Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  The ruse worked. An hour later, as the sun had begun to rise, Narichika’s finest oxcart rolled up to the gate of Nishihachijo and the counselor stepped out, dressed in his most elegant casual robes.

  “Look at him,” said Kiyomori to his son Munemori, as they peered out through the bamboo blinds. “The counselor comes as if attending a morning social gathering. As if he expects to have music and dances and plum wine with his breakfast. Well, we shall give him a surprise, but not nearly such a pleasant one.”

  Narichika looked around in concern as he walked in the gate and saw the courtyard filled with warriors. Kiyomori’s samurai grabbed Narichika’s arms and dragged him up onto the nearest verandah.

  “Wha-wha-what is going on?” stammered Narichika. “There must be some mistake.”

  Kiyomori came out from behind the blinds and stepped out onto the verandah. “There is no mistake, Major Counselor.”

  “Lord Kiyomori! This is a rough way to treat your invited guest!”

  “But it is the normal way we treat conspirators.”

  “Conspirators? Nonsense! I demand to speak to Lord Shigemori!”

  And you are hoping that my son, having married your youngest sister, will be more lenient? We will see about that. Kiyomori smiled with false politeness. “My eldest son has not yet arrived, Counselor. I’m afraid you will have to wait.”

  “My lord, should we tie him up?” one of the warriors asked.

  “That should not be necessary,” said Kiyomori, dryly. “Place the traitor in a suitable waiting room, if you will.”

  The warriors hustled Narichika off to shut him up in a tiny storage room.

  Other warriors arrived. “My lord, we have captured the monk called Saikō.”

  “Excellent.” Kiyomori stood and went out onto the wide verandah facing the main courtyard. “Bring him to me.”

  The samurai brought forward an ugly little bald man in dark robes with his hands and feet tightly tied. They dropped him on his knees directly in front of Kiyomori.

  “So,” said Kiyomori, “you are the man who has brought a blameless abbot to ruin and would have done the same to me. Now see what has become of you.” He kicked the monk in the face with his clog-shod foot. “Is this how you best serve your master, the Retired Emperor? You who were of inconsequential birth, and given rank beyond your deserving? You who allowed your sons to deface holy property, and your slanders to cause an innocent abbot to be defrocked and exiled? And you start a conspiracy against my clan! Confess everything!”

  Although his nose and cheek bled, Saikō sat up with an impudent smile on his face. “Inconsequential birth? Do I hear a fish calling a turtle wet? Oh, yes, I participated in such a conspiracy. But who is the true upstart here? Your father was a wart that attached itself to the Courtier’s Court, and all resented his presence there. I remember when you first came to Heian Kyō, so proud on your high clogs, because you had beaten a bunch of pirates. Everyone thought it outrageous that someone of your blood should get even a Fourth Rank Assistant Commandership. Whereas I am of decent samurai family. When someone like you achieves the office of Chancellor … is it not good service to the throne to see such a wrong righted?”

  Kiyomori balled his fists so tight his hands ached. “Take him away and torture him,” he said at last. “Record every word of his confession and bring it to me. Then take him to a main thoroughfare and behead him. As an example.”

  “Oh, yes, kill me if you dare,” said Saikō. “But know this—though you destroy this mortal form, you have not seen the last of my handiwork. I am servant to a master greater than you, greater than Go-Shirakawa. My soul is destined for a high seat in the Realm of Demons, and from there I will serve my master’s will with more power than ever before. Hear me, o Lord of the Taira: you are doomed, as is your puny mortal realm. What chance you had to prevent this is lost. Now there is nothing you can do.” The little monk laughed as he was carried away.

  “What sort of monster can such a man be?” Kiyomori said to Munemori, who had come up behind him. “Who is this master he speaks of?”

  Munemori cleared his throat. “Um, Father, you know the rumors that say the ghost of the Shin-In, the vengeful former Emperor, has been seen in the city….”

  Kiyomori turned to scowl at his son. “I tire of hearing of ghosts and demons as excuses for behavior. I have come to believe that some men are a manner of demon all their own.”

