Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

Yoritomo frowned. “Why? That is a Heike thing, a Fujiwara thing. We are in the provinces, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in that. Why should we ape the ways of those who think themselves Above The Clouds? I would no more do so than stain my teeth or paint my face white.”

  His wife sighed. “You are upset by the comet, aren’t you?”

  “I merely needed to take some fresh air. The smoke from the lamps was distressing me.” But, in truth, she was right.

  “Father says the comet indicates there are dire events ahead. He has heard the Empress is ill.”

  “These are events that will occur in the capital, far from us. Not our concern.”

  He felt his wife’s gaze on his back for long moments. Then she said, “Return to us soon.”

  “I will.”

  He heard the rustle of her kimonos as his wife departed for the common room.

  Yoritomo looked back at the comet. In fact, he feared it did portend matters that would be his concern. Yoritomo had been receiving more letters from the Minomoto spy who served in Rokuhara, informing him of how Lord Kiyomori appeared to be going mad, of how the Taira were bullying the citizenry on the streets, of how they allowed Enryakuji to be destroyed. “Someone must save us from this terrible tyranny. Who but the Minomoto could accomplish such a thing? Who but the son of Yoshitomo could lead such a righteous war and avenge his father?”

  The comet hung in the sky, wavering like a red banner in the wind, the banner of an enemy summoning him to war.

  News of Infants

  Two months passed, and the snow and ice of winter melted, turning the Imperial gardens into mud. It was Kenreimon’in’s least favorite time of year, for though the air beckoned warmth to come, still the trees bore no leaves, and no flowers bloomed. The ailment that had plagued her during the winter had passed but a new illness had taken its place, and she had been unable to eat.

  Do the gods punish me for wielding Kusanagi? she had wondered.

  But after her woman’s blood did not come, she began to wonder, remembering stories her mother had told. Kenreimon’in sent for the Minister of the Imperial Bureau of Medicine, and he in turn sent for an elderly nun.

  Now this old woman poked and prodded at very private places on the Empress’s person, mumbling the Lotus Sutra. Kenreimon’in gazed out at the bleak gardens, trying to think on other things. She concentrated on not crying out or wincing when tender spots were touched.

  “For how long has your Majesty missed your bleeding?”

  “Ten days, I think.”

  “And how long have you been ill?”

  “Um, fourteen days, I think.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “So you were born in a year of the Serpent?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your husband, His Majesty?”

  “Born in a year of the Rooster.”

  “Mmm.” At last the old woman sat back, a satisfied smile on her face. “May I be permitted to make the announcement, Majesty?”

  “Announcement?”

  “That you are with child.”

  “Ah. Yes. Of course. You may do so.” Kenreimon’in smiled, but she was aware there was pain in her expression.

  “Fear not, Majesty. All will be well.” The old nun bowed low and, more swiftly than one might expect for her age, passed through the vermilion gauze curtains and hurried to the shōji. Kneeling at the doorway, she intoned, “I have blissful news. Her Majesty is with child!”

  As swift as the fire that had burned the capital, word spread out from that doorway. Kenreimon could hear clearly through the wood-and-paper walls the word being passed from servant to servant and noble to noble. It always surprised her that such private things could be of such public interest. But she was Empress, and very little of her life was private.

  Kenreimon gazed down at her belly, which was long from showing signs of the resident within. “So, you will be the Taira Emperor who was foretold,” she murmured. “Stay warm and safe, little one, for I do not know what sort of world will greet you when you at last arrive.”

  Munemori had been at the palace on other business when the word reached him. He called for an ox-carriage and left immediately for Nishihachijō, pleased that he would be the one to deliver the news to Kiyomori.

  The ox-carriage bounced and jostled Munemori, but he did not mind. He had told the driver to go as fast as he could, and he could hear the driver haranguing the traffic ahead. “Make way! Make way for the important Taira personage! All must allow my master to pass!”

