by Kara Dalkey
“Is is not strange,” said Kenreimon’in, “that a woman is young for so brief a time but is old so very long?”
“I have observed there are many strange things about the mortal world,” replied Nii no Ama.
After a pause, Kenreimon’in asked, “What will I do, Mother? I wish I could become a nun such as you, and leave this world of trouble. But Munemori insists I stay to look after Antoku.”
“He is right,” said Nii no Ama. “Now that Kiyomori is gone, the Taira need all the morale and authority they can assert. You must remain in the palace.”
Staring down at her hands, Kenreimon’in said, “I am not a worthy vessel for the hopes of my clan.”
After a pause, Nii-no-Ama said, “When I was speaking to the prince of the tengu, he mentioned something odd. He said you were not entirely blameless and that I should ask you about it. Have you any thoughts on what he might have meant?”
Kenreimon’in felt the guilt swell within her, and she pressed her wide sleeves to her face. “Ai! I had hoped that I would die with my shame.”
Nii no Ama moved closer and placed her hands on her arm. “Please, tell me. Surely it cannot be so great a sin as you think. The tengu are cruel and make more of our mortal follies than is deserved.”
Kenreimon’in rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “It was the night of the great fire,” she began softly. “I awoke from a dream in which I was troubled. It was so hot, and I wanted just a little breeze. We were at the Emperor’s mother’s mansion. I wandered to where the Sacred Regalia were being kept. I had heard stories about the magic in the sword—”
“Kusanagi,” Nii no Ama breathed. “You touched it?”
Kenreimon’in grasped her mother’s shoulder tightly. “I had no understanding of what would happen. It was as though some other spirit moved my arms. I waved the sword and commanded it and a wind came up. A wind that drove the fire into the palace.” She lasped into sobs for a while as her mother held her and stroked her hair.
“My dear, you should not blame yourself. You did not know a fire was raging elsewhere in the city.”
“There must be some stain in my soul,” said Kenreimon’in when she could speak again, “that allowed such a horrible spirit to possess me. He tried again, when I was giving birth to Antoku. It was the same one, I am sure.”
“The Shin-In,” murmured Nii no Ama.
“What?”
“The Retired Emperor believed it was the spirit of his brother, the Shin-In, who tried to possess you at Rokuhara. If it was he, then it is because you are his blood relative that the Shin-In could more easily possess you, not because of any spiritual impurity of yours. Did you ever wield Kusanagi again?”
“No, no, never!” cried Kenreimon’in. “I vowed never to touch the sword again. Not even on the night of the earthquake.”
“What happened on the night of the earthquake?”
“It is hard to remember clearly. But after the earthquake, I rushed out through the room in which the regalia were kept. The girls who were guarding it claimed there were two swords.”
“Two swords?”
“Identical Kusanagis. The girls could not tell one from the other. I had the thought at the time that I could know the real one by grasping it, yet I dared not do so because of my vow. I rushed out of the room and on the verandah I ran into Munemori. I believe he had been … visiting the girls.”
“Munemori. I see,” said Nii no Ama. “It was Munemori who insisted you give birth at Rokuhara, as I recall.”
“Was it? Yes, I suppose it was,” said Kenreimon’in, now somewhat confused at her mother’s words.
“And it was Munemori who left the palace unexpectedly early on the day of the whirlwind, due to some mysterious ailment.”
“Munemori was often ill in those days, after losing his wife and child.”
“Hmmm. There was something hidden between Shigemori and Munemori before Shigemori died. Some plan that went arwy, that Shigemori would not reveal to me. Do you know what it was?”
Kenreimon’in shook her head. “I am a younger sister. Why would they tell me anything? I do not know.”
Nii no Ama hugged her more tightly. “Do not blame yourself any further. It is clear we have both been caught up in greater schemes than we knew. I believe it is time I paid a long-overdue visit to the now-illustrious Munemori.”
Kenreimon’in sighed and rested her head in her mother’s lap like she used to do as a child. “I hope he can give you answers. Our whole world depends upon him now.”