  “Father?” Munemori asked more softly, “Mother has told me … that perhaps our family is … no longer favored by the kami. I mean, there was the fire. And now this—”

  “Foolish nonsense!” said Kiyomori. “We survived the fire. And we have been told of the conspiracy before it did us harm. Our luck has not yet run out, my son, never fear. Your mother suffers an old woman’s worries. Do not listen to her.”

  Munemori went away, but to Kiyomori’s eyes, he did not seem mollified. He has always been more cowardly and superstitious, thought Kiyomori. But, then, he is a younger son. Perhaps someday I can arrange for him to have a distant governorship and send him somewhere where he won’t be any trouble.

  At midmorning, Saikō’s confession was brought to Kiyomori, along with word that the monk had been executed. Kiyomori took the sheets of paper and went to the storage room where Narichika was being held. Kiyomori could hear the nobleman murmuring anxiously to himself within. Kiyomori slid the shōji door aside with a loud bang.

  The sweat-dripping Narichika visibly jumped. “Oh. It is you, Lord Kiyomori. I thought it was samurai come to—”

  “Why?” Kiyomori demanded. “I spared your life after the Heiji Disturbance, after my son begged me to, because you had been his favorite tutor. In a normal man, gratitude incurs obligation. Yet you have plotted against my house. What grievance have you against us that has brought you to this? I want to hear your story from your own mouth.”

  “No, no,” insisted Narichika. “As I have said, there is some mistake. Someone has told you lies.”

  Kiyomori flung the paper with Saikō’s confession onto the floor before the cringing nobleman. “We have interrogated the Retired Emperor’s closest advisor, and he names you as the primary conspirator! What can you say to that?” Kiyomori slammed the door shut again and strode away. The first two warriors he saw, Kiyomori ordered, “Take Narichika and make him howl until he tells you all he knows.”

  The samurai looked at each other distressed and confused. “But … but Lord Shigemori will be most unhappy if we—”

  “Who is it who gives orders in this house? Am I not still head of the Taira? Am I not Chancellor? Do as I say!”

  The warriors bowed nervously and hurried off to Narichika’s cell. Kiyomori was soon gratified to hear, in the distance, the Counselor screaming like a wounded horse.

  Shigemori did not arrive at Nishihachijō until evening. And when he did, he was dressed in court robes rather than armor, and had brought no warriors with him. But he had brought his fourteen-year-old son and heir, Koremori.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Kiyomori demanded. “Where are your men? Haven’t you heard we are facing a crisis?”

  “A crisis?” asked Shigemori mildly. “That is an odd term to use for a private matter, Father.”

  “A private matter!”

  “There has been no summons or announcement from the Imperial palace, or the Great Council, or ToSanjō Palace. Therefore, this must be a private matter. I have come to see about the welfare of Counselor Narichika, who I hear has been mistreated here. As you may recall, my wife is his younger sister, and this boy is his nephew. After I have seen Narichika, we will talk.” Shigemori turned away, taking the boy with him, and began to make motions of searching the house.

  Seething, Kiyomori instructed one of his men to show Shigemori where Narichika was being held. “When he is through, bring my son to speak to me in the great room.”

  Kiyomori put on a corselet and forearm guards over his monk’s robes. How dare my son speak to me in such a manner? What has com
e over him? Has he forgotten who he is? Perhaps if I arm myself, it will bring home to him the seriousness of the matter.

  But when Shigemori and Koremori were guided into the great room where Kiyomori sat awaiting them, their reactions were not what he expected. Shigemori regarded him with barely hidden dismay and disgust, and Koremori openly glared at him with hurt reproach.

  “So you see,” Kiyomori said. “Narichika still lives.”

  “Barely. He says your men have mistreated him.”

  “I wanted to hear why he conspired against us.” To Koremori, Kiyomori said, “Whatever you may think of your uncle, you must understand. Narichika is our enemy.”

  Shigemori patted his son on the shoulder. “Go wait for me in the carriage.” The boy went swiftly and silently.

  “So. You would turn my own grandson against me as well?”

  Shigemori did not answer, but went to another part of the room and sat down.

