Kiyomori recalled what his father had recently told him about Tokinobu, and felt impelled to reconsider his opinions about Tokiko. Tokinobu had been indirectly involved in Tadamori's unfortunate relations with the Palace courtiers, and the role that he had played had affected him and his daughters adversely. Their childhood had in many ways resembled Kiyomori's, and he understood now how greatly indebted his father was to Tokinobu.
To understand the circumstances leading to Tadamori's retirement from the Palace, it will be necessary to go back to March 1131, when Kiyomori was fifteen. At that time the great temple of Sanju-Sangen-Do with its one thousand images of Buddha was completed and the entire capital participated in an elaborate dedication ceremony. On that occasion the ex-Emperor Toba not only presented Tadamori with additional manors, but gave him the rank of a courtier, an unprecedented honor to a warrior, which so affronted the court nobles that they agreed to assassinate Tadamori on the night of a Palace banquet at which he was to appear. Fear more than jealousy was at the bottom of this plot.
An anonymous letter tossed into Tadamori's house on the eve of the banquet warned him of an attempt on his life. On receiving the message, Tadamori had smiled coolly, saying that he would meet the challenge as a warrior, and on the night of the banquet he appeared at the Palace carrying his sword. There, in sight of the suspicious courtiers, he drew out his blade to test its edge against his topknot. The steel, glinting like ice in the light of the candles, filled the watchful courtiers with misgivings. A State Minister, who was passing along one of the open galleries of the Palace just then, noticed two suspicious-looking figures, fully armed, crouching in a corner of the inner court, and called out to them; an officer of the Sixth Rank soon arrived to challenge the intruders, and received the reply: "We are trusted housemen of Tadamori of the Heike. We have been warned that harm might come to our master. We shall leave only at the risk of our lives."
The courtiers, who soon heard of this, were dismayed. On the following day, led by a Minister, they demanded that Tadamori be punished for appearing at the Palace armed and accompanied by his soldiers. The ex-Emperor, troubled, summoned Tadamori for an explanation. With suitable expressions of regret, Tadamori calmly produced the sword, unsheathed it, and showed that it was only a blade of bamboo painted silver. His house men, he said, had only acted as all loyal retainers would to their liege lord. The monarch commended Tadamori for his wisdom, but his enemies at Court grew even more uneasy with every token of the ruler's regard for Tadamori, and when they heard that it was Tokinobu who had warned Tadamori of their plot, they hounded him from the Court. Tokinobu, already well along in years, soon found all opportunities to advancement closed.
* * *
"Look out, there's another puddle!" young Tokitada shouted excitedly, waving his flaming torch at Kiyomori's feet as they groped their way past a bamboo grove.
Kiyomori was intoxicated—completely overcome with drink. Though he professed himself able to find his way home, Tokinobu had been dubious, and at Tokiko's insistence sent the boy to accompany Kiyomori as far as the footpath on Seventh Avenue.
By the time Kiyomori was ready to leave, Tokiko had been far from retiring; she had talked and laughed, and Kiyomori thought he perceived a certain warmth in the glances she gave him. But, alas, she was nineteen! This bothered him; she was more like an elder sister. He wondered whether it was because he compared her with Ruriko. None the less, he decided to tell his father that Tokiko's appearance and disposition pleased him perfectly. What had really captured his fancy was Tokiko's sixteen-year-old brother, Tokitada.
"Ho, Lion," Kiyomori teased.
Waving his torch back and forth in glee, Tokitada shot back: "What, you lackey!"
"Oh? No lackey, but a young warrior."
"A young warrior is only an overgrown lackey!"
"So, my young blade, didn't I find you on the street at a cockfight?"
"And you, gambling! Guilty, too! Now what has my father been telling you?"
Kiyomori laughed. "Here's another one just like me, you droll one!"
"Another what?"
"Another young toad."
"A young toad is a tadpole. I'll bring Lion to peck at you."
"I give up, I give up," Kiyomori protested. "Give me your hand—here's the path—pledge a lifelong friendship!"
The wintry gusts from the Northern Hills swept the dead leaves before them unmercifully, hurling them against the miserable huddle of huts Kiyomori had seen that afternoon. Blown and twisted by the wind, Kiyomori vanished into the night, while a small figure on the footpath waved to him with a torch.
It was customary for Tadamori's sons to appear every morning before their father and to salute him formally. Even Norimori, the youngest, was there to receive his father's greetings, delivered with grave courtesy. And it was usual for Tadamori to say a few cheering words to his motherless sons, who welcomed the ritual as they did the daily rising of the sun.
Kiyomori recounted the happenings of the previous day:
"The honorable Tokinobu sent no reply to your letter. I could not find him at the Central Granary, so I went to his home. In fact, I had some difficulty finding my way around that district and barely succeeded in finding him. He was most hospitable, and I didn't get away until quite late, and he sent you his greetings."
Kiyomori then went on to relate how he had met Toba Sojo.