A Mother Talks with Her Son
It took some time for Nii no Ama to catch up with Munemori, for he was forever at meetings at Rokuhara, at the Council of Senior Nobles, at Hōjūji Mansion. Finally, early in the Fifth Month, Munemori was at the Imperial palace, meeting with the Military Guards of the Left and Right. Nii no Ama stationed herself outside his palace office chamber and refused to leave until she was permitted a chance to speak with him. As Grandmother of the Emperor, and having the Rights of Three Empresses, she had some considerable influence. It was not long before she was ushered into Munemori’s presence.
As she knelt before her black-robed son, Nii no Ama smiled sweetly at the green-robed, Sixth Rank secretaries and attendants. “If you please, I should like to speak with my son in private for a while.”
With nervous glances at Munemori, not sure whom they wished to risk offending more, the green-robed young men swiftly bowed and departed.
Munemori sighed, clearly annoyed and impatient. “Mother, while it is always a joy to see you, I fear you have chosen an unfortunate time for a visit.”
“Very true, my son,” said Nii no Ama, in a cold, firm voice. “I should have had such a meeting with you long before now.”
Munemori’s head rose a little, and he weighed her with his gaze. “I regret that I have not been the most filial of sons. But surely you understand that matters of state have been quite pressing of late. Particularly since Father passed away.”
Nii no Ama clicked her tongue. “You have grown thin,” she said, noting his now more hollow cheeks and more sunken eyes. “Year by year you become more like a wraith. You really should take another wife. Clearly your concubines are not feeding you enough.”
Munemori closed his eyes. “Mother, this is not the time—”
“Oh, I fear it is the time,” Nii no Ama said coldly. “It is long past time. I have been a fool not to see it.” She crept closer to him and affixed him with the dragon stare she used to use on Kiyomori to show him that she disapproved. “What is your relation to the Shin-In? What have you done with Kusanagi?”
His eyes snapped open, and his face paled. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Ah, but you do. Your blood does, or it would not flee from your face so. What was your arrangement with Shigemori, the one that failed?”
Munemori looked away. “It is of no consequence now.”
“How can you say such a thing? How dare you lie to me like this!” demanded Nii no Ama. “No consequence? Here you are, the most powerful man in all Nihon—and believe me, that thought terrifies me more than I can say—and you claim there is no consequence to consorting with evil spirits and magical swords?”
Munemori’s hands tightened on his baton of office. “Mother, I pray you, keep your voice down. These are perilous times for the Taira, and we must provide no fodder for the gossip mill.”
“The mappo is upon us, and you are worried about gossip?”
Munemori rolled his eyes. “You should hear them, Mother. The messengers who come from the east. Our forces have been having victory after victory against the supporters of the Minomoto. But is that what the people speak of? No, they speak of our one general who was struck down by lightning, and they claim it is the justice of the gods. There is drought in the countryside, and we are blamed. I now have an edict from Go-Shirakawa to destroy the Minomoto, but we cannot supply our armies because no one believes the Cloistered Emperor is sincere in his command. Fathe
r was right that the tongues of the people should not be allowed to wag freely.”
“But while your tongue wags freely, you evade my questions.”
Munemori sighed again. Softly, he said, “Shigemori knew of a copy of Kusanagi that hung at the Shrine of Ise. He was hoping we could switch the swords, and thereby see that the Dragon King’s sword was returned to the sea. But the day I brought it to the palace, I became ill. And then the whirlwind happened. And then the earthquake. Clearly the gods intended that our plan was not to be. That is all there is to know.”
“I find it a curious coincidence that you were handling Kusanagi on the day of the whirlwind.”
“It was not coincidence. Have I not said the whirlwind was a sign of the kami’s disapproval?”
“What happened to the copy?”
“After the earthquake, I sent it back to Ise at once.”
“Are you certain it was the copy and not the actual Sacred Sword that you returned?”