  “Do you think Narichika, or any of them, would have spared you,” Kiyomori went on, “just because you are his brother-in-law? Would they have spared Koremori, if the conspiracy had gone forward?”

  “A conspiracy,” said Shigemori softly, “whose only proof is the word of one frightened man. Plus the confession of one foul-mouthed old monk, and Narichika, both of whom you tortured.”

  “And at least the monk is dead now, thanks to me.”

  “Yes,” said Shigemori. “I have heard.”

  “But no Taira are dead, and you do not thank me for that.”

  “I do not know if any would have been.”

  “Narichika was amassing weapons!”

  “The monks of Enryakuji have threatened to attack. Of course Narichika would be prudent in the defense of his lord, the Retired Emperor. This is no cause for you to jump at shadows.”

  “What? What is this, do you now reproach me for acting too precipitously?” Kiyomori laughed, though he felt no humor. “I remember you in your first battle, when you were only a little older than your son, in the Hōgen. How spirited you were! You reproached me then, because I hesitated to fling myself into battle at your side against that monster Tametomo. Do you remember, hah?”

  “I was but a child then.”

  “You were a warrior then. And how glorious you looked at the Heiji, when you wished me to join you in battle against Yoshitomo and Nobuyori. When you were wearing Chinese Leather and were taking your first command. How you shone! I thought then that you were the best of us. That you would be the finest Taira who ever lived. I remember thinking it a shame that it would be some future, unknown grandson who would become Emperor, when it should have been you.”

  “You must not say such things!” said Shigemori. “Father, if any of those weapons Narichika is supposedly stockpiling had been used against any of Taira blood, I would be there beside you in full armor, my sword drawn, my bow ready. But you are passing verdict and sentence before any crime has been committed!”

  “These men were slandering our house!”

  “And that is a crime worthy of death, is it? First you send out gangs of boys to beat up anyone who even makes a joke about us, and now your answer is to lop off heads?”

  “If necessary, yes! I cannot believe that you care so little for the reputation of our house.”

  Shigemori looked away. “I cannot believe that you think such behavior will enhance the reputation of our house.”

  “We are respected.”

  “And feared and hated. There are times … there are times, father, that I am ashamed to call myself a Taira.”

  “Do not say such things!” Kiyomori bellowed. He jumped up and ran at Shigemori, intending to strike him. But he stopped himself in time and simply stood over Shigemori, glaring down at him. “What has become of you?” Kiyomori said at last. “Once you were the finest of our warriors. Once you had courage and spine. But now, you prefer the robes of courtiers and scholars, and you ape their cowardly, effete ways.” Kiyomori lifted one of Shigemori’s silk brocade sleeves and tossed it aside derisively.

  “And what of you, Father? Look at yourself. You have taken the robes of a monk, the vows of a monk, including those to kill no living thing. Yet here you are with armor over your simple novice robe.”

  “It is good enough wear for the monks of Enryakuji,” Kiyomori retorted.

  “And everyone knows what ruffians and bumpkins they are,” said Shigemori. “Oh, you should have seen them at the Taikenmon, Father. How they shouted and shook their naginata. But when the first arrows fell, they ran like dogs with their tails between their legs. Such brave warriors you choose to emulate, Father.”

  “You will not speak to me like this,” said Kiyomori, keeping his voice low and deadly. He turned his back and walked across the room.

  “Yes, I wear the robes of a scholar now,” said Shigemori. “I abide by the Five Commandments, I try to uphold the Five Constant Virtues, and I have watched and learned from what I have seen in life. I remember after the Hōgen how so many were put to death, and how that led to the vendettas of the Heiji. And yet here you are planning on even more executions, on less cause. How can this do anything but make matters worse? Already you are sowing the seeds of future insurrection. These are the Latter Days of the Law, and so many mistakes have already been made. We have lost the wise Shinzei and others because men wielded death too quickly.

  “I have come to realize that, for there to be peace in Heian Kyō, men must think beyond the concerns of their families and their clan. They must not dwell upon every petty or imagined slight, nor satisfy every ambition and desire. They must think on what is best for the realm, what is best for civilized life.”

