Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  “Hai, my lord.” The Master of the Gate Guards bowed.

  “And take these away to the prison.” Nobuyori waved his baton at the bound men.

  “As you command, my lord.” A member of the Gate Guards unbound Shinzei’s sons’ feet, and the men were led away. As they passed by him, Yoshitomo noted the expression on their faces. The look of men who were already dead.

  “Now on to more pleasant things,” said Nobuyori. “For myself, His Imperial Majesty has done me the honor to declare me both Minister of State and Great Commander.”

  This produced quite a stir in the hall, and Yoshitomo began hearing whisperings that this was not the doing of the Emperor at all, but Nobuyori himself. What has happened to the Emperor? Yoshitomo wondered.

  His attention was jolted back to his surroundings when he heard his name announced. “—Minomoto Yoshitomo, for his great and meritorious service to the Emperor, shall be awarded the governorship of Harima.”

  Yoshitomo bowed while polite applause rippled around him. There was a certain sweet victory in receiving a post that had belonged to Kiyomori. But as he waited for more, Nobuyori went on to other names.

  That is all? Is this my success at great cost? One governorship? But Yoshitomo again counseled himself to patience. It is a step ahead, and there may well be more in future. Kiyomori is not yet returned, and there may be more chance to prove my worth in days to come.

  He felt a tugging at his sleeve and looked around. A servant had knelt beside him. “My lord Yoshitomo, a young man is outside, claiming to be your eldest son. He wishes to speak with you.”

  Yoshitomo smiled. Ah, Akugenda. He must have heard there was fighting. He will be so upset that he missed it. Yoshitomo rose to depart.

  But Nobuyori again rapped the edge of his dais with his baton. “What is this? What is this? If it is an important message for my most trusted general, I believe we should all hear it.”

  “Fear not, it is no news of consequence, my lord,” said Yoshitomo. “It would seem my oldest son Akugenda Yoshihira has ridden to the capital from Sagami, where he has been staying with his grandfather this past year. He asks to see me. Therefore, may I may be dismissed from this august gathering?”

  “But this is wonderful news! Another brave Minomoto comes to the palace. I have heard rumors of your son’s excellent valor. You need not depart. Your son is permitted to join us. Send him in.”

  “Ah. Thank you, Nobuyori-sama.”

  The messenger departed, and soon Akugenda Yoshihira entered, his hair still tangled from the wind and his garments still redolent with sweat of man and horse. Somewhat nervously, Yoshihira bowed to the hall and knelt by Yoshitomo. “Father, I have ridden all this way hearing there was a disturbance in the capital. If there is danger, if there is any way I may serve, I am here to fight by your side.”

  “Of course. But I regret to tell you—” Yoshitomo began but was overridden by Nobuyori.

  “Well said, well said, young man!” exclaimed Nobuyori, clapping his hands. “What your brave father was about to say is that the disturbance is over. Nevertheless, there remains much to be done to right the wrongs that precipitated it. Your timing is excellent. We were just handing out promotions to the worthy who are assisting us in our cause. Your father is one such, and as you are his son, you will be another. What rank and office would you like? High or low, large or small province, it can be yours.”

  Akugenda Yoshihira blinked, bewildered. “Most high lord, you honor me too much. I have been taught that rewards must be earned, and I have not yet accomplished anything. It is too soon for me to accept a post. Let me prove myself first. I have heard that Lord Kiyomori is away on pilgrimage. Let me await him with a force of warriors at Abeno Plain. He is protected only by his servants, and he and his son may be easily captured and killed. When I bring their heads back to you, mighty lord, then may you give me provinces and higher rank.”

  This was heard by all the nobles in the hall, and they sighed and nodded with approval. Nobuyori himself wiped his face with a sleeve as if dabbing a tear from his eye. “Oh, well said, well said. Truly your son has a warrior’s blood, my general.”

  Yoshitomo bowed in acknowledgment. “I am most proud of him, my lord.”

  “Do all your sons have such potential, General?”

