Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  Kiyomori imagined what such a ceremony would be like, the young boy in scarlet brocade robes bearing the chrysanthemum crest, standing on a platform overlooking the sea. The boy would raise Kusanagi high—and then, who knew? Benzaiten herself might return in her dragon-shell boat to accept the sword on behalf of her father. Or a great dragon might rise out of the waters and take the sword in its mouth. What a sight that would be!

  The Dragon King has promised that I will have a grandson who shall be Emperor. That promise is not yet fulfilled. Let him wait for his sword until my grandson sits on the Jeweled Throne. Then he shall have the sword with all proper ceremony. I must tell Tokiko that she is too impatient.

  Long moments passed, and still Kiyomori was alone with Kusanagi. He longed to touch it. To draw the sword from its scabbard, to look at the blade. It was said that a warrior could tell when a sword had taken blood. Would the edge be notched from where it had bit into bone? Would the metal be scratched from where it had slid against armor? The finest swords, in well-trained hands, could fly silently through air, cut raindrops in two. Was Kusanagi one of these?

  I am of Imperial blood, Kiyomori reminded himself. It would be no offense to the gods if I held it. Kiyomori slowly reached his right hand toward Kusanagi.

  The shōji behind him opened with a loud clack.

  Kiyomori pulled his hand back. Not knowing which servant had entered, he said gruffly, “Has the wine been sent up from the kitchens to His Majesty yet?”

  An amused young man answered, “I have not seen the wine yet, Kiyomori-san. And, to be truthful, I have had rather enough of wine for the time being.”

  “Majesty!” Kiyomori pressed his forehead to the floor. “I… the servants had departed on other errands, and so I was watching over the Sacred Sword for you.”

  “I can think of no better guardian, given that you have rescued me.”

  Kiyomori did not look up as he heard the susurrance of silk robes and heard Emperor Nijō kneel beside him. “I wanted to personally offer my gratitude to you for your assistance and your hospitality, and the protection of your clan, Kiyomori-san.”

  “It is my great honor to do so, Majesty.”

  “It is quite a thing, neh? This Kusanagi.”

  “It is, Majesty. The symbol of Imperial power and your right to rule.”

  “Of late, I have been feeling … somewhat unworthy of it.”

  “Please do not say such a thing, Majesty. The very fact that it is here, safely, with you, must indicate that the gods hold you in their favor.”

  Emperor Nijō sighed. “I hope you are right, Kiyomori-san. I had not looked on it that way. We tried to get the Mirror and the Jewel, too, but Nobuyori’s men prevented it.”

  “I have word, Majesty, that the other sacred accoutrements have also been moved to safe places.”

  “Ah. That is good. I have been so frightened. Both for myself and for the land. Will you pray with me, Kiyomori-san, for peace, even though I know there are battles yet to come?”

  “It would be my privilege, Majesty.”

  Together they chanted to the Amida Buddha, and Kiyomori let pass his thoughts of stealing Kusanagi.

  Sounding Boards

  The next morning Fujiwara Narichika entered the Asagarei. The “Great Commander” Nobuyori lay on the Imperial sleeping platform, like a pale, bloated dead horse, still drunk from carousing the night before. Narichika sighed. Perhaps it is just as well that this petty tyrant’s reign will end soon. Alas that my career and probably my life will end with it.

  There were no servants about, so Narichika himself shook Nobuyori’s shoulder. “My lord, my lord! You must awaken!”

  “Go away,” grumbled Nobuyori. His clothing reeked of sake and plum wine.

  “I will not go away and let you lie here to shame us all.”

  Nobuyori opened one bleary eye. “Narichika? How dare you—”

  “I dare because the world turned upside down last night. I dare because there is no one else to tell you. The palace is deserted. The Emperor has flown the cage you made for him, and now he is gone.”

  Nobuyori opened the other eye. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

  “His Majesty was somehow spirited away in the night and now resides with the Taira at Rokuhara. An announcement was made before dawn that anyone who wishes to be thought a friend of the Jeweled Throne should appear at Rokuhara to pay their respects and pledge their loyalty. I have heard from my servants that nearly all the nobility of Heian Kyō now fills the streets around Rokuhara. One cannot move for the number of grand carriages and their escorts.”

