by VIKING ADULT
For the prince, shafts from ya no Shunch, Gochi-in no Tajima,
Watanabe no Habuku, Sazuku, and Tsuzuku no Genda
sped straight through armor and shields.
Minamoto no Yorimasa wore a long white silk hitatare
under leather armor with indigo-dyed, white-fern-patterned lacing.
He must have known that this day was his last, for he had left off his helmet.
His son, Nakatsuna, wore red brocade under black-laced armor.
The better to draw a powerful bow, he, too, wore no helmet.
Now Tajima slipped his halberd
from its scabbard and strode alone
out onto the bridge. At the sight
the Heike side raised a great shout:
“Get this fellow, men, shoot him down!”
Their finest archers lined up their bows,
fitted arrow to string, and let fly
again and again, but he, unfazed,
ducked the high ones, jumped the low,
and those coming straight at him
he knocked down with his halberd and broke.
Friend and foe alike watched in awe.
So it was that forever after
they called him “Tajima Snapshaft.”
There was among the practitioner-monks one Tsutsui no Jmy Meishū,
wearing darkest indigo under black-laced leather armor,
a helmet complete with five-plated neckpiece, and a black-lacquered sword.
He bore on his back twenty-four arrows fletched with black feathers,
carried a bow black-lacquered over closely wrapped rattan,
and grasped a mighty halberd with the plain shaft that he favored.
So equipped, he marched onto the bridge and called out in a great voice,
“You will have long heard tell of me.
Here I am now, before your eyes!
At Miidera everyone knows me: me, the practitioner-monk Tsutsui no Jmy Meishū, a man stalwart against a thousand!
Any of you with the stomach for it, come, come and fight me! See how you do!”
Those arrows of his in rapid succession he set to the string and let fly.
Twelve men within bowshot died;
eleven were wounded. In his quiver
only one last arrow remained.
With a clatter he dropped the bow,
untied the quiver, let it fall,
kicked off his fur boots, and, barefoot,
darted across the bridge on a beam.
Nobody else dared to follow
down this, to him, broad avenue.
Six men came at him from the far end.
Five he mowed down with his halberd,
but the fierce clash with the sixth
broke the shaft; he tossed it away,
drew his sword, and went on fighting:
the “spider strike,” the “twisted rope,”
the “four-arm cross,” the “dragonfly,”
the “waterwheel”—that sword of his
slashed through all the eight directions
until eight men lay dead before him.
On the helmet of the ninth,
down it came then with such force
that the blade broke at the hilt,
flew off, splashed into the river.
A dagger now his only weapon,
in battle frenzy he faced death.
Came up behind him then Ichirai, a monk-servant of the adept Keishū,
a wizard at swift swordplay, to join the fray,
but the beam was too narrow, and he could not pass.
Leaning his hand on Jmy’s helmet, with “Pardon me!” Ichirai leaped over him
and lit into the foe. In that battle he died.
Meanwhile Jmy crawled back again. On the grass at the Byd-in gate,
he took off his armor and counted sixty-three arrow hits.
Five had gone through but done little damage. He burned moxa over the wounds,
swathed his head in a length of cloth, donned the white raiment of a pilgrim,
cut down his bow to make a staff, and with simple clogs on his feet
started for Nara, calling the Name.
Jmy’s exploit inspired the Miidera men and the Watanabe League to pour eagerly across along the bare beams. Some returned with trophies; others, wounded, slit their bellies and jumped into the river. The battle on the bridge raged like fire.
The spectacle moved the corps commander Tadakiyo to appeal to his chiefs.
“Just look at that!” he said. “Look at the fierce fight on the bridge!
We really should cross, but what with the fifth-month rains, the river is rising.
Any attempt to ford it and we will lose many men and horses.
We might instead go around by Yodo or Imoarai, or by the Kawachi road.”
At these words a man from the province of Shimotsuke,
Ashikaga no Matatar Tadatsuna, stepped forward to reply,
“Yodo, Imoarai, you say?
The Kawachi road? Are we to go
hunting first for reinforcements
off in India or China?
No, it is up to us to fight now!
There is the enemy, right there in front of us. If we do not strike now and he gets into Nara, the Yoshino and Totsugawa men137 will rush to join him. Then we will be in real trouble.
The Heike cross the Uji River.
A big river, the Tone, runs between Musashi and Kzuke. The Chichibu clan and the Ashikaga were feuding and forever at war when the main Ashikaga force once moved to attack across the Nagai ford, while the rear guard was to cross at Koga and Sugi. The Nitta Novice, a Kzuke man, had thrown in his lot with the Ashikaga and positioned boats at the Sugi crossing, but the Chichibu had destroyed them all. ‘We warriors will never live it down if we don’t get across right here, right now!’ That is how everyone felt. ‘If we all drown, so be it! Here we go!’ And we did get across, by making horse rafts.138 That is the way we are, we fighting men of the east. With the enemy in sight on the far side of a river, no deeps or rapids can stop us.