  “All of them, my lord.” Yoshitomo was about to tell the story of his youngest, Yoritomo, who was now thirteen, and the strange oracle at Hachimangu. But then he stopped himself, concerned as to what Akugenda Yoshihira might think. Like any man of consequence, Yoshitomo had had, in addition to his principal wife, several concubines and lovers, all of whom had borne him children. Yoshitomo was well aware of the dangerous jealousies and rivalries that could erupt between brothers and half brothers. If he boasted of his youngest, it might seem a slight to his eldest, and Akugenda Yoshihira might never forgive his little brother Yoritomo. We few Minomoto who are left must fight together to keep our clan alive. This is Akugenda’s moment. Let him bask in it unchallenged.

  “However,” Nobuyori’s voice cut into Yoshitomo’s thoughts, “your scheme of an attack at Abeno shows the inexperience and enthusiasm of youth. There is no need to go so far when the enemy is coming to you. Why wear out your horses? And you would only catch two Taira that way. Let Kiyomori and his son return to Rokuhara, where the rest of the Taira wait in their lair. Then we may surround them all and do whatever we wish. Trust me, we have had some recent success with such a plan.”

  A dark chuckle emerged from the assembled noblemen. One of them commented, “Here we are giving rank to men for having killed many people. We ought to give the well at Sanjō rank and promotion, too, for did it not kill many people?”

  All the nobles present laughed aloud at this as though they thought it quite amusing. Or were pretending to. Yoshitomo was sickened, and ashamed for Nobuyori’s offhand rebuke to his son, but he dared reveal nothing of these feelings. By whatever karma I have made for myself, I am bound to this toad of a man.

  “Father”, Akugenda Yoshihira said softly in his ear, “Lord Kiyomori is not such a fool as Go-Shirakawa, and Rokuhara is not a genteel palace but a compound brimming with armed men. If the Taira chief returns to Rokuhara and rallies his clan, the fight will be much more difficult. Why don’t these men see that?”

  Yoshitomo sighed. “These are Men Who Dwell Above The Clouds, my son. They do not see earthly matters that are beneath them.”

  “Perhaps I will go to Abeno anyway.”

  Yoshitomo caught his son’s sleeve and tugged it hard. “Have you forgotten all I have taught you? A samurai obeys his lord.”

  “And if the lord is foolish and we die as a result?”

  “Then we die as well as we can, and allow our deaths to shame him.”

  “It seems to me these men are not capable of shame.”

  Yoshitomo had no answer for that.

  Shinzei’s Head

  Two days later, Yoshitomo had another displeasing duty. The day before, Shinzei had been reported found, buried alive. The Middle Counselor had apparently had news of Sanjō and had tried to commit suicide, in a method that would give him a lengthy time to chant sutras and pray before his body expired. But Nobuyori’s men had found him first and ended what was left of Shinzei’s life abruptly. Shinzei’s head was being brought back to Heian Kyō to be paraded triumphantly down Suzaku Avenue, and Yoshitomo had to be witness to the procession.

  “I tell you, I have never felt such joy,” said Nobuyori, leaning out the window of his ox-carriage, “as the moment this morning when I identified the head as Shinzei’s. Truly, this is an extraordinary day, neh?”

  Yoshitomo also had to lean out the window of his own ox-carriage, parked beside Nobuyori’s, in order to be heard above the throng gathered along the avenue and the banks of the Kamo River. He would have preferred to be astride a horse than closed up in a carriage like a woman, but Nobuyori had been giving him not-so-subtle hints that Yoshitomo should begin behaving more like a nobleman. “Indeed,
my lord,” Yoshitomo called back with less enthusiasm. “An auspicious day.”

  There was an excited hubbub to the south, and Nobuyori said, “Ah! Here it comes! Here comes the head of the Great Traitor!”

  Yoshitomo reflected on this a moment. He had had personal reasons to distrust Shinzei, but he had no evidence that Shinzei had plotted against the Emperor, other than Nobuyori’s word. And from close observation in recent days, Yoshitomo was beginning to wonder how well Nobuyori’s word might be trusted. The man seems mad at times, vengeful beyond reason one day, neglectful of important matters the next, as if possessed by a capricious spirit. There are those who say the demonic ghost of the Shin-In haunts Heian Kyō. Were I a superstitious man, I might believe them.

  Yoshitomo heard the clopping of many horses’ hooves approaching, and he leaned farther out of his carriage to peer down the street. Row upon row of finely armored warriors were riding up on their prancing steeds. Yoshitomo recognized many of them, who were of Minomoto or related families. He was pleased they made an impressive sight. As the warriors rode past, they bowed to Nobuyori’s carriage.

