Morito feverishly assented. Early on the night of the 14th he did exactly as he was told. He had no trouble whatever and felt no need to examine the head that he grasped by its damp locks. None the less he stepped out on the veranda to look at the head by the light of the moon.
He screamed. Froze. The head of his beloved dangled from his hand.
In that one horrid cry torn from the depth of his being were mingled his shame, his grief, his despair, and the agony of the mortal wound he had dealt himself. He sank numb to the floor. At that instant the colt in the stable neighed shrilly, pawed wildly, and would not stop neighing.
Morito finally rose to his feet. Moaning incoherently in the direction of the dark room, he took the cold thing, clammy with its wet hair and fresh blood, and drew it close to him under his arm, then leaped to the garden, cleared the hedge and bushes in a bound, and vanished into darkness like a malevolent ghost.
Tadamori recounted what so far was known of the murder, adding: "This crime involves not only one woman and a warrior. It casts a shadow over the Palace and puts a stain on the honor of the warriors of the Imperial Guards. It will be to our further shame if the murderer is tried by the Criminal Court and sentenced by the courtiers. It is our responsibility to capture the murderer. Set up guards at the twelve city gates; post watches at all the crossroads of Ninth Avenue, and we shall surely trap the criminal."
The mass of dark figures listened tensely and acknowledged the orders with a movement of their heads. Kiyomori nodded and tasted the salt tears that fell on his lips. He suddenly saw his secret love for Kesa-Gozen for what it was and her loveliness in a new light. Had he been drawn to Iris Lane like Morito, he too might well have done the same! Maniac or fool, which was he? Which Morito? His heart sank at the thought of capturing Morito single-handed, but the sight of the men excitedly streaming out of the gate in the early dawn brought his courage back, and Kiyomori rode off into the mist to his post on Kurama Road, his eyes hard and glinting.
The story of Kesa-Gozen's death soon reached every ear in Kyoto. It was talked about everywhere. Strangers, as well as those who knew her, tenderly mourned for her, denouncing Morito as a ghoul—a raving madman. Him they could never forgive, they said, and loathed him the more because he had once shown such promise. But more than the curiosity, the horror, and the pity that Kesa-Gozen's death aroused was the realization of how lightly most men and women regarded a woman's fidelity. There were few who were not profoundly moved, and who did not shudder at the thought of what she had done to preserve her womanliness.
The common folk of the Shiokoji grieved for her. Even the harlots of Sixth Avenue, who nightly hawked their bodies for a living, wiped the tears from their tawdry painted faces in pity, and not a few of them mingled discreetly with the crowds at Kesa-Gozen's funeral to leave nosegays for the dead one.
The courtiers, and the highborn ladies, too, were moved by the tale of Kesa-Gozen, though many appraised it cynically, for in the sheltered decadence of their lives what was a woman's virtue but an elegant commodity, a graceful pawn, casually bestowed and lightly withdrawn, for the pleasure of men? What then, they said, was so noble in Kesa-Gozen, who had defended her honor with her life? Was it not the natural timidity of a woman that drove her to this extremity? There were some who said with a shrug that a woman's whim to die in her husband's stead at the hands of a crazed lover was scarcely a matter for the courtiers to fuss over, that if the affair was to be regarded seriously at all, it was a sign of corruption in the Guards. What had happened to the Guards these days, these warriors who were assigned to keep watch at the Palace or sent as messengers between the Palace and the Court? If there were profligates there, Morito certainly was not the only one! What else could one expect of those warriors? Hadn't several days passed since Kesa-Gozen's funeral without the Guards having captured the murderer? This was inexcusable! Who could rely on these warriors in times of danger if they were incapable of even catching one madman?
Malicious gossip soon spread, and charges were brought against Tadamori by the courtiers. The responsibility for that crime was his. What led him to wait so assiduously on his majesty? Was he not the chief of the Guard Office? Was it not he who had urged his majesty to choose that ill-omened colt with the white fetlocks? And he that induced Kesa-Gozen's husband to take it? Tadamori undoubtedly was the cause of all this mischief! Was it not a heinous offense even to jest about a taboo? Was he not guilty of blasphemy?
Tadamori's offense was reviewed by the courtiers and there was even talk of a trial. This turn of affairs alarmed the ex-Emperor. He realized that he alone was to blame for this malicious outburst against the unworldly Tadamori. Not only had he honored him but he had loved and trusted this warrior as he did no other man.
To the courtiers' charges the ex-Emperor replied: "It is only a few days until we leave for Ninna-ji Temple. ... As for Morito's capture—let us consider that for discussion later on. As for these charges that Tadamori is responsible for allowing Wataru to take that ill-omened colt—since it was I that consented to it, it would amount to bringing those charges against me." Toba laughed wryly as he sought to pacify the courtiers, who ceased to press their charges against Tadamori, though not for long.