  Munemori meanwhile daydreamed of the future, and what this news might mean. Surely this was the beginning of his good fortune, for surely the new little Emperor would come to see his uncle Munemori’s worth and promote him to high positions. Perhaps that is how I will become Chief of the Taira, Munemori thought. Perhaps I will even someday achieve my father’s post of Chancellor.

  Visits to the palace might become frequent, for Munemori’s own wife had a child on the way, due in only a couple of months. If it is a son, he and the Crown Prince will be playmates, and I will be invited to dine with Takakura as we watch the boys at play. If a girl, perhaps someday she may be consort to the little Emperor, for it is not unknown for cousins to marry. And then I, myself, might have a grandson who is Emperor.

  Munemori arrived at Nishihachijō drunk on visions of future glory, and demanded to be taken to his father Kiyomori at once.

  His father looked up in surprise and annoyance when Munemori walked in. Munemori noted the gray of Kiyomori’s hair and the sagging of his frame. He is getting so old, thought Munemori. No wonder he is not long to be Chief of the Taira.

  “Munemori. What is the meaning of this? Have you lost all sense of manners and filial deference?”

  “Rejoice, Father, for I bring you good news. Your daughter, my sister, the Empress is with child.”

  For once, his father’s reaction was not disappointing. Kiyomori’s eyes widened, and he smiled. “With child? With child? At last! How wondrous!” He jumped to his feet and did a little dance of joy. Kiyomori grabbed every servant and relation who happened by, and said, “Have you heard my son’s news? The Taira Emperor is coming! My daughter is with child!”

  Soon the whole mansion was bubbling and burbling with the happy news, and Munemori stood in the midst of it, steeping in the joy and goodwill like a ball of spring tea leaves. Kiyomori invited him to stay through the evening, and they drank plum wine and sake together, toasting every member of Emperor Takakura’s family, even Go-Shirakawa.

  Other Taira arrived, including Munemori’s younger brothers Shigehira and Tomomori, as well as his mother, Nii no Ama, to join in the celebration. Smugly, Munemori noted that his elder brother, the shining Shigemori, did not make an appearance.

  It was well after sundown when a servant arrived from Munemori’s household. “My lord, you must come home at once.”

  “What? Go away. I will come home when I am ready.”

  “My lord, I regret that I must be so bold, but you must come.”

  “My wife sent you, didn’t she?”

  “It … is a matter concerning her, my lord, yes.”

  It was then that Munemori noted the paleness of the servant’s face and the redness in the eyes. “Is she ill? What is it?”

  “These are matters not to be spoken of before others. Please, my lord. Come home and see.”

  Nii no Ama overheard the servant, and she looked over and said, “Do not be a boor, Munemori. Go home and see to your wife.”

  So Munemori again got into the ox-carriage, in a far worse mood, and endured another jostling journey. This time his thoughts were more grim. “If this is merely another whim of hers, I will strike her. If she is ill, I will chide her for being careless.” He heard the wheels and ox hooves squelching in the spring mud and thought it a most dismal sound.

  When at last the carriage bumped over the threshold beam of his mansion’s gate, Munemori peered out the carriage window. The b
uildings were dark, as lamps of the mansion had been left unlit, and he could hear weeping from within. A cold fear began to fill him. Munemori jumped out of the carriage and rushed into the mansion, despite the servants trying to catch his sleeve to slow his progress.

  Munemori ran to the sleeping quarters and there he saw the body, wrapped in white silk, stained with blood at the edges. The body was surrounded by weeping maidservants and chanting monks, who looked up at Munemori’s arrival.

  He fell to his knees. “Wha—what happened?”

  “The child …” one of the women gasped through her tears, “it came too early. We tried to help her, but the blood … there was too much blood.”

  “Ah.” Munemori felt tears welling in his eyes. He could hardly speak for his throat closed tight. “And the baby? What of the baby?”

  The woman only shook her head.

  “Noooo!” Munemori screamed, and he fought his way through the seated people to where the body lay. He grabbed his dead wife’s shoulders through the silk and shook her. “How could you do this to me? How could you do this? We might have been grandparents to an Emperor!” He fell forward onto the body and wept upon her cold breast.