"So the Abbot seems content with drawing. . . . He is of noble birth, and had he wished might have distinguished himself among his peers," Tadamori mused, as though secretly ashamed of his present inactivity.
"That's his nature; a most unusual person," Kiyomori replied curtly, feeling that his father's remark was somewhat beside the point, for he had fully expected his father to inquire at length about Tokinobu and his daughter Tokiko. Contrary to his expectations, Tadamori had nothing to say that even broached the subject of a match. Instead he said: "And, by the way, I hear that his majesty will soon leave on a pilgrimage to Anrakuju-in Temple."
"Yes, his majesty leaves on the morning of October 15 for the dedication of the Great Hall. I hear he will spend two or three nights at the Detached Palace at Takeda," Kiyomori replied.
"You must be busy at the Guard Office. I'm sure you haven't neglected your duties since I resigned, and I hope you are exerting yourself doubly in serving his majesty."
"I do, Father, but the warriors there are dissatisfied. They now have you as an excuse for airing their grievances. They haven't forgotten how the Court treated Yoshiiyй of the Genji, who spent several years quelling uprisings in the northeast. Though he was successful, the supreme council ruled that he had done this entirely on his own and refused to recompense him, so that Yoshiiyй was obliged to sell his house and lands; even then he was barely able to pay off his soldiers. Even you, Father, know that your last campaign in the west—brilliant as it was—was rewarded so meagerly that there was barely enough to share with our men. All that came of it was this—this same poverty of ours."
"That is the warrior's fate."
"And is it right for the aristocrats to withhold all privilege from the warrior and see that he remains forever under their heel? We know that that is their intention, but every warrior is anxious about the future."
"That does not matter, for we do not serve them, but his majesty."
"But they have the power of life or death over us and can act in the name of the throne, which they also serve. We have no direct appeal to his majesty. What, then, are we to do? That's why the warriors have become disheartened. You must after all come back to the Palace."
"The time hasn't come yet. They are better off without me just now."
"And there's talk that Tameyoshi of the Genji, who has been under a cloud for some time, is in favor again at the Palace. There are rumors, too, that Yorinaga, the Minister of the Left, has interceded for him with his majesty. All this gossip has been disquieting."
"Heita, you'll be late. You should arrive at your duties early. And remember, y
ou have the pilgrimage before you."
"Forgive me if I have offended you," Kiyomori said, sensing that he had somehow displeased his father, in whom he perceived a firmness and purposefulness which he lacked before.
The Detached Palace at Takeda, south of the capital, was a favorite retreat of the ex-Emperor Toba, who found the view across the Kamo and Katsura rivers so pleasing that he had ordered the Anrakuju-in Temple to be built here. As the time of the dedication drew near, the sovereign expressed a desire for a three-storied pagoda for the temple group, and invited Nakamikado Iyenari, now retired from the active life of the Court, to join the pilgrimage, directing him to draw up plans for the pagoda and to supervise its construction.
An unending line of noblemen's carriages, processions of priests in their vestments, and crowds of inquisitive sightseers from all over the countryside made their way to the temple, where the destitute swarmed like flies to receive alms. Numberless Guards were posted along the route; and on the banks of the rivers, around the hamlet of Takeda, and wherever they camped, great bonfires lighted up the sky at night.
The ex-Emperor's stay lasted two days. Toward evening of the second day a chill rain fell and the scene, which had been alive with people, became strangely still. The Great Hall loomed through the darkness in all its magnificence, shimmering dreamlike in the reflected light of the many watch-fires.
The Guards were settling at last to a late evening meal in their temporary shelters. An allotment of imperial wine had been distributed among, them on the previous day, but they had all been too busy to taste it. Some Guards were drying their hunting cloaks at the fires; others had already taken off their armor and were passing around wine-cups and attacking their food.
One Guard remarked: "It may be just gossip, but Wataru of the Genji didn't come for the dedication."
"Wataru? Oh, you mean Kesa-Gozen's husband. What's become of him?"
"Hmm . . . just before we started, he quite suddenly went to take leave of the Minister of the Left, who, it appears, urged him to reconsider his decision, but Wataru handed in his resignation to the Palace aide and hasn't been seen since in the capital."
"Oh, what did he mean by that?"
"Doubtless, consumed by hate for Morito, who murdered his wife, he's gone off to find him and take his revenge. He has been saying that he no longer can endure being pointed out as the husband of the murdered woman."
"There's no telling when Morito will be found. Wataru can hardly be blamed for feeling as he does. Seems to me, though, that Morito is fated to sin and to live out his span tortured with remorse."
"People have been saying that they've seen him in the hills of Takao or around Kumano. In fact, there have been any number of such stories, so he must be alive."
While the Guards talked among themselves, the gleam of lights between the trees at the farther end of the Palace showed that the ex-Emperor's entourage—the courtiers, priests, and ladies-in-waiting—were probably whiling away the hours with a poetry contest; from the sovereign's apartments, however, came no strains of music; darkness lay around it, and only the rain showed white.
