An angry outburst met Tameyoshi's words. Were the Genji to remain spectators in this war and be laughed at, his sons asked. Words were easier than deeds. Would the Genji all over the country be content to stay neutral? It was all very well for Tameyoshi to say he would not take sides, but how did he expect to escape the tide of war? What assurance had he that he and his property would be spared the flames? Would the blood-crazed soldiers on either side respect his neutrality? Was it not more likely that contempt for his cowardice would result in his being made a target for both sides, and would not his own soldiers become victims of the warring parties?
Tameyoshi, listening to these arguments, felt the points were well made. His eyes had not been closed to the tragic outcome, and his anguish deepened the furrows in his brows and cheek. "It is indeed as you say. Let us consider, however—if we side with the ex-Emperor, then Yoshitomo, my son, is our enemy. If we take up arms for the Emperor Goshirakawa, I shall be guilty of rank ingratitude to our benefactor, Yorinaga. Neither choice will save us from that hell—war. I, Tameyoshi, who have upheld the honor of the Genji, am now forced to lay down my arms. Were it possible, I would take the tonsure and escape into hiding. . . . Come, let us wait another night. Give me just one more night to decide."
Tameyoshi's sons were unsatisfied, but they ceased to press him further because of his evident torment.
Though another messenger arrived from Yorinaga, Tameyoshi sent back the reply that he was too ill to appear; and to a letter from his son Yoshitomo he curtly answered that no response was to be expected. Rereading his son's letter, however, Tameyoshi's eyes filled.
Yoshitomo wrote: "There cannot be two rulers. Whatever the claims of the ex-Emperor, my duty lies with the Emperor. I can do no less than be loyal to him. I beg you, my father, and my brothers, to take up arms for him and come quickly. I understand your feelings. I know there are many obligations that make it painful for you to arrive at a decision, yet there is no choice but to support our cause. I weep to think that we of the same clan, bound by ties of blood, may yet take up arms against each other. Should the ex-Emperor's troops interfere with your coming, I will myself come out to meet you and give you escort. Your ungrateful son is most anxious for you, my aging father. Make this hard decision now, and let us see your standard raised beside those who fight for our Emperor. Your other sons will rally to you in this crisis."
Tameyoshi's heart filled with pride. This was unmistakably his own son speaking. He felt his indecision begin to give way when the Councilor Norinaga appeared once more with a last appeal from Yorinaga. Tameyoshi parried for time: "Tell them that Tameyoshi is too old and feeble."
Norinaga, however, was insistent and refused to take this for a reply. "I understand too well how you feel. Is it possible, however, that Tameyoshi of the Genji, who owes much to the Minister, is now turned ingrate? Does he now refuse and welcome the defeat of the ex-Emperor?"
Once more Tameyoshi protested: "In spite of their urgings, I can only say that I am too infirm to be of any use."
"It will be enough to say that you are on our side. There will be no war-councils until you come. They are willing to wait until you arrive."
Haggard, Tameyoshi fell silent, staring at Norinaga with hollow eyes. He finally said: "Last night I had a dream—an evil one. In it I saw eight suits of the Genji armor. A great whirlwind suddenly arose and tore them to tatters, and I awoke. I now see that this war means nothing good to our house. Disaster now hangs over the Genji. . . ."
"It astonishes me that a warrior like you puts his faith in dreams. How can you expect me to take back this for an answer? I dare not leave until you give me a definite reply. You put me in a very difficult position; I shall stay here if need be until dawn."
Tameyoshi suddenly realized that they had been conversing in the dark; someone was heard to say: "I have brought lights, sir. May I come in?" Presently a tall heavily built youth of about eighteen entered with lighted candles, which he set in tall stands. As he started to leave, Tameyoshi stopped him. "Wait, Tametomo, wait!" Turning to Norinaga, Tameyoshi said: "You may have heard of this son who had such a reputation for wildness even as a boy. He is the youngest of my eight sons and the only one who makes a good fighting man. The others are indifferent soldiers by comparison, but Tametomo is fit to go in my place. If he is acceptable—and if he consents—I send him in my stead. Does this suit you, Tametomo?"
The youth eagerly replied: "Let me go, if you wish it."
Although Lady Bifukumon's favorite, Shimeko, did not become the empress, she remained at Court in attendance upon the boy-Emperor Konoyй, and following his death remained there, though with a considerably smaller number of servants to wait on her. Among those she insisted on keeping with her was a young serving-maid, Tokiwa. Tokiwa had been chosen at fifteen from among hundreds of beautiful candidates to enter Shimeko's service. She had not been long at the Court when Yoshitomo of the Genji, captured by her loveliness, secretly made her his mistress, and at twenty she already had two sons by him. Shimeko, who had grown deeply attached to Tokiwa, forgave her for an alliance which Lady Bifukumon would frown on, and that Tokiwa might not be separated from her children, offered her and her aged mother the use of a small house inside the grounds of the Court. Lady Shimeko knew, however, that a time would come when Tokiwa's secret could no longer be hidden and Tokiwa would be obliged to give up Yoshitomo of the Genji, Yorinaga's favorite, or else leave the Court.
