Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  “Fear not,” Shōmon added. “Sōjō-bō sends his regards and begs you remember the third item of advice on his note included with the scroll.”

  “The third … Ah, I remember it. There is always a way around trouble. Sōjō-jō sent you to help me!”

  Shōmon nodded. “He did.”

  “But… how is it such a holy man as you knows a tengu?”

  “Oh, any monk who wanders in the mountains eventually meets a tengu. Whether he knows it or not. Now here is what you must know. There is a branch of the Fujiwara who have holdings in the province of Ōshū. They are the descendants of the hereditary retainers of your esteemed ancestor Yoshiie. Hidehira is the clan head now, and he has a force of 180,000 warriors. The Fujiwara, however, are not known for their skill in strategy. Therefore, he would like his forces to be commanded by a Minomoto general. He feels it would do much for the morale of his men. You understand, the long-noble Fujiwara have no love of the upstart Taira.”

  “Yes, I imagine not. So, when do I leave for Ōshū? Tonight?”

  “You are a brash boy. No, there are enemy spies all along the way, in every mountain temple, at every inn and post station. We must make careful preparations.”

  “I now have a retainer who is a great warrior-monk. His name is Benkei. Between the two of us, I am sure we can fight off all trouble.”

  “Hm … Benkei. I have heard of that one. A bandit who has sworn to steal a thousand swords, isn’t he?”

  “He has renounced that oath in favor of helping me defeat the Taira.”

  “Then you have already done the world a great service, Ushiwaka. But why take risks when Hidehira needs you well and whole, and you need his men to succeed? You must travel in disguise.”

  Ushiwaka was not convinced. “It seems… dishonorable. But, if you think that is wise.”

  “Were you not taught by the tengu that deceit is sometimes necessary for victory? Do you not sometimes feint with the sword so that you may strike your opponent from a better angle? So. Here is what we will do. When we return to the monastery, tell Tōkōbō that you have found my arguments convincing and that you wish to study with me longer. We will spend another day together, and then I will take you to Juzenji Shrine, where you will meet up with a certain gold merchant who often travels the road between Heian Kyō and Ōshū. As part of his entourage, you are more likely to travel safely and without incident.”

  “Very well,” said Ushiwaka. “It shall be as you say. I am very grateful for your help.”

  “Nihon will be grateful to you, young Minomoto, if you can rid it of this infestation of Taira.”

  “I will do my utmost to accomplish it, Shōmon-san.”

  Prayer Tags

  Kenreimon’in sat fanning herself in the tiny room. The wood-and-ivory prayer tags on her sleeve clattered with the movement of her arm. Ever since the fire, she had sequestered herself in Imperial abstinence, alone but for the servants who brought her meals. The official story was that she was praying for the kami to bless her with a child. The truth was that she could not bear the guilt of having caused so many deaths, and she prayed for redemption and forgiveness.

  She had commanded that monks chant over the Imperial Regalia to purify them, without explaining why, and asked that arrows be shot and iris balls hung to drive away evil spirits. She did not know if this had been wise—it felt rather like trying to gather up rice that had already been spilled into dirt.

  The shōji beside her slid open and her chief maidservant knelt there, holding a tray. “Majesty, it is time for your midday repast. May I enter?”

  Kenreimon’in waved the fan to indicate she should. The maidservant came in and set the tray on the sole low table in the tiny room, then bowed, pressing her forehead to the floor.

  “Majesty, may I be so bold as to speak with you?”

  Kenreimon’in sighed. “If you wish.”

  The servant shut the shōji and then sat beside her. “Majesty, you have been observing seclusion and abstinence for a month now, and people are beginning to wonder.”

  “I… regret that I must do this,” said Kenreimon’in. “But I dare not show my face for fear that I will burst into unstoppable tears and thus cause more questions.”

  “I understand, but truly you blame yourself too much. How could you have known that a simple cooling breeze could be so… well, it was not your fault.”

  “I am not sure I believe that.”

  “Your husband, His Majesty, misses you. He is baffled and says he will gladly help you with the getting of a child, if that is your wish.”

