Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  Within the light, Ushiwaka saw a man in nobleman’s robes and black hat, seated on a lotus. Ushiwaka wondered what bosatsu this might be, and then he saw the sword across the man’s lap and the helmet off to his side. White banners fluttered behind him. Is it Hachiman I have summoned, then? But the face of the man was not like the images of Hachiman that Ushiwaka had seen.

  The man smiled. “Ho. Ushiwaka. I was told you would be calling for me.”

  “Great lord,” said Ushiwaka, “I have summoned you at my teacher’s instructions, yet I do not know who you are.”

  A momentary sadness crossed the man’s face. “The tengu wished to surprise you, did they? Well, it is reasonable that you do not recognize me. I am Minomoto Yoshitomo, your father.”

  “Father?” Ushiwaka fell to his knees. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

  Yoshitomo inclined his head. “By virtue of my service to Hachiman and the prayers others have said for me, I found myself escorted to the Pure Land upon my death. The poor tengu who found me and asked me to speak with you nearly had his feet burned off, so holy is the ground of the land in which I now dwell.”

  “I am so very glad to learn this.” Ushiwaka sighed. He turned to the master tengu, and said, “Sōjōbō-sensei, this is the most wondrous gift you could have given me.”

  The tengu bowed.

  “It is a gift to me as well,” said Yoshitomo from the mirror. “The few times I saw you, Ushiwaka, you were no more than a squalling babe in your mother’s arms. Now here you are, nearly a man. The tengu say they have taught you swordsmanship.”

  “They have, Father, and I have mastered it well!” said Ushiwaka, jumping to his feet. “Want to see?” Feeling childish but unable to stop himself, Ushiwaka used the sakaki branch in place of a sword to demonstrate three of the most difficult thrust-and-parry patterns.

  When he had finished, Yoshitomo smiled and nodded at him. “Ah. Very good. Very good indeed. The Minomoto blood truly runs within you.” Then he frowned, and added, “But I see a darkness clouding your future. Hachiman has pledged his protection to your older brother, not to you. I am concerned as to what path you may choose.”

  Ushiwaka knelt before the mirror. “My path is this: I want to avenge you, Father. I want to kill Lord Kiyomori and all the Taira. I will do it in your name and the name of all the Minomoto who have been wronged. I pledge my life to this!” He pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor of the cavern, then sat up again.

  A tear fell from Yoshitomo’s eye and crept down his cheek. “More important than vengeance, Ushiwaka, is to earn a good name for yourself with proper and courageous acts. Bring honor to the Minomoto. I am proud that you are my son.” With this, the vision in the mirror vanished.

  “Father! Come back!” Ushiwaka leapt up and embraced the mirror. He pressed his face hard against it, as if it were a doorway he could pass through. But the bronze was cold and unyielding against his cheek.

  “You mustn’t be greedy,” said Sōjō-bō behind him. “The souls of those who have gone beyond can spend very little time with their mortal kin. It is part of your father’s reward, after all, that he is now distanced from all worldly cares.”

  Ushiwaka sighed and let go of the mirror. “You are right, of course. Thank you, sensei. Thank you, again, for this gift. It is precious beyond price.”

  “I know,” said Sōjō-bō offhandedly. “Now, it is time for you to go back to the monastery. We tengu will begin arrangements to help you leave Kuramadera soon. Your unfortunate bewildered abbot will have much to do to take care of the refugees from the fire, and therefore he will not be so watchful of you for a while. Consider carefully where you wish to go next, for your choice will have great importance.”

  “Thank you, sensei. I will.”

  “Here is a scroll containing the most important of my teachings.” The tengu placed a tube of lacquered bamboo into Ushiwaka’s hands.

  Ushiwaka bowed deeply. “I will treasure it.”

  “Good. Now begone. Use our teaching well, and may good fortune follow you.”

  Ushiwaka backed out of the cave, bowing. Outside, from the pine boughs, the little Leaflet Tengu cried, “Ushiwaka! Ushiwaka! Sayonara! Sayonara!”