  The servants surrounded him and tugged gently on his sleeves and shoulders. “My lord, this is unseemly. My lord, come away and let the monks see to her. My lord, there is nothing more you can do. My lord, you are not to blame.” Munemori let himself be led away to a dark room, where he wept into his sleeves for a long time. The servants brought him tea, and hot cloths blessed by the monks with which to wash his hands, for he had touched the dead. Munemori demanded that the servants leave him alone, and they did so.

  When his thoughts again gathered themselves, Munemori wondered at what one of the servants had said, that he was not to blame. “But am I?” he murmured to himself. He became aware of the scent of ashes in the air. Munemori looked up and saw the ghostly form of the Shin-In sitting across the room from him.

  “Munemori-san,” said the ghost with a regal nod. “Why do you weep?”

  “Is this it?” Munemori demanded. “Is this the sacrifice that you told me would be nothing?”

  “At the time the bargain was made,” intoned the Imperial demon-spirit, “your wife meant nothing to you.”

  “I was becoming fond of her again!”

  “How was I to know your heart would change?”

  “And the child … Why did you have to take the child?”

  The shade shrugged. “What does it matter? You can always have another.”

  Munemori sputtered and grabbed one of the blessed towels, which he threw at the Shin-in. But the ghost merely leaned aside, and the cloth splatted harmlessly against the wall.

  “If you wish to break our bargain,” the Shin-In continued, “I am sure I can find another candidate to lead the Taira into glory. You have other brothers, I have noted.”

  “No!” growled Munemori, clenching his fists. “I have paid the price, so now you must give me what I have paid for!”

  “That is all I have ever intended,” said the Shin-In. “And, I assure you, my side of the bargain shall be kept.”

  “It had better be,” said Munemori.

  “Oh. One more thing,” said the Shin-In. “When it comes time for your sister, the Empress, to do her lying-in, you will see to it that she is taken to Rokuhara. I am sure you remember which wing of Rokuhara it is that I intend?”

  “The guest wing,” Munemori said bleakly, “where you have haunted.”

  “Where I still haunt, from time to time,” said the Shin-In, “to keep an eye on things. Since Kiyomori and Tokiko moved out, the servants have been criminally lax about maintaining the wardings. And now that Enryakuji is in ruins, my kind can travel about the capital with much greater ease. Thanks to you.”

  “So pleased to be of service,” hissed Munemori. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you wish the Imperial birth to be at Rokuhara?”

  “Should I not be present for the birth of my relation? Anyone of importance makes a point of attending a royal birth. Am I not important?”

  “In what manner will you be … present?”

  For a moment, the Shin-In’s eyes grew cold. “It is not wise for a servant to question his master. All will become clear in time.” Then his expression lightened. “But calm yourself, Munemori-san, and be of good cheer. After all, you will soon have a nephew who will be an Emperor.” With a knowing smile, the Shin-In vanished.

  Munemori flung himself to the floor, moaning and tearing his silk robes into rags.

  Preparations

  Lord Kiyomori strode happily through the corridors of Rokuhara, overseeing the preparation of the guest wing to receive the Imperial lying-in. The lesser Taira who had been residing there were moved out, the floors completely repaired and repolished, and new screens of brocade silk with gold thread moved in, along with low tables of ebony and teak, and lacquer chests with jade inlays. An army of servants would have to be hired to tend to the monks, priests, and nobles who would also be in attendance at the birth. Arrangements had to be made with rice farmers in Taira-governed provinces to ensure enough provisions would be available. Taira sailors were commissioned to bring precious oranges from the south and ample fish from the sea. The expense was enormous, but Kiyomori was a very wealthy man. And besides, it was for the Taira Emperor. He would spare no cost to see that everything was perfect.