  The crowd grew strangely silent, then. So much so that Yoshitomo could hear the winter breeze moaning through the bare branches of nearby willow trees. It was then that the head of Shinzei, impaled upon a sword, was going by, carried by the warrior who had found him.

  The sky darkened perceptibly, as a cloud passed over the sun. The wind became colder. Perhaps it was merely the jouncing gait of the warrior’s mount, but Yoshitomo saw the eyes in Shinzei’s head open and the head nod, first to Nobuyori’s carriage, then to Yoshitomo’s, as if to say, “One day, you too.”

  Yoshitomo felt his skin creep and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

  “Did you see that?” a commoner standing near Yoshitomo’s carriage said. “He nodded at the Great Commander’s carriage!”

  “Ai,” moaned another. “His ghost will seek vengeance upon his enemies. What unhappy times these are.”

  “Shinzei was not a rebel or a criminal. What could have led him to this horrid fate?”

  “Surely he must have done terrible things in a previous life. That is the only thing that can explain it.”

  “Not necessarily. Perhaps it was because he insisted that the death penalty be carried out again after the Hōgen Disturbance. There were so many deaths. Perhaps this is divine punishment for that.”

  “Yes, perhaps that is it.”

  Perhaps, thought Yoshitomo, chilled to the bone. But Shinzei was a powerful man. Powerful men play dangerous games. Play them long enough, and a man’s luck eventually runs out. Any man’s. Even Nobuyori’s. Even mine.

  A Red Helmet Cord

  A light snow was gently falling as Kiyomori and his son Shigemori finished their prayers at Kirime-no-ōji, one of the ninety-nine shrines along the Nakahechi pilgrimage road to Kumano. They turned away from the vermilion-painted shrine and passed between the stone lanterns flanking the path when they saw a horseman galloping toward them. Kiyomori, his son, and his retainers put their hands on their short swords as the horseman pulled his steed to an abrupt halt and flung himself onto the path before Kiyomori. “My lord,” he said, his face pale with fear and woe, “I have ridden here straightway from Rokuhara. There is terrible news.”

  “Tell me. Be brief,” said Kiyomori.

  “The Sanjō Palace has been burned, with great loss of life, and the Retired Emperor captured and imprisoned in the Imperial Compound. Great Commander Nobuyori has made alliance with Minomoto Yoshitomo, and together they did this. Also Middle Counselor Shinzei’s residence has been burned and all who were found there killed.”

  Kiyomori sucked in cold air through his teeth and stared off to the north. “I never believed he would be so bold. And so brutal.” He looked back down at the messenger. “What of Rokuhara?”

  “It still stood, when I left, my lord.”

  “Father,” said Shigemori, “we must return to Heian Kyō at once!”

  Kiyomori paused, staring through the falling snow toward the north. How could I have been so blind? Everyone told me Nobuyori was an utter fool, who would blunder at anything he tried. Go-Shirakawa imprisoned and his palace burned? How could the Emperor allow this? It cannot be possible. There must be some mistake.

  “You are absolutely certain of this?” Kiyomori demanded of the messenger.

  “I swear it upon the honor of my ancestors, my lord. I, myself, passed by the charred remains of Sanjō Palace on my way here. The smell alone was … please do not ask me to describe it, my lord.”

  Kiyomori curled his hands into fists. I cannot have been outsmarted by Nobuyori. This must have been a Minomoto plot. “You are certain he was accompanied by Minomoto Yoshitomo?”

  “Yes, my lord. Most certain.”

  “Ah.”

  “Father—”

  “Are you listening, my son? Did I not tell you years ago that Yoshitomo was not our friend?” So, the Minomoto have somehow regained Imperial favor. And Yoshitomo has much reason to hate me. If, to oppose him, the Taira must act against the Imperial will, it will go hard on us. This cannot be happening. I have only just begun building the new shrine on Miyajima, and I have not yet returned the Sacred Sword to Ryujin. I do not yet have the grandson who will become Emperor.

  Kiyomori gazed down at a little moss-covered stone statue of Jizō, the bosatsu who protects the souls of all travelers who die along the pilgrims’ road. Kiyomori wondered if he would be needing Jizō’s protection soon.