Word went out from the Palace that watchers at the crossroads of the capital would be withdrawn the following day. The Guards who had been on duty now for seven days were both alarmed and crestfallen. Where had Morito gone, carrying Kesa-Gozen's head? Had the earth opened and swallowed him, or had he done away with himself?
It looked as though Morito's whereabouts would end in mystery. Since that calamitous night, no one had seen him or anyone remotely resembling him. The Police Commission sent their secret agents to comb the environs of Kyoto, but there still were no clues to be found.
Tonight was to be the last when sentinels would be stationed at the crossroads of Kyoto.
"There's something suspicious about the Palace inside the Northwest Gate. Not only is his uncle on duty there, but he must still have some old acquaintances there. . . ."
Kiyomori, who overheard this conversation, was startled. He was guarding First Avenue with sixteen or seventeen of his housemen, a number of them in disguise.
Right enough! He had not thought of searching his immediate surroundings, and Morito had once been a Guard at the Northwest Gate before coming to the Cloister Palace. The Northwest Gate was not far off. He swelled with pride at the thought of how he would succeed. Passing his halberd to his other hand, he beckoned to Heiroku, who stood at a distance to his rear, shouting:
"Get Mokunosukй to come here. I'm off to the Northwest Gate. Stand guard here. The watches end tonight."
Mokunosukй appeared. "To the Northwest Gate? My young master, what business do you have there?"
"Old man, I smell a rat over there."
Mokunosukй, knitting his brows, shook his head slowly. "Better not. It will do you no good when they hear you've been carrying your search into the palace of a princess."
"Why should that matter? I don't suspect her."
"You would be wise to watch your step. You know how a trivial matter can lead to serious results in affairs concerning the Court and the Palace."
"I shall go, nevertheless. They tell me their Guards are laughing at us and vowing they will get our man. This is my chance to catch Morito. I'm certain Morito is praying that if he is caught, it will be I that gets him!"
Flushed to the ears by wild visions of success, Kiyomori stole a sidelong look at skeptical Mokunosukй. "When Morito finds he is cornered, he will think of me. I even feel that he's expecting me! Mokunosukй, when my father comes, tell him where I've gone."
The Northwest Gate was only a short distance away, and to allay Mokunosukй's fears, Kiyomori started out on foot, leaving his halberd behind.
The Imperial Palace stood in the north center of the city in a rectangular enclosure, about one mile by three quarters, containing various residential apartments, ceremonial halls, and the many departments
of state. Immediately outside the enclosure were numerous small palaces and mansions of the nobility, as well as the university, which adjoined the South Gate. There were twelve gates to the enclosure and two additional side-gates—the Northeast Gate and the Northwest Gate, the latter entrance leading to the palace where Kesa-Gozen had once served.
Kiyomori felt there was sufficient reason to investigate this quarter. It was quite possible that both the outlaw and those who sheltered him would consider this spot immune from search. At this thought Kiyomori broke into a run. As he entered the wide, clean avenue flanked with pine trees, he heard shouts and repeated orders to stop. With an air of annoyance, Kiyomori looked back.
"I? . . ."
The Guards here were also on watch, he realized. He walked back deliberately toward a group of them.
"Go back! Get out!" the Guards bawled, blocking Kiyomori's path, not even troubling to ask his name.
Kiyomori stubbornly insisted: "I will pass! I come on urgent business." He raised his eyebrows. "Needless to say, I serve his majesty the ex-Emperor Toba. Why should I wish to disturb her highness?" he blustered, turning an angry red. The Guards thought him a belligerent little fellow, and the situation was fast getting out of hand; it was Kiyomori against some sixteen or seventeen Guards, when an elderly warrior, possibly a senior officer, appeared on his rounds and stood for a moment observing the altercation. Then he approached Kiyomori from the rear, struck him a resounding blow on his corselet, and addressed him as though he were a child:
"So, it's you, Heita? What's this spluttering? What's this all about—this impertinence?"
"Ah. . . ." Memories of that bleak wind in February, that sad, sad day, the gnawing of his empty stomach, and that galling money suddenly flashed across Kiyomori's mind. "Is it you, uncle? Indeed! And this is your force? I thought I recognized some of your retainers among them."
More than at the ridiculous figure he felt he presented, Kiyomori boiled with rage at the thought that these men had deliberately insulted him by pretending not to recognize him. He could never think of this uncle—nor his aunt—without seeing coins in his mind's eye; he had gone countless times to their residence at Horikawa to borrow money; listened to them abuse his parents; endured their criticisms and unending complaints. He reflected sourly how he must always seem like a penniless imp to this uncle. It was his fate to be always treated with contempt and dismissed as a fellow with a warped disposition.
"Come, Heita, what do you mean by 'indeed'? We haven't seen you at Horikawa for some time—not that your visits were ever welcome. . . . Your neglect, I must say, gives me pleasure."
Kiyomori wilted. He had been arrogantly asserting himself in the name of the Palace Guards and now he was ready to crawl into a hole. Putting away his pride and rancor, Kiyomori meekly appealed: "Is it—quite impossible?"