And the river that we see here—
is it really deeper or faster
than the Tone River I spoke of?
I doubt that very much indeed.
Follow me, then, gentlemen!”
He rode straight into the water,
and after him go, mura,
Fukazu and Yamagami,
Naha no Tar,
Sanuki no Hirotsuna,
Onodera no Zenji Tar,
Heyako no Shir, and, besides,
a host of their trusted men:
Ubukata no Jir, Kiriu no Rokur,
Tanaka no Sda, and so on—
in all, three hundred riders.
Ashikaga shouted in a great voice, “Keep the stronger horses upstream,
the weaker ones below them! As long as their hooves touch bottom, keep a slack rein.
Tighten the reins to make them swim once they lose footing.
Give anyone in danger of being swept away a bow tip to hang on to.
Link arms and cross shoulder to shoulder.
Get a firm seat in your saddle and press your feet onto the stirrups.
If your horse’s head goes under, pull it back up, but not too far.
If water threatens to overwhelm you, slip back onto the rump.
Relieve your horse of your weight as much as you can—let the water bear it.
Do not shoot arrows from the river. Ignore any from the enemy.
Keep your neck plate toward them. Never bend too far forward,
lest you expose the crown of your helmet and take an arrow there.
Head directly across the current, at a right angle.
Do not let it carry you off, but also do not fight it.
Now, get on over there! Just go!” So instructed,
the three hundred crossed swiftly to the far bank and lost not one man.
12. The Death of the Prince
Over a figured
ocher robe, Ashikaga wore armor laced with red leather.
Deer antlers sprang from his helmet; gilt fittings gleamed on the sword at his side.
His arrows were fletched black and white, and his bow was close-wound with rattan.
He rode a dappled roan with a saddle gilt-edged at the pommel
and inlaid with a picture of a horned owl perched in an oak tree.
Rising in his stirrups, he announced his presence in a great voice:
“You in the distance, hear my voice!
Closer, behold me with your eyes!
Matatar Tadatsuna is my name.
I am the son of Ashikaga
Tar Toshitsuna, and I look
back over ten generations
to Tawara no Tda Hidesato,
who slew the rebel Masakado
and was granted a rich reward.
This year is my seventeenth.
For such as me, without office or rank, to challenge a prince, to draw the bow and let arrows fly, is to invite the wrath of heaven; yet might of arms and divine favor all lie with the Heike. Let any ally of Yorimasa who wishes to test me come forward. I will oblige!” With this he charged through the Byd-in gate, and a melee ensued.
Taira no Tomomori, the chief commander, was watching. “Cross, cross over now!” he ordered, and twenty-eight thousand men plunged in. Dammed by so many horses and men, the waters of the swift Uji River rose on the upstream side.
What water did break through swept off all in its path.
Underlings hugging the downstream edge of the mob of horses
got across, many of them, dry from the knees up,
but somehow the government’s mounted troops from Iga and Ise provinces
lost control of their formation, and it broke up.
Six hundred of them washed down the river, drowned.
Green, rose madder, red-laced armor
tumbled in the roiling current,
just as from Mount Kaminami
autumn winds blow flying leaves
down into the Tatsuta River,
where, as fall draws to a close,
they come to rest against some dam.
Three of these—three warriors
in armor with madder lacing—
rocked gently against the weir.
Nakatsuna spied them:
Ise warriors,
madder-laced their armor, caught
just like young sweetfish,
press against the barrier
of the famous Uji weir!
From Ise province they were indeed.
Kuroda no Gohei Shir,
Hino no Jūr, Otobe
no Yashichi—these were their names.
Hino, rich in experience,
worked his bow tip between the rocks,
pulled himself up, righted the others,
and so, as they tell it, saved them all.
The whole of the main army got across and pressed the assault
in wave after wave through the gate of the Byd-in.
Amid the confusion Yorimasa dispatched Prince Mochihito toward Nara,
while he and his men stood fast, to stay the attackers with their arrows.
Aged over seventy in this battle, he took an arrow to the left knee: a grave wound.
Hoping to end his life in peace,
he was retreating toward the temple gate when the enemy came at him.
Kanetsuna, his second son, in armor laced with Chinese damask over blue brocade,
astride a pale roan, fell back fighting, time and again, to allow his father to flee.
An arrow from Kazusa no Tar penetrated Kanetsuna’s helmet. He reeled, and meanwhile Jirmaru, a powerful youth who served the governor of Kazusa, came up beside him and dragged him crashing down from his mount. Head wound or not, the famously powerful Kanetsuna seized the fellow, pinned his neck, and cut off his head. He was about to rise again when fourteen or fifteen Heike riders fell on him and killed him. Nakatsuna, with all his wounds, took his own life in the Byd-in fishing pavilion.139 Shimokbe no Tzabur Kiyochika made off with Nakatsuna’s head and threw it under the veranda.