  “Father!”

  “I am considering our position. Remember, we have no force of arms with us, not even a single suit of armor. If we return and are attacked along the road, we will be defenseless. And that is what the Minomoto will do, if they have any sense. Perhaps it would be safer to continue the pilgrimage. At the Kumano shrine, there may be warrior-monks to help us. And we can pray for divine assistance as well.”

  “If our purpose in the pilgrimage was to pray for peace,” argued Shigemori, “how can we turn our backs when such peace is shattered? We must return!”

  “My lord,” said the messenger, “if I may have leave to speak, the Taira and Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa have friends in this region, who remember your heroic part in the Hōgen Disturbance. Let me ride to them and explain the situation. Let me see if I and others can gather men and arms for you.”

  One of the scarlet cords on the messenger’s helmet had worked free and now fluttered in the wind, a red banner. Kiyomori was reminded of Benzaiten’s sail, and her promise. She would not fail me, he thought, if I prove my courage. It was a small sign, but it was all he needed. “Very well.” He nodded to the messenger. “Go swiftly, and see what you can find.”

  “I shall be as the wind, my lord.” The messenger bowed and got back on his horse. He rode off into the swirling snow.

  “I, too! I, too!” said the retainers and servants, and they ran off to the nearest posting station to get horses.

  Within hours, the great warrior and Governor of Chikugo, Iesada, who was a distant relation to Kiyomori, arrived at the shrine. Behind him marched men bearing fifty chests slung on long poles. These contained fifty suits of armor, fifty quivers of arrows, and swords. From within the bamboo poles used to carry the chests, the men brought out fifty bows. Iesada was greeted with a cheer, and Kiyomori’s heart lifted.

  The Abbot of Kumano Shrine himself sent more than twenty mounted men. Muneshige, the Acting Governor of Yuasa, rode up with more than thirty. All through that afternoon and night, more and more men came to the aid of the Taira. By midnight, the field beside Kirime-no-ōji held a force of over a hundred mounted warriors.

  “Now, if we meet opposition on the road, we will have something to show them,” said Kiyomori with satisfaction.

  But one of the warriors called out, “My lord, a rider approaches from the north.”

  Their torchlight revealed, through the lightly falling snow, a rider galloping toward them. The warriors brought forth their bows and
made arrows ready. But the rider called out, “I bring a message from Rokuhara. Is Lord Kiyomori here?”

  As the man wore an armband with the Taira crest, Kiyomori was pointed out to him. The messenger rode up to Kiyomori, dismounted, and knelt before him. “My lord, I have ridden hard from Heian Kyō. One of Yoshitomo’s sons has arrived in the capital, with plans to set a force at Abeno to ambush you if you should return. Rumors say he will assemble over three thousand warriors there.”

  Again, Kiyomori paused and stroked his chin in thought. “The Minomoto have many supporters in the Kantō, but that would seem an exaggerated number. Still, even a third of that, a mere thousand, would surely defeat our small band. What a waste that would be of the lives of those who showed their loyalty by coming to our aid. Perhaps we should not head straight for Heian Kyō, then, but ride to Shikoku and raise a larger army. Once we are ready, then we may enter the capital with greater assurance of success.”

  “Father,” said Shigemori, anxiously, “that will take days. Who knows what might happen to Rokuhara or the Retired Emperor in that time. We have seen how fast Nobuyori moves, and how boldly. If we take so long, there may be nothing left to defend by the time we return. Besides, think of the glory to be attained if we defeat so great a force with our smaller one. And if we lose, there would be no shame in it. People will sing of our bravery.”

  “The boy is right,” said Iesada. “Think of your family at Rokuhara, how frightened they must be. We should take our chances and hurry to Heian Kyō.”

  Kiyomori turned and stared at his son. For a scholarly young man, he chooses the strangest moments to suddenly display the heart of a warrior. Usually to disapprove of my better sense and judgment. Did his mother make him so contrary? Ah, well. Perhaps I should be grateful to the gods that he has such moments at all. And Iesada, whose help we desperately need, agrees with him.

  “So be it,” said Kiyomori. “Let us go directly then, and may our way be blessed by the Kumanobutsu.” He and Shigemori put on suits of armor over their pilgrim robes and mounted horses that Iesada had brought for them.