Munemori paused, the lines around his eyes deepening and his lips tightening thinner. “What does it matter?” he exploded at last. “It is just a sword, a symbol. As long as one remains with the Emperor, all is well. And if the real one lands at Ise, where is the harm? That is the safest place of all.”
“Safe from whom?”
Munemori glanced away. “From whoever might misuse it.”
“And who might that be?”
Munemori did not answer.
“Safe from me? Or safe from the Shin-In?”
“The Shin-In,” growled Munemori through gritted teeth, “is a legend, a folk tale told by condemned men who wished not to take the blame for their crimes.”
“Curiouser still,” said Nii no Ama. “Your sister says this same spirit was the one that tried to possess her child as she was giving birth at Rokuhara. At your recommendation. I hardly think giving birth to an Emperor was a crime for which Kenreimon’in needed someone to blame. I felt that spirit’s power, and it was formidable indeed.”
Munemori very carefully set his baton of office on the cushion beside him. “Mother. These are matters of the past. I fear that matters of the present have become far more pressing—”
“Do you serve the Shin-In?” Nii no Ama asked.
He fixed his gaze on her. “I do not serve the Shin-In. There are those who say, however, that the Shin-In serves our enemies. Now please, Mother, I have nothing more to tell you.”
Nii no Ama stood. “I do not understand the men of this family. None of you have trusted me, when I might have been of great assistance. Your father did not listen to me, and the children he pardoned now arm themselves to destroy us. Shigemori would not deal with Kusanagi soon enough, and now he is dead. And now you do not listen. What will be the price of your stubborness? I fear I know.”
“Good afternoon. Mother.”
Nii no Ama stared at her third son for a long moment. Then she said, “So be it,” and she bowed. She walked out as gracefully as her old legs would let her, without a look back.
A Year of Famine and Pestilence
As the year proceeded, matters worsened in the countryside. The clouds brought little rain and therefore the fields brought forth little rice. There were no provisions for warriors in the far counties, and so the rebellion slowed.
In hopes of changing the land’s fortunes, the era name had been changed to Yowa in the middle of the Seventh Month. Munemori declared an amnesty for those nobles who had fled two years before, and so the Regent and the Chancellor returned and paid homage to Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa.
There were rumors throughout the year that the temples and shrines secretly prayed for the destruction of the Heike in revenge for the burning of the temples at Nara.
Winter deepened and New Year of the second year of Yowa arrived with only a worsening of the capital’s fortunes. There had not been enough rice to store for winter, and so there were beggars starving on the streets in great numbers. The Imperial Police could not clear the corpses fast enough, so sickness spread as well. People, even nobles, were afraid to leave their homes, in fear that the spirits of the dead would infect them with illness. Toward the end of the Fourth Month, the Imperial government sent lavish offerings to The Twenty-Two Shrines surrounding the capital in order to appease the gods.
A month later, seeing that the previous change of era name had been ineffective, the era name was changed again to Juei. But it did not help matters. Through the long, hot summer, the people of Heian Kyō suffered, and those who could fled the city for the surrounding mountains. Those who remained sold off their valuable possessions to buy rice. Those who had no valuable possessions begged and starved. Houses were cut down to be sold as firewood, and temples in the hills were broken into and robbed. Parents died, giving what food they had to their children. Lovers died, giving what food they had to their beloved.
The streets became carpeted with the dead. Those monks who felt pity would wander the city, tracing the aji symbol on the foreheads of the fallen, giving them a last rite.
Only one battle of any significance was fought that year. In the Ninth Month, a force of several thousand Taira marched east to attack Shinano Province. There they were met by Yoritomo’s cousin Yoshinaka, who easily defeated them with a ruse: they approached the Taira carrying red banners, and only when close enough to attack raised the white banners of the Minomoto.