  A cough escaped from Kenreimon’in’s throat that was both a laugh and a sob. She pressed her sleeve to her face, and when she could speak again said, “Poor Takakura. How could I ever tell him what I have done?”

  “There, there, you do not have to if you do not wish to. There is a little news concerning the sword.”

  “News?”

  “It seems your brother Shigemori has made a request to be keeper of the Sacred Regalia until you can move back into the Imperial palace.”

  “Shigemori?” Kenreimon’in was instantly comforted by the name. She had always admired her elder brother, and he had always been kind and helpful to her. “Yes. Yes, that would be good. Shigemori would take good care of them. You may let it be known that I approve of his request.”

  The maidservant smiled sadly and lowered her head. “Alas, Majesty, it is not to be. Your father-in-law, Go-Shirakawa, would never let the sword, the jewel, and the mirror fall into Taira control. Begging your pardon, but he is deathly afraid of what Lord Kiyomori might do.”

  “But Shigemori is wise. He would not let my father do anything foolish or rash.”

  The maidservant tilted one shoulder. “It is the In who has made the decision, not I. Ah, speaking of brothers, here is a letter from another of your brothers, Munemori.” She drew from her sleeve a folded piece of Michinoku paper that was sealed with the butterfly crest. She placed this before Kenreimon’in, bowing as she did so.

  “Oh, what does he want now?” moaned Kenreimon’in. Munemori mostly had ignored her when they were children. Since she had become Empress, however, he often pestered her to whisper good things about him into the Emperor’s ear.

  “As to that, I cannot say. Majesty, won’t you please consider ending your seclusion? We are all concerned about you and your beautiful, smiling face would cheer this dreary mansion so. Surely all the kami and bosatsu have heard your prayers by now, and the Amida knows there was no evil in your heart. You can always request one of the temples to devote prayers for you. Please consider this.”

  “I will. I thank you for your kindness. I will. But please leave me for now.”

  The maidservant bowed again. “As you wish, Majesty. I look forward to seeing you laughing in the gardens once again.” She shuffled out and closed the shōji quietly behind her.

  Kenreimon picked at the tray of pickled vegetables and rice, but as usual she did not feel hungry. Feeling too distracted to return to prayers, she picked up the letter from Munemori and unfolded the paper. Perhaps there would be something pathetically amusing in Munemori’s words.

  Greetings to Her Most High Sacred Majesty.

  Dear Sister,

  I hope you are well. I understand your wish to have a child. I know how eager Father and Mother are to see you bear “the Taira Emperor” as they put it, but aren’t you overdoing it a little? Seclusion is not the way children are born. I expect mother has explained this to you.

  But I have excellent news! I have recently learned that I will soon receive a most unexpected and amazing promotion. I cannot divulge exactly what it is yet, but I am sure that you will be very proud of me. So thrilled was I by this news that I went home and made amends to my wife, as you so often wisely counseled me to do, and, well, let us say that we may ourselves soon be expecting a child.

  Good health to His Majesty, good fortune to you. Long live the Taira!

  I would end this with a poem but I find s
uch playing with words to be foolish and wasteful. I have never understood what people see in such an art.

  Munemori

  Kenreimon laughed despite herself. Of course Mumemori does not like poetry. He is so bad at it. She set down the letter with a sigh and gazed out at the hibiscus blossoms in the garden. So, even the useless Munemori receives amazing good fortune. How is it that even as so many suffer, the Taira continue to rise and prosper? It is unseemly, somehow. While many extolled the luck of the Taira as evidence of the gods’ blessing, Kenreimon’in was beginning to view it as a curse.

  A Straw Raincoat

  Two days after his meeting with Shōmon, Ushiwaka stood on a path near Juzenji Shrine at dawn with his retainer Benkei. Ushiwaka had dressed in many layers of white and pale yellow silk, and wore a corselet named Shikitae beneath his clothing, yet he still shivered. He played softly on his bamboo flute, blending the notes with the birdcalls of morning.

  “That seems a sad tune, master,” rumbled Benkei beside him.

  Ushiwaka stopped. “Yes. I am sad to be leaving Kuramadera. It’s the only home I’ve really known. I will miss Abbot Tōkōbō. He meant well for me and looked after me. I simply cannot choose his life.”