  Ushiwaka smiled sadly and waved to them, then ran back down the forest path to Kuramadera. Just outside the temple compound, he paused beside a torch set on a high pole. Unable to contain his curiosity, he took the tengu scroll out of the tube, unrolled it a little way, and read what was written there:

  “Herein is contained the Tengu-sho, including knowledge of the Ninefold Sword and Flying Dragons …”

  Ushiwaka unrolled the scroll still further and saw listed many of the sword techniques he had been taught, such as Reciprocal Mist and Sword of Nothingness, Garden Lantern and the Circling Monkey, Dance of the Tengu and Thunderbolt. He unrolled it a little more and a separate slip of rice paper drifted out. Ushiwaka picked this up and read it:

  1. NEVER SUFFER THE COMPANY OF FOOLS

  2. FOLLOW YOUR HEART

  3. THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY AROUND TROUBLE

  4. STOP READING THIS AND GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE.

  Ushiwaka laughed, rerolled the scroll, and put it back in its tube, and then he got on with his life.

  Abbot Meiun

  Seven days after the fire, Go-Shirakawa awaited the arrival of the monk Saikō for a private audience at ToSanjō Palace. The heat of summer was upon the city, and the Retired Emperor fanned himself furiously to move air against his perspiring face. Yet every flick of the fan brought the scent of ashes to his nose. It reminded him of the funeral of his son, the former Emperor Rokujo who had died of illness this last year, at the young age of twelve. First Nijō, now Rokujō. What karma did I bring to this life to watch my sons rise to glory and wither to death so soon?

  Go-Shirakawa was also reminded of the evil premonitions he had dreamed at Rokuhara. Could the Taira have set this conflagration? he wondered. What possible good would it do them? Would Kiyomori do a thing so monstrous? Yet I note that Rokuhara is still standing, as is his new house, Nishihachijō. That, in itself, may be telling.

  A servant at the threshhold to the meeting chamber announced, “Your advisor Saikō is here, Majesty.”

  “Send him in.”

  The small, old monk entered and knelt on a cushion at a slightly closer than proper distance. He bowed but did not press his forehead to the floor as a proper subject might. Go-Shirakawa wondered if the faint smile upon Saikō’s face was a sign of inner peace or of insufferable smugness. It was unsettling.

  “Former Majesty, I thank you for allowing me this time with you. I trust you will find it worth your while.”

  “Your advice has usually been perceptive, Saikō. What would you tell me?”

  “You have asked your advisors for information on who may have set this deadly fire, Majesty.”

  “Yes?”

  Saikō leaned closer. “My informants tell me that it may have been the work of monks of Enryakuji, under the orders of Archbishop Meiun himself.”

  Go-Shirakawa sat back, alarmed. “Abbot Meiun? But he is a most mild and learned old man. It was he who took my vows and taught my son Takakura the Lotus Sutra.”

  “Indeed, Majesty, but his monks were dealt a crushing blow when they tried to reprimand your son at the palace gates. Many were slaughtered. On top of that, great sacrilege was done to their palanquins by arrows from the palace defenders. Is it not natural that Enryakuji may have wished vengence?”

  “Ah. Now that you explain it that way, I can see the truth of it. And here I was thinking the Taira might be responsible.”

  “Well,” Saikō said offhandedly, “Meiun was the one to give Kiyomori his vows. And the Taira often ask Meiun for spiritual guidance.”

  “Ah,” Go-Shirakawa said again. “So there may indeed be a connection there?”

  Saikō tilted one shoulder and glanced away. “It is only speculation, of course.”

  “This could be terribly dangerous,” said Go-Shirakawa.
“I knew the monks could be destructive, but before they have limited their burning to each other’s temples. An alliance between the Taira and such ruinous power … it must not be allowed.”

  Go-Shirakawa pondered the situation. Over the past seven years, his control over the government had only gotten stronger. His son, Emperor Takakura, did nothing without the Retired Emperor’s advice. The Senior Council of Nobles, as well, consulted him before any major decision. And surely they will not disapprove of my punishing those who dared to attack the Imperial Compound. The time was right for a bold move, to remind the Taira they were not the only power in Heian Kyō.

  “Saikō, assemble my advisors. I will demand of the Senior Council that Abbot Meiun be stripped of his position, placed under house arrest, and subjected to water privation until his place of banishment is decided. Let him become an example, so that the Taira will not be tempted to again misuse the holy temsples so.”