In the East, in Kamakura, conditions were not so dire, but there were still not enough provisions to mount a massive campaign. Minomoto Yoritomo spent his time offering gifts to the major shrines, securing their loyalty. He also heard complaints from shrines whose lands were being plundered by the gathering warriors, and did what he could to stop such depredations. His wife, Masako, gave birth to a son … and discovered that Yoritomo had had all the while a favorite concubine hidden nearby. This caused many upheavals in the Hōjō household, and two men who had helped the concubine stay hidden were murdered at Masako’s orders.
And thus the first year of Juei passed, with sorrows in every household.
An Empty Banquet
Taira Munemori sat beside the ladies’ kichō curtain beneath which a corner of dark gray sleeve protruded. “A New Year full of blessings to you, sister,” he said. Munemori was the Minister of State in charge of the New Year’s celebrations, and he was careful to hold them within the Shomenon Gate, in the Dairi, the Inner Palace Compound, where damage had been the least and repairs made first. A light snow was falling, but the outdoor celebration was still festive enough, the sake and plum wine flowing freely, allowing the assembled nobility to forget briefly the troubles of the world.
“Surely we cannot be cursed any worse,” murmured Kenreimon’in from the other side of the curtain. “I cannot look at this meal without thinking of the poor souls outside our walls, who have nothing.”
“The rice is not of the best quality,” Munemori said. “And the onion and daikon are from gardens here in the Imperial Compound. Neither is fit for the lowly folk outside. Besides, in these perilous times, it is important for those in government to stay reasonably fed, neh? Or all will fall to chaos.”
“What will it matter,” replied Kenreimon’in, “if there is no one left to govern?”
“The gods will never let that happen,” said Munemori. “People are one crop our land has no lack of. Perhaps it was time for a weeding.”
“You have become callous,” said Kenreimon’in.
“As a leader of a warrior clan must be,” he reminded her. “You are compassionate, as a woman must be.”
He heard his sister sigh explosively and knock over her rice bowl.
“Do not waste any, Majesty, if you are concerned for the starving.”
“It was already empty. How many of us,” she went on, “look on the snow falling on the plum blossoms just starting to bloom on those trees and think not of poems but of the fruit those trees will bear later?”
“The plum blossom is a symbol of hope. Such thoughts are entirely appropriate, I would say.”
“What is there to hope for? I hear rumors that the Minomoto are amassing in Ōmi Province, not far from the city. They could sweep down on us at any time.”
“Do not listen to rumors, Majesty. It is a small matter that Koremori will deal with once the mountain passes are clear.”
“Our nephew Koremori? The one who ran from ducks?”
“Hush,” Munemori said softly. “He has learned his lesson and is a much more seasoned warrior now.”
“Hmmm.” Kenreimon’in paused before saying, “I have also heard a rumor that you will be elevated to Junior First Rank next month. Congratulations.”
“I have every assurance that it will be so. It has been long overdue. It is difficult, you know, to issue directives to the Fujiwara when one is merely Fourth Rank. They do not take one seriously. How fares His Young Majesty?”
Kenreimon’in paused again before replying. “Well enough, considering. He does not seem to thrive and takes little interest in what happens around him. Some are saying he sickens because the land itself is unwell.”
“That is foolish nonsense. If the land is unwell, it is only because it is infected by the Minomoto. As soon as they are defeated, all will be well once more.” But Munemori gazed out over the Dairi and the snow falling gently on its gardens, trying to commit the sight to memory. He had heard the estimates of how many troops the Minomoto were gathering, some to the able Yoshinaka, some to a young upstart named Yoshitsune. Munemori had heard how the famine and sickness was considered yet another sign that the Taira must fall.
Munemori knew that many places in the walls of the Imperial Compound had been undermined and damaged beyond repair. The Compound could not be held long against a siege. He remembered from the Hōgen and Heiji that fighting in the capital tended to favor the attacker—houses burned so easily, they were never defensible for long. Even the mighty Rokuhara could be felled with a few well-aimed torch arrows. Munemori knew at some point, perhaps sooner, perhaps later, the Taira and its little Emperor were going to have to leave Heian Kyō.