As relations between the Court and the ex-Emperor grew more strained, war seemed inevitable, and Yoshitomo feared to visit Tokiwa. On one of his stolen visits to her he said: "Wipe away your tears, my dear one. You needn't fear that I shall abandon you if a war comes. Do you believe that I would let these two little ones become my enemies?" Laughing tenderly, he pushed back a strand of hair from her wet cheek and tucked it behind a small ear, into which he continued to whisper: "Tell no one, but if war breaks out, I shall not hesitate to take my men and go to the support of the Emperor. What I owe to the Minister, Yorinaga, will mean nothing if the throne summons me. I am not the Minister's vassal. Whichever side my father and brothers choose, I am on the side of his majesty. No longer need you fear angering Lady Bifukumon because of me, for now you can proudly say that Yoshitomo, your lover, is one of the Emperor's own men."
Cupping his hands around Tokiwa's face, he drew it to him, and laid his mouth on her lips, which now trembled into a smile. Heedless of the infant that slept at her breast, he gathered her to him, mingling his tears with hers.
Panic reigned in the capital as rumors of war spread. Frightened inhabitants, carrying the sick, streamed out of the city for the hills with whatever small possessions they could take. Tokiwa's fears and anxiety, however, seemed insignificant beside the news that Yoshitomo was the first to join the Emperor's forces. Her heart swelled with the knowledge that he was true to her, that the banner he carried was also the pledge of their love. Now she could proudly own to all the world that she was his. She could hardly wait to carry the news to her mother, and hurried through her evening tasks; then lightly veiling her face in her summer cloak, she slipped away to her home. Her steps quickened unconsciously with imaginings that she heard her children's cries until she reached her gate. Then as her hand reached for the latch, she was startled by someone addressing her:
"Isn't this the lady Tokiwa?"
"Who is it?" she replied cautiously, and turned in fear to face a figure in armor.
"Yoshitomo of the Genji sent me."
"Yes?"
"I have a message for you. There will be fighting in the capital by morning. You are to leave the capital immediately."
"Yes, I came to speak to my mother of it."
"How are your children?"
"Both are well."
"How old are they?"
"The elder is three; the younger is only an infant of a few months."
"Then . . ." The man mumbled his words. "Their names?"
"Imawaka, ,and the baby is—" Tokiwa, suddenly gr
ew suspicious and looked more closely at the man, who fled abruptly. Before he was out of sight, ten of Yoshitomo's retainers appeared, saying that they had been sent to escort her, and without further ceremony entered her house and began assembling her belongings in preparation for leaving. From them she could gather nothing of the identity of the stranger who had just accosted her.
Toward midnight Tameyoshi's retainer Magoroku returned to report that Tokiwa was leaving the capital that same night with her two children.
"Are you preparing to leave, sir? As soon as you have made up your mind—"
An expression of bitterness spread over Tameyoshi's face and was lost in the deep furrows and wrinkles, which soon assumed the shape of a smile.
"I have made up my mind. I must not go on like this, for the young will not listen to reason. There is neither right nor wrong for them, for they feel they must test their limbs, and I told them to do as they pleased." And Tameyoshi suddenly roared with laughter.
"Are they alone going to join the ex-Emperor?"
"What am I to do alone here with this old carcass of mine? Do you believe I can refuse to go to his aid? This is my fate, the lot of the warrior. There must be no hesitation in answering his summons, and I am ready to go. Yoshitomo has decided. He has cast his lot with the Emperor, and there is no turning back for him now."
"So it appears."
"It's just as well. He has chosen the path he will follow. . . . Get me my armor, Magoroku."
The days of silence and inertia now broken, Tameyoshi prepared himself to meet the supreme test of his declining years. To Councilor Norinaga, who still waited, Tameyoshi now gave his reply.
Eight suits of armor, treasures of the Genji handed down from generation to generation, were brought and Tameyoshi gave one to each of his sons, ordering one to be delivered that same night to Yoshitomo.
On the morning that Tameyoshi set out for the palace at Shirakawa with his sons and soldiers to join Sutoku's troops, Kiyomori also reported for duty at the Court.
Only a week had elapsed since the death of the Cloistered Emperor. There were now many courtiers and officials, malingerers, who refused to take part in the approaching struggle and barricaded themselves inside their mansions. Councilor Norinaga, after taking Tameyoshi's reply to the ex-Emperor, fled Shirakawa for one of the monasteries outside Kyoto and took the tonsure. Tsunemunй of the Fujiwara, who accompanied Yorinaga to Uji, vanished shortly afterward, and many others refused to answer the summons from the Court.
Motomori, Kiyomori's son, who left Kyoto on the morning of the 10th, took up his position on the Uji Road by noon. The peremptory temper of his men and the ring of authority in their voices showed that they were aware of their new importance. Travelers on their way to Kyoto from outlying districts, ignorant of developments in the capital, were ordered to turn back. Courtiers and officers attempting to escape from the capital were forced to retrace their steps.