  “A man who forgets his family and house,” growled Kiyomori, “is nothing and no one.”

  “But a man must also remember,” said Shigemori, “that one clan is but one part of Nihon, as one flower is but one part of a garden. As it is said in Shotoku Taishi’s Seventeen Article Constitution, ‘All men are possessed of minds, and all see things in their own way.’ I beg you to think carefully on what you plan to do. If you will not open your mind to mercy, then consider politics. Narichika is respected by many in power. If you must punish him further, then exile him. To kill him will only bring more danger to you and our house and to the realm.”

  Kiyomori rubbed his chin, his anger cooling though not abating. He turned his back on Shigemori and pretended to examine a brocade screen. “I shall think on this. Meanwhile, as long as you are here and so full of advice, there is another thing you ought to know. I am considering arresting the Retired Emperor and confining him here or at the Toba Northern Mansion.” Kiyomori heard a choking gasp behind him, much like a sob. Kiyomori turned to see Shigemori pressing his face into his sleeve. “What is the matter with you?”

  “By all the kami, Father, don’t you see? You speak of the past battles we have faced together, and yet you yourself have forgotten them. To arrest the In … this is how Nobuyori behaved! Nobuyori, the monster whom we all despised. There is but one head that, Amida forgive me, I am still proud, proud to have removed with my own sword, and that is Nobuyori’s. Yet here you are, ready to behave just like him, ready to disobey the greatest of the Four Obligations, our debt to a soverign.”

  “Our sovereign Emperor is your brother-in-law, Takakura.”

  “Who is Go-Shirakawa’s son. And it is Go-Shirakawa who has overseen the advancement of our house, the blessings of rank and offices that have been showered upon us. If he has grievance with us, perhaps we should hear it.”

  “What if I have grievance with him? What then?” Kiyomori turned away again, disgusted.

  “Have you not often said that it does not matter what a man’s intentions are, only that he do the right thing? Doesn’t it equally not matter what your reasons are, if you do the wrong thing? Father, please! Do not ask me to choose whether to fight at your side or at the side of my sovereign, for either choice is a grevious sin. It would be better if you were to cut off my head now, to spare my soul, rather than a
sk that of me. It is a choice I cannot make.”

  Kiyomori looked back at his son, who had hung his head as if expecting a sword blow across the neck. He is a wise scholar, Kiyomori thought with grudging admiration, but he truly has no stomach for politics. He is too good a man. “No, no,” Kiyomori said, walking over and placing a hand on Shigemori’s shoulder. “It will not come to that. Don’t you see? I want to protect Go-Shirakawa. I merely wish to see to it that His Retired Majesty receives no more bad advice from scoundrels.”

  “If you were to consult with him more,” said Shigemori, “seek his advice before acting, show your loyalty, treat his people—all people—with respect, punish wrongdoers only so far as they truly deserve, then what cause would he have to listen to scoundrels? I believe that you can win back Go-Shirakawa’s goodwill, and that the good fortune of the Taira need not end.”

  “It will not end, my son. I have pledged my life to that. Now go and see to that strapping young boy of yours. I am sure he is wondering what has become of you.”

  “Yes, yes, I should be going. But Father … please think on everything I have said.” Shigemori stood, bowed, and hurried out to his carriage.

  Kiyomori followed him out to the verandah and watched him go. Shigemori paused to say something to the guards at the gate, and they looked nervously back and forth between him and Kiyomori. After Shigemori got in his carriage and it drove away, Kiyomori called over one of the guards. “What did my son tell you?”

  “My lord, Lord Shigemori requested that, if you ordered us to march on the Retired Majesty’s mansion and arrest the In, that we should first go to Lord Shigemori’s house and cut off his head.”

  “Ah. I see.” Kiyomori wondered if it was his son’s fine sensibilities that caused him to issue such an order, or if this was a clever form of blackmail. Perhaps he is more of a political creature than I thought.

  Shigemori stared at the swaying roof of the carriage as it moved, but he was not studying the woven bamboo.

  “Father,” said Koremori beside him, “what is the matter? You look upset.”