  “Hunh. Just as well. You’re too young to become a monk. You’d miss too much. Wine. Women. Poetry parties. Women. The joy of battle. Women.”

  “Pardon me for noticing, Benkei, but are you sure you have mentioned women enough?”

  “Thank you for pointing that out, master. Women. There, I think that is sufficient.”

  Ushiwaka idly rubbed his flute, saying, “I hardly know anything about women. My mind has been on swordsmanship and revenge. Though, of late, I had been … noticing some of the women from the city.”

  “Well, I am sure once we are on the road, you will be able to do more than notice girls. There are entertainers at every inn and post station these days. Ho, I think I hear our escort approaching.”

  There was, indeed, the sound of jingling and hoof footfalls in the forest, and presently a train of horses and oxen came down the path. They were led by a man on horseback who appeared to be in his forties, though his face had been weathered by days riding in the sun so it was hard to tell. He wore riding trousers of bear fur and an over-jacket embroidered with flowers and herbs. He stopped his horse just in front of Ushiwaka.

  “Good morning, young fellow,” said the merchant. When he smiled he revealed that one of his front teeth was capped with gold. “I am Kichiji, dealer in gold, silver, and fine wares of all sorts. You must be the precious property of the Minomoto that I am to deliver to Ōshū Province.”

  Ushiwaka bowed. “Yes, I am Ushiwaka, and this is my retainer, Benkei.”

  “Ushiwaka? That is a child’s name,” said the merchant, frowning. “Yet you look to be fifteen or so.”

  Embarrassed, Ushiwaka stared at his feet. “I… have not been given opportunity to take a man’s name. I have not even had a proper trouser ceremony. Everyone expected that I would take tonsure and vows and be given a new name then.”

  Kichiji sighed, and said, “Then we have rescued you in time. You may choose your own name now.”

  “Yes, I expect so. Well, good merchant, if you will show me which horse I am to use, we may hurry on our way. I fear the monks may find me gone soon and come to look for me.”

  “Horse? Ha!” Kichiji turned to the other bearers and riders behind him and they laughed with him. The merchant hopped off his horse. “I was told that you were to be traveling in disguise.”

  Ushiwaka looked down at himself, confused. “I am not dressed like a temple acolyte.”

  “No, you are dressed like a young lord expecting to come into his inheritance. Just what your enemies will be looking for. And your face is visible, so your monk friends can easily recognize you. I can see Shōmon did not advise you very well.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” asked Ushiwaka.

  “I have just the thing.” Kichiji walked back to one of the oxen and took from its back what appeared to be a bundle of straw. He came back and draped over Ushiwaka’s shoulders a large, heavy, smelly straw raincoat of the sort peasants wear. On Ushiwaka’s head, he plopped a conical straw hat and tugged it low over Ushiwaka’s face. “There!” said Kichiji, “that is more what I had in mind.”

  Benkei began to laugh. “Oh, ho! He is right, master! I never would recognize you in such a guise. You look more like a walking hay bale, a tottering granary than … than …” He withered under Ushiwaka’s glare. “Than the fine and noble warrior lord that you truly are, master.”

  “But those swords,” said Kichiji, “do not suit a peasant at all. You will have to give them to me for safekeeping.”

  “No!” Ushiwaka said, hand on the hilt of his wakizashi.

  “Kindly take my advice, good merchant,” said Benkei, “and let his young lordship keep the swords.”

  “Oh, very well.” Kichiji sighed. “We’ll just say you’re my sword-bearer. Now come along. If we are to have people on our heels searching for you, we had better move quickly.” The merchant remounted his horse. To Benkei, he said, “I trust we can rely upon your help if trouble arises?”

  Benkei bowed. “I am honored to serve any who give assistance to my lord and master.”

  “Good. I can always use another treasure-guard. You two may walk behind my horse there. That’s good. Come along. Hei-yup!” He nudged his horse forward, and the caravan began its journey once more.

  Ushiwaka trudged behind the merchant’s horse, fury and shame warring with gratitude and relief.

  “Adventure, hey my lord?” said Benkei happily. “We’re on our way to adventure at last.”