The Rokuj chamberlain Nakaie and his son, the chamberlain Nakamitsu,
fought fiercely and took trophies, but they ended up dying in battle.
The Nakaie in question
was the firstborn of Yoshikata,
who commanded the corps of guards
assigned to the heir apparent.
When he was orphaned, Yorimasa
adopted and so favored him
that he swore, if need be, to die
at his patron’s side; and, alas,
they did meet death together.
Yorimasa called to attend him
Watanabe no Chjitsu Ton.
“Cut my head off,” he ordered.
That was too much for Ton, who wept freely.
“I could never do that, my lord,” he replied. “Take your own life first,
then I will oblige.” “I understand,” Yorimasa replied.
He faced the west, called the Name ten times, and spoke his last, moving words:
This forgotten tree
never through the fleeting years
burst into flower,
and now that the end has come,
no thought but turns to sorrow.
Having uttered these final words,
he pressed his sword point into his belly,
collapsed forward, and died transfixed.
This was no time, one might have thought,
for anyone to make a poem,
but ever since his youngest days
Yorimasa had loved that art,
and he kept faith with it to the last.
Ton, weeping, took his lord’s head,
secured it to a heavy stone,
stole out beyond the enemy,
and dropped it deep into the Uji River.
The Heike warriors hoped by hook or by crook to take Ki alive,
but he was ready. He fought fiercely, sustained a grave wound, cut his belly, and died.
The monk Genkaku no doubt assumed that the prince had fled far enough.
He charged into the enemy, great sword in one hand, halberd in the other,
then leaped into the Uji River. Still fully armed, he sank to the bottom,
got across to the other side, scrambled up onto a height,
and in a great voice called out,
“Come now, young Heike gentlemen,
let’s see you get yourselves over here!”
And off he went, back to Miidera.
Hida governor Kageie,
seasoned warrior that he was,
realized that Prince Mochihito
in the turmoil had slipped away,
no doubt for Nara. He dropped the fight
and with his five hundred riders,
whip and stirrup, pursued the prince.140
Sure enough, His Highness had fled,
accompanied by just thirty men.
Kageie caught up with them
before the Kmyzen torii
and there showered them with arrows.
One of these—whose, no one knew—
pierced the prince’s left side, and he fell.
An instant later his head was off.
The men with him saw it all. Onisado, Aradosa, Aradayū, Iga-no-Kimi, Gybu Shunshū, and the Six Tengu knew they now had nothing to live for. With whoops and yells, they fought and were killed. Meanwhile, with Heike men after him and his mount failing, Munenobu, His Highness’s foster brother, leaped into Niino Pond, ducked under the pondweed, and, shaking, lay still. The enemy rode right past him. A little later their force of several hundred returned, chattering excitedly. Some bore, on a house shutter, a headless corpse dressed in white. Munenobu peered at it, wondering who it could be. It was the prince.
“If I die,” His Highness had said, “put this flute in my coffin with me”—
and there it was, his flute Koeda, stuck in his sash.
Munenobu longed to rush forward and embrace the body but dared not.
Once they were gone, he emerged from the pond, wrung out his clothes,
and, weeping, went up to the capital.
Munenobu, from under the pondweed, watches the Heike men pass in triumph.
No one there had a good word for him.
While all this was going on,
the body of Kfukuji monks,
seven thousand in full armor,
marched to meet Prince Mochihito.
The first of them had reached Kizu
when the last were still milling about
at the Kfukuji south gate.
Then came the news that His Highness
had died in battle at Kmyzen,
before the torii. Helpless,
all they could do was dry their tears
and go no farther. One more league
and His Highness would have escaped
the cruelty of his bloody end.
13. The Prince’s Son Leaves the World
Bearing aloft on the points of swords and halberds
five hundred heads and more taken from the prince’s and Yorimasa’s men,
as well as from the fighting monks of Miidera,
the Heike army returned as night came on to Rokuhara.
They raised a clamor too dreadful for words to describe.
Yorimasa’s head itself, though, thanks to Chjitsu Ton,
had sunk to the depths of the Uji River. No one ever found it.
Those of his sons turned up here and there.
As for Prince Mochihito’s, nobody knew what he looked like
because no one had been to see him for so many years.
Some years back he had called in Sadanari, from the Office of Medicine, to treat him,
so Sadanari might know. They summoned him, but he pleaded illness not to come.
Then there was a gentlewoman whom the prince had favored.
They found her and required her presence at Rokuhara.
His Highness had loved her greatly and even had a son by her.
She could hardly fail to know him. Sure enough, after a single glance,
she pressed her sleeves to her face
and burst into a flood of tears.
Yes, she had recognized the prince.
Prince Mochihito had several children, by different mothers.
One was Sanmi-no-tsubone, as she was known,