"Ya, ya! Who comes here?"
"Some nobleman—by his carriage."
"Careful now, he has a large retinue with him."
A wicker coach followed by a carriage ornamented with fine metalwork was approaching. Some twenty armed soldiers accompanied them.
"Halt, you there!" Motomori's soldiers shouted, barring the road. They had heard that Yorinaga might be returning to Kyoto by this route and were certain that this was he. The occupants of the vehicles, however, proved to be two courtiers who produced documents to show that they had gone to Uji on private matters. Yorinaga, in the meantime, had made his way to the capital in a litter by another route and was already safe at his headquarters at Shirakawa.
Motomori and his men were disappointed at not apprehending the Minister Yorinaga. The sun was setting, and they had set about feeding their horses and preparing their evening meal, when they saw some ten horsemen and thirty foot-soldiers hurrying toward them from Uji. Motomori quickly rode out to meet them.
"Halt! Where are you from and which way are you going?''
The horsemen instantly came to a standstill, and the foot-soldiers drew up behind them. A splendid figure in black leather armor and horned helmet lowered his head in greeting. "We come from the near-by district in response to news of disturbances in the capital. Who bars our way?"
Motomori replied: "We have orders to guard this road. Those who go to the aid of the Court will pass, but all others may not proceed. I am the grandson of Tadamori of the Heike, second son of Kiyomori, Lord Aki; Motomori, officer of Aki, aged seventeen!"
Motomori's soldiers advanced with their bows drawn, when the stranger announced that he was Chikaharu of the Genji, on his way to the ex-Emperor Sutoku. A shouting arose and the whizzing of arrows began to fill the air. Chikaharu and the ten horsemen suddenly charged with heads lowered on their horses' manes, their swords drawn, spears leveled. Failing light and the dust, curling up in clouds from under the galloping hoofs, combined to obscure the oncoming horses, and Motomori's troops retreated hastily to a near-by shrine to regroup themselves. Looking down from the knoll on which he stood, Motomori rallied his soldiers: "You men of Isй—there are not more than forty-five of them. With five or six of you to their one, we can force them to surrender."
Motomori's troops rushed to the assault once more and this time succeeded in wounding or killing several of their opponents and capturing the rest. But Chikaharu fought on alone to the last, until the thrust of a grapnel-spear unhorsed him. Then Motomori was soon on his way to the capital with his prisoners.
As Motomori prepared to leave the Court for the Uji Road, he was detained for a brief ceremony in which a higher rank was conferred on him.
Early next morning, when Kiyomori finally appeared at the Court, he was received eagerly and with congratulations on Motomori's success in capturing Chikaharu of the Genji alive. Flushed with pride and smiling broadly, Kiyomori made a round of calls on his fellow captains to make known his arrival and to offer apologies for his tardiness. Last of all he greeted Yoshitomo.
"Ah, Kiyomori of the Heike!"
"And you, Yoshitomo of the Genji!"
Their eyes met. A silence ensued as each recalled their first meeting one autumn afternoon long ago at Toba Sojo's funeral. Yoshikiyo Sato had made the introduction. Yoshitomo had then spoken of going to Kamakura. Yoshikiyo soon after had fled his home, taken the tonsure, and become the wandering monk poet Saigyo. Sixteen years had gone by, though it seemed to have happened only yesterday. Many changes had taken place in the capital since then. Some of their youthful companions were now dead or had left Kyoto. Neither had dreamed of meeting again thus—comrades in the cause of the Emperor. They were rivals, too—Genji and Heike—but a common purpose now bound them as brothers-in-arms.
"I was anxious about you," Yoshitomo began, "for there were any number of rumors concerning you. I am greatly relieved that you've come after all to join us here."
"I sent my son with some of my troops and stayed behind to attend to the mobilizing of my men. My apologies for this delay."
"But you must be pleased to know how your son has already distinguished himself."
Kiyomori laughed deprecatingly. "And to think that these young ones are making out better than their elders—stealing our triumphs!"
"I envy you,, Yoshitomo said, "for your house is not divided against itself as mine is."
The smile vanished from Kiyomori's lips. In his elation over Motomori it had not occurred to him what this fratricidal war must mean to Yoshitomo. The unaccustomed weight of his armor made Kiyomori feel even more ill at ease; he groped in his mind for words of sympathy that somehow refused to come, stared awkwardly before him, then with a few abrupt words, turned and left.
Yoshitomo winced at the blunt, unsympathetic back suddenly turned on him.
That same day the Court moved to the Imperial Palace at the north center of the capital, where the headquarters of the Emperor's forces was established. On Yoshitomo's advice it was decided that the first blow would be struck that night by a surprise atta
ck on the palace at Shirakawa, where Yorinaga's reinforcements could not be expected to arrive earlier than noon of the following day. This move, Yoshitomo maintained, would forestall a three-column attack on the Imperial Palace itself.
The Heike Story Page 23