His uncle, meanwhile, obtained from his men a brief account of what had happened and guessed what Kiyomori was after.
"Impossible! Absolutely! What do you mean by resisting? You are exactly like that obstinate father of yours. Why do you have to take after that indigent father of yours? Get on home!" he roared.
Just then Tadamasa noticed a courtier's carriage coming out by the Northwest Gate and loped away in great haste, just in time to deliver a deep bow as the carriage rolled past.
Kiyomori turned and started walking back. This had been unavoidable. He thought he heard the Guards laughing behind his back. Then he began to wonder whose carriage it was that he had just seen. As he looked round, he saw an ox approaching. The setting sun blazed on the lacquered body and shafts of a flamboyant lady's carriage, embellished with patterns in metalwork of silver and gold. The bamboo blinds were half-drawn. It was not the Princess's carriage, nor could the occupant be seen, but a young ox-tender walked beside the carriage, switching at the flies. Kiyomori came to a halt in the shade of a cedar tree and waited for the carriage to pass him. As it rolled by, he boldly stared up into it.
"Oh! . . ."
He thought he heard a voice. A blind was rolled up and the ox-boy ordered to stop. Someone leaned out and called his name.
"Mother!" Kiyomori replied impulsively, and leaped onto one of the shafts. "Was this the carriage that just came out by the Northwest Gate? Was it you, Mother?"
"Why, what do you mean by all these questions? You never seem glad to see me whenever we meet."
Yasuko wore the robes of a court lady and, as usual, was elegantly made up. Decked out in her gay robes, she seemed even younger and lovelier than Kiyomori had ever remembered her to be—at home, at the Kamo races.
"Your uncle, Tadamasa, was at the gate just a moment ago, waiting to greet me as I left. He said nothing about you, but didn't I see you talking together?"
"Has my uncle lately begun to pay his respects to you and shown himself friendlier?"
Yasuko laughed. "How you amuse me! You haven't answered any of my questions, and do nothing but try to cross-examine me. Your uncle has changed considerably. He is most courteous to me."
"He—and my aunt—who used to speak so ill of you?"
"Now, Heita, do you begin to understand why I hated being poor? Her highness has taken a fancy to me, and I go regularly to take part in the dancing at her palace. Your uncle now behaves like a proper retainer toward me, for he knows he must humor me if he expects to come up in the world."
So that was it! Kiyomori spat at the feet of the ox. How like his uncle! As for his mother's visits to the palace at the Northwest Gate—she had probably had the Nakamikado use their influence at Court, and was making good use of her talents as a dancing-girl. Fit counterpart to that uncle! Whenever Kiyomori met his mother, he felt that his father, Tadamori, the man who was not his real father, was more his own flesh and blood than she.
Kiyomori suddenly felt disappointed, bitter, and sad. The sight of his mother made him wretched. The flies buzzing about the ox kept stinging his face and irritating him, so he left her abruptly. But Yasuko called him back in great agitation, and with an arch look said:
"Heita, wasn't there something else you wanted to ask me?"
Kiyomori started violently. He thought he saw a figure hiding in the carriage, looked more closely, and saw Ruriko.
"Heita, have you nothing more to tell me?" Yasuko asked, laughing. "Ruriko," she then said, "won't you give this to Heita?"
Ruriko drew back in confusion, concealing her face behind Yasuko's shoulder. Yasuko drew out a large orchid-chrysanthemum and held it out to Kiyomori: "Her highness, the Princess, gave this to Ruriko, who wishes you to have it, Heita. Go write some verses on this flower and bring them to me at the Nakamikado mansion—some exquisite lines that will win Ruriko's heart."
Kiyomori stood in a daze as he watched the carriage slowly disappear in the distance. So his mother now planned to revenge herself on Tadamori by using Ruriko to lure him from his father! Kiyomori found he had absent-mindedly crushed the flower and stripped it of all its petals. Using the stalk for a switch, he walked back to his post at the crossroads.
Two horses and a man were waiting for him there. Kiyomori felt low in spirits. Mokunosukй, who had anxiously waited for him, seemed dejected.
"Where are all the others? Have they gone home already?"
"We had our orders to discontinue the watches from tonight. What of your search at the Northwest Gate?"
"Useless. I should not have gone. Where is my father?"
"Let us talk on our way back. Come, get on your horse."
Mokunosukй saw Kiyomori mount and next climbed into his own saddle.
"Back to the Palace, Old One?"
"No, home to Imadegawa."
Kiyomori was surprised. The Guards were supposed to assemble tonight at the Guard Office, where his father would speak to them. Tadamori was also to report to his majesty and his aide for further instructions.
"Mokunosukй, has something happened to my father?"
"I understand he has decided to resign from his position at the Palace."
&
nbsp; "Is this true? Is it because we have not succeeded in arresting Morito?"
The Heike Story Page 9