  Saikō smiled and bowed again. “It will be done, Majesty. You are surely wise in all things.” He stood and shuffled out through the shōji.

  Am I wise? wondered Go-Shirakawa. Am I too late to prevent the destruction I have foreseen?

  He called out to his advisor, “Saikō!”

  The old monk peered around the doorframe. “Majesty?”

  “How are Narichika’s … preparations going?”

  “They go well, Majesty.”

  “Ask him to … expedite his work, if you will. We may need him to be in readiness soon.”

  “I will do so, Majesty.” Saikō’s head disappeared again, and his footsteps could be heard hurrying down the hallway.

  Shishinotani

  Two weeks later, Lord Kiyomori sat in his new house, Nishihachijō, late at night. It was fortunate that he and his family had had this other house to move to after the great fire. Even though the clan kami had spared Rokuhara from the flames, the great Taira mansion was unlivable for the time being, as it was coated with ash and reeked of smoke. But the fire reminded Kiyomori of the dangers of living in the crowded capital, and now he mulled over drawings his housebuilders had made—plans for a larger, grander mansion farther outside Heian Kyō.

  When Rokuhara had been built, there were few houses on the east side of the Kamo River. Now there were many. And where there were many houses, there was greater chance of fire, more places for spies and assassins to hide, less room for Taira warriors to maneuver.

  Add to that, Heian Kyō had become a less attractive place to live. When Kiyomori had been young, the capital was a city of beauty and elegance beyond imagining—to visit it was as if one had been transported to the island of the Spring Blossom Fairies. It had been exciting to be at the heart of all things, where every decision that mattered was made, where everyone who mattered dwelt.

  Now thieves lurked in the alleyways, and no one was safe, not even the Taira. Shopkeepers shuttered their markets early, even in summer, and regarded every stranger with suspicion. The streets were jammed by large cohorts of warriors escorting some nobleman, and there were often small battles over who would let the other pass. Parties at noblemen’s mansions were now heavily guarded, and the entertainments within now seemed furtive, having lost their innocent pleasure.

  The Taira were blamed for this change, of course. People were whispering that the many bands of thieves were led by Taira warriors. The Taira were even being blamed for the great fire itself. Kiyomori would have liked to slit the throats of those who spread such vile talk, but slander was like a serpent—slippery, poisonous, and difficult to kill. It is pure envy, nothing more, thought Kiyomori. If it had been the Minomoto in power instead of my clan, they would have been the villains instead. Why is it so difficult for others simply to accept that the gods and the bosatsu favor the Taira?

  Kiyomori had been hoping to have Archbishop Meiun help bless the new residence. But Go-Shirakawa had suddenly decided to exile Abbot Meiun, on the advice of his strange monk-counselor, Saikō. Publicly, the Retired Emperor blamed Meiun for the Enryakuji monks’ attack on the Imperial palace. Kiyomori had tried to intercede on Meiun’s behalf, but had found the Retired Emperor surprisingly unwilling to meet with him or hear his plea.

  The wind moaned in the gardens outside, blowing through trees singed bare by the conflagration. It was a sorrowful sound, as if the wind mourned what had become of summer, what had become of Heian Kyō. Kiyomori sighed, then laughed ruefully at himself. It was one thing to sigh over fallen orange blossoms, for beautiful as they were, there are always more next year. But what sighs were heartfelt enough, deep enough, for the withering of Heian Kyō, of which there was not likely ever to be another?

  I must be feeling my age, Kiyomori thought. Is it possible I will next be taking these gray robes seriously and thinking of retiring from the world? Not likely. My clan still has need of me, and I will soon have a grandson who will be an emperor. Who could leave the world with such matters to attend to?

  A servant startled him by coughing discreetly behind the shōji. “Yes, what is it?” demanded Kiyomori.

  “My lord, a visitor has come to our gates and sends you a message.”

  “At this hour? What is the message? Who sends it?”

  “He is called Tada no Kurando Yukitsuna, and he says he has something very important to tell you.”

