen have sided with the rebels, including my own elderly father, Minomoto Tameyoshi.” Yoshitomo flung himself forward to also press his forehead to the floorboards. “I, too, regret with deep shame that my kinsmen have sided with the rebels. I agree that Tameyoshi and my brothers should be brought to court to answer for their rebellion. Yet it would be the supreme unfilial crime for me to slay my father. I beg you, let there be mercy for him. He is old, and surely fate will carry him into the Other World soon enough. Let him live out his last years in far exile, if you must, but let him live.”