"Is Yoshikiyo here? Has anyone seen Sato Yoshikiyo?" Kiyomori's face suddenly appeared out of the night, round-eyed and anxious. Several Guards called to him, urging him to stop and share their wine, but Kiyomori shook his head and continued anxiously: "No time for that now. I'm not quite certain of this, but I heard that one of Yoshikiyo's housemen was taken into custody by the Police Commissioner's men at noon. Some brawl at the Rashomon Gate. I just got word and I'm afraid Yoshikiyo hasn't heard of this. I can't find him, but if any of you know where he is, tell him."
Though his easygoing ways were frowned on by everyone at the Palace, Kiyomori's wholehearted concern for his comrades-in-arms made him popular among the Guards, and at times like this they were more than eager to assist him.
"What! At the Rashomon Gate? He's in for trouble now. The sooner we let him know, the better."
Kiyomori's anxiety was contagious and the Guards sprang to their feet. Four or five men hurried off in different directions through the rain.
CHAPTER VII
A WARRIOR TAKES HIS FAREWELL
Yoshikiyo could not be found. He was not in the Guard quarters. Someone suggested that he might be with Lord Tokudaiji's retinue, delayed by some unexpected duties, and that he might already have received the bad news about his retainer. One of the Guards asked: "Hasn't he turned up yet? I wonder what's keeping him."
"Are you sure that Yoshikiyo has heard of this? Surely, he's not such a coward that he's going to leave his retainer in the lurch?"
"We'd better try to send him word of this."
The Guards stood about, anxious and perplexed, hardly tasting their wine, and annoyed at Yoshikiyo's failure to appear. They were impatient for good reason.
"Whatever's happened, it won't be easy to get Tameyoshi's men to release him. . . . What can Yoshikiyo be doing?"
The men were tired and despite their anxiety some were already asleep; others dozed, and the rest were already befuddled by the wine.
Yoshikiyo finally appeared outside one of the huts. "Greetings, all of you! I've put you to a great deal of trouble, but I shall be off now. I should be back by dawn, at the latest—in time to join you on the return journey. Don't be too anxious on my account." Yoshikiyo wore his riding cloak and was leading his horse. His only companion was a lad, bearing a lighted torch.
The Guards stared at Yoshikiyo's composure in astonishment. A warrior—with a talent for writing verse—behaving like this in a crisis, their looks of contempt implied.
"Eh, so you expect to bring your retainer back by morning, Yoshikiyo? Do you realize whom you'll be dealing with?"
Kiyomori alone remonstrated with Yoshikiyo for his fool-hardiness. Didn't he realize, he asked, that Tameyoshi, former chief of the Genji Guards, had nothing good to say of the warriors who had replaced his own men at the Palace? He was if anything their worst enemy, always on the lookout to find fault with the Heike Guards. Yoshikiyo had better think things over. Tameyoshi's ill will was notorious and there was no predicting what pitfalls were in store for Yoshikiyo. It was dangerous to go alone and attempt to negotiate with Tameyoshi. If he was going alone, they would all go with him in the name of the Guards and be ready to meet force with force.
"Come, all of you," cried Kiyomori, "we'll go with Yoshikiyo and rescue his man!"
A few shouted: "Here's fun!" and crowded outside noisily, relishing the thought of a skirmish and eager for blood. Some twenty soldiers now surrounded Yoshikiyo with cries of "Off we go, now! Off we go!"
Yoshikiyo did not move, but threw out his arms to restrain them.
"Wait, you're acting like children over a matter of no importance. Remember, you each have your duties here and we want no disturbances during this pilgrimage. Since my messenger caused all this trouble, I'm the one to go and negotiate for him. Just make it appear as though nothing has happened."
Calming the Guards, Yoshikiyo turned away from Kiyomori abruptly as though irked by the fuss; and ordering his young groom to hold his torch high, spurred his horse into the darkness and rain.
Earlier that day, Yoshikiyo had sent his trusted retainer Gengo with some poems addressed to some ladies who served Lady Taikenmon, the Emperor's mother and ex-consort of the abdicated Emperor Toba. Lady Bifukumon, for whom Toba had put away Lady Taikenmon, accompanied Toba on the pilgrimage, and Yoshikiyo, a member of the imperial suite, could not help being reminded that Lady Taikenmon now lived in lonely retirement with few friends to visit her. He had therefore gathered some poems he had written during the lavish two-day tour, addressed them to several poetess friends in Lady Taikenmon's household, and sent them by Gengo to the capital. It was immaterial to Yoshikiyo whether Gengo had got into trouble on his way to or from the capital, for his thoughts sped like arrows to Tameyoshi's mansion. Although he seemed untroubled to Kiyomori and the other Guards, Yoshikiyo knew too well the reputation of the man he was about t
o meet. Gengo, his beloved retainer, was in danger, and if there was need for it he was ready to give his own life for him. He urged on his horse, praying that no harm would come to Gengo before he reached him.
The Heike Story Page 12