  “Hmpf,” said Ushiwaka, trying to get comfortable under the itchy, heavy straw raincoat. It was not an auspicious beginning to any adventure he wanted to be part of.

  Fukuhara

  Lord Kiyomori sat on a cushion on the verandah of his villa at Fukuhara, savoring the scent of the sea air. It was clean, pure, unlike the ashen stink of Heian Kyō. A man might calm himself and gather his wits in such an atmosphere. From where he sat, he could see the restored artificial island and the harborworks, evidence that he had made his mark on the world, that he was still a power to be reckoned with.

  Kiyomori had left the capital the day after his argument with Shigemori. He feared what his son might use his newfound power to do. Will he throw in his lot with Go-Shirakawa? Would he have had me arrested and held prisoner in my own house? Kiyomori now believed Shigemori capable of such a thing, and so he had fled. What a wretched thing it is to be afraid of one’s own son. I will show him I have power yet. That I was the one who taught him the game of go.

  From Fukuhara, Kiyomori could summon distant relatives and retainers who remained loyal to him from the provinces of Aki and Ise, across the Inland Sea. Already Kiyomori had sent word by messengers to those men he knew still to be loyal to be prepared for battle. If Shigemori should send troops against me, he will not find me a cowering old man. He will find me at the head of many hundreds of warriors who still remember how to fight.

  A servant knelt nearby and bowed, informing Kiyomori that Kaneyasu, one of his most trusted Ise generals, had arrived.

  “Excellent.”

  Kaneyasu, a warrior of notable courage who had not been tainted by the capital’s effete ways, came to the verandah, bowed, and sat beside Kiyomori. “My lord. All is well with you?”

  “It may be, if your news is good.”

  “There are no untoward movements of men in the capital. Shigemori is performing only his usual duties and activities. The Retired Emperor is being circumspect, although he is still angry with the Enryakuji monks and it is not known what action he may take with regard to them. Middle Counselor Narichika has reached the Island of Kojima safely to begin his exile.”

  “And what of Narichika’s sons?”

  “They have all been found and will be exiled to Kikaigashima as you have ordered.”

  “Very good. Treat them with co
urtesy and kindness so as not to disturb Shigemori’s sensibilities.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  “As to Narichika …”

  “Yes?”

  “I fear my son has been bewitched by his long association with the wicked Middle Counselor. Yet Shigemori gives me no assurance that Narichika will not continue to conspire against me. It seems I can do nothing concerning the Retired Emperor. But as to Narichika … Let it not be tomorrow, or next month … but see that he dies within the year.”

  Kaneyasu bowed again. “It shall be as you command, my lord.”

  Aohaka Station

  Ushiwaka trudged behind Kichiji’s horse, glad he had spent those many evenings hiking from Kuramadera to Heian Kyō. His legs could bear the distance. Still, he had never undertaken a journey this long, and with the heat of summer, by the second day he was wilting under the straw raincoat. Kichiji finally took pity on him and let Ushiwaka ride one of the packhorses.

  “Do not be ashamed, master,” said Benkei to cheer him up. “At least you are stronger than those Fujiwara lords who faint if they have to walk from their front door to the gate.”

  “I suppose that is so,” grumbled Ushiwaka, whose thighs had begun to hurt after a few hours. He was not used to riding horses, and he realized that, to be a proper leader of warriors, he would have to have a great deal more practice at it. At the moment, however, Ushiwaka would have given much to be a weak-legged Fujiwara lord, able to call upon a palanquin or ox-carriage in which to travel.

  The caravan had proceeded down the west shore of Lake Biwa, emerging at last onto the great highway of the Tōkaidō, perilously close to Heian Kyō, but fortunately no one stopped them. The guards at Ōsaka Barrier watched them suspiciously as they passed through, but no one suspected that a scion of the great Minomoto house would be traveling in a smelly, soggy straw raincoat, carrying swords for a gold merchant. For good measure, Kichiji called Ushiwaka some choice insults and cuffed him a couple of times on the shoulder. Surely no Minomoto lordling would allow himself to be treated that way. Ushiwaka bore it well, but he had to restrain Benkei from knocking Kichiji off his horse when they were out of sight of the barrier.