  Kiyomori’s robes stuck to him in the summer heat, yet he felt no discomfort, as he directed the hanging of lanterns and tapestries, and the replanting of gardens so that they would be at their best in early winter when the Empress and her newborn might see them. The planning had occupied his mind for months, yet no one in his family or the government complained of his obsession. In fact, they seemed to encourage him. Kiyomori was beginning to suspect the nobles of the council were pleased to have him out of their hair for a while.

  It had been Munemori’s suggestion that the lying-in be at Rokuhara. “What better way to show the world it is a Taira Emperor than to have the birth at the seat of the Taira clan itself?” he had said. “Kenreimon’in is your daughter, no one could possibly argue the propriety. And that way you may ensure the safety of the child, for there are still those in the palace who harbor animosity toward our clan.”

  Kiyomori could not fault his son’s logic and had readily agreed. For once, Munemori is the one speaking sense, Kiyomori thought. Ever since the death of his wife and child, he has sobered into a thoughtful, serious young man. Perhaps he will amount to something after all.

  Shigemori and Nii no Ama had protested, of course. Shigemori had suggested his own mansion, or even Go-Shirakawa’s palace, but Kiyomori would not hear of it. Nii no Ama had said dire things about how Rokuhara had been haunted. But Kiyomori assumed she wanted control of the child for the Dragon King’s sake, and Kiyomori did not even reply to her messages. Curiously, Go-Shirakawa had remained silent on the matter. He would have had the right to complain, given that he was father to the Emperor and would be grandfather to the child. But the Retired Emperor had demurred, saying he would agree to whatever the Imperial couple wished.

  Kenreimon’in herself had sealed the decision, stating in a letter to Shigemori that she looked forward to returning to Rokuhara. “I have such fond memories of playing there as a child that surely the familiar surroundings will comfort me as I bring a child of my own into the world.”

  Kiyomori surveyed the great room in the guest wing with some satisfaction. Soon any Emperor would be proud to say he had resided here, he thought. Glancing up, Kiyomori noticed some dried flowers and tattered silk ribbons stuck onto the crossbeams. “What are those?” he shouted to a nearby elderly maidservant.

  She bowed low and said, “My lord, Nii no Ama had us put those up there after the … unpleasantness some years ago. They are to protect this room against evil spirits. She was most emphatic that they should not be removed.”

  Kiyomori frowned. “We will have monks from ever
y temple and priests from every shrine attending this birth. Do you think they cannot protect Her Majesty from demons and spirits? Remove those ratty ornaments at once! They are out of season, and therefore inappropriate and may bring bad luck themselves.”

  “As my lord wishes,” said the old woman, fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

  The Lying–In

  Kenreimon’in leaned upon the arms of her maidservants as they led her out to the awaiting carriage. Her belly felt so heavy and full she could scarcely breathe. She could not see her feet to know whether she would be treading on the early-winter ice. She was afraid.

  Kenreimon remembered hearing how her sister-in-law, Munemori’s wife, had died. It was not unusual, even in the capital of Heian Kyō, for women to die in childbirth, often after much pain. Despite the reassurances of her servants and the Office of the Imperial Household, Kenreimon found herself often fingering her prayer beads and murmuring sutras for a safe delivery.

  Her feet slipped out from under her, and Kenreimon’in cried out. It was only the many hands of the servants surrounding her that kept her from falling. As it was, she nearly embarassed herself by letting water. She wanted to cry but put on a brave face for the sake of her ladies. She must set a good example of how an Empress behaves.

  I have borne up well these past few months, Kenreimon’in reminded herself. I even politely tolerated the monks who came to do spells to turn the child into a boy in case the gods had chosen otherwise. I can surely bear a few indignities a while longer.

  At last, Kenreimon’in arrived at the covered ox-carriage. The street was thick with Taira warriors in full armor on horseback, waiting to escort her to Rokuhara. The warriors bowed low from their saddles to her. She recognized one of them as her brother Shigehira, just a couple of years older than she. He smiled at her from beneath his snow-dusted helmet, and his smile gave her courage.

  The back door of the ox-carriage was opened. The maid servants took Kenreimon’in’s arms and helped her up the tiny steps and through the narrow doorway.