  Kiyomori felt a prickle up his spine. The name was of one of the Settsu Minomoto, one of Narichika’s cronies, and Narichika was a close advisor to Go-Shirakawa. “I may have heard of this man, but he is not an expected visitor to this house. Only dark messages are delivered in the dark of night. Do not answer him immediately. Have one of my guardsmen find out what he has to say.”

  “My lord, he will not give his message to any intermediary. He says it is too important, and he must tell it to you personally.”

  “I do not like the sound of this,” Kiyomori grumbled. “Do not send him in. I will come out to speak to him myself.”

  Kiyomori wrapped his robes tighter around him and strode out to the open raised corridor that connected the main buildings of Nishihachijō. He had Yukitsuna brought into the garden beside the railing of the passageway. Kiyomori glared down at the frightened-looking nobleman. “It is late. We do not receive visitors at this hour. What is your business?”

  “I come when it is dark, Lord Kiyomori,” Yukitsuna said in a loud whisper, “because there are too many eyes to see in daytime. Perhaps you have heard that His Retired Majesty Go-Shirakawa-In is mustering warriors and stockpiling weapons.”

  Kiyomori waved his hand dismissively. “I hear such rumors every day. They are saying the Retired Emperor intends to send men to attack Mount Hiei. He will be a fool if he does.”

  Yukitsuna shuffled closer. “This is not the truth of it, for I am one of those who was chosen to gather weaponry. The armed men are to attack the Taira, not the monks.”

  Kiyomori swallowed hard and gripped the railing. “If this is more slander—”

  “My lord, it is not. I have taken orders from Narichika himself. He is the instigator. We have met over the past five years at the villa at Shishinotani, in the hills near Miidera Temple. It began, at first, as just a place where some discontented men met to complain about the Taira, to drink and tell jokes and do foolish, disparaging dances. A monk named Saikō said the worst things against you. But the talk became more and more serious, and now an actual plot is under way. I felt I should tell you, my lord, before matters became too serious.”

  “Does the Retired Emperor know of this plot?” Kiyomori growled.

  “How could he not, my lord? Go-Shirakawa attended some of our meetings, and Narichika says he takes his orders directly from the Retired Emperor himself. Often through the advisor, Saikō.”

  Kiyomori felt rage building within him. Go-Shirakawa-In was a guest in my house. Twice I fought for him. How many Taira have died for him? And now he plots against me! “Tell me everyone who is involved!”

  Yukitsuna listed names, many North Guardsmen, dissatisfied monks and priests, and even t
wo Taira noblemen whom Kiyomori had slighted for promotion.

  “This shall not continue,” Kiyomori growled. He bellowed into the night, “Send for my sons! Send for my samurai! Have any who are loyal to the Taira come with armor and swords and horses! At once!” He heard running feet as his guardsmen hurried off to do his bidding.

  “I … had better be going, my lord,” said Yukitsuna, bowing low. “Certain persons will be suspicious if I am gone too long.” He picked up the hems of his kimonos and ran away to the gate, as though ghosts were chasing him.

  Over the following hour, warriors by the hundreds began to arrive at Nishihachijō, answering Kiyomori’s call. A rider was sent to the Office of the Imperial Police with a message for Go-Shirakawa. It stated Lord Kiyomori had learned of a plot against his house by some of Go-Shirakawa’s associates, intended to make certain arrests, and requested that the Retired Emperor kindly not interfere. The Retired Emperor’s reply relayed back to Kiyomori was so vague as to be proof to him that Go-Shirakawa had indeed been part of the conspiracy.

  Kiyomori noted with satisfaction that the main courtyard of Nishihachijō had become filled with torch-bearing, armored men. How dare Go-Shirakawa challenge the might of the Taira? It must be he has gone insane. Let him now learn the magnitude of his madness. “Here are the men I want arrested!” Kiyomori announced to the assembled warriors in the main courtyard, and he read off the list of names provided by Yukitsune. After each name, he sent a group of warriors off to make the capture.

  But for the last man on the list, middle Counselor Narichika, the primary conspirator, Kiyomori used a different tactic. He merely sent one messenger to the Middle Counselor’s home, requesting that Narichika come to advise Kiyomori on an urgent matter.