  “Impossible!” Nobuyori narrowed his eyes and sat up. “Has no one told you that I despise jests of this nature?”

  “It is not a jest, my lord!”

  “And even if it were true, we still have Go-Shirakawa, neh? He’s worth as much as his son.”

  “My lord, the Retired Emperor and his sister have fled as well. No one knows where.” Narichika kept reviewing in his mind a certain conversation with a strange man in green robes the night before and wondering if he also ought to be ashamed of himself.

  “This is a foolish trick to play on your liege lord, Narichika. I thought we Fujiwara were above such things.”

  “I say again, this is no trick! Look about the palace and see for yourself!”

  “Very well. But if you are lying, your head may join Shinzei’s on the prison gate.”

  “I assure you, my lord, it is true.” Though my head may eventually hang from the prison gate anyway.

  Nobuyori hastily threw on an overrobe and his short red pantaloons and strode across the Imperial Compound. Narichika followed him as the Great Commander berated the few servants and groundskeepers who remained in the Compound. They all corroborated what Narichika had said—all the people of quality had left. Nobuyori went to the Single-Copy Library and saw that the door stood wide open and the chamber within was empty. Nobuyori ran to the Blackdoor Chamber where the Emperor had been staying and saw it was deserted as well. He stared at the empty bed platform, the gauze curtains drifting in the morning breeze like ghosts. “Tell no one about this,” he breathed to Narichika.

  “My lord,” said Narichika, “there is no one left in the palace to tell. Your guards and your general Yoshitomo know already.”

  “I… have … been … duped!” shouted Nobuyori, and as his anger grew he began to stomp and dance around as if to summon the wrath of the gods. But the only response he received was the groaning of the sounding boards beneath his feet.

  Eight Dragons

  Minomoto Yoshitomo was still reeling from the news of the disappearing Emperors. After another long night of waiting for a Taira attack that never came, Yoshitomo had allowed himself the luxury of returning to his residence to sleep. He had slept scarcely more than a couple of hours when a messenger from the Imperial Compound arrived at dawn to wake him with the news.

  At midmorning, his son Akugenda Yoshihira came riding through their residence gate. The young man dismounted in the courtyard and rushed up to Yoshitomo. “Father, I was at the Kamo Shrine when I heard. Is it true? The Emperor and Retired Emperor have gone to Rokuhara?”

  “His Majesty has, apparently. As for the In, no one seems to know where he has gone.”

  “What are we to do? Should we go to Rokuhara and pay our respects, as the other noblemen have?”

  Yoshitomo scowled at his son. “The Minomoto do not serve two masters. I have pledged my service to Lord Nobuyori, and therefore tied the fate of our clan to his. Perhaps this was a mistake in judgment. But I will not go back on my word, for who would fight with us then, eh?”

  “As you say, Father,” Akugenda Yoshihira said, glancing about nervously. “But surely we cannot attack the Emperor?”

  “We will do whatever the Great Commander bids us.”

  “And what are the Great Commander’s orders?”

  Yoshitomo sighed. “There have been none, yet. He is probably still asleep. Nonetheless, we can make preparations
. Go among your men and all those you know, and make a list of those still loyal to Nobuyori, or at least still willing to fight with us. With that information, we will make what plans we can.”

  “At once, Father.”

  “Tell your brother Tomonaga to prepare for battle. I will see to young Yoritomo myself.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Akugenda Yoshihira departed, and Yoshitomo fetched a large lacquered chest from his quarters and went to his son Yoritomo.

  The boy was only thirteen, and as Yoshitomo entered Yoritomo’s quarters, he felt his emotions roiling like storm clouds, fear overturning pride overturning hope. “My son, have you heard what has been happening?”

  “I have, Father. The servants are all gabbling about it. Are we going to fight the Taira?” The boy seemed preternaturally calm that cold morning, as if only asking if they were going to visit a relative or going for a walk through the gardens.

  “We are, my son. And as this will be your first battle, a battle that will be vital to the survival of our clan, I have brought you something.” He set down the trunk before the boy. “I have been saving this for you, ever since the omen at Hachimangu. Do you remember that day?”

  Yoritomo nodded. “Hai, the white doves.”

  Yoshitomo removed the chest lid. “This was the armor of your fabled ancestor, Yoshiiye. It is called Eight Dragons. You see the eight dragons there intertwined on the chest plate? Yoshiiye was also blessed by the favor of Hachiman, and therefore I thought it appropriate that this, his armor, should become yours.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

  Yoshitomo removed from the chest the first part of the armor, the archer’s gloves.

  The boy had already loosened his hair and tied it under an eboshi cap, and he was already wearing a narrow-sleeved kimono and wide breeches. His father began dressing him in the armor. First Yoshitomo placed the yu gake gloves on the boy’s hands—the left one, for holding the bow, was stiff cloth lined with mail, the right one was of soft leather for drawing the bowstring.

  Then Yoshitomo handed his son the under-armor tunic and matching hakama breeches. Yoshitomo helped him with the leggings and the lacings to anchor the hakama. Over these he tied the suneate shin guards, three iron splints laced together. On his son’s feet Yoshitomo put shoes made of bear fur.

  Then Yoritomo stood and allowed his father to tie onto him the padded waidate cuirass that would protect his right side while he was drawing a bow. Then came the armored sleeves, first left then right, and the tying of the tunic sleeves beneath them.

  Yoshitomo now took the over-armor, yoryoi, from the box. Eight Dragons was unusual for the wide spacing between the metal plates, which were tied together with white Chinese brocade. It had metal fittings in the “round lion” design on the sleeve and skirt pieces, as well as the bronze decorations of eight dragons on the chest piece, which gave the armor its name.

  Yoshitomo began with the cuirass and armored skirt, the do. Tied to it were the wide sode shoulder guards, which were the main shield to the body to deflect arrows.

  At last, Yoshitomo turned his son around and straightened the agemaki knot at the back, which held the shoulder guards in place.

  “Now you are properly dressed like a warrior,” Yoshitomo said, proudly. “Here is the sword Higekiri, Beard-trimmer, which also was carried by your esteemed ancestor. Wear it well, my son, and use it honorably.”

  “I will, Father.” The boy awkwardly tied the scabbard to his side.

  Finally, Yoshitomo handed him the long rattan bow and a quiver of arrows whose fletching was gray spotted with black. “Now you are properly armed to defeat any enemy. Here is your helmet. Put it on just before you mount your horse.”

  As they were finishing, Akugenda Yoshihira came running in. “Father, there is more news.”

  Yoshitomo turned and noted his eldest son’s face was pale. “What is it?”

  “Three of your commanders, Yorimasa, Mitsuyasu, and Mitsumoto have gone to Rokuhara to join cause with the Taira. The word is that they did not wish to be traitors to the throne, so they would prefer to be traitor to you.”

  “So.” Yoshitomo stared at the floor.

  “Should we go strike them down, Father?” asked Yoritomo.

  Yoshitomo took a deep breath. “If we take some of our forces away from defending the palace to fight a vendetta, we may lose the greater battle when it comes. If we were defeated, how much greater would be our trouble in reassembling another army to defeat the Taira. No, we must let them go. Now let us hurry to the palace and assemble what forces we have.”

  Yoshitomo watched the two young men hurry ahead of him to the courtyard. Though young Yoritomo nearly disappeared within his armor, being not quite sufficiently grown for it, he still seemed to wear it with ease. Eight Dragons swung to and fro around the boy as if eager to defend him and pull him into battle.

  Chinese Leather

  Lord Kiyomori, too, was dressing for battle. But at the Hour of the Dragon that morning, he received a summons to the wing of Rokuhara that was the Imperial residence. So when he arrived at the meeting of nobles to which he had been summoned, he was wearing only a deep blue kimono, his left and right gauntlets, and the waidate corselet on his right side tied with black cord.

  Kiyomori entered cautiously and knelt with his back to the wall beside the shōji, hoping to be inconspicuous. If he was not noticed, perhaps he could leave quickly and get on with planning the defense of Rokuhara.

  “Ah, Kiyomori-san, there you are,” said the Middle Commander and Director of the Archives Bureau. “So glad you could join us. We were just discussing the finer points of your upcoming battle with Nobuyori’s forces. We were thinking that although it is right and proper that the rebels be dealt with and punished forthwith, nonetheless we noted that the Imperial palace has recently been thoroughly repaired. His Majesty would be most distressed if the buildings were to be damaged by fire. It would be a great shame to the memory of Shinzei to have his work so soon destroyed. Therefore, it is the Imperial desire that there will be no burning of the Imperial palace during your battle.”

  This is what comes, thought Kiyomori, of having Cloud Courtiers planning military matters. As respectfully as he could, Kiyomori replied, “Because they are so clearly defying the Imperial will, it should be no problem to sweep up and punish the rebels, my lords. However, in any war, excesses happen. You may remember the burning of the Hōshōji in the Hōgen Disturbance. This will be a difficult order to obey. Nonetheless, I will try to devise some strategy by which harm to the Imperial palace will not occur.”

  “Very good, Lord Kiyomori. I knew we could count on you. Therefore, you may consider an attack upon the palace to be sanctioned by the Jeweled Throne, and a proclamation will be issued shortly to that effect.”

  “Thank you,” said Kiyomori, bowing. “If that is all, my lords, I will take my leave and give orders at once.”

  “Of course, you may go,” said the Director of the Archives Bureau dismissively.

  Kiyomori bowed, sighed, and slipped back out through the shōji. As he walked back to his own quarters of the mansion he saw his son Shigemori coming toward him. Kiyomori was gratified to see that Shigemori was wearing the armor known as Karakawa, Chinese Leather. This armor had been passed down from great Taira warriors past, and was named for the strips of tiger skin that once braided its metal plates together. Now the armor was held by orange braids and decorated with bronze butterflies. It was said that Karakawa had a magical ability to repel all arrows and sword blows. While Kiyomori did not believe sorcery would be necessary to win this battle, anything that gave a warrior confidence was worthwhile.

  At his side, Shigemori wore the ancient and venerable sword Kogarasu, Small Crow, the guardian sword of the Imperial household. Legend said that the sword had been given to the Emperor Kammu over 350 years before by a crow, which may have been a tengu, that claimed it had come from the Ise Shrine. It was a great honor to be permitted to wield it
, and Kiyomori was proud that Shigemori was worthy of such an honor.

  On Shigemori’s head was a helmet crowned with a dragon, for Shigemori was, after all, a grandson of the Dragon King.

  To Kiyomori’s eyes, his son looked splendid. Kiyomori congratulated himself for the decision of making Shigemori the overall general for the day, ranking him even over Kiyomori’s own brother. A man with Shigemori’s youthful fire and magnificent appearance will be the perfect inspiration for our men. How could I have ever doubted that Shigemori would become a fine warrior? He will surely only bring further glory to the Taira.

  “Father, the men are restive and wish to begin battle soon. We are not likely to see a greater force assembled on our behalf, so we should make use of them while we can. I have just had word that three of the Minomoto generals have left Nobuyori’s cause to join our side.”

  “That is good. But there is a complication. His Majesty does not wish any part of the palace to be burned.”

  Shigemori seemed to take this with equanimity. “It had not been part of my plan to do so. But I will be sure to tell the others to set no fires.”

  “Good. My thought is, you should be able to lead the rebels out of the palace, encouraging them to attack you on the streets. That way little harm will come to the palace buildings, and the Genji may split their forces, making it easier to defeat them.”

  “A good plan,” said Shigemori.

  “His Majesty has given his sanction, and the Emperor will issue his proclamation soon.”

  Shigemori’s face beamed. “Excellent. I shall lead the men out at once. Are you sure you will not come with us, Father?”

  “No, someone must stay and see that Rokuhara is well guarded. The Emperor must be protected, for if he is taken again our cause is lost.”

  Shigemori bowed to him and departed swiftly.

  Before putting on the rest of his armor, Kiyomori went to a guard tower in the northwest corner of the compound wall. There he saw Shigemori at the gate, astride a spirited cream-colored horse, amassing and encouraging the warriors as scarlet banners unfurled. At Shigemori’s final command, the warriors roared, drums rumbled, and gongs sounded. Shigemori led the mounted warriors, three thousand strong, northward up the thoroughfares